I digg my nails inside my palm, trying to contain the need to see my own blood.
I love cutting myself. I relish in seeing my own blood outside of me..I enjoy the sight of it.
The sight of blood.
It's mingles and twists in various paths, never having a real destiny. It's a long tear that leaves its ruby trace behind, a cold yet beautiful mark. Bloods colour is so distinct, so warm and filled with life..that outside the body it is remarkable. It's thick and filed with the flow of dark current. A symbol of humanity, of heritage, of nature. Of weaknesses and strengths. It is luscious and..I crave it.
......
The Morris operandi of a killer.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
What could be a considered a speech
Alrighty. A speech. As I sit down in front of my laptop, I think of what I could write. What do I want to say? Do I want a speech recognising human hope and life changing events, or do I want a speech that is straight to the point?
As I stare at the blinking eye of the typewriter, I realise the words under it
Wisdom .....
and it hits me.
Wisdom is nothing of age, nothing you gain throughout time.
A speech that will translate hope in any language, and manage to do so without sounding unrealistic.
After I stare at the assignment given to me, I think of what I want to write. Do I want to write something so hopeful and life changing? But I've never done anything life changing. I never did an action to inspire others. But I think of a few other people who did so and have managed to inspire me and I hope to be blah
Datum fuckin terrible
As I stare at the blinking eye of the typewriter, I realise the words under it
Wisdom .....
and it hits me.
Wisdom is nothing of age, nothing you gain throughout time.
A speech that will translate hope in any language, and manage to do so without sounding unrealistic.
After I stare at the assignment given to me, I think of what I want to write. Do I want to write something so hopeful and life changing? But I've never done anything life changing. I never did an action to inspire others. But I think of a few other people who did so and have managed to inspire me and I hope to be blah
Datum fuckin terrible
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Heartbroken
What are dreams? There isnt an accurate answer, but to me they are a poetion of truth you will never admit to yourself.
I fell in love, and I was heartbroken in several dreams. FEeling it through dreams felt so.. raw. pure. nothing ohyaical or anything getting in the way of emotion, and that emotion was my entire world. it hurt. im but a child thats barely starting to comprehend these emotions and it..it can be an overload. i sometimes get lost in the sorrow, in the dream.
sometimes i cry, and wonder why.
hehe.rhymed there.
god sometimes i say such bullshit someones bound to be allergic because of me.
Fuck.
I fell in love, and I was heartbroken in several dreams. FEeling it through dreams felt so.. raw. pure. nothing ohyaical or anything getting in the way of emotion, and that emotion was my entire world. it hurt. im but a child thats barely starting to comprehend these emotions and it..it can be an overload. i sometimes get lost in the sorrow, in the dream.
sometimes i cry, and wonder why.
hehe.rhymed there.
god sometimes i say such bullshit someones bound to be allergic because of me.
Fuck.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Online world
BLOGITY!
It is I, your owner! I have returned from a long, tiring trip, the required my full strength and mental capacity.MATH HW.
sigh. ivr missed you, bloggy. worlds empty without words, right?
Lifes very demanding of me right now. Or, more like school. Studies, sleep, hw, study, tv show..and missing a certain someone. Not to mwntion dealing with the whole teenage thing, which intself is a bigger demand. Im finding myself batlling between the unease and anger and happiness and accomplishment. The balance is not there, but maybe thats what makes being a teenager hard. I feel somewhat lonely, but my studies dont give me time to think of it. I fins myself happy that soon this will all be behind me, but on the otger hand, it will be a memory that is such a grant part of me that i dnt know if ill be able to cope with the memory not being..well.. reality. I think I am. I am tred...and confused as you can tell.
The whole missing thing hurts, and thw wounds still feel fresh, but i adapt as well as i can. right now, what matters is leaving with good results and just carrying on with my life. Ive done my deed, ive learned all i could from here, but its time for me to develope as a person in a different way.
Lifes a challenge, but what do you say to thT?
CHALLENGE ACCE...wut?
tired. tiirrrred
It is I, your owner! I have returned from a long, tiring trip, the required my full strength and mental capacity.MATH HW.
sigh. ivr missed you, bloggy. worlds empty without words, right?
Lifes very demanding of me right now. Or, more like school. Studies, sleep, hw, study, tv show..and missing a certain someone. Not to mwntion dealing with the whole teenage thing, which intself is a bigger demand. Im finding myself batlling between the unease and anger and happiness and accomplishment. The balance is not there, but maybe thats what makes being a teenager hard. I feel somewhat lonely, but my studies dont give me time to think of it. I fins myself happy that soon this will all be behind me, but on the otger hand, it will be a memory that is such a grant part of me that i dnt know if ill be able to cope with the memory not being..well.. reality. I think I am. I am tred...and confused as you can tell.
The whole missing thing hurts, and thw wounds still feel fresh, but i adapt as well as i can. right now, what matters is leaving with good results and just carrying on with my life. Ive done my deed, ive learned all i could from here, but its time for me to develope as a person in a different way.
Lifes a challenge, but what do you say to thT?
CHALLENGE ACCE...wut?
tired. tiirrrred
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Brad.
-He replaces the house with a human character
- He does so by giving house human qualities
- Yet he doesn't let us forget the actual humans existed, and leaves traces of what is left of them in the house; in a way replacing them and making them do all the things that humans should do.
-
- He does so by giving house human qualities
- Yet he doesn't let us forget the actual humans existed, and leaves traces of what is left of them in the house; in a way replacing them and making them do all the things that humans should do.
-
Monday, September 19, 2011
I dnt know how well this will work out
G-d created nature, and nature created us. G-d's first creation through nature was Adam. His first creation; The man. The man was white. G-d let nature take it's course, but it couldn't on its own; so G-d made woman out of man. The woman was loyal and obidient, as G-d wanted her to be. Man was given authority, man was given power; while woman was given the gift of baring a part of man's nature.
It's all in the Holy Book. My mama taught me the sanctimonous words; the worlds so tied with one another that humanity can barely comprhend the magnitude and meaning of what G-d truely meant, but I was one of the few that carried the torch of Adam; G-d's gift to Earth. Mark his words, remember each one; my mama told me. Mama was a good wife. Mama followed papa around the old barn, cooked him every meal with every bit of her bones; even asked for a penance when she knew she had done wrong. Papa used to say he's the luckiest one of 'em all.
Papa raised me by the words of heaven, papa taught me wrong from right. Be a good boy now, Oom, and heaven just might let ya in, he used to say while smoking his heavy cigar. I remember the scent; the emanating heavy scent of gas. Always welcomed me home. My papa was as smart and proud as Solomon himself, but he smacked me asided whenever I dared mention it; but I felt his heart's content.
I was a happy lad till the day the sinners came. The sinners wore the devil's cloak; only theirs was in human form. My parents were shocked, horrified. Those creatures. They went against everything that was taught to me; worse yet, it went against the Lord's word.
The blasphemy slowly continued, slowly diffused till each corner was rotten mold with the Devil's sin. Them blacks were everywhere; them blacks treated themselves as equal. As something natural. As a child my innocent and naive child mind didn't understand the meaning of sin; of what inferno was like. I only grew out of the clouds of the misty dream-world when I realised this abnormalities were there for good. We humans were soliders of God, created out of His word; them hotnots came along with Hell as a backbone; spuring the devil's colors as their armor.
My vocation became a revelation when my papa was murdered with the weapon of evil. Accident, they said. Accident. Blood ain't no accident when it comes to those creatures. They knew G-d would win, they knew His final word would overrule whatever hallowed their existence; they fought while they could. My final sigh tof papa was terrifying; horrendous...but it had to be done. My papa was a sacrifice God took to open our eyes and souls and realize the darkness that lays in between. My mama screamed and screamed, until her there was nothing left to scream for. Staring at her, I knew what had to be done.
Taking my knife out of jacket, I prayed for my papa. Avenged you will be, papa. Mama, don't cry, here..read the bible for me while I offer God my purpose in life; while I offer God his enemy's son.
It's all in the Holy Book. My mama taught me the sanctimonous words; the worlds so tied with one another that humanity can barely comprhend the magnitude and meaning of what G-d truely meant, but I was one of the few that carried the torch of Adam; G-d's gift to Earth. Mark his words, remember each one; my mama told me. Mama was a good wife. Mama followed papa around the old barn, cooked him every meal with every bit of her bones; even asked for a penance when she knew she had done wrong. Papa used to say he's the luckiest one of 'em all.
Papa raised me by the words of heaven, papa taught me wrong from right. Be a good boy now, Oom, and heaven just might let ya in, he used to say while smoking his heavy cigar. I remember the scent; the emanating heavy scent of gas. Always welcomed me home. My papa was as smart and proud as Solomon himself, but he smacked me asided whenever I dared mention it; but I felt his heart's content.
I was a happy lad till the day the sinners came. The sinners wore the devil's cloak; only theirs was in human form. My parents were shocked, horrified. Those creatures. They went against everything that was taught to me; worse yet, it went against the Lord's word.
The blasphemy slowly continued, slowly diffused till each corner was rotten mold with the Devil's sin. Them blacks were everywhere; them blacks treated themselves as equal. As something natural. As a child my innocent and naive child mind didn't understand the meaning of sin; of what inferno was like. I only grew out of the clouds of the misty dream-world when I realised this abnormalities were there for good. We humans were soliders of God, created out of His word; them hotnots came along with Hell as a backbone; spuring the devil's colors as their armor.
My vocation became a revelation when my papa was murdered with the weapon of evil. Accident, they said. Accident. Blood ain't no accident when it comes to those creatures. They knew G-d would win, they knew His final word would overrule whatever hallowed their existence; they fought while they could. My final sigh tof papa was terrifying; horrendous...but it had to be done. My papa was a sacrifice God took to open our eyes and souls and realize the darkness that lays in between. My mama screamed and screamed, until her there was nothing left to scream for. Staring at her, I knew what had to be done.
Taking my knife out of jacket, I prayed for my papa. Avenged you will be, papa. Mama, don't cry, here..read the bible for me while I offer God my purpose in life; while I offer God his enemy's son.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Huh.
The oddest of people, the ones you never expect, offer you something even the closest ones can't. A person I have't even talked to in ages suddenly made me see something. Maybe the past remains the past, and what happend maynever happen again, but..there's a trace, theres that hope that one person can bring, even if..they're not the same person they used to be. Words of wisdom were told by an drunken mishap of a teenager's life that brought me to appreciate who and what I am. I can't believe snails literally showed me the path.
Rabbling on, I confess II dont know who I am, what I will be, but I know that doesn't matter. I dont what matters either, but maybe happiness will lead me somewhere.
Journalism, awesomely-formed structured..here I come!
Rabbling on, I confess II dont know who I am, what I will be, but I know that doesn't matter. I dont what matters either, but maybe happiness will lead me somewhere.
Journalism, awesomely-formed structured..here I come!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
kissing ass ain't easy
Dear Mr Feet,
Since I sincerely do not know how to spell your name, I will call you mr feet from now on.
I wanted to apply for prefect, but realized how retarded you are and said 'I would be a minion of a little retarded minion if I become a prefect', so im writing this chain mail. The only reason im applying its because it looks good, and I actually do hope to make a difference. Not. Have you SEEN the people at our school? The layer of make-up is the layer of my leg-hair at winter. God, mr feet, I think you should leave while you can. How much do they pay you for this anyway?
Much dislike,
You're soon-to-be favorite.
Since I sincerely do not know how to spell your name, I will call you mr feet from now on.
I wanted to apply for prefect, but realized how retarded you are and said 'I would be a minion of a little retarded minion if I become a prefect', so im writing this chain mail. The only reason im applying its because it looks good, and I actually do hope to make a difference. Not. Have you SEEN the people at our school? The layer of make-up is the layer of my leg-hair at winter. God, mr feet, I think you should leave while you can. How much do they pay you for this anyway?
Much dislike,
You're soon-to-be favorite.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Can only hope, can only dream
Finding balance, finding happiness, finding love. Finding. Looking. How bout just living?
Acceptance. Self-actualization. Reaching out. psychology, philosphy, learning, living.
Everything is written, everything is remembered, yet everything is forgotten - but nonetheless great to achieve.
Acceptance. Self-actualization. Reaching out. psychology, philosphy, learning, living.
Everything is written, everything is remembered, yet everything is forgotten - but nonetheless great to achieve.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Tired
I shouldnt be tired. i shouldnt be so exhausted of everything, but i am. unhappiness does that to you. it leaves you restless, it leaves you wanting...keeps you waitin. waiting for a break, waiting for the silver lining, waiting for anything.
my soul is tired. i am tired. my eyes sink into the deep dark bags under them, and seem to stay there. unwilling to open themselves to the horendous reality that was created by me or the world.
my soul is tired. i am tired. my eyes sink into the deep dark bags under them, and seem to stay there. unwilling to open themselves to the horendous reality that was created by me or the world.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Confusion
Everything change, yet nothing does. A lie hidden is a lie told. Words are said and things are done, and I'm not sure I'm following. Movies dictate that once you find the one, you don't let go - but life says otherwise. I wish that that I'd know the end of life the same way I can predict the end of movies, but I can't.
There's so much left to say, and so much already said.
Movie-biography of Audrey Hupburn was stunningly good, and the grace and feminine counture that I assume she had was captured by Jennifer Love. Her delicate movements each tell a story of a woman's life, and considering how limiting Jennifer Love usually is in her acting, it was a joy to watch.
---------
Batman and Joker dedicate their life to taking each other out, because although their characters state that their looks are nothing alike, they psychologically fit as well as an old glove. Bringing justice and order is what Batman does, and destroying it all is what Joker aims for. They are the yin and yang to each other, they are the balance of the world. Justice can be done just as well in the dark as in the light.
Batman's mask is one of him using his left-over humanity, Bruce Wayne, for the world to fall for the playboy act. It is common that fans would say that Bruce Wayne died the day his parents did, but what if he didn't? What if Bruce Wayne is simply being surpressed, or is just broken? What if he's in an immortal state of a child not being able to grow up because of the traumatizing condition he was stuck in?
This would support the claim of psychologist -- that Bruce's wish to become fear itself - to become Batman - was a childish respond. 'They scared me, so I'll scare them.'
Batman is the essence of an adult; of what Bruce was never meant to be. Bruce is therefore not able to become Batman, because he was meant to grow in the light, whereas Batman grew out of the dark.
Parents died, and there was a number of paths Bruce could have choosen. He could have become a villian, he could have rooted for blood and death, or he could have simply moved on. He choose vengeance, but he didn't choose the law's justice like Robin did.
Did I just analyze Batman?
I'll stop. Im sad. Bah.
There's so much left to say, and so much already said.
Movie-biography of Audrey Hupburn was stunningly good, and the grace and feminine counture that I assume she had was captured by Jennifer Love. Her delicate movements each tell a story of a woman's life, and considering how limiting Jennifer Love usually is in her acting, it was a joy to watch.
---------
Batman and Joker dedicate their life to taking each other out, because although their characters state that their looks are nothing alike, they psychologically fit as well as an old glove. Bringing justice and order is what Batman does, and destroying it all is what Joker aims for. They are the yin and yang to each other, they are the balance of the world. Justice can be done just as well in the dark as in the light.
Batman's mask is one of him using his left-over humanity, Bruce Wayne, for the world to fall for the playboy act. It is common that fans would say that Bruce Wayne died the day his parents did, but what if he didn't? What if Bruce Wayne is simply being surpressed, or is just broken? What if he's in an immortal state of a child not being able to grow up because of the traumatizing condition he was stuck in?
This would support the claim of psychologist -- that Bruce's wish to become fear itself - to become Batman - was a childish respond. 'They scared me, so I'll scare them.'
Batman is the essence of an adult; of what Bruce was never meant to be. Bruce is therefore not able to become Batman, because he was meant to grow in the light, whereas Batman grew out of the dark.
Parents died, and there was a number of paths Bruce could have choosen. He could have become a villian, he could have rooted for blood and death, or he could have simply moved on. He choose vengeance, but he didn't choose the law's justice like Robin did.
Did I just analyze Batman?
I'll stop. Im sad. Bah.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
You'd think I'd have a post beginning with 'Y'
Cold. Warm. Wet.
Nothing feels right; nothing feels alive. The world faces challenge after challenge, living off the ground.
What if I died? what if im born? what if im a dream?
What if it doesn't matter?
"I could see myself dying in their minds."
What if I die in my own mind, and nobody seems to notice? Because how could you
How could you notice someone dying in their minds?
Happiness.
Living. That sort of livin. The one where you say "you achieved it all".
Words. Words mean so much to me. Words mean less to them.
A guy. Two guys. A guy that matters, a guy I'll never meet or get or realize. All a turmoil of a dream.
Everything is lost.
Nothing feels right; nothing feels alive. The world faces challenge after challenge, living off the ground.
What if I died? what if im born? what if im a dream?
What if it doesn't matter?
"I could see myself dying in their minds."
What if I die in my own mind, and nobody seems to notice? Because how could you
How could you notice someone dying in their minds?
Happiness.
Living. That sort of livin. The one where you say "you achieved it all".
Words. Words mean so much to me. Words mean less to them.
A guy. Two guys. A guy that matters, a guy I'll never meet or get or realize. All a turmoil of a dream.
Everything is lost.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Orientation Gone Wrong
Whatever the hell THAT's suppose to mean. Sometimes thinking before typing seems hard.
You know, the 5 stages of grief/depression whatever seem to be like fucking 5 million. I think i've been having it under control for the last two days but there are brief moments when everything just erupts inside of me and I feel the urge to...analyze. Analyze death, life, time. All the philosphical bullshit that ends up in more bullshit, and then I just think of reasons to be unhappy and the reasons lack...well, reason, sometimes. They're just excuses or 'rocks' to further sink me down the lake of thoughts.
I've, the last year, always slept with my head filled with buzzing and flying thoughts and ideas that don't shut up, but they've been manageable. I guess the loss was harder for me to deal with then I thought it would be.
You always think you're so strong, and then it hits ya; you're only human.
Adios fair bloggito, another shining day to you.
You know, the 5 stages of grief/depression whatever seem to be like fucking 5 million. I think i've been having it under control for the last two days but there are brief moments when everything just erupts inside of me and I feel the urge to...analyze. Analyze death, life, time. All the philosphical bullshit that ends up in more bullshit, and then I just think of reasons to be unhappy and the reasons lack...well, reason, sometimes. They're just excuses or 'rocks' to further sink me down the lake of thoughts.
I've, the last year, always slept with my head filled with buzzing and flying thoughts and ideas that don't shut up, but they've been manageable. I guess the loss was harder for me to deal with then I thought it would be.
You always think you're so strong, and then it hits ya; you're only human.
Adios fair bloggito, another shining day to you.
A Lesson In Pity - Screenplay - Scene 1
Shaiera/Shayera, Diana, Kara, Hera/Hathor
[Setting: Coffee shop, in a corner table]
Shaiera: You'd think after what we pass through, we wouldn't have to pass through other shit.
Diana: Tell me about it. I live my life not knowing when the final moment comes, and I bloody well ignore the quiet ticking of the clock of life that follows me, only to have people remind it to me. Even if you fuckin play around with the letters in my name you get that shit-assed word, AIDS.
Hathor: Actually, you get AID, and I think you do enough AIDin to all men around....
Diana: Fuck off. Just because I ain't a married woman with a Jesus and a cross stuck her ass doesn't mean I can't have fun.
Kara: Maybe you guys are taking this the wrong way.
Shaiera: Enlighten us mortals, Kara.
Kara: Think about it. We're young gorgeous women in a society controlled and doomed by horny men. We're victims of numerous diseases that causes pity in any human being's eyes.
Diana: I'm gonna clap now. Bravo, fucking bravo, Kara. I feel great that Im at the bottom of the foodchain. I'm so deep in patheticness that above me I see puppies with limps.
Kara: You missed the point. We're the weak spot. Our diseases cause pity, which we don't want, because we don't want anything in exchange.
Hathor: Told you we should have send her to the luny place.
Shaiera: No, she makes sense. Pity is used to GET things. Think about it. What's more pitiful? A kid or a middle-aged man? Duh, the kid - and the recently-uterus-free creature knows it and takes advantage of it. You're more likely giving it money then anythin.
Hathor: Doesn't really explain how it benefits us.
Kara: Look, we have -
Shiera: (interrupts) How bout I demonstarte? That way we can also know if it works. Like a social experiment. [Stands up from table, picks up bag and walks over coffee contour] Excuse me, can I have an espersso with two sugar?
Coffee guy: Sure. That would be $10.
Shiera: Yes. [rummages through bag, and 'accidently' drops it] I'm so clumsy... [is mid-way kneeling when wig drops] oh..oh...damn..fuck..this happend every since I got this bag of hair...no..no..need to worry... [starts sobbin and then crying] I...I am sorry..it's just...this wig....cancer..and..i...[cries harder]
Coffee guy: [agitaged] ms, ms, it's alright. it's fine. coffees on the house. it's okay. it's alright.
Shiera: [sniffing and standing up] really? because i could -
Coffe guy: it's fine, its okay. just take it.
[Setting: Coffee shop, in a corner table]
Shaiera: You'd think after what we pass through, we wouldn't have to pass through other shit.
Diana: Tell me about it. I live my life not knowing when the final moment comes, and I bloody well ignore the quiet ticking of the clock of life that follows me, only to have people remind it to me. Even if you fuckin play around with the letters in my name you get that shit-assed word, AIDS.
Hathor: Actually, you get AID, and I think you do enough AIDin to all men around....
Diana: Fuck off. Just because I ain't a married woman with a Jesus and a cross stuck her ass doesn't mean I can't have fun.
Kara: Maybe you guys are taking this the wrong way.
Shaiera: Enlighten us mortals, Kara.
Kara: Think about it. We're young gorgeous women in a society controlled and doomed by horny men. We're victims of numerous diseases that causes pity in any human being's eyes.
Diana: I'm gonna clap now. Bravo, fucking bravo, Kara. I feel great that Im at the bottom of the foodchain. I'm so deep in patheticness that above me I see puppies with limps.
Kara: You missed the point. We're the weak spot. Our diseases cause pity, which we don't want, because we don't want anything in exchange.
Hathor: Told you we should have send her to the luny place.
Shaiera: No, she makes sense. Pity is used to GET things. Think about it. What's more pitiful? A kid or a middle-aged man? Duh, the kid - and the recently-uterus-free creature knows it and takes advantage of it. You're more likely giving it money then anythin.
Hathor: Doesn't really explain how it benefits us.
Kara: Look, we have -
Shiera: (interrupts) How bout I demonstarte? That way we can also know if it works. Like a social experiment. [Stands up from table, picks up bag and walks over coffee contour] Excuse me, can I have an espersso with two sugar?
Coffee guy: Sure. That would be $10.
Shiera: Yes. [rummages through bag, and 'accidently' drops it] I'm so clumsy... [is mid-way kneeling when wig drops] oh..oh...damn..fuck..this happend every since I got this bag of hair...no..no..need to worry... [starts sobbin and then crying] I...I am sorry..it's just...this wig....cancer..and..i...[cries harder]
Coffee guy: [agitaged] ms, ms, it's alright. it's fine. coffees on the house. it's okay. it's alright.
Shiera: [sniffing and standing up] really? because i could -
Coffe guy: it's fine, its okay. just take it.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Chapter 1: A Story That Has No Story
I could start with saying a thousand things. I could start by delivering a line so enticing, so intriguing that it will prolong your curiousity to the point of you reading further along. I won't do that.
Not because of the sudden urge to expose my different and pecuilar thoughts, but because my story speaks for itself. Introductions are only an alluring passage as to attarct a reader's eye; Which is why certain books are guranteed immediate failure. An introduction should speak to the heart, not eye. An eye can only see so much. Engage yourself into a story that isn't different from all the rest, that isn't even written in a way that couldn't be written better; it's just a story that you will later gloat you read, to discuss, and forget.
---------
Her appreance send shivers through nurses, and even the doctors themselves couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. It wasn't that her looks were horrendous; quite the opposite, she was heaven's earthly figure.
Her hair was a stream of flowing halo that pours down her shoulders, covering her delicate skin. Skin so tightly covered over bones, you would think it was hugging it. A close hug, a deathly hug. If it tightens anymore, you cold say the skin would become her bones. The fingertips moved into slowly cautious movement, as if afraid to reveal their identity. Her body spoke with such precautious manner; her body spoke of years of fright and hiding. She would crawl, and would almost seem child-like if it weren't for her piercing eyes. They seem to send you into the crossbeam of hell, passing by all tormented souls that scream in agony for everything they lost and everything they will never have again. They scream in such pain,that you could feel the waves of hollow echoes pass through your body. You then realize it's nothing more then an illusion, nothing more then a pair of eyes. Yet the journey was over, and you will never forget it.
Alicia smiled softly, although on her fragile face it seemed painful. Puny humans, she thought, amusing herself by glaring at a male-nurse.
-----
Not because of the sudden urge to expose my different and pecuilar thoughts, but because my story speaks for itself. Introductions are only an alluring passage as to attarct a reader's eye; Which is why certain books are guranteed immediate failure. An introduction should speak to the heart, not eye. An eye can only see so much. Engage yourself into a story that isn't different from all the rest, that isn't even written in a way that couldn't be written better; it's just a story that you will later gloat you read, to discuss, and forget.
---------
Her appreance send shivers through nurses, and even the doctors themselves couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. It wasn't that her looks were horrendous; quite the opposite, she was heaven's earthly figure.
Her hair was a stream of flowing halo that pours down her shoulders, covering her delicate skin. Skin so tightly covered over bones, you would think it was hugging it. A close hug, a deathly hug. If it tightens anymore, you cold say the skin would become her bones. The fingertips moved into slowly cautious movement, as if afraid to reveal their identity. Her body spoke with such precautious manner; her body spoke of years of fright and hiding. She would crawl, and would almost seem child-like if it weren't for her piercing eyes. They seem to send you into the crossbeam of hell, passing by all tormented souls that scream in agony for everything they lost and everything they will never have again. They scream in such pain,that you could feel the waves of hollow echoes pass through your body. You then realize it's nothing more then an illusion, nothing more then a pair of eyes. Yet the journey was over, and you will never forget it.
Alicia smiled softly, although on her fragile face it seemed painful. Puny humans, she thought, amusing herself by glaring at a male-nurse.
-----
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
130 Post + The World Is Filled with Hatred
Birthday bloggity, it is our 130 post.
I am on vacation, so I don't really have an excuse as to why I didn't post. I didn't really feel inspiritational, I guess. I've been on-goingly depressed, which is only normal, but am finding the strength and hope to move on.
Different people will teach you different things. Every person in your life has a meaning, has a purpose. One that I, pretty recently, met has taught me the haterd the world contains. A person that, shall we say, used the swastikato to symbolize and represent his feelings towards the world. What I realized through this 'experience' was that his hatred was not only misguided through reason, but lacked facts. Some people just seek to hate, and some just love to hate. I think it's perhaps a camfloudged disease that dissolved into society's pattern, and it scares me that nobody is tryin to solve it. This hate, this hate that even if it did have some sort of reason for them is portrayed so rightfully, as if anything besides it is wrong. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but the way that this is displayed sickens me. Hate overpowers people, overpowers the respect for opinion. It overpowers judgment, logic and reason, and I think I can comprehend the true ugly disguise hate wears. I , personally, seek equality between all humanity, but it seems all humanity seeks otherwise. From women to men, to religion and politics; to race and sexuality. Why the need of superiority? and why the need to even lower further down others? Are we all not composed of a brain, a pair of lungs, and a heart? It's hard for me to walk while others hate me, and it's hard for me not to hate back; it's hard to not shake some sense into some people, because what seems so wrong for us is what they consider right.
I can only hope that hate will not be the final solution, I can only hope that hate is realized for what it is; a poision rottening and wretching earth.
I am on vacation, so I don't really have an excuse as to why I didn't post. I didn't really feel inspiritational, I guess. I've been on-goingly depressed, which is only normal, but am finding the strength and hope to move on.
Different people will teach you different things. Every person in your life has a meaning, has a purpose. One that I, pretty recently, met has taught me the haterd the world contains. A person that, shall we say, used the swastikato to symbolize and represent his feelings towards the world. What I realized through this 'experience' was that his hatred was not only misguided through reason, but lacked facts. Some people just seek to hate, and some just love to hate. I think it's perhaps a camfloudged disease that dissolved into society's pattern, and it scares me that nobody is tryin to solve it. This hate, this hate that even if it did have some sort of reason for them is portrayed so rightfully, as if anything besides it is wrong. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but the way that this is displayed sickens me. Hate overpowers people, overpowers the respect for opinion. It overpowers judgment, logic and reason, and I think I can comprehend the true ugly disguise hate wears. I , personally, seek equality between all humanity, but it seems all humanity seeks otherwise. From women to men, to religion and politics; to race and sexuality. Why the need of superiority? and why the need to even lower further down others? Are we all not composed of a brain, a pair of lungs, and a heart? It's hard for me to walk while others hate me, and it's hard for me not to hate back; it's hard to not shake some sense into some people, because what seems so wrong for us is what they consider right.
I can only hope that hate will not be the final solution, I can only hope that hate is realized for what it is; a poision rottening and wretching earth.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Erm...what?
“I’m a patient man, . I can wait. You, on the other hand, look like you’re running out of time.”
closed his eyes tightly, wishing for it all to disappear. For it all to become a bad dream,. It wasn’t an option. Dreams weren’t. Lives were at stake, and had to be the hero he was raised to be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t forgive himself.
Clawing at the sheets underneath him, he opened his ocean-blue eyes and whispered the words - has been waiting for.
“Anything. Anything as long as they live.”
- felt the accomplishment he always felt when a job was well done, only this time it was far more then that. It was far more then another kill under -e’s belt – this was a personal victory. This victory wasn’t -, this was -. Much like -, - enjoyed the praise that came – not from his employers, but from the blood that was shed. Blood and he were close.
“You will do everything I command you to?”
“Everything.”
“No questions, no subordination, no denial?”
“No.”
“You will be obedient, loyal, and serve me to the very portals of death?”
“Yes.”
“Say it, -.”
“I will follow you, I will be loyal to you, I will be obedient, and I will serve you till death orders me otherwise.”
closed his eyes tightly, wishing for it all to disappear. For it all to become a bad dream,. It wasn’t an option. Dreams weren’t. Lives were at stake, and had to be the hero he was raised to be. Otherwise, he wouldn’t forgive himself.
Clawing at the sheets underneath him, he opened his ocean-blue eyes and whispered the words - has been waiting for.
“Anything. Anything as long as they live.”
- felt the accomplishment he always felt when a job was well done, only this time it was far more then that. It was far more then another kill under -e’s belt – this was a personal victory. This victory wasn’t -, this was -. Much like -, - enjoyed the praise that came – not from his employers, but from the blood that was shed. Blood and he were close.
“You will do everything I command you to?”
“Everything.”
“No questions, no subordination, no denial?”
“No.”
“You will be obedient, loyal, and serve me to the very portals of death?”
“Yes.”
“Say it, -.”
“I will follow you, I will be loyal to you, I will be obedient, and I will serve you till death orders me otherwise.”
Thursday, June 16, 2011
A Title-less Beginning
There comes a time where memories flood and leak inside the core of your mind, letting loose images deep buried in the underground of the subconcious. With the person you love next to you, the memories seem to be easier to revive, to relive - but with the person gone, the memories are only a haunting image of what you can never have again. Although painful when loss is felt, they are joyous as to remind you of the happiness you once felt, and a reminder that it can happen again. Gone is a person from you're life, but never underestimate the print they left behind. Mourning is a healthy way of letting go, of facing all you have lost and all you will not have, but is also a transition in which you discover yourself again as a new person. Every ounch and inch of a memory should be percieved not as a doom reminder of what you will never face again, but as a course and part of your life. What seems to be the explosion of pain will pass, and you will discover true gratefulness for all you have gotten. It is greedy to want, to ask, for more - and even if God, for me, is an illusion - as the saying goes, 'Be grateful for what God gives you, for He can take it away any moment.'
I'm glad I got to be in a ride as long as this, in a ride where I felt the thrill of life. We go our separate ways, living and breathing different air and paths, leaving the footprints we set together behind. As much as I look behind, I will look forward. I will miss you, but we both know that we have different passages to go on with, and we will see different flowers blossom - knowing that behind there's the very own seeds we planted.
I already miss you, M.
I'm glad I got to be in a ride as long as this, in a ride where I felt the thrill of life. We go our separate ways, living and breathing different air and paths, leaving the footprints we set together behind. As much as I look behind, I will look forward. I will miss you, but we both know that we have different passages to go on with, and we will see different flowers blossom - knowing that behind there's the very own seeds we planted.
I already miss you, M.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Bubble of Happiness
The bubble of happiness that covers children and teenagers, even though they're both unaware of it. It's the bubble I noticed and want to share with my loved ones, to hide them away from any misery or any problem they may have. Reality is hard to confront, and breaking away from the bubble is only the start of it. Nothing makes sense; everything is but a paradox that leads to my irrevicable confusion as to what is reality.
I know it, and im sure any adult does too, but it cannot be defined. It has to be lived through, has to be breathed in. I am scared of the inevitable day I will be in it, and I'm scared of having to confront it. Leaving certain dreams and hopes is hard, but learning they're impossible is more then difficult.
I know it, and im sure any adult does too, but it cannot be defined. It has to be lived through, has to be breathed in. I am scared of the inevitable day I will be in it, and I'm scared of having to confront it. Leaving certain dreams and hopes is hard, but learning they're impossible is more then difficult.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Impossible
If the impossible can happen, then why can't impossible happen to me?
If a flower can grow in a cold-snowing day,
If the universe was created out of nothing,
If the world can survive the heat of the sun
and if our hearts beat a million times per minute,
the impossible has happend, so why
can't it happen to me?
if the impossible happend, why can't it happen to me?
If a flower can grow in a cold-snowing day,
If the universe was created out of nothing,
If the world can survive the heat of the sun
and if our hearts beat a million times per minute,
the impossible has happend, so why
can't it happen to me?
if the impossible happend, why can't it happen to me?
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Critically Acclaimed
I'm between usually and always being entertained when I go to a movie, but afterwards I always have a reproach and word to suggest...so here goes nuffin`...
Thor: I can praise the amazing effects that pull you in the world of Thor, and the action sequences that are hero-worthy. As a bystanding movie, it was less then average, but - in the angle of it being a superhero origin movie, I was pleasantly suprised. I'm usually reluctant to go to origin movies because they seem to be the hardest to make and the rarest to get right. Plot is either to far-streched or relationships are too stable and are hard for the viewers to comprehend. Even if Thor managed to support it's background story, it majorely lacked plot and was relying on the action sequences, that although were in-depth because of, I assume, the 3D, were a well-timed distraction from what I assume was either the lack of chemistry between Thor and Jane or lack of caring in the writer. All relationships seemed confusing and blurry, and the one liners of natalie portman bothered me. Anthony Hopkin's character was well portrayed, yet not well-explained. There didn't seem to be enough time for the plot to reach climax, as there wasn't much to begin with.
As far as superhero movies go, Thor isn't the best but isn't the worst. The eye-candy that was associated with Thor was a pleasant 3D gift-wrapped surprise.
Thor: I can praise the amazing effects that pull you in the world of Thor, and the action sequences that are hero-worthy. As a bystanding movie, it was less then average, but - in the angle of it being a superhero origin movie, I was pleasantly suprised. I'm usually reluctant to go to origin movies because they seem to be the hardest to make and the rarest to get right. Plot is either to far-streched or relationships are too stable and are hard for the viewers to comprehend. Even if Thor managed to support it's background story, it majorely lacked plot and was relying on the action sequences, that although were in-depth because of, I assume, the 3D, were a well-timed distraction from what I assume was either the lack of chemistry between Thor and Jane or lack of caring in the writer. All relationships seemed confusing and blurry, and the one liners of natalie portman bothered me. Anthony Hopkin's character was well portrayed, yet not well-explained. There didn't seem to be enough time for the plot to reach climax, as there wasn't much to begin with.
As far as superhero movies go, Thor isn't the best but isn't the worst. The eye-candy that was associated with Thor was a pleasant 3D gift-wrapped surprise.
Monday, May 2, 2011
An Eventful Week
Maybe one day in the future I'll read these posts and think 'whoa, I was part of history', thought I don't see the reason why I would think that considering I was jst in my apartment watching it all from TV. However, event after event have been happening and I think that although I did not contribute and do much, and am a mere spectector, it's important for me to write them down so one day I can show off about being from 'the old generation.'
William and Kate got married. I'm not much for monarchy and whatnot, but I seeing royals marry is pretty..cool. The wedding dress wasn't too fancy, yet elegant. I guess, being a future princess and potential queen, you can't really wear something too personalisied or styled. Or maybe that's just Kate's taste.
and william, my man, if it weren't for your bald patch... rowr.
William and Kate got married. I'm not much for monarchy and whatnot, but I seeing royals marry is pretty..cool. The wedding dress wasn't too fancy, yet elegant. I guess, being a future princess and potential queen, you can't really wear something too personalisied or styled. Or maybe that's just Kate's taste.
and william, my man, if it weren't for your bald patch... rowr.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
The American Way
Why, bloggity, must be your lucky digital day - two posts a day!
Don't you snort at me! Respect for your creater! hey hey - no throwing stuff either!
Anyways, basicly, this post was inspired by Superman. My fetish with superheroes is quite excessive, and Im sure if I had a proper place to divulge myself in comics, I would. However, wikipedia&net is unfortunately the only accesiable place in which I can transmit my geekyiness, and news is Superman quit his American citinship. Superman, I think, is DC's most iconic 'All-American' hero, and hearing him quit the citizenship is a brilliant way to gather a story and a heated debate. He is the all corny superhero that would stand next to the blue and red flag and salut his country with words of justice and iconics sentences that get most Americans crying, but I do think, him being Superman, he has a bigger debt to the world then that. Superman knows he saves the world, and although he mainly dedicates his time to America, his an international hero. It's only fair that other countries understand and know this. Politics shouldn't be in the way of Superman's ultimate mission, and I'm quite frankly tried of people say 'the american dream is what Superman stands for.' Although his colors represent america, it is time for him to be more. Superman will always have the American ambition at heart, but it isn't fair to see heroes always embracing the idea that everything ideal is automatically American. Being a superhero shouldn't be about national pride, or where your home-town is; it should be about dedicating your life to helping others. ANY others. Superman seems to me like Captain America, in a way; always endorsing his patriotic side. Although 'truth, justice, and the american way' is something Superman will always stand for, I believe he will always stand for his main title first: a superhero. A superhero doesn't care about countries, nationality, etc. and by superman quitting his citinship, his proving his fair to all.
That's the way I see it folks :D
Don't you snort at me! Respect for your creater! hey hey - no throwing stuff either!
Anyways, basicly, this post was inspired by Superman. My fetish with superheroes is quite excessive, and Im sure if I had a proper place to divulge myself in comics, I would. However, wikipedia&net is unfortunately the only accesiable place in which I can transmit my geekyiness, and news is Superman quit his American citinship. Superman, I think, is DC's most iconic 'All-American' hero, and hearing him quit the citizenship is a brilliant way to gather a story and a heated debate. He is the all corny superhero that would stand next to the blue and red flag and salut his country with words of justice and iconics sentences that get most Americans crying, but I do think, him being Superman, he has a bigger debt to the world then that. Superman knows he saves the world, and although he mainly dedicates his time to America, his an international hero. It's only fair that other countries understand and know this. Politics shouldn't be in the way of Superman's ultimate mission, and I'm quite frankly tried of people say 'the american dream is what Superman stands for.' Although his colors represent america, it is time for him to be more. Superman will always have the American ambition at heart, but it isn't fair to see heroes always embracing the idea that everything ideal is automatically American. Being a superhero shouldn't be about national pride, or where your home-town is; it should be about dedicating your life to helping others. ANY others. Superman seems to me like Captain America, in a way; always endorsing his patriotic side. Although 'truth, justice, and the american way' is something Superman will always stand for, I believe he will always stand for his main title first: a superhero. A superhero doesn't care about countries, nationality, etc. and by superman quitting his citinship, his proving his fair to all.
That's the way I see it folks :D
Keen on Talking
Dear bloggity,
seems like ages since I called you that. Now I just refer to you as my companion, I suppose, but I rarely say it. I'm not very effectionate :)
I feel like this moment was taken from a movie scene - as if this huge change is going to happen soon, something that will alter my life. Maybe it's only the fact that I regained my independance and can now have full control of everything that is mine. Control freak, that I am. I can't say that these two weeks have been easy, but I do say I enjoyed the ride. I got closer to a person I care about, which can either result in something tragic or in something that can lest forever; and Im sure it's the latter. Not because I don't have any faith in what we have, but because even faith can't change reality. Another person I care about is leaving, and it's painful to think I'm the one left behind. I'm stuck with the same room, the same school, the same place she's been and I'm stuck with feeling her presence behind everything I touch. I know it's painful to let go, but I will never regret any moment we had. In those romantic cheesy movies they always say that love is painful, but is worth the ride. I can't agree to that extend, but I can agree with living each moment and not looking back with sorrow. Did you know that I will sort of be in college next year? Yeah, tell me about it. It's weird that this school will be the only school. The school. The school I graduate it. I love this school, in spite of all it's....backlashed crowd. Although most of the friends I care about are leaving, I am looking forward to next year. It's still early to say it, and I do have exams to go through, but I feel like it's time for me to accept the change and know that no matter happens, I'll make the best of it. The maturity I gained is sometimes ruined by inky traces of childhood memories, of wanting to still be a child. That's why I'm a teenager.
I think I rattled on enough.
Wish me luck, there, bloggy. Wish me luck.
Stars demand attention,
Kelly :)
seems like ages since I called you that. Now I just refer to you as my companion, I suppose, but I rarely say it. I'm not very effectionate :)
I feel like this moment was taken from a movie scene - as if this huge change is going to happen soon, something that will alter my life. Maybe it's only the fact that I regained my independance and can now have full control of everything that is mine. Control freak, that I am. I can't say that these two weeks have been easy, but I do say I enjoyed the ride. I got closer to a person I care about, which can either result in something tragic or in something that can lest forever; and Im sure it's the latter. Not because I don't have any faith in what we have, but because even faith can't change reality. Another person I care about is leaving, and it's painful to think I'm the one left behind. I'm stuck with the same room, the same school, the same place she's been and I'm stuck with feeling her presence behind everything I touch. I know it's painful to let go, but I will never regret any moment we had. In those romantic cheesy movies they always say that love is painful, but is worth the ride. I can't agree to that extend, but I can agree with living each moment and not looking back with sorrow. Did you know that I will sort of be in college next year? Yeah, tell me about it. It's weird that this school will be the only school. The school. The school I graduate it. I love this school, in spite of all it's....backlashed crowd. Although most of the friends I care about are leaving, I am looking forward to next year. It's still early to say it, and I do have exams to go through, but I feel like it's time for me to accept the change and know that no matter happens, I'll make the best of it. The maturity I gained is sometimes ruined by inky traces of childhood memories, of wanting to still be a child. That's why I'm a teenager.
I think I rattled on enough.
Wish me luck, there, bloggy. Wish me luck.
Stars demand attention,
Kelly :)
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Remedy for the Soul
Are you ever truly satisfied with the person you are?
Do you wake up and think of how silky your skin is, or the brightness of your eyes? Do you think of the approach you have on people, the character and personality you offer, the glimpse you view to the world of who you are?
I don't think I'm ever happy with who I am. I think whatever I write, whatever I think or say, could always have been better. I could get an A and say why not an A*, not that I ever got an A* ,mind you.
I'm just a face in the crowd, and I pretend I'm special because if I don't then who else will do it for me? My flaws are skillyfully written in my mind, chornologically. I view the person that I am today, and say what could have gone better. Complaining seems to be all I do when it comes to my flaws, and I never appreciate everything I have because I always want more out of myself. Another flaw.
My life is wonderful. I could not ask for more. It's so wonderful, in fact, that maybe I try to live up to its standards. Like trying to fold the corner of a paper, I want it to be a certain shape, a certain perfection -
although I, hyprocritically, don't believe in such a thing.
Although the goddess herself, Gaga, would say I was born this way, I don't believe so. There's so much I can change, so much I can learn and do, so much I can become - and I don't embrace what I have.
'Glee' is always about acceptance, and I often agree with it's messages and often think why teenagers don't accept who they are, and I recently found the answer. We don't know who we are. We are wonderers in a society that expects us to immediately mold ourselves to fit in, and to act accordingly. Teenagers search for the answer through rebelion, through drugs and alcohol and sex and they still don't find it. It's only when we grow up that we find out that we're just another person in the world - we just have to follow the routine and we're good to go. The beings that we are will be described by the university we go to, the job we will have and in essence describe the person we are. We define ourselves through expectations of others.
Does that mean that I won't ever truly find the person that I am? Will I ever truly understand myself? Do I need to, if the future is composed of not having to?
Words seem to flow naturally on paper. I wish only life and me could be just as easily done, like breathing.
Although, that's not that easy considering I have asthma.
I suppose I'll just stick with writing.
the only thing I'm good at,
Kelly
Do you wake up and think of how silky your skin is, or the brightness of your eyes? Do you think of the approach you have on people, the character and personality you offer, the glimpse you view to the world of who you are?
I don't think I'm ever happy with who I am. I think whatever I write, whatever I think or say, could always have been better. I could get an A and say why not an A*, not that I ever got an A* ,mind you.
I'm just a face in the crowd, and I pretend I'm special because if I don't then who else will do it for me? My flaws are skillyfully written in my mind, chornologically. I view the person that I am today, and say what could have gone better. Complaining seems to be all I do when it comes to my flaws, and I never appreciate everything I have because I always want more out of myself. Another flaw.
My life is wonderful. I could not ask for more. It's so wonderful, in fact, that maybe I try to live up to its standards. Like trying to fold the corner of a paper, I want it to be a certain shape, a certain perfection -
although I, hyprocritically, don't believe in such a thing.
Although the goddess herself, Gaga, would say I was born this way, I don't believe so. There's so much I can change, so much I can learn and do, so much I can become - and I don't embrace what I have.
'Glee' is always about acceptance, and I often agree with it's messages and often think why teenagers don't accept who they are, and I recently found the answer. We don't know who we are. We are wonderers in a society that expects us to immediately mold ourselves to fit in, and to act accordingly. Teenagers search for the answer through rebelion, through drugs and alcohol and sex and they still don't find it. It's only when we grow up that we find out that we're just another person in the world - we just have to follow the routine and we're good to go. The beings that we are will be described by the university we go to, the job we will have and in essence describe the person we are. We define ourselves through expectations of others.
Does that mean that I won't ever truly find the person that I am? Will I ever truly understand myself? Do I need to, if the future is composed of not having to?
Words seem to flow naturally on paper. I wish only life and me could be just as easily done, like breathing.
Although, that's not that easy considering I have asthma.
I suppose I'll just stick with writing.
the only thing I'm good at,
Kelly
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
It's hard to breath with no air
In the mindset of things, in the way we elvaluate -
the way we expect the unexpect.
I lost tears when I lost my friend,
I lose tears when I lose my friend,
I will lose tears when I will lose my friend.
Whatever phase, whatever reflection of my life -
the moment I smile, I search her eyes
The eyes that won't be there to shine along my silly jokes
The momeny my heart will search for her
and find nothing
is the moment ill realise she's gone
When her laughter won't join mine,
when her hugs won't be there
When eveything will be need to reset, a new page -
because of her.
For love comes in many forms,
but its purist is friendship.
I thought its silly, almost imature to believe in such a concept -
But I fell. I believed.
Im not religious nor hopeful,
But I somehow had faith and hope and believe in this friendship
the end seems far away, yet is near
the end to a start
the stars shine and my tears drop
the moments we had, the moments we will miss
I know that you'll accompany me through life and your fingertip will be left,
as they say,
'its the traces of memory that keeps you living and breathing'
the way we expect the unexpect.
I lost tears when I lost my friend,
I lose tears when I lose my friend,
I will lose tears when I will lose my friend.
Whatever phase, whatever reflection of my life -
the moment I smile, I search her eyes
The eyes that won't be there to shine along my silly jokes
The momeny my heart will search for her
and find nothing
is the moment ill realise she's gone
When her laughter won't join mine,
when her hugs won't be there
When eveything will be need to reset, a new page -
because of her.
For love comes in many forms,
but its purist is friendship.
I thought its silly, almost imature to believe in such a concept -
But I fell. I believed.
Im not religious nor hopeful,
But I somehow had faith and hope and believe in this friendship
the end seems far away, yet is near
the end to a start
the stars shine and my tears drop
the moments we had, the moments we will miss
I know that you'll accompany me through life and your fingertip will be left,
as they say,
'its the traces of memory that keeps you living and breathing'
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I will puke english soon; I better get that A..sigh..sigh..sigh..
- ideas n details
- debate whether dr Zinc should come to debate
My motion for the following report is for the request that dr Zinc won't attend nor speak at one of the group's debate meetings. Our school cannot afford to entertain feeble actors, and I will state my following factors as towards the current situation of dr Zinc impending presence.
Dr Zinc is known to have alluring and persuasive techniques to attarct large crowds, but I do not see the reason for a prestigious school such as ours to fall for an act. Dr Zinc does not overall argue, just forms a theater, an act. His words are one that scripted, and would not be suitable for a heated and on going debate. Although people fall for the facade, I believe we should progress past that and look into the perspective of how dr Zinc does not actually persuade through concrete arguments, but through pityful lies. His presence is not appropiate because he is not a debater, he is an actor - and acting will not elevate him to succed through facts and arguments to win, and therefore would not be a adequate figure to speak.
Debating is about figures and statistics, and dr Zinc is about show and illusion of minds. Shedding tears and adapting your voice to lure your audience in is not what we should be learning in the subject. If I wished to have joined a drama school, then Dr Zinc would be more then well-equipped. I have heards of his tall tales about Earth's destruction, and how he conveyed the crowd to cling to his every word. Although his speeches are admirable and could be of help, his lies and theaterics wouldn't be compactable with the real world and the discussions at our meetings.
His act is convincing, but if we wish to be swayed by rehearsed words so easily, we might as well invite any person into our meetings. Therefore, I believe Dr Zinc should not, under any circumstance, come to our debate meetings.
- debate whether dr Zinc should come to debate
My motion for the following report is for the request that dr Zinc won't attend nor speak at one of the group's debate meetings. Our school cannot afford to entertain feeble actors, and I will state my following factors as towards the current situation of dr Zinc impending presence.
Dr Zinc is known to have alluring and persuasive techniques to attarct large crowds, but I do not see the reason for a prestigious school such as ours to fall for an act. Dr Zinc does not overall argue, just forms a theater, an act. His words are one that scripted, and would not be suitable for a heated and on going debate. Although people fall for the facade, I believe we should progress past that and look into the perspective of how dr Zinc does not actually persuade through concrete arguments, but through pityful lies. His presence is not appropiate because he is not a debater, he is an actor - and acting will not elevate him to succed through facts and arguments to win, and therefore would not be a adequate figure to speak.
Debating is about figures and statistics, and dr Zinc is about show and illusion of minds. Shedding tears and adapting your voice to lure your audience in is not what we should be learning in the subject. If I wished to have joined a drama school, then Dr Zinc would be more then well-equipped. I have heards of his tall tales about Earth's destruction, and how he conveyed the crowd to cling to his every word. Although his speeches are admirable and could be of help, his lies and theaterics wouldn't be compactable with the real world and the discussions at our meetings.
His act is convincing, but if we wish to be swayed by rehearsed words so easily, we might as well invite any person into our meetings. Therefore, I believe Dr Zinc should not, under any circumstance, come to our debate meetings.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Should a child be raised by the carrot or stick?
The way you raise a child can be very impactful for her/his future. A parents and a teacher's job is not to limit or decide for the child, but for them to guide him/her- I will further analyse and describe how both the carrot and the stick are the wrong methods of which a child can grow in.
Let's begin with the inceptions of the wrong-doing of the stick. Violence is never the answer, and the stick contradicts this statement and implies that it is. Children are at a sensitive growing stage, and implanting punishments not only would not get the message desired across, but would also make them fear it and therefore fear learning. It forbids mistakes, which not only is a lost opprtunity for learning, but also strives child to achieve perfection - which shouldn't be the transmitted message.Also, they will quickly accept the lesson that is trying to be taught but will not actually accept or aprove of it, only want to evade the pain that raises from it. The child shouldn't be motivated to work under threat, the motivation should come from within his/her desire. The stick outshadows the idea of acceptance and comfort and for it to be known that it's fine to speak your mind. Parents/teachers are not growing the child to be confident, but fearful. By using stick, the trauma and anger is embodied and bottled up inside the child, later influencing him/her to adapt behaviour in life, and can lead them to be abusive towards others. Parents are preventing child from being comfortable, from speaking and communicating. What parents are doing is shaping the child psychologically to be defensive, evasive, judgmental of themselves and others. It damages child psychologically, and emotionally leaving raw pain. This could be considered exageration, but this method is extreme and does create extreme results. Using stick builds a persona of anger, spiteful and revengeful that will thinly cover the low breaking self-esteem and confidence that the child actually has.
The stick is bad, and the carrot isn't less of a bad-doing. The carrot cancels out the idea of any self-motivation, much like the stick. Children don't have their own initative to carry out his opinions or ideas, because he/she will only look forward to the stick. The stick impends and slowly establishes it's roots in the child's mind, setting it'd course towards being depedents on praise and approval. As a parent/teacher, the cultivated
Let's begin with the inceptions of the wrong-doing of the stick. Violence is never the answer, and the stick contradicts this statement and implies that it is. Children are at a sensitive growing stage, and implanting punishments not only would not get the message desired across, but would also make them fear it and therefore fear learning. It forbids mistakes, which not only is a lost opprtunity for learning, but also strives child to achieve perfection - which shouldn't be the transmitted message.Also, they will quickly accept the lesson that is trying to be taught but will not actually accept or aprove of it, only want to evade the pain that raises from it. The child shouldn't be motivated to work under threat, the motivation should come from within his/her desire. The stick outshadows the idea of acceptance and comfort and for it to be known that it's fine to speak your mind. Parents/teachers are not growing the child to be confident, but fearful. By using stick, the trauma and anger is embodied and bottled up inside the child, later influencing him/her to adapt behaviour in life, and can lead them to be abusive towards others. Parents are preventing child from being comfortable, from speaking and communicating. What parents are doing is shaping the child psychologically to be defensive, evasive, judgmental of themselves and others. It damages child psychologically, and emotionally leaving raw pain. This could be considered exageration, but this method is extreme and does create extreme results. Using stick builds a persona of anger, spiteful and revengeful that will thinly cover the low breaking self-esteem and confidence that the child actually has.
The stick is bad, and the carrot isn't less of a bad-doing. The carrot cancels out the idea of any self-motivation, much like the stick. Children don't have their own initative to carry out his opinions or ideas, because he/she will only look forward to the stick. The stick impends and slowly establishes it's roots in the child's mind, setting it'd course towards being depedents on praise and approval. As a parent/teacher, the cultivated
I can't stop this feelin anymore...Gotta work my essay, no delaying anymoree..
Are children better motivated by rewards or punishment?
Social influence: the good and bad
Whether we choose to see it or not, there is a thin string surronding us, a thin string that has no inception nor termination. This string may be thin, but it's resolute is firm; it's set to manevour and maniplute our movements and actions in every day life.
What I'm talking about is the lasso that was designed by society. We never realize it's there, because of it's illusioante path of bringing out features and characteristics of yourself that you may never have used; words or phrases that you may deem that you'd never mention or think of, but in the haunting reality, you will.
The human mind is one that wants to fit in; whether it can or will is another story. It is within us to want and communicate, and the crossroad of what we have to do and the consquences are inconsquetional to the subconcious mind's determination.
A man. A woman. A child. A dog. Believe it or not, all of the following seemingly adapt a social behaviour tht would be accepted and rejoiced for a group to accept them. In this article, I will mention only the human concepts of 'fitting in', of 'dissolving into the background', and will further give birth to ideas and theories of my own.
if you noticed the order of which I put the list, you'd be observant and perceptive enough to understand how I mentioned a man before a woman, and a human before an animal. It's upsetting to realize the ladder of importance that we created; the ethics of what matters most. Above a woman and a man, we're barely animals - jst because our senses are much more developed, does an equalize us acting in manners that define us as better or on the top of the cycle of nature. we are nature, and whether we choose to blindly ignore it or to adapt our life to it, it is the truth. The core of our being.
Nature works in mysterious ways, and is often the one scientists turn to when it comes to questions about ourselves. For example, the loopholes of which we percieve women as.
A woman is regarded as an inferior; whether by religon, nature, job-wise or not, it is them that are often a step down from men. This obviously was impacted by history's view of a woman, and it's lingering touch that leave it's inky traces on our minds. A woman was known to be feminie, known to have to please the man according to him.
obviously, times have changed enough to realize that women have their own minds and opinion and often find it disrespectful when a man critcises her looks - yet, women still find the need and strieve to look good, to have a sexual appeal to achieve anything. You rarely find a man in position of needed a diet, or when in a job interview been questioned for more. Society impacts the way a woman still thinks she needs more attributes, to be closer to perfection when it's least common for a man to be pressured to look good.
That's not to say a man doesn't have his own pressure to behold and grasp - the pressure of simply being a man. What makes a man more of a superior to a woman? It's the presence of dominance, the control that he beholds and wears as a frail mask to attempt and show his position. The pressure of being a man - of being masculine - the machoism of having large muscles, of a strong presence. What is masculine? Something that is typical of a man; Typicality being key word. What is typical is what'ss expected, and what is expected is what is given; thus the climbing of a man being a man. Just like the colors black and white, what's a woman and what is a man is clearly separated. For men, atleast. Women often are comfortable wtih male settings; example, football or even wearing tuxes. Men find uncomfort in it, because they are not living up to their title if they do anything even close to the word woman - why is the pressure to men being men higher then a woman being feminie? or are tehy both the same?
This way of categorizing and labeling influences the decision and actions of today's world. Male homosexuals are often persucted and insulted for being homosexual. Contrary to popular belief, I have a theory that most homosexuals aren't accepting because of their partner-choice, but because of their social act- because being homosexual, to some, may be signficant to losing the title of what it is to be a man. Homosexuals are deemed to be more effemnite by both media and society - which leads to some generalisation and sexism.
Not all homosexuals are effemnite, just not like all women are. What troubles me in the haterd of homosexuals is the underlying tone of devaluation towards women and the unstable male self-esteem.
Think of a scale - on one end, there's a woman and on the other a man. Where would you place a homosexual man?
Stasticaly speaking, closer to the woman. Why? because homosexuals are seen as men who h
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Blog, so much to do, so little time
oh,oh what're u waiting for
Coursework
Spanish
TIv
Business
WHOA
TATA
TATA
WHAHAHA
Coursework
Spanish
TIv
Business
WHOA
TATA
TATA
WHAHAHA
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Makes sense here, makes bullshit there
I think the reason why men are so uncomfortable with gays is because they're openly less manly and more feminine, and in a way, more confident then straight men will ever be
you're gay, so if you do something that's slightly female, like idk, go to a mall
you can't be insulted for it
but for a straight male...its the end of the world
I have often thought of the reason gays are not tolerated. I looked at statistics which state that women accept homosexuals far more then straight males do. I wondered why that is, and went into a deep mind-whirl of theories and conceptions.
Often when men insult each other, they tend to use synonyms for homosexual. Why? What is so horrific, so offending to a male to being gay?The general act of liking another male, or the fact that most homosexuals are, perhaps, not as much of a ‘man’?
What this statement implicates is that not only how men and women are affected by the pressure of society, but the view that the world still has of women.
Men declare themselves men by their attributes; by their strength, their character and the way the act.
you're gay, so if you do something that's slightly female, like idk, go to a mall
you can't be insulted for it
but for a straight male...its the end of the world
I have often thought of the reason gays are not tolerated. I looked at statistics which state that women accept homosexuals far more then straight males do. I wondered why that is, and went into a deep mind-whirl of theories and conceptions.
Often when men insult each other, they tend to use synonyms for homosexual. Why? What is so horrific, so offending to a male to being gay?The general act of liking another male, or the fact that most homosexuals are, perhaps, not as much of a ‘man’?
What this statement implicates is that not only how men and women are affected by the pressure of society, but the view that the world still has of women.
Men declare themselves men by their attributes; by their strength, their character and the way the act.
Article + Later THE POEM BITCH
Dracula
In case the wanted posters did not get it's message across, the once-in-a-year play of 2011, Dracula(played by Alex Puiu) is coming soon. The props are being made, the actors are rehearsing, and the stage is being set - the stage that's a bit different from last year. A bit, as in, a complete different place- our school. Most might be critical after long succesful years in Tenderica Theater, but fret not, for our school will not be a school when the show will start. Our school will be a castle illuminated by the moon, haunted by vampires and seen as a sanctuary for bats. If you might have crossed the English room, you may also have seen pale arms with veins bursting out - the arms were created by our lovely angels and many others who came on Saturday to offer their help . It is only the start of what it's sure to be a unique and personalised play.
Different students are contriubing; whether it's behind the curtains or infront. If you wish to help in any way, you can talk to ms Angela who's sure to involve you. If not, come support your colleges in one of the biggest events of our school.
In a mini-interview with ms Angela, she excitedetly talks about everything involving the play, and describes everything with vigrous enthusiasm. "I'm amazed by the dedication and enthusian of our students, even though this is a crucial time of the year with the exams coming - they have show determination to take part." She says, grinning from ear to ear.
This year there will also be activities and competitions going on before the play begins. The CAS group has made something for us to start the play with, and a certain caterpillar is involved. The audience will be invited to dress up in a Dracula-themed manner to win a prize, and you will see a make-up booth in case you're interested in a new style. I'm sure I don't have to promote the infamous cakes that are being sold
In case the wanted posters did not get it's message across, the once-in-a-year play of 2011, Dracula(played by Alex Puiu) is coming soon. The props are being made, the actors are rehearsing, and the stage is being set - the stage that's a bit different from last year. A bit, as in, a complete different place- our school. Most might be critical after long succesful years in Tenderica Theater, but fret not, for our school will not be a school when the show will start. Our school will be a castle illuminated by the moon, haunted by vampires and seen as a sanctuary for bats. If you might have crossed the English room, you may also have seen pale arms with veins bursting out - the arms were created by our lovely angels and many others who came on Saturday to offer their help . It is only the start of what it's sure to be a unique and personalised play.
Different students are contriubing; whether it's behind the curtains or infront. If you wish to help in any way, you can talk to ms Angela who's sure to involve you. If not, come support your colleges in one of the biggest events of our school.
In a mini-interview with ms Angela, she excitedetly talks about everything involving the play, and describes everything with vigrous enthusiasm. "I'm amazed by the dedication and enthusian of our students, even though this is a crucial time of the year with the exams coming - they have show determination to take part." She says, grinning from ear to ear.
This year there will also be activities and competitions going on before the play begins. The CAS group has made something for us to start the play with, and a certain caterpillar is involved. The audience will be invited to dress up in a Dracula-themed manner to win a prize, and you will see a make-up booth in case you're interested in a new style. I'm sure I don't have to promote the infamous cakes that are being sold
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Security - Has it gone too far?
People of the nation, people of the world daily travel with the knowledge and insruance that they are safe. The procedures taht are meant to assure us, thatt are meant to keep out minds at ease. The procedures, that perhaps may work at time - but in the epitemy of security, fail.
The explosions, the usage and transport of drugs still ocur. Millions, if not billions of people per day travel. Do you believe that they are all being checked equally? That there's time for each person to be varified as safe?
We're at the pinnacle of extremity. We cannot afford to be theartened by extremists - because one way or another, they will 'express' their opinions. They will find a way to terrorize, they will find a way to cause fear - our 'security' won't stop it. What is security for? Towards what extend and are does security actually cover?
Do you believe you're safe because of it?
Perhaps security achieves it's goals, but the sheddings that are left effect us all. For example, the footage of the youung boy taking his shirt off in the airport - what monstruties has the planet created that we doubt the seed of life, the possibly only innocence we have left?
What kind of life do you want your child to lead? the one where his accused of murder, of terrorizing just because he/she carries an oddly shaped toy?
We have cast a shadow of doubt upon everything. My main point, and I want to underline and present it to your attention, isn't that security shouldn't exist at all. It does confine a certain threat that could, by the long-run, stop certain things from happening. This threat, however, should only apply to those who deserve it and it shouldn't apply to everyone. Just because a few demented beings have done what they've done, it is no reason to cause paranoia and convey the world to submit to them.
Our message should remain strong, and not crumble into ashes by fear. We need to say enough is enough.
A child shouldn't be passing through such a thorough check-out because of his identity or race.
Another point which security manages to explore. Race. Identity. It the submilist form of thinking, isn't there an injection of racism in fear? Wouldn't a muslim male be checked more then a christian male?
Can we not see that this form of prejudice is creating a barrier between countries and the world?
The generalization is not fair, not equipped and I have so far not seen anyone protest against it.
I wonder if it's the tauntilizing embodiment of fear; I wonder if the threat is real anyone or a construction of imagination.
Are we a step a way from security spreading it's wing in public transport? In the streets? In every door you enter? Are we bound to see it's feathers wherever we may go?
The line between invading privacy and to behold us in a cover of safety is what seems to be impossible.
Our luggage, our bags, our bodies - soon they'll find a way to check the very fibre of our being.
I'm scared that we reached a point of no return - that this will contiune to be the future.
I, sincerely, hope not. I hope that there will be a day in which I can travel, in which I can enter an airport and an airline and not have eyes narrow and scan me, not feel the tension that surronds the airport if anybody so much as whispers the forbidden words - 'explosion', 'bomb', 'terror' - if it's as much as a synonym, for it not to be a verbal weapon that immediately shoots it's bullets into hearts and recharges the air with thick poisionous agitation.
For there to be a day where the extremist's won't have the effect they do, for the extremists not to have the last word.
The explosions, the usage and transport of drugs still ocur. Millions, if not billions of people per day travel. Do you believe that they are all being checked equally? That there's time for each person to be varified as safe?
We're at the pinnacle of extremity. We cannot afford to be theartened by extremists - because one way or another, they will 'express' their opinions. They will find a way to terrorize, they will find a way to cause fear - our 'security' won't stop it. What is security for? Towards what extend and are does security actually cover?
Do you believe you're safe because of it?
Perhaps security achieves it's goals, but the sheddings that are left effect us all. For example, the footage of the youung boy taking his shirt off in the airport - what monstruties has the planet created that we doubt the seed of life, the possibly only innocence we have left?
What kind of life do you want your child to lead? the one where his accused of murder, of terrorizing just because he/she carries an oddly shaped toy?
We have cast a shadow of doubt upon everything. My main point, and I want to underline and present it to your attention, isn't that security shouldn't exist at all. It does confine a certain threat that could, by the long-run, stop certain things from happening. This threat, however, should only apply to those who deserve it and it shouldn't apply to everyone. Just because a few demented beings have done what they've done, it is no reason to cause paranoia and convey the world to submit to them.
Our message should remain strong, and not crumble into ashes by fear. We need to say enough is enough.
A child shouldn't be passing through such a thorough check-out because of his identity or race.
Another point which security manages to explore. Race. Identity. It the submilist form of thinking, isn't there an injection of racism in fear? Wouldn't a muslim male be checked more then a christian male?
Can we not see that this form of prejudice is creating a barrier between countries and the world?
The generalization is not fair, not equipped and I have so far not seen anyone protest against it.
I wonder if it's the tauntilizing embodiment of fear; I wonder if the threat is real anyone or a construction of imagination.
Are we a step a way from security spreading it's wing in public transport? In the streets? In every door you enter? Are we bound to see it's feathers wherever we may go?
The line between invading privacy and to behold us in a cover of safety is what seems to be impossible.
Our luggage, our bags, our bodies - soon they'll find a way to check the very fibre of our being.
I'm scared that we reached a point of no return - that this will contiune to be the future.
I, sincerely, hope not. I hope that there will be a day in which I can travel, in which I can enter an airport and an airline and not have eyes narrow and scan me, not feel the tension that surronds the airport if anybody so much as whispers the forbidden words - 'explosion', 'bomb', 'terror' - if it's as much as a synonym, for it not to be a verbal weapon that immediately shoots it's bullets into hearts and recharges the air with thick poisionous agitation.
For there to be a day where the extremist's won't have the effect they do, for the extremists not to have the last word.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Ba-duh-ba-DI-BA!!!
Argmentative writing - Carrot and stick
-airport security
-creative writing
Spanish & Send ict
Swirl and gold,
chop and burn,
love and turn,
curse and loan.
-airport security
-creative writing
Spanish & Send ict
Swirl and gold,
chop and burn,
love and turn,
curse and loan.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
All for one, one for all
-Drama: Monologue & Write
-English: Creative * 2 Argumentive pieces
-ICT:send
-Spanish:Learn
- Business:past paper
-English: Creative * 2 Argumentive pieces
-ICT:send
-Spanish:Learn
- Business:past paper
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Another Loser Post
Ah, the escapades of a loser. You know. The act of one. Of being one.
Wonder how that word was created. Did a loser inspire it or did a loser write it? What's the etymology of it? How did the author of the word loser conduct those letters?
Maybe he used the infamous and ancient 'stinky hat system.' The one where you put it on, and you're a loser? Maybe he thought, "Whoever wears it, will be the core and seed of it's definition." Maybe he was french.
What is the definition of a loser? The opposite of a winner was the initial definition. Later on, I believe, American high schoolers cataloged loser as someone who doesn't fit in or is structured differently then the rest of them.
I, Linda Molweed, will uncover the origins of loser. A whole documentry to outsiders who are trying to comprehend their current situation. Let's talk history, for one.
I bet the greeks made it. Greeks do it all. There's always greek this, greek that. Or the romans.
Maybe the word loser originally meant successor; or maybe the romans got tired of thinking up ways to insult everyone they defeated and simply came up with it.
This word draws such attention from me because I have a close and upcoming relationship with it.
You see, loser definies the very red blood cells that course throughtout my body - they are all part of it.
Part of me being a loser. Fret not, though, I carry my genes with pride! Being a loser could perhaps lower your self-esteem, and cleaning the remaining trash off your clothes isn't exactly fun, but it teaches you a valuable lesson in life - which, of course I won't tell you, because you have to find out by yourselves.
Being a loser is more responsibility then people think. You have to live up and work hard to keep your title as a loser or someone else - another competitive loser , probably - will try and rip the title away from you.
People always aim such high things - why go up the stairs when you can get down?
It's less of a jungle there. People at the top are carnivores, slavitating after meat,gore and blood. We at the bottom eat ice cream and doughnets. Easier to digest, and definitely not as messy.
'You ain't ready for this jelly',
- mwhaha hugs
Wonder how that word was created. Did a loser inspire it or did a loser write it? What's the etymology of it? How did the author of the word loser conduct those letters?
Maybe he used the infamous and ancient 'stinky hat system.' The one where you put it on, and you're a loser? Maybe he thought, "Whoever wears it, will be the core and seed of it's definition." Maybe he was french.
What is the definition of a loser? The opposite of a winner was the initial definition. Later on, I believe, American high schoolers cataloged loser as someone who doesn't fit in or is structured differently then the rest of them.
I, Linda Molweed, will uncover the origins of loser. A whole documentry to outsiders who are trying to comprehend their current situation. Let's talk history, for one.
I bet the greeks made it. Greeks do it all. There's always greek this, greek that. Or the romans.
Maybe the word loser originally meant successor; or maybe the romans got tired of thinking up ways to insult everyone they defeated and simply came up with it.
This word draws such attention from me because I have a close and upcoming relationship with it.
You see, loser definies the very red blood cells that course throughtout my body - they are all part of it.
Part of me being a loser. Fret not, though, I carry my genes with pride! Being a loser could perhaps lower your self-esteem, and cleaning the remaining trash off your clothes isn't exactly fun, but it teaches you a valuable lesson in life - which, of course I won't tell you, because you have to find out by yourselves.
Being a loser is more responsibility then people think. You have to live up and work hard to keep your title as a loser or someone else - another competitive loser , probably - will try and rip the title away from you.
People always aim such high things - why go up the stairs when you can get down?
It's less of a jungle there. People at the top are carnivores, slavitating after meat,gore and blood. We at the bottom eat ice cream and doughnets. Easier to digest, and definitely not as messy.
'You ain't ready for this jelly',
- mwhaha hugs
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
R.E & Spanish ya'll
R.E:
Similarities between Islam and Judaism:
- Hamsa: In Islam, the hamsa is called the Hand of Fatima, in honor of one of the daughters of the Prophet Mohammed.
-they both cover their heads
-Both believe in one God
- Don't eat pork
- In both religions the woman is lesser then the man & covered clothes *decent* not exposed
- Jerusalem is sacred
- Both fast
- Big families ( a lot of children - no abortions)
- Abrhamic religions
Soy una adolescente alegra y feliz. Generalmente soy muy graciosa y habladora. Creo que soy bastante inteligente y una muchacha con pasion para la vida. Viengo de una pequne pais que se llama Israel, pero vivo en Rumania en Europa. Tengo el pelo ondulado y maron. En el futuro quieria ser abdgada, po que me gusta palierme y gana para la justicia. Quisiera tener una oficina grande y espasciois y un sueldo grande. En my ttiempo libre me gusta ir a centro comercial para comprar ropas. Tambien me gusta ver peliculas de guerra. Normalmente me voy con mi amiga, que se llama Mariana y es mexicana. Mi familia no tienen mucho rason, son extranos y son un poco locos, pero eso es lo que me gusta. Nos divertimos con todo lo que hacemos. Quando salgo para comer, me gusta tener el aperitivo pequeno y un plato grande. Mi comida favorita es un bocadillo grande y faboloso con mayonesa y cebolla. Se que es simple, poro asi son mis sabores.
Me encante celebrar los cumpleanos de mi amigos y familia; creo que es el mejor camino para reunir todas las personas de mi vida que quiero. Puede ser que tambien me gusta la tarta.
En mi vacaciones me gusta ir al las montanas en el sudo del Rumania. Voy con el coche, y me alogo con un pension que es muy comodo. Es frio pero amo el nieve. Annual voy con mi familia aye en el vierno.
Tomamos un habitacion bastante grande, con tres camas. Necesitamos espacio. Ordinarmiente pasamos una semana aya, porque no es menos y no es mas a lo que
Similarities between Islam and Judaism:
- Hamsa: In Islam, the hamsa is called the Hand of Fatima, in honor of one of the daughters of the Prophet Mohammed.
-they both cover their heads
-Both believe in one God
- Don't eat pork
- In both religions the woman is lesser then the man & covered clothes *decent* not exposed
- Jerusalem is sacred
- Both fast
- Big families ( a lot of children - no abortions)
- Abrhamic religions
Soy una adolescente alegra y feliz. Generalmente soy muy graciosa y habladora. Creo que soy bastante inteligente y una muchacha con pasion para la vida. Viengo de una pequne pais que se llama Israel, pero vivo en Rumania en Europa. Tengo el pelo ondulado y maron. En el futuro quieria ser abdgada, po que me gusta palierme y gana para la justicia. Quisiera tener una oficina grande y espasciois y un sueldo grande. En my ttiempo libre me gusta ir a centro comercial para comprar ropas. Tambien me gusta ver peliculas de guerra. Normalmente me voy con mi amiga, que se llama Mariana y es mexicana. Mi familia no tienen mucho rason, son extranos y son un poco locos, pero eso es lo que me gusta. Nos divertimos con todo lo que hacemos. Quando salgo para comer, me gusta tener el aperitivo pequeno y un plato grande. Mi comida favorita es un bocadillo grande y faboloso con mayonesa y cebolla. Se que es simple, poro asi son mis sabores.
Me encante celebrar los cumpleanos de mi amigos y familia; creo que es el mejor camino para reunir todas las personas de mi vida que quiero. Puede ser que tambien me gusta la tarta.
En mi vacaciones me gusta ir al las montanas en el sudo del Rumania. Voy con el coche, y me alogo con un pension que es muy comodo. Es frio pero amo el nieve. Annual voy con mi familia aye en el vierno.
Tomamos un habitacion bastante grande, con tres camas. Necesitamos espacio. Ordinarmiente pasamos una semana aya, porque no es menos y no es mas a lo que
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Monologues Piss Me OFF
Dear Cambridge,
Hey, is this okay? I think you can see a bit of wrinkles...Not that I have any, mind you, but I am getting older. Wait..I think this position is wrong...I think maybe I should turn like this..or maybe I should be more Bar Rafaeli about it..Ya know, jewish genes and all..Start like this..Wait wait! can we retake? No? oh..then...
Hello cambridge! I've astdiously been following your brilliant system for quite some time now, and over the years you've taught me so much. You've taught me my weaknesses and my strenghs, you've build up my character and knowledge. You've offered me so much, that I decided I should give something back.
*gestures hands around* Me. Carrie Underwood.
you can clearly see the amount of talent I have and that I rightfully shouldn't be here.I should be in bigger places, doing biggers things. Like...Representing you.
You guys over there have shaped your name and came to the top. When you think cambridge, you think power, you think knowledge - and for some reason, you kind of think of tea - but you don't have an image in your head. Yes, you have the thick bold Cambridge name with that little red symbol that I honestly never looked at, and Im guessing no one else has. Im probably making you realize what a mistake you have done-
you have no face to the world and you need one.
So the obvious solution is...well, me.
I've entered your official site and first thing I see is a girl. Yes, indeed, she's pretty but she clearly can't handle the pressure of reresenting the second- best university in the world - and she clearly doesn't have the attitude for it. I'm willing to sacrifice my freedom and my education to shortly represent you, and then be led to my ultimate goal: Fame.
Unfortunately, fame does not lay in Britain. It lies in America.
Do not fret, Cambridge, for I will represent you well - once people will turn their heads around and notice the amount of grace and talent I have, they will also notice you, my sponsors.
I really don't want to go to America that badly, but any actor who has any chance of succeding needs to go there. The real reason why I don't want to go there is because America clearly has some problems.
Let's start with the statue of Lady Justice.
It's the all american image - and it really needs an upgrade. The pose, the structure - Lady Justice clearly needs a makeover. She needs a Victoria Beckham edge, she needs to show those lovely curves and change her hand gesture. Tip for you lucky male examiners over Cambridge - Hand gestures show a lot about a woman.
Never mind that, though. I guess ill endure it for a while, being in a America I mean. I will be the incarnation of Madonna, only less facials and face operations.
I will raise to be the ideal face the world so clearly is crying for - I will be the ideal role model.
Im not going to Miley Cyrus all over this, I will take my responsibiles carefully.
You see, Cambridge, women with talent such as myself always don't fit in. The reason why Destiny's Child broke up - Beyonce was just too good. I am Beyonce. It's obviously the reason why people won't talk to me - I intimidate them with the glow of endowment I have.
The other day I was walking when my follow colleges thought it was funny to throw food at my hair - which by the way i spend two hours doing - and laughed about it.
I smiled like they were the paparazi and endured it. Celebrities don't have it easy.
Once I will reach the pinnacle of fame, I will walk Earth like it's a huge red carpet - and you, Cambridge, will obviously benefit from having me represent you.You'll finally gain your ground and make Oxford look like a kindergarden *stutters* for..for.. dogs! Yes! You will lower it's name that much! As soon as you've seen this video, you can contact me through the school. My parents are already aware that they led a star into the world and will, of course, accept your proposal. They always knew I would flourish into a beautiful character.
This is Carrie Underwood, aka your future Barbara Stresiand.
Hey, is this okay? I think you can see a bit of wrinkles...Not that I have any, mind you, but I am getting older. Wait..I think this position is wrong...I think maybe I should turn like this..or maybe I should be more Bar Rafaeli about it..Ya know, jewish genes and all..Start like this..Wait wait! can we retake? No? oh..then...
Hello cambridge! I've astdiously been following your brilliant system for quite some time now, and over the years you've taught me so much. You've taught me my weaknesses and my strenghs, you've build up my character and knowledge. You've offered me so much, that I decided I should give something back.
*gestures hands around* Me. Carrie Underwood.
you can clearly see the amount of talent I have and that I rightfully shouldn't be here.I should be in bigger places, doing biggers things. Like...Representing you.
You guys over there have shaped your name and came to the top. When you think cambridge, you think power, you think knowledge - and for some reason, you kind of think of tea - but you don't have an image in your head. Yes, you have the thick bold Cambridge name with that little red symbol that I honestly never looked at, and Im guessing no one else has. Im probably making you realize what a mistake you have done-
you have no face to the world and you need one.
So the obvious solution is...well, me.
I've entered your official site and first thing I see is a girl. Yes, indeed, she's pretty but she clearly can't handle the pressure of reresenting the second- best university in the world - and she clearly doesn't have the attitude for it. I'm willing to sacrifice my freedom and my education to shortly represent you, and then be led to my ultimate goal: Fame.
Unfortunately, fame does not lay in Britain. It lies in America.
Do not fret, Cambridge, for I will represent you well - once people will turn their heads around and notice the amount of grace and talent I have, they will also notice you, my sponsors.
I really don't want to go to America that badly, but any actor who has any chance of succeding needs to go there. The real reason why I don't want to go there is because America clearly has some problems.
Let's start with the statue of Lady Justice.
It's the all american image - and it really needs an upgrade. The pose, the structure - Lady Justice clearly needs a makeover. She needs a Victoria Beckham edge, she needs to show those lovely curves and change her hand gesture. Tip for you lucky male examiners over Cambridge - Hand gestures show a lot about a woman.
Never mind that, though. I guess ill endure it for a while, being in a America I mean. I will be the incarnation of Madonna, only less facials and face operations.
I will raise to be the ideal face the world so clearly is crying for - I will be the ideal role model.
Im not going to Miley Cyrus all over this, I will take my responsibiles carefully.
You see, Cambridge, women with talent such as myself always don't fit in. The reason why Destiny's Child broke up - Beyonce was just too good. I am Beyonce. It's obviously the reason why people won't talk to me - I intimidate them with the glow of endowment I have.
The other day I was walking when my follow colleges thought it was funny to throw food at my hair - which by the way i spend two hours doing - and laughed about it.
I smiled like they were the paparazi and endured it. Celebrities don't have it easy.
Once I will reach the pinnacle of fame, I will walk Earth like it's a huge red carpet - and you, Cambridge, will obviously benefit from having me represent you.You'll finally gain your ground and make Oxford look like a kindergarden *stutters* for..for.. dogs! Yes! You will lower it's name that much! As soon as you've seen this video, you can contact me through the school. My parents are already aware that they led a star into the world and will, of course, accept your proposal. They always knew I would flourish into a beautiful character.
This is Carrie Underwood, aka your future Barbara Stresiand.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Controversial Topics...Ran out, Shout it out loud!
I don't think you do - Nanana, darren criss is on glee again!
HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY
Glee, after a month of waiting, you did NOT dissapoint me.
Episode was done neatly and beautifully - from the performances, to the acting, to the humor and drama.
In a swirl of motion glee kept it's legendary statues as the amazing show that it is. Quickly, but efficently, dealing with most problems not and without a touch and suffle of Sue.
Ah, Sue. Canon-using Sue.
Back to me doing my homework...
----
Is fashion important?
Are exams vital?
HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY
Glee, after a month of waiting, you did NOT dissapoint me.
Episode was done neatly and beautifully - from the performances, to the acting, to the humor and drama.
In a swirl of motion glee kept it's legendary statues as the amazing show that it is. Quickly, but efficently, dealing with most problems not and without a touch and suffle of Sue.
Ah, Sue. Canon-using Sue.
Back to me doing my homework...
----
Is fashion important?
Are exams vital?
Saturday, February 5, 2011
101 dalmatians
Controversial Piece.
Why do women like to pose naked?
A question that constantly haunts me because of the variety of its answers. I see and observe the daily structures of the world, the way the nude pictures are assimilated in society, and sometimes are a requierment. People have began to deem it natural or just shrug at a naked woman, but is it really that simple? Is a woman nude as accepted and, at times, as demanded?
I opened a magazine with a famous actress posing nude. The photos consisted of revealing material, and the woman proudly displaying it. Nobody forces her to do it - she felt comfortable enough with her body and skin. She's a highly known actress, she gains millions if not billions of dollers so money wasn't a factor. Does she need a motivation, or is it to make stability or cause scandal? Do women seek attention through this, or do they seek confidence?
Think of a shirtless man and woman. The latter seems far more scandalous, far more outrageous. Why? Is it because of men's quick enraptured minds perhaps women being subconiously persuaded by men - because they're the 'dominating sex'?, or because of the way society builds itself around women being perfect?
I often think women have it harder. Society set rules for everyone to fit in, and women must put effort and undertaking to construct a face for society to see - for society to accept. The acceptance of society is important for everyone, it's human nature to seek comfort and concede - but I wonder if we work too hard to seek it. What is average mean? Why do we want to be normal? Why can't I be my own persona? Is it because the majority of women pose naked, the rest will be influenced to do so?
As humans, our bodies is our display to the world. We often seek perfection in it, for that's what others will seek when they meet someone. Women work hard to look beautiful, and posing naked is their opportunity to shine. It's not right for us to make mirages and illusions of perfections and tell women they have to build up to it.
Is nudity in pictures, generally speaking, wrong? Is the core and foundation of it an art or an atroucity? The reasons behind it could drastically change the perceptive of it. An example: There was a woman naked in a famous men's magazine. For some, it may be humiliting and degrading but according to this woman it was what saved her from drugs and death.
I'm giving one example out of many; because there's thousands of reasons of the almost compulsory need to expose one's self.
Whether it's for one's own being - confidence, self-respect, self-esteem, or whether because it's a demand from society or a monetry source, is it right or wrong?
Why do women like to pose naked?
A question that constantly haunts me because of the variety of its answers. I see and observe the daily structures of the world, the way the nude pictures are assimilated in society, and sometimes are a requierment. People have began to deem it natural or just shrug at a naked woman, but is it really that simple? Is a woman nude as accepted and, at times, as demanded?
I opened a magazine with a famous actress posing nude. The photos consisted of revealing material, and the woman proudly displaying it. Nobody forces her to do it - she felt comfortable enough with her body and skin. She's a highly known actress, she gains millions if not billions of dollers so money wasn't a factor. Does she need a motivation, or is it to make stability or cause scandal? Do women seek attention through this, or do they seek confidence?
Think of a shirtless man and woman. The latter seems far more scandalous, far more outrageous. Why? Is it because of men's quick enraptured minds perhaps women being subconiously persuaded by men - because they're the 'dominating sex'?, or because of the way society builds itself around women being perfect?
I often think women have it harder. Society set rules for everyone to fit in, and women must put effort and undertaking to construct a face for society to see - for society to accept. The acceptance of society is important for everyone, it's human nature to seek comfort and concede - but I wonder if we work too hard to seek it. What is average mean? Why do we want to be normal? Why can't I be my own persona? Is it because the majority of women pose naked, the rest will be influenced to do so?
As humans, our bodies is our display to the world. We often seek perfection in it, for that's what others will seek when they meet someone. Women work hard to look beautiful, and posing naked is their opportunity to shine. It's not right for us to make mirages and illusions of perfections and tell women they have to build up to it.
Is nudity in pictures, generally speaking, wrong? Is the core and foundation of it an art or an atroucity? The reasons behind it could drastically change the perceptive of it. An example: There was a woman naked in a famous men's magazine. For some, it may be humiliting and degrading but according to this woman it was what saved her from drugs and death.
I'm giving one example out of many; because there's thousands of reasons of the almost compulsory need to expose one's self.
Whether it's for one's own being - confidence, self-respect, self-esteem, or whether because it's a demand from society or a monetry source, is it right or wrong?
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
100th Post? No way! YES WAY!
BLOGGITY!
IT'S YO BIRTHDAAAY! - naked males come belly-dancing -
I can't believe it's the 100th post. You're growing old, bloggity, you're growing old.
I remember the first words I laid on this page - the first memories and feelings. The first sentimental crap I wrote.
Still, you represent some things to me. You represent my developing as a person and as a writer.
All the words that are lost to me during the day, come to me at night through you.
Thank you, blog. Happy anniversary.
Hugs, your chiquata
Mi amor,
Kelly
(spanish mock exams. do not ask)
---
And now, for some poetry.
The morning has yet to come,
but you can feel the cold air dragging a long veil
Covering our bones and souls
Freezing us just one moment, one push away before death, only to stop
Only to stop and let us breath
I'm used to my hands shaking,
and so is my friend.
We live in no where,
and no where lives with us.
My friend has long since lost the feeling of life,
Has long since given up on hope or on breathing
Food is rare, and the minicule particle of food that we do recieve
Is like God telling us He exists again
My friend, my best friend, doesn't believe in God
She says with all the miracles he created,
Why couldn't we be part of His blessed touch?
My best friend doesn't believe in God,
and I don't believe in humanity.
The cultured faces and the facades of power
all craved and sulcuputed to hide the monstrousites we've become
The selfish souls that determine everything as theirs
The ones who couldn't lend a hand,
because lending a hand would mean being human again.
The ones who wouldn't help me when my best friend died.
I knew when she died.
She died when she was alive,
Because she never really was alive.
Living wasn't an option.
Living meant caring,
And you can't care to survive.
Enduring the streets is hard,
Doing it alone is harder.
End poverty, because one day
I want to care.
IT'S YO BIRTHDAAAY! - naked males come belly-dancing -
I can't believe it's the 100th post. You're growing old, bloggity, you're growing old.
I remember the first words I laid on this page - the first memories and feelings. The first sentimental crap I wrote.
Still, you represent some things to me. You represent my developing as a person and as a writer.
All the words that are lost to me during the day, come to me at night through you.
Thank you, blog. Happy anniversary.
Hugs, your chiquata
Mi amor,
Kelly
(spanish mock exams. do not ask)
---
And now, for some poetry.
The morning has yet to come,
but you can feel the cold air dragging a long veil
Covering our bones and souls
Freezing us just one moment, one push away before death, only to stop
Only to stop and let us breath
I'm used to my hands shaking,
and so is my friend.
We live in no where,
and no where lives with us.
My friend has long since lost the feeling of life,
Has long since given up on hope or on breathing
Food is rare, and the minicule particle of food that we do recieve
Is like God telling us He exists again
My friend, my best friend, doesn't believe in God
She says with all the miracles he created,
Why couldn't we be part of His blessed touch?
My best friend doesn't believe in God,
and I don't believe in humanity.
The cultured faces and the facades of power
all craved and sulcuputed to hide the monstrousites we've become
The selfish souls that determine everything as theirs
The ones who couldn't lend a hand,
because lending a hand would mean being human again.
The ones who wouldn't help me when my best friend died.
I knew when she died.
She died when she was alive,
Because she never really was alive.
Living wasn't an option.
Living meant caring,
And you can't care to survive.
Enduring the streets is hard,
Doing it alone is harder.
End poverty, because one day
I want to care.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
An unbeknowest poem
The seas are spilt apart by the sun,
The clouds make no shape and neither do stars,
The distinct rumble and echo of a tear dropping down the river,
Echoing its glimmer of shining hope.
You can hear the soft cooing wind blowing,
Mouthing words and whispering secrets
The trees smiling at the rumors, settling their age-old roots
Waiting.
It's the verge and the between of being night,
And the sun frowns at it's quick exit,
leaving behind sheddings and shadows of sparkling light
The moon arrives, cocky, for once not having to miss mother nature's awakening groan
Settling into the sky, haughtily staring at others
The moon does, after all, have the best sit.
The river shivers from the tears of the sky,
Which seem endlessly mocking.
They contiune to tap and poke,
Slowly infuriating the river.
The tears of rain don't notice, though,
and contiune their moaning of life
They contiune to torment the rest of nature with stories
Of misery
Of how it's like to be disposed.
The mud-filled ground shrieks,
and lets a moan of earthquakes pass through.
Nature is quiet, awaiting.
The ground contiunes to moan,
Sliently screaming and releasing it's quiet birth,
Letting seeds and flowers flourish
And become the fetuses of nature.
The clouds smile from above,
And the grass smirks from under.
The pad of a footstep is heard,
and nature goes quiet.
A human being enters,
Smelling, hearing, tasting the air
'Beautiful nature.' whispers nature's best friend, the human.
The moon frowns, imaturely narrowing its eyes
The stars with wisdom of ages wonder at the moon's behaviour
And the moon expresses his curiousity,
Asking how a being so simple as human
Is best friend with something as supreme as Nature.
---
I stare, oblivious to the world
Stare at the forgein emotion leaking out of a body
A body filled with blood,
With a mind and a heart,
Perhaps a soul.
I pity the river.
The river holds the sorrows and problems of everyone,
every person that came to shed a tear,
that soon disappears
That soon dissolves itself into a river that cries itself to sleep
The river has no friend,
For no one wants a frowning friend
No one wants to listen to moans and pains every day
Of a river that is out of tears
Clouds laugh at it at day,
and stars giggle at it at night.
The river cries and cries,
But no one has the heart to listen
----
Light traces of silver reflective eyes,
I stare, with awe, as the corners of your face shine
Living, almost breathing.
Your hair is of vivid red,
and the contour of your body posesses every dream I own.
Her hands sharp and deadly.
Accurate. Precise.
Her sharp kneeing voice screams contendtly,
and I smile happy at her fingertips,
traces of so many memories on them.
We're close - you're constantly with me.
You follow my footsteps and you make me follow yours,
you traced my past and you haunt my future.
My bones are a necklace tied tightly inside my body,
In knots, streching, waiting for the moment I they can rip them apart
And come to you.
By a simple featherly touch,
I can transmit the pieces of my soul to you
Each one carrying a sorrow or regret
A pain or a tear
A happy thought or a broken hope.
I lost my soul, you very well know.
I lost it to you, my friend.
My best friend.
You never speak back,
But it matters not.
I know you agree and savior the moment when I touch you,
when I use you.
Your wavy hair seems thin tonight
Have you not been using a proper conditioner, my friend?
Is your hair itchy, dry
Is your skin in need of more?
Fear not, my friend,
For we will enjoy the night.
You need not rest nor sleep,
and the night is young.
Fear not, my loyal friend
For I would not dream of betraying you.
Fear not, my best friend,
For tonight I shall dye your hair a deepest hazel red
For we have not went out on a quiet evening in a while.
My best friend, my beautiful knife.
The clouds make no shape and neither do stars,
The distinct rumble and echo of a tear dropping down the river,
Echoing its glimmer of shining hope.
You can hear the soft cooing wind blowing,
Mouthing words and whispering secrets
The trees smiling at the rumors, settling their age-old roots
Waiting.
It's the verge and the between of being night,
And the sun frowns at it's quick exit,
leaving behind sheddings and shadows of sparkling light
The moon arrives, cocky, for once not having to miss mother nature's awakening groan
Settling into the sky, haughtily staring at others
The moon does, after all, have the best sit.
The river shivers from the tears of the sky,
Which seem endlessly mocking.
They contiune to tap and poke,
Slowly infuriating the river.
The tears of rain don't notice, though,
and contiune their moaning of life
They contiune to torment the rest of nature with stories
Of misery
Of how it's like to be disposed.
The mud-filled ground shrieks,
and lets a moan of earthquakes pass through.
Nature is quiet, awaiting.
The ground contiunes to moan,
Sliently screaming and releasing it's quiet birth,
Letting seeds and flowers flourish
And become the fetuses of nature.
The clouds smile from above,
And the grass smirks from under.
The pad of a footstep is heard,
and nature goes quiet.
A human being enters,
Smelling, hearing, tasting the air
'Beautiful nature.' whispers nature's best friend, the human.
The moon frowns, imaturely narrowing its eyes
The stars with wisdom of ages wonder at the moon's behaviour
And the moon expresses his curiousity,
Asking how a being so simple as human
Is best friend with something as supreme as Nature.
---
I stare, oblivious to the world
Stare at the forgein emotion leaking out of a body
A body filled with blood,
With a mind and a heart,
Perhaps a soul.
I pity the river.
The river holds the sorrows and problems of everyone,
every person that came to shed a tear,
that soon disappears
That soon dissolves itself into a river that cries itself to sleep
The river has no friend,
For no one wants a frowning friend
No one wants to listen to moans and pains every day
Of a river that is out of tears
Clouds laugh at it at day,
and stars giggle at it at night.
The river cries and cries,
But no one has the heart to listen
----
Light traces of silver reflective eyes,
I stare, with awe, as the corners of your face shine
Living, almost breathing.
Your hair is of vivid red,
and the contour of your body posesses every dream I own.
Her hands sharp and deadly.
Accurate. Precise.
Her sharp kneeing voice screams contendtly,
and I smile happy at her fingertips,
traces of so many memories on them.
We're close - you're constantly with me.
You follow my footsteps and you make me follow yours,
you traced my past and you haunt my future.
My bones are a necklace tied tightly inside my body,
In knots, streching, waiting for the moment I they can rip them apart
And come to you.
By a simple featherly touch,
I can transmit the pieces of my soul to you
Each one carrying a sorrow or regret
A pain or a tear
A happy thought or a broken hope.
I lost my soul, you very well know.
I lost it to you, my friend.
My best friend.
You never speak back,
But it matters not.
I know you agree and savior the moment when I touch you,
when I use you.
Your wavy hair seems thin tonight
Have you not been using a proper conditioner, my friend?
Is your hair itchy, dry
Is your skin in need of more?
Fear not, my friend,
For we will enjoy the night.
You need not rest nor sleep,
and the night is young.
Fear not, my loyal friend
For I would not dream of betraying you.
Fear not, my best friend,
For tonight I shall dye your hair a deepest hazel red
For we have not went out on a quiet evening in a while.
My best friend, my beautiful knife.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Dexter. A show by psychos FOR psychos.
Im stuck by abusurdity.
I'm stuck in a level headed world.
I'm reigned in disguise, a paradox of sorts
----
I recall what it was like to enjoy the small moments in life. To breath, and say let live.
--
What the fuck am I saying? I have way too many ideas which I cannot note down because everything keeps popping up like some freakin popcorn transforming my brain into a micro-fucking-wave.
I should be able to write fiction. After all, it's my secret devotion that has stayed with me through time. Whether we accomplish to keep this ancient remedy of the human soul in the future pure or not, I'll know that I know these moments where I can keep it pure. Where everything comes from my brain to my fingertips, and occasionly stops in the way and reaches my heart.
I should finish my homework..
Later aligator.
Elemeno-pee,
kelly
I'm stuck in a level headed world.
I'm reigned in disguise, a paradox of sorts
----
I recall what it was like to enjoy the small moments in life. To breath, and say let live.
--
What the fuck am I saying? I have way too many ideas which I cannot note down because everything keeps popping up like some freakin popcorn transforming my brain into a micro-fucking-wave.
I should be able to write fiction. After all, it's my secret devotion that has stayed with me through time. Whether we accomplish to keep this ancient remedy of the human soul in the future pure or not, I'll know that I know these moments where I can keep it pure. Where everything comes from my brain to my fingertips, and occasionly stops in the way and reaches my heart.
I should finish my homework..
Later aligator.
Elemeno-pee,
kelly
Sunday, January 2, 2011
A Story That Has No Point
Fleetingly I wondered if this was the end to the bright start.
Mind you, a house that smells of car refreshers and my grandma’s fridge wasn’t the most successful start to a day. In fact, you could say it wasn’t most planned.
Not that planning would have helped.
As the Yiddish saying goes, ‘Man plans, God laughs,’ - and boy, does He ever.
I think his laughing so hard, with such enthusiasm and vigorous force that every person on Earth could feel his tears of amusement falling, dropping on the contour of their heads.
We just pretend to call it rain.
That’s when God laughs harder, and created ‘thunder’.
I narrow my eyes at Him. When I get there, he better have that promised LCD tv screen. There’s nothing like watching Friends on a full high quality Samsung. No one does it like Samsung.
“Shrimp, wake up!” My friend nudges me, knowing that in my current state I may as well be in a Sex in The City movie and wouldn’t notice. You might be wondering about my name, Shrimp, which isn’t actually a name but a code –
Funny. It kind of all engineered from a code.
Not the fantastic type of code, though. Not the “Drop your weapons, code X!” kind of thing. Just something that started out of boredom, out of an empty void of a life.
Did I tell you that boredom gets you into all kinds of troubles?
For example, the trouble I am in right now. A psychopath is kind of, somehow, holding me prisoner.
“I will kill you both – and after I kill you, I will drain your body of blood and send all the pieces of your body to your loved ones.”
Right. I didn’t mention he was a serial-killer.
“It will be appropriate for Christmas, don’t you think?”
Kind of a lunatic too.
“Maybe I can put 8 candles as well. Wouldn’t want to risk offending a Jewish family.”
Lunatic is a stretch, really. His deliriously mad.
My friend, Laya, nudges me with her elbow, clearly sensing the laughter I'm holding in.
"Any last wishes?" He laughs maniancly, as if someones filming this sequence. As if his going to win an oscar or something.
I cought to hide my chuckle, but he notices it and glares at with me with eyes that perhaps may rival my mothers.
....Nah....
"Do you dare laugh in the face of death?" He asks, voice patronizing.
"If death has your face, no wonder the expression 'dying from laughter' was created." I mutter, hoping he dismisses it and opts to start a criminal-mad monologue. You know, the ones that they do on tv- talk about the people they killed, talk about their plans and their future as psychopaths. Surprisingly, these aren't women, but men. You'd expect a woman to ramble on about her not being listened to, not a man.
"Have you been listening to me?" He narrows his eyes, determined to find an ounce of fear.
"No. Been imagining you in a tutu, though it's only entertaining if it's pink." I say, frowning upon my realization. My friend, who happens to be a gorgeous single woman, sighs loudly.
"For once, shrimp, I'd like to get a job done without hearing your well-rehearsad jokes." She says, theatrically whipping her golden tulip hair. I itch to touch them, and perhaps would have even it weren't for me being tied down to a chair.
"Give me some credit - it takes time to remember some of these." I reply, staring blankly at the blood stain behind the killer - counting the deaths behind it. The place was a wreck, but it seems like a typical day of our job.
"That's it. I am tired of being ignored- of being treated as something that's less of a - " The murderer began saying, but was rudely interuppted by Laya's knife in a juncture vein. Clean, quick, effective.
"Job done." She said, exasperated by the long day she had.
"Awh, it was getting to the good part though." Narrowing her eyes at me, she cuts loose the chains from my wrists. You see, Layla has this Hudini talent of escaping what seems to be the inescapable. What I have is the talent to lure all the murderers into a trap. It's my charm, go figure. That's what makes me and Layla such great partners, though. My patience to prolong and carry out the mission and her impatience to beautifuly end it. The murderer's body - what was his name, anyway..Ivan? Steve? Bob? - was crumpled on the floor, cold and lifeless. In a miserable fetal position, staring upwards as if begging for an exit - a way to end.
Guess he feels like he won the lottery now.
" Two more to go, and bye-bye government." Layla suddenly says, breaking me out of my muse. She can be as quiet as a bat, she can. I remember the first time the government took me from the looney place - aka, home sweet home, mental asylum. My family prefered to believe my mental issues were the cause of my killing for a hobbie. Doesn't really make a family proud when you bring a jar of blood, I suppose. Anyways, I remember the government's hope-filled promises of escape and of us only having to comply to a certain amount - and I remember them finally showing me Layla. I was awed by her, but even my best pick-up didn't work. I reacall the fingertips, the blood tests - the code names. Layla's face was crumped up in fear, but I could see determination in her eyes.
"I'm hungry." I intruppt their procedures, and
Mind you, a house that smells of car refreshers and my grandma’s fridge wasn’t the most successful start to a day. In fact, you could say it wasn’t most planned.
Not that planning would have helped.
As the Yiddish saying goes, ‘Man plans, God laughs,’ - and boy, does He ever.
I think his laughing so hard, with such enthusiasm and vigorous force that every person on Earth could feel his tears of amusement falling, dropping on the contour of their heads.
We just pretend to call it rain.
That’s when God laughs harder, and created ‘thunder’.
I narrow my eyes at Him. When I get there, he better have that promised LCD tv screen. There’s nothing like watching Friends on a full high quality Samsung. No one does it like Samsung.
“Shrimp, wake up!” My friend nudges me, knowing that in my current state I may as well be in a Sex in The City movie and wouldn’t notice. You might be wondering about my name, Shrimp, which isn’t actually a name but a code –
Funny. It kind of all engineered from a code.
Not the fantastic type of code, though. Not the “Drop your weapons, code X!” kind of thing. Just something that started out of boredom, out of an empty void of a life.
Did I tell you that boredom gets you into all kinds of troubles?
For example, the trouble I am in right now. A psychopath is kind of, somehow, holding me prisoner.
“I will kill you both – and after I kill you, I will drain your body of blood and send all the pieces of your body to your loved ones.”
Right. I didn’t mention he was a serial-killer.
“It will be appropriate for Christmas, don’t you think?”
Kind of a lunatic too.
“Maybe I can put 8 candles as well. Wouldn’t want to risk offending a Jewish family.”
Lunatic is a stretch, really. His deliriously mad.
My friend, Laya, nudges me with her elbow, clearly sensing the laughter I'm holding in.
"Any last wishes?" He laughs maniancly, as if someones filming this sequence. As if his going to win an oscar or something.
I cought to hide my chuckle, but he notices it and glares at with me with eyes that perhaps may rival my mothers.
....Nah....
"Do you dare laugh in the face of death?" He asks, voice patronizing.
"If death has your face, no wonder the expression 'dying from laughter' was created." I mutter, hoping he dismisses it and opts to start a criminal-mad monologue. You know, the ones that they do on tv- talk about the people they killed, talk about their plans and their future as psychopaths. Surprisingly, these aren't women, but men. You'd expect a woman to ramble on about her not being listened to, not a man.
"Have you been listening to me?" He narrows his eyes, determined to find an ounce of fear.
"No. Been imagining you in a tutu, though it's only entertaining if it's pink." I say, frowning upon my realization. My friend, who happens to be a gorgeous single woman, sighs loudly.
"For once, shrimp, I'd like to get a job done without hearing your well-rehearsad jokes." She says, theatrically whipping her golden tulip hair. I itch to touch them, and perhaps would have even it weren't for me being tied down to a chair.
"Give me some credit - it takes time to remember some of these." I reply, staring blankly at the blood stain behind the killer - counting the deaths behind it. The place was a wreck, but it seems like a typical day of our job.
"That's it. I am tired of being ignored- of being treated as something that's less of a - " The murderer began saying, but was rudely interuppted by Laya's knife in a juncture vein. Clean, quick, effective.
"Job done." She said, exasperated by the long day she had.
"Awh, it was getting to the good part though." Narrowing her eyes at me, she cuts loose the chains from my wrists. You see, Layla has this Hudini talent of escaping what seems to be the inescapable. What I have is the talent to lure all the murderers into a trap. It's my charm, go figure. That's what makes me and Layla such great partners, though. My patience to prolong and carry out the mission and her impatience to beautifuly end it. The murderer's body - what was his name, anyway..Ivan? Steve? Bob? - was crumpled on the floor, cold and lifeless. In a miserable fetal position, staring upwards as if begging for an exit - a way to end.
Guess he feels like he won the lottery now.
" Two more to go, and bye-bye government." Layla suddenly says, breaking me out of my muse. She can be as quiet as a bat, she can. I remember the first time the government took me from the looney place - aka, home sweet home, mental asylum. My family prefered to believe my mental issues were the cause of my killing for a hobbie. Doesn't really make a family proud when you bring a jar of blood, I suppose. Anyways, I remember the government's hope-filled promises of escape and of us only having to comply to a certain amount - and I remember them finally showing me Layla. I was awed by her, but even my best pick-up didn't work. I reacall the fingertips, the blood tests - the code names. Layla's face was crumped up in fear, but I could see determination in her eyes.
"I'm hungry." I intruppt their procedures, and
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