Emma is an aspiring creative who deeply loves art of all kinds. She is a hopeless movie geek and book nerd who spends her free time buried in novels and practicing her violin. She hopes to use her writing to inspire her fellow humans.
Lemony Snicket: How to Craft Dry Humor
Although I love all forms of comedy, there is something about dry humor I find absolutely delicious. From the deadpan delivery of Ron Swanson to the played-straight craziness of any Wes Anderson movie, nothing makes me laugh more than a crispy, crackly, dehydrated joke. Though I love a good stand-up comedy sketch as much as the next pun-o-phile, it's always the dry stuff that catches me completely off guard and thoroughly subverts my expectations.
According to the Piano Man: Four Musical Vignettes
"Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel)" Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes And save these questions for another day I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you And you should always know Wherever you may go, no matter where you are I never will be far away.
3 Things Star Wars Fans Want From Disney Right Now
The Star Wars fandom has gained a reputation of pickiness over the last few years. This isn't entirely without reason. After enduring the trauma of movie mishaps such as the divisive The Last Jedi, the bland Solo: A Star Wars Story, and the absolute train-wreck of The Rise of Skywalker, fans have been more than a little doubtful of the direction the iconic franchise is taking. Fears were somewhat assuaged by the arrival of the Disney+ tv shows such as The Mandalorian and Clone Wars' final season, but then returned with questionable entries like The Book of Boba Fett and the Kenobi show.
In my dream, there is music. At first, I panic. The music is sweet but heavy. It clogs my ears and fills my nose and mouth as if to drown me. I try to scream but there is no sound and there is no air. But then I hear words. I cannot understand them, for they are too old and too ancient for me to comprehend. Instead, they soothe me like the whisperings of a lover. There is sorrow in the music. Sorrow as deep as the black chasms that crack the seafloor. There is longing too, the restless ache of a sailor oceans from his home. In a way, I am reminded of Mariela. I can almost hear her voice in the music’s ebb and flow and see her lips move with the mysterious lyrics. Her lips move again and out of the melody I recognize a word. An irresistible command that shocks me like ice and scorches me like fire: