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About Photography / Artist Ashtear HinoarashiMale/Puerto Rico Recent Activity
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All I can do is drive, yet I can also feel the blade scoring my flesh, carving my arms until my life wells up through the openings, leaving me. I scowl, rehearsing the actions in my mind, over and over, until my mental model of my physical self looks like my self-image; cracked, shattered, like cheap china put together with red glue.

I resist my hunger, trying to channel as much pain into my psyche as possible. Trying to drown out the pain already there with the screams from my body, so I can ignore the screams from my soul.

I can see the tree burning, all it's holes, shrines, houses, everything consumed in the azure flames of my self-loathing.

I feel a very compelling need to scream, piercing, until my throat is raw, my vocal chords shredded. Until my very soul escapes past my lips, and nothing can hurt anymore.
This last month has been equal parts amazing and soul-crushing. I pride myself on my core motivation of helping others, yet I have done the exact opposite, hurting those I care about all around.

I usually hold the view that intent is more important than effect, but it's hard to reconcile that idea with the suffering I see all around me. I don't know what to do anymore.

Should a life that negatively affects those around her be allowed to live, or should it be... disabled? Is it worth living?
He floats, a vast expanse surrounding him. His world; his domain.

His mind.

He stands above a similarly vast construct, an edifice composed of firm solid elements as a base, with a myriad struts, assemblies, and other temporary scaffolding around it. If it remains fixed for too long, it's integrated, absorbed into the solid core.

He looks over his kingdom, noticing things at the very periphery; the outside world.

As he looks he replicates these external objects within; the mental models he utilizes to comprehend and interact with the outside world. He makes them as exact and accurate as he can, although he is aware that such a thing is impossible. Still, he relies on his understanding f the external world, as codified in these mental representations, to understand how things should work.

Most of the time he is preoccupied with the mental models themselves; conjuring them from the mass that is the core of his personality and knowledge, bringing them forth onto his mind to refine, link, compare, or study. The outside world passes by outside, sometimes unnoticed, other times deliberately ignored.

But every once in a while a new element is found outside, something he had never seen before. He moves to the edge of his world, where the mind meets the outside. The senses feed him raw data, and he begins quickly browsing his internal collection, looking for the closest fit. Yet none of them fit.

So he starts from scratch, raw mindstuff coalescing in his hands. He shapes, as a master sculpture, recreating with the closest accuracy his senses allows what he sees outside. In the external world, his hands touch, feel, manipulate, moving the object this way and that, observing, listening. Within, his consciousness gathers all this information and uses it in the creation of the mental model.

Until it's done, as far as he can see. Then it's added to the scaffolding around the core. If he learns any new information about it, it's pulled from the this temporary area, refined, and added again. If it doesn't change in a while, it's integrated into the nucleus of his self, and the core model of the world.

The interesting times come when you find evidence contradicting a part of the core. That's where, in refining that model, every other model that derives or depends on the newly-changed one need t undergo revision as well. The entire core changes; the person becomes someone similar, yet else; a changed person in some way, either small or radical.

Yet what I've experienced is something altogether different.

It is as it, in the process of modeling an external entity, the entity itself slid right through the frontier, coming inside, looking around. Outside I can feel two people in intense conversation, yet within, it's as if there's a nearly perfect transference of concepts and ideas. At the same time I'm modeling the entity, and the entity itself corrects my models, filling in blanks. Yet in doing so, I can feel the core quaking; central elements of it, and many of my decisions, crumbling under the weight of this new information.

I know that more fearful people may shy away from such entities or concepts, fearing for their self-image and the structure of their existence. Yet for others, it's as if purifying fire were scouring their selves, temporary turmoil accepted in exchange for corrections to long-term existence.

We speak, and we understand each other.
The way I visualize thinking, analysis, and meeting people with very similar mindsets.
It's human nature to spread out, like seeds from a tree.

At first school holds a group of individuals together, forcing you to get to know each other, and serving as the first extended social construct the person's a part of.

Then college is the first time the individual generally has a choice regarding where he goes. This is where we see what truly binds us, or guides our hands in regards to choices. In this step, as most others, it's plans for the future (partner, studies).

Then after college the individual again branches out to work. Again future plans serve as the primary guiding hand, yet here relationships may also have a strong decisive voice (firm partner, marriage, children).

Each of these steps either distances us from the previous social construct or brings us in contact with a new one. It's rare for people to hop social constructs together. This is why friendships are lost as we grow up.

I was of the mind that the word "friend" was a strong one. Not everyone I know is a friend, after all. A friend knows you, generally likes you, generally wishes what's best for you (even if there's no agreement regarding what that is), doesn't wish ill upon you, and provides, as well as derives for himself, some fundamental positive experience from interacting with you.

This last, to me, is what characterizes a friend. Someone who talks with you, engages with you, because life would be less positive without you. The feeling is generally mutual.

Facebook has chosen, perhaps unfortunately, to brand the links between profiles as "friends". This to me left a sour taste in my mouth. Yes, I do want to keep in touch with these people, but no, they're not necessarily my friends; after all, they could have been there in a particular stage in life, and no more. It also seems to instill a "collect-them-all" mentality in some, where they want to just add anyone they know, regardless of whether they even communicate consistently; regardless of whether they're friends in truth, at least according to my previous definition.

Yet, with the way life pulls people apart, can't social networks like these serve as a virtual space where those deprived of common geography can still interact? Well, sure.

-sigh- I'm not exactly sure what the point of this was. Do I regret falling away from some people? Yes. I think that's what inspired the block of text before you. But more than that, I think time and growth show you who are those people who make an effort to keep in touch, versus those who just... fade away.

That's what truly hurts, I think. The conclusive proof that the system provides that, in the end, that friendship just wasn't important enough to survive.
Thoughts about friends and growing up...
She sits back at the moonpool, her feet again in the water. It feels refreshing, yet... more.. Like it ripples more than it should around her skin.

She thinks to herself, of the crew and their support. "They mean well, I suppose. But Slatan and Jogen... They are...." She shakes her head in frustration. If she's gonna get a handle on things she's gonna have to figure things out one a time; starting with herself.

She hears the song in the water, so she closes her eyes, breathing deeply, and begins to sing in accompaniment. As she sings, she feels the water's song respond and heighten, and hears the sound of gurgling water as well.

When she opens get eyes, she gasps. A mass of water pulls up through the moonpool, connected to the rest of the ocean, yet... Almost like a tentacle of water. As she observes it, listening to the song, she finds that she can alter the song and have the water follow her, thus controlling it's shape. With focus, she continues pulling out water, and realizes she can solidify it, still looking and distorting light like water, yet with the stiffness and slickness of ice. She does notice that it is taxing, though, and a few seconds after she stops singing, the water collapses as if suddenly grasped by gravity again, splashing the entire room and her besides.

She smiles at this. She feels that something that was missing finally clicks into place.

She again closes her eyes, calling this time upon the song within her, and as she mutters the voice of water, moving her hands in slow, languid, yet fluid motions, water behind to materialize between her hands, as if poured out of a bottle without body. She laughs, and exerts her will. A few gallons of water simply snap into existence before her, again splashing the floor and her as well. As practice she gathers all the water and humidity from the room with her voice, drying the room and letting the resulting sphere dip back to the ocean.

That's when she notices her hands, their color now a light gray with a bluish tint. She marvels, yet is a tad scared. In her fear she tries to remember what her hands looked like, and watches in fascination as they change color back to their original hue, with the tan of an island dweller.

She sits, her feet again in the water. And, in a whim, she jumps in.

As soon as her entire body is submerged, it's like a new feeling blossoms within her. She moves fluidly, easily keeping up with the boat. It's almost a combination of her swimming and of the water bearing her as she wills it, pushing her along.

Yet she's so focused in exploring this newfound movement and marveling at it that she doesn't realize she's running out of air. By the time she realizes she's too far from the surface. She tries to swim up, yet it's too far. Her body's reflex is to take in water, flooding her lungs.

Yet she doesn't drown. She finds that she can breathe water. When she realizes, she sees her skin, all of it, changes to the same bluish gray her hands had changed before. But this time she accepts this new side of her, laughing, dancing with the water, in the water, as she moves back to the moonpool.

Trying to imitate Jogen's leaps out of the water, she gathers speed, but when she breaks the surface her foot catches on the edge, making her topple forward and breaking her nose on the floor of the moonpool room. Her howl of pain is muffled by the walls, though.

She laughs. That's what she gets for trying to imitate Jogen...

She lays there, nose bleeding, pensive. "Jogen and Slatan. What they did was unconscionable. And in Gil's case he did what he felt he was owed, but only out of flaring emotions. Jogen, though... He willingly and deliberately inflicted torture upon the Don. And true, this was someone who got us into trouble the first time. But to be able to do that, to inflict pain without flinching, with those eyes..." She wasn't sure she could trust him again. Not knowing what he's capable of.
The Sea's Song
A small piece, along with Moonpool, regarding my character Leyria Hinoarashi, an Undine Watersinger. 


Ashtear Hinoarashi
Artist | Photography
Puerto Rico
Current Residence: Trujillo Alto, PR
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Large
Favourite genre of music: Rock, Jazz
Operating System: Windoze XP (not by choice)
MP3 player of choice: HTC Dream (G1)
Favourite cartoon character: Urahara Kisuke!!!!!
Personal Quote: "With all the pain that now constricts my heart into nothing."
  • Mood: Insecure
  • Listening to: Yours to Hold - Skillet
  • Reading:
  • Watching: Scott Pilgrim
  • Playing: Muramasa: Demon Blade
  • Eating: Bacon
  • Drinking: Lemon Juice
Hey. Trying to get back to writing, but my programming, work, and college are getting in the way.

Still, gonna try and write another on the Enchanter series I just started. *shrugs*
Hope you guys like it.

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Marienid Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2014  Professional
RaquelQuiros Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much for the watch!! I appreciate it!! ^^
ViolenceIsTheAnswer Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2010
A fellow Kisuke fan o:
MoonlightFX Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2009  Professional Digital Artist
Thank you for the :+fav:!
brokenheart23 Featured By Owner Sep 11, 2008   Photographer
LuisRRMatos Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2007

abril, mes del dia del HISPANO en deviantART (30 Abril). Mas informacion por si quieres particiapar o dejarlo saber a traves de tu journal a otros hispanos de DA [link]
blackdragonart Featured By Owner Jan 16, 2007
Thanks for the fav!
DeadXCross Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2007  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks alot for all the favs =D
washipuppy Featured By Owner Dec 25, 2006
Thankyou for the watch and favourites :D :dance:
WolfDive Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2006   Traditional Artist
Awesome literary work!
Have a nice day! :)
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