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kira leigh

Invented the post-it note and has an IQ of 163. Owns a hoverboard and speaks 12 languages. Oh, and paints.

Posts by kiraleigh

Writing Prompt #1

The year is 2347 and your character is a soldier on a mid-size transport spaceship. The government that you are loyal to is suspected of performing horrendous experiments on aliens. Your character and another co-worker decide to put an end to it.

 

Amanda stares at me as I eat the pale, lifeless ration in my hand. Licking my fingers and the like, making sure to down every stupid gulp of it. It is innately unpalatable but I help myself to my share–and her share–as I need the fuel to complete our mission.

Or at least I need to pretend to need the fuel for the mission she would inevitably push me towards.

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Web Design No-Nos; Stop Making Users Angry

Hi. I am Kira Leigh, an artist, singer, writer, and general master overlord. I am sometimes Kira Maintanis, a web designer, SEO maven, and social media philanthropist.

I have a desperate plea I want all of the major companies of the world and every web designer and/or developer that ever lived to stop doing one specific thing.

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The Depression Blanket, Emotional Reserves, & Other Observations

I am not an unfeeling empathy-less monster that spouts vitriol and lambasts people who try to get me to care. Though sometimes it feels like I am, and there is a guilt in this, because I know there’s a sliver of truth in this.

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How to Sound Smart & Other Observations

Smart people say smart things, they speak politely and with courtesy, they make it a point to write eloquently and use great diction.

Smart people don’t say non-smart things, they don’t cuss and swear like drunken hookers, and they make it a point not to write like an idiot on skype or twitter, as though they only have thumbs and not all five fingers attached to their meat hooks.

Smart people don’t use ad hominem attacks in arguments, smart people do refer to logical fallacies, and smart people also cite all their sources.

Smart people are better than non-smart people because of this arbitrary list of things I’ve just run off, and you must follow what I’ve prescribed if you want to be a smart person. The dictionary told me to tell you that, so you must comply with our irrevocable and concrete rule book of what smarty mc smarty pants people say 2 each 0ther.

Now that we’ve gotten the rules of being a Smart Person all down pat, let’s analyze all this, shall we?

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Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz Smells like Burnt Plastic, In a Good Way

I wasn’t a fan of popular music for most of my life. I’d have to say in retrospect nineties grunge was popular, and really anything popular to the mainstream is considered ‘popular’ but I’m getting ahead of myself here. To me, throughout my angsty teen years up through my troubled artist college years (and ramen-inhaling-due-to-poverty years, it seems), popular music was pale. Thin like paper, white like a ghost, and hard to access (for me). Derivative. Lacking in substance. Completely and irrevocably tethered to junk lyrics, junk beats, junk Idols, and junk sound. Take that ridiculous incessant mind-draining prattle, I can’t even place the name as I’ve blotted it out of my memory, ‘my lady lumps’ song by Fergie. Or was it the Black Eyed Peas? Don’t care, because the only way I’ll listen to the song is if Alanis Morisette sings it. Yeah. That sortof feeling. That all popular music is garbage, and therefore, Pop music is garbage.

But times are surely changing.

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Freelancing Adventure! Super happy #FML

I have recently taken up, in my free time, reaching out to score some social media, marketing, branding, and web consultation work. Easy enough, right? I’ve been doing it for years, on and off. But this time it’s through freelancer.com. And this time it leaves a sour taste in my mouth and I feel as though I’ve aged twenty years.

My hair is white. That might be from the bleach I used earlier to dye my tips blue. Or perhaps it’s the toil of working through a system hell-bent on exploiting clients and freelancers. Maybe a bit of both.

For shits and giggles, I try ye olde bastion of internet freelancery. What sortof magic is this, and why has it aged me so?

I recently got a hot lead (aka hot like turds roasting on asphalt) from someone who really wanted to increase their website traffic to make sales for items I suspect they were scalping. Much like one rips off a person’s skull with their fingers and tries to sell it on etsy. Dubiously intrigued, I bit into the fish hook and found my mouth bloody and raw.

This is all conjecture and I’m not 100% sure it’s true, but after a reverse image search, I found another company with the same products. It could be an omission of facts; they were buying products from that other company to resell under the moniker of ‘hand made’ which makes people think they made them by hand.

I can’t be certain, but, I am entirely hesitant to think that scalping didn’t occur with bloodied digital fingers, as even the convenience store up the street from me sells bootleg DVDs of torrents for $5. The world is a strange, strange place.

And I was a fish dangling on the hook while I should’ve been making art or reading the news–an altogether more enjoyable and profitable venture.

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Writings: ELLY

EL had her hands stretched out on a giant illumination, thin fingers feelings for new nodes and pulses in the general swarm of their populace. Their synthetic populace, that had for centuries lived in tall, towering organelles. Organic buildings, organic lighting, organic machinery. But machinations in their truest order, for they were replicated with code and process, and the science of the natural world was used to purify the planet. And the human race.

The mechanized world had taken over in 2096, two centuries prior, and EL was a newly manufactured member of the 567-B genus. The machine could not quite be called a girl, but form had fitted her as such, with their technicians creating the most perfect of beauty, she was feminine. Pale translucent skin, the pert parting of two lips, eyebrowless, with only blue liquid beneath the surface of her plasticine to signal what humans would call ‘blood’ or ‘blood flow’. She was a perfect beauty. All beings, from TE to ZJ were beautiful. And in this, EL saw a folly. Imperfections seemed to have made humans resilient. Imperfections had seemed to make humans more beautiful than their current symmetry could enact.

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Writings: Yellow

He would wonder often if it was just something inside of himself. Something that ate away at bits and parts that made him feel, above all things, that he was alone in this world. Dementia may be of the mind, and cancer may be of the body, but what is the soul without both mind and body? Is a soul inherently sick if it chooses to go left instead of right? To take the unbeaten path that it knows, and therefore so does he, will end in his demise? Is the soul some grand consciousness, or is it some sortof religious concept?

Alex didn’t know. And because he didn’t know, he sat. And wondered.

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