So--I finally figured out what the profile button at the top of the screen does. Cool, right?

Here are some things about me.

Name: Katie Coburn

Age: 16 (12th grade)

Aspiration: Novelist

TV Shows: House M.D., Frasier, Monk, American Idol

Music: Most genres

Books: Too many to list

Pets: One calico cat (Daphne Moon)

Preferred Fandoms: House M.D., Frasier, Sherlock Holmes

Poetry.

The most important thing we've learned
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set—
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all the shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink—
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSES IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK—HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY...USED...TO...READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy–Winkle and—
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How The Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole—
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks—
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something good to read.
And once they start—oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
P.S. Regarding Mike Teavee,
We very much regret that we
Shall simply have to wait and see
If we can get him back his height.
But if we can't—it serves him right.

—Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl

And some sentences I like (I collect sentences; let me know if you wrote one and want credit for it, I forget who writes what but rest assured I didn't write any of these):

"Hurting--hurting he would sit with eyes closed, rubbing the polished handle against his cheek or forehead or temples like a blind man relearning the world."

"We will answer their demands for a gold standard by saying to them: 'You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns, you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.'"

"Rose let her gaze drift onto the creature; a white gruslen stared back into her eyes."

"For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these--it might have been."

"John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met."

"His head was buried into Wilson’s side and he was now growling softly into Wilson’s liver, in what Wilson presumed was the Houseian version of a snore."

"'Thank you,' she said, and he heard an 'I love you' in between the words and felt a kiss as she squeezed his hand."

"So it wasn't nothing. But it sure as hell was something. And maybe... someday... it could be everything."

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."

"She stared at the unicorn long after its music had finished, long after the apartment became quiet, sometimes seeing the gift, sometimes seeing the blue eyes of a man who one night noticed she was cold and put his coat around her shoulders."

"There was no doubt in House’s mind, though, that Wilson could tie a sheepshank with his feet. While writing a different letter with each hand. Why he’d need to do that was not clear to House, but it was one of those things that one should be able to do just in case."

"When he’s alone, he shuts his eyes and quivers at his secret ache to be held before he dies."

"Their mother letting him reach through the bars of the crib to stroke the baby’s soft hair. Bunny. My bunny."

"You know this roof; you know what things look like from here. You don’t know what they look like even three feet from the edge. You can guess, but you don’t know, you’ve never seen it."