Home of the all-around movie/book/TV/music geek girl. 19 years old; college major in Film and English with a minor in Art History. Big fan of Harry Potter, Doctor Who (and - to a lesser extent - Torchwood), House, Law & Order (all kinds), Pushing Daisies, Freaks and Geeks, Lost, Grimm, Jane Eyre, The Office, Lord of the Rings, Sherlock, Life on Mars/Ashes to Ashes, movies by Christopher Nolan, analyzing movies via a blog (http://theironcupcake.wordpress.com) and many other awesome things. Special affinity for the various Harry Potter actors, Doctor Who actors, Guy Pearce, Christian Bale, Ralph Fiennes, Ed Helms, Tom Hiddleston, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Sam Rockwell and Ryan Gosling, among others. And I think I'm an INTJ, if you know about MBTI.
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happy birthday, W.H. Auden - one of my favorite poets. Out of all the poets to study, I chose to use this poem and another by Auden, “As I Walked Out One Evening,” for a big 12th grade poetry paper.
Funeral Blues (Song IX / from Two Songs for Hedli Anderson)
 Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone. Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead, Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun. Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.

happy birthday, W.H. Auden - one of my favorite poets. Out of all the poets to study, I chose to use this poem and another by Auden, “As I Walked Out One Evening,” for a big 12th grade poetry paper.

Funeral Blues (Song IX / from Two Songs for Hedli Anderson)


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.