The sun has barely found its place in the morning sky but excitement is shooting through my veins. The music, the messages, the expectations for the night which should not be there but linger and call on my attention from the back of my mind. Butterflies. Not normal ones, no. Black ones in worhsip of all things night-time, like alcohol, lust and cocaine.
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Forget about everything I wrote in that last post.
The swirling and twirling of the beast in my gut,
crawling his way out through my eyes, smile,
crawling his way out through my laugh, my soul.
To escape into a world and grow into reality.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
Notice me noticing you?
She stalks over to the table, where similar predators sit and laugh, seducing the struck. She lifts herself onto a chair and smiles at her friends, she feels his eyes on her. She casually slides her hand along the long stretch of exposed skin from her thigh to her ankle, she can almost hear his shivers.
Time ticks on and the party unwravels, she craves for a drink, a dance, a kiss. The pack stands and makes their way to the dance floor, pulling the birthday boy along with them, eyes run over their gorgeous faces, their short dresses, and their killer heels. They twist and turn on the dancefloor, arms overhead, mouths smiling. He watches her and she bites into the fruit of his glimpse with a ravenous hunger and sucks out all possibilities. Wishful thinking. It didn't take long for one of her own to bite into him, herself. It didn't take long to curse the wishful thinking. It didn't take long to let it go.
My breath in Your Lungs.
I can't deny that wishful thinking has pushed me into a small pit of disappointment. I can't deny that I wanted it to be me instead of her. I can't deny that I feel stupid for thinking that we were anything more than friends, thinking that it was a grey haze lingering inbetween lines of friendship and like. But then again, this is an opportunity to learn how to embrace letting go.
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Bleached Walls and Crimson Ghosts
I look around me. White walls, white chair, white coats and medical masks, silver, sharp instruments. The dentist has kind eyes peeking behind his glasses, it’s the only part of his face i can see. He signals that it’s time. I clutch the armrests and slowly open my mouth, the bloody cave it has become. My teeth hang by their nerves, desperate for repair. They are cracks and small and my hands shake when i softly touch them with the tip of my tongue. My body feels hollow and frail, my mind clouded with a blue haze of pain. He starts using a sharp tool to poke around. The soft gums split, the teethe wobble, the nerves burn. My eyes roll backwards as blood gushes, soaked up by the little cotton balls stuffed into every empty space. He prods and pulls on nerves, cutting them off as they are no longer needed, they have died. My scream of my nerves shrills in my ears, a screeching whistle of ache. I am tied down with green straps. The nurses warned me and decided it would be best because I have no pain-killers, no anaesthesia, just my balled up fists to fight the pain.
Saturday, 12 September 2009
Bruised pt 2
My mother and father twitch nervously, waiting for what I have to say. I practice the lines in my head as I pace back and forth in front of them. My speech was perfect as I practiced in front of the mirror, now nothing sounds quite right. I can’t find the words to describe the magnitude of my regret or worry, I bite my lip and choke at the thought of actually speaking, but I do. I forget my carefully chosen words, my secret escapes my lips like blood from a wound: painfully spilling out. I wait for the response but it does not come, I start shooting explanations, anything that will take away the silence. But as my mother’s tears fall, I know better than to linger.
I sit in my bedroom, hands clasped in prayer when the door opens and light streams in. I lower my head in shame at the silhouette of my parents. They come inside and sit beside me, my father with his kind eyes, my mother with her caring worries. I find their arms around me in a warm embrace, instantly bringing back the guilt. My tears surge and drip onto my shirt, my father hushes my sobs and strokes my hair, telling me it will be okay, he will look after me. My mother holds me tight; she talks of God’s love for his children, and how I am just as worthy as anyone else. How she and my father are here to guide me, all I have to do is let them. Her loving words ring in my ears until they are all I can hear, like an addictive melody on repeat, carrying me off into deep slumber.
I sit in my bedroom, hands clasped in prayer when the door opens and light streams in. I lower my head in shame at the silhouette of my parents. They come inside and sit beside me, my father with his kind eyes, my mother with her caring worries. I find their arms around me in a warm embrace, instantly bringing back the guilt. My tears surge and drip onto my shirt, my father hushes my sobs and strokes my hair, telling me it will be okay, he will look after me. My mother holds me tight; she talks of God’s love for his children, and how I am just as worthy as anyone else. How she and my father are here to guide me, all I have to do is let them. Her loving words ring in my ears until they are all I can hear, like an addictive melody on repeat, carrying me off into deep slumber.
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
& The Stars hold my Fortune.
I lay in bed the other day, thinking about the distant future.
I started imagining the married life, and how I would cope.
You see, I'm afraid of marriage. Afraid of committing oneself to another for a lifetime.
What if something goes wrong? I guess I'm too self centered to understand right now.
What if I never find the right man? Obviously, I wont get married. But what if I get married to the wrong man? I lay awake thinking of all the things I yearn for in a future husband, and I couldn't find a definite answer.
I could imagine perfect scenarious, like me holding onto his flannel robe as we slow dance in the kitchen at 2AM, no music, just the sound of the stray cats tinkering on the streets.
I could see us see us sitting in a bare house, dusty floors and cardboard boxes all over the place, the only thing unwrapped: a wooden piano, which he plays perfectly for me.
I could imagine us jumping on beds, tickle fights on the carpeted floor, milk and cookies at midnight.
It took some strength and imagination, but after I stirred up the image of a child, it was hard to stop. Holding a baby with him holding me, braiding a little girls hair and watching a boy's football game, heart to heart talks with a teenager, worry, stress, and love. So much love. Enough that it bursts out from the seams and drowns us in care and fear. Enough to make our whole universes' dedicated to them. So much love. So much love that it hurts.
He must be out there somewhere, possibly dreaming of me as I dream of him. Knowing that one day, we will find each other.
I started imagining the married life, and how I would cope.
You see, I'm afraid of marriage. Afraid of committing oneself to another for a lifetime.
What if something goes wrong? I guess I'm too self centered to understand right now.
What if I never find the right man? Obviously, I wont get married. But what if I get married to the wrong man? I lay awake thinking of all the things I yearn for in a future husband, and I couldn't find a definite answer.
I could imagine perfect scenarious, like me holding onto his flannel robe as we slow dance in the kitchen at 2AM, no music, just the sound of the stray cats tinkering on the streets.
I could see us see us sitting in a bare house, dusty floors and cardboard boxes all over the place, the only thing unwrapped: a wooden piano, which he plays perfectly for me.
I could imagine us jumping on beds, tickle fights on the carpeted floor, milk and cookies at midnight.
It took some strength and imagination, but after I stirred up the image of a child, it was hard to stop. Holding a baby with him holding me, braiding a little girls hair and watching a boy's football game, heart to heart talks with a teenager, worry, stress, and love. So much love. Enough that it bursts out from the seams and drowns us in care and fear. Enough to make our whole universes' dedicated to them. So much love. So much love that it hurts.
He must be out there somewhere, possibly dreaming of me as I dream of him. Knowing that one day, we will find each other.
Sunday, 30 August 2009
Summer's Dry Nights
He remembers that night. Their fingers laced, moist with nervous sweat. His heart was racing, a smile of contentment and curiosity on both their faces.
The tree house glimmered from the reflection of the lake, which was still, except for the occasional ripple caused by the frogs that swam up to land for the night’s cool air. She lay on the dry grass, crossed her arms behind her and silently stared at the stars above, yearning for her wishes to be heard. He lay down beside her and watched the stars too, both of them in a hushed reverie.
He couldn’t remember how long they lay like that, quietly watching the night sky, listening to the cricket’s symphony. It wasn’t until she slid closer towards him and laid her head on his chest that he knew it was real. He ran his fingers through her hair, which slipped through like vapour.
The words ran out of his mouth like wild animals, beautifully natural, the way it was meant to be. He waited for her body to stiffen with shock, but it didn’t. Her breathing did not quicken, did not stop. He was not sure if she even heard, but then she slowly lifted herself onto her elbows, faced him, and her own words slipped gracefully out
“I love you, too.”
He leaned up to get a better look at her, the angelic, beautiful face, the cascading hair, the eyes that made him want to cry; he edged forward and met his lips with hers, a soft pledge of the love he was so sure of, innocence and purity blended into perfection. It swept across his heart with a cold breeze, sending shivers down his spine. He wished he could stay like that forever, just the two of them, the stars and summer’s glory.
Returning to the same place he had not visited for years, he could see her in everything. The now broken tree house and the old tire swing. The ghost of his young love lingered beneath the cool, blue water, and was singing with the long grass, shaking in the wind. He remembered exactly which tree they had carved with their hearts, and it saddened him. What had once felt so real, so sure, had disappeared with the breath of summer, leaving only the haunting memory of what had been.
The tree house glimmered from the reflection of the lake, which was still, except for the occasional ripple caused by the frogs that swam up to land for the night’s cool air. She lay on the dry grass, crossed her arms behind her and silently stared at the stars above, yearning for her wishes to be heard. He lay down beside her and watched the stars too, both of them in a hushed reverie.
He couldn’t remember how long they lay like that, quietly watching the night sky, listening to the cricket’s symphony. It wasn’t until she slid closer towards him and laid her head on his chest that he knew it was real. He ran his fingers through her hair, which slipped through like vapour.
“I love you,”
The words ran out of his mouth like wild animals, beautifully natural, the way it was meant to be. He waited for her body to stiffen with shock, but it didn’t. Her breathing did not quicken, did not stop. He was not sure if she even heard, but then she slowly lifted herself onto her elbows, faced him, and her own words slipped gracefully out
“I love you, too.”
He leaned up to get a better look at her, the angelic, beautiful face, the cascading hair, the eyes that made him want to cry; he edged forward and met his lips with hers, a soft pledge of the love he was so sure of, innocence and purity blended into perfection. It swept across his heart with a cold breeze, sending shivers down his spine. He wished he could stay like that forever, just the two of them, the stars and summer’s glory.
Returning to the same place he had not visited for years, he could see her in everything. The now broken tree house and the old tire swing. The ghost of his young love lingered beneath the cool, blue water, and was singing with the long grass, shaking in the wind. He remembered exactly which tree they had carved with their hearts, and it saddened him. What had once felt so real, so sure, had disappeared with the breath of summer, leaving only the haunting memory of what had been.
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Hourglass shards
Who am i? Who was I? Who will I become?
I watch as my talents slowly drip through my fingers like misty vapour delicately dancing around trees. I watch as my grades spin from good to bad, and as my heart prances around two forbidden boys.
I feel the person I know as myself slowly shrinking in the place of a different person. An introvert, a pessimist, a nervous wreck. This is not me. But it is becoming me. How do I stop it? How do I go back to the bubbly, happy girl I once knew as myself? What is changing me? The happiness. I have no ultimate source of joy. Nothing that lasts forever, nothing I am not afraid of losing.
I watch as my talents slowly drip through my fingers like misty vapour delicately dancing around trees. I watch as my grades spin from good to bad, and as my heart prances around two forbidden boys.
I feel the person I know as myself slowly shrinking in the place of a different person. An introvert, a pessimist, a nervous wreck. This is not me. But it is becoming me. How do I stop it? How do I go back to the bubbly, happy girl I once knew as myself? What is changing me? The happiness. I have no ultimate source of joy. Nothing that lasts forever, nothing I am not afraid of losing.
Saturday, 22 August 2009
Bruised
My fingertips run along my stomach, they’re cold. Tears drop from my eyes, they’re wet. Cold and wet. Like a raindrop in December.
How did I get myself into this? Months ago, nobody would ever see this coming. Nobody would believe it. But here I am now. I should have listened to my parents. I should have let them into my life, let them know what was wrong. Let them help.
I look into the mirror; I want to see my eyes. I want to see who I am beneath all of this, or if I’m still there. I start at my chin, and move up: My lips, red and cut, from biting them out of anxiety; my nose, crimson from wiping it so much; the area beneath my eyes, grey from fatigue, sunken from the lack of sleep. I move upwards, cell by cell. I see a glimpse of the deep brown, but I can’t bring myself to look into them. I quickly pull away.
I’m afraid of what I’ll see. If my eyes are no longer bright and full of hope for the future, but instead hollow and haunted by my mistakes. My eyes have always been the only betrayer of my hidden feelings, the only glimpse of who I am on the inside. Will my eyes give away my current secret? Will they strip down my defenses in the outside world and throw me out in the cold?
I lie back down and place my cold hands on my stomach. Images hazily dance through my mind: His warm, loving hands; my racing heart, so desperate to feel love, to feel beautiful. Thinking about where I am now, I would give away all the beauty in the world for my innocence back.
How did I get myself into this? Months ago, nobody would ever see this coming. Nobody would believe it. But here I am now. I should have listened to my parents. I should have let them into my life, let them know what was wrong. Let them help.
I look into the mirror; I want to see my eyes. I want to see who I am beneath all of this, or if I’m still there. I start at my chin, and move up: My lips, red and cut, from biting them out of anxiety; my nose, crimson from wiping it so much; the area beneath my eyes, grey from fatigue, sunken from the lack of sleep. I move upwards, cell by cell. I see a glimpse of the deep brown, but I can’t bring myself to look into them. I quickly pull away.
I’m afraid of what I’ll see. If my eyes are no longer bright and full of hope for the future, but instead hollow and haunted by my mistakes. My eyes have always been the only betrayer of my hidden feelings, the only glimpse of who I am on the inside. Will my eyes give away my current secret? Will they strip down my defenses in the outside world and throw me out in the cold?
I lie back down and place my cold hands on my stomach. Images hazily dance through my mind: His warm, loving hands; my racing heart, so desperate to feel love, to feel beautiful. Thinking about where I am now, I would give away all the beauty in the world for my innocence back.
Watch your heart when we're together.
He lay on his bed reviewing for his exams but he absorbed nothing. All the notes he had taken during classes looking like black, meaningless squiggles. He couldn’t get the image of her curious eyes out of his head, her cute face and her overall reputation among the entire student body. It pained him to think of her talking to that guy. The guy she was always with in the mornings, during lunchtimes, after classes. It sickened him to his core. What was a girl like her doing with a guy like him? She would belong much better in his arms. Oh, how it would make his week if she would just appear online and talk to him. He tried to approach her so many times, but the fear of causing trouble with the other guy stopped him. He wondered if she noticed him. They made eye contact on an average of once a day, electricity jolted through him when they did and he hoped the same effect had happened to her. He could read the playful curiosity in her eyes. Or were they just meaningless glances? He couldn’t tell, infatuation always did this to him, overanalyze every little thing, magnify it into an action of glamorous, yet silent love.
Why did he have to think about her so much? Was she really all that? How could he like a girl he had never even had a conversation with? It seemed so weird. He convinced himself he didn’t like her, it was just a playful thing, something out of boredom. But he couldn’t ignore the voice nagging at the back of his head, “you like her! Admit it!” it screeched. He thought once again about her, he had asked her something once and her simple, charmless reply left him empty. She had no flirtatious spring, no cool appearance. She just answered him and walked away blankly.
He thought of himself, what made him think he had a chance? Maybe the fact that he was good looking, the fact that he was smart, the fact that he was funny and people liked him because he was daring and cool.
Why wouldn’t she notice that?
Why did he have to think about her so much? Was she really all that? How could he like a girl he had never even had a conversation with? It seemed so weird. He convinced himself he didn’t like her, it was just a playful thing, something out of boredom. But he couldn’t ignore the voice nagging at the back of his head, “you like her! Admit it!” it screeched. He thought once again about her, he had asked her something once and her simple, charmless reply left him empty. She had no flirtatious spring, no cool appearance. She just answered him and walked away blankly.
He thought of himself, what made him think he had a chance? Maybe the fact that he was good looking, the fact that he was smart, the fact that he was funny and people liked him because he was daring and cool.
Why wouldn’t she notice that?
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Whoop.
Bea and I lay on my bed facing the ceiling, should I tell her? She was going on and on about how disgusting the boys were at school, how they were so immature and all they wanted to do was go to B_Con and play DotA,
"-not even the fact that they aren't -"
"I'm pregnant." I blurted.
She raised her eyebrows and smirked, "Right, Trace. Always the joker."
She waited for my comeback, but I didn't say anything. I kept silent, trying to stop the tears from showing. I held my breath because even my exhales shook with fear. I could already imagine how stupid she thought I was. How she wouldn't want to be seen with me anymore, how I would walk the hallways alone, how the priests at school would look down at me and shake their heads and furrow their brows.
"Trace? You are joking right?" she asked, sitting up.
I couldn't take it, the tears slipped out and I shook my head 'no'.
"Tracy Margaret C. De Luna, tell me the truth!"
"I'm not joking, Bea! Why do you think I would be crying if I was? I've dug my grave and there's no way out!"
She bit her bottom lip, put her hand on mine and clasped it hard,
"How can you be sure? How do you know? Are you gonna tell your parents? You didn't even tell me you did it with a guy! Who was it?! I'm going to kill him!"
I shook my head, not wanting to answer anything, I stayed silent and lay there. Letting her hold my hand as I scared myself with dark thoughts of the future.
"-not even the fact that they aren't -"
"I'm pregnant." I blurted.
She raised her eyebrows and smirked, "Right, Trace. Always the joker."
She waited for my comeback, but I didn't say anything. I kept silent, trying to stop the tears from showing. I held my breath because even my exhales shook with fear. I could already imagine how stupid she thought I was. How she wouldn't want to be seen with me anymore, how I would walk the hallways alone, how the priests at school would look down at me and shake their heads and furrow their brows.
"Trace? You are joking right?" she asked, sitting up.
I couldn't take it, the tears slipped out and I shook my head 'no'.
"Tracy Margaret C. De Luna, tell me the truth!"
"I'm not joking, Bea! Why do you think I would be crying if I was? I've dug my grave and there's no way out!"
She bit her bottom lip, put her hand on mine and clasped it hard,
"How can you be sure? How do you know? Are you gonna tell your parents? You didn't even tell me you did it with a guy! Who was it?! I'm going to kill him!"
I shook my head, not wanting to answer anything, I stayed silent and lay there. Letting her hold my hand as I scared myself with dark thoughts of the future.
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Tracy De Luna
Okay so I wrote a little excerpt for a very very very short story. I want to write this for our school magazine but I dont think I'll be allowed, ahah! But if you happen to be the literary editor reading this, please know that there will be tons of good values that come out of it, and lots of lessons. So you should allow it!! It's about a girl name Tracy De Luna. Comment on whatyou think of it.
“Tracy? What on earth?”
My mother was standing in the doorway, staring at me trash her closet, clothes scattered all over the place and of course, my bloated stomach.
“Mom! I thought you left, why are you home?” I yelled, angry and scared of what was about to come.
She didn’t move, she didn’t speak. She stared at my stomach. And stared. And stared until time decided to restart itself.
I listened to my parent’s car back out the driveway and as soon as the strong whirr of the engine disappeared, I ran to their closet and frantically searched through the clothes. Hangers flew off the rack and clothes crumpled. My nails ripped through the walls of fabric, looking for the frumpiest, biggest jacket I could find. I knew we had at least two because of our family trip to Scotland; we bought these grey and green jackets so we wouldn’t freeze to death in the rocky valleys. They were definitely in there somewhere; they would be good enough to hide my disgusting stomach.
I found a dusty green one with too many pockets and too-thick material, it was perfect. I tried to pull it off the hanger but it wouldn’t budge, one of the tags was stuck. I let go of my towel and let it fall to my ankles as I fumbled around to set it loose.
I found a dusty green one with too many pockets and too-thick material, it was perfect. I tried to pull it off the hanger but it wouldn’t budge, one of the tags was stuck. I let go of my towel and let it fall to my ankles as I fumbled around to set it loose.
“Tracy? What on earth?”
My mother was standing in the doorway, staring at me trash her closet, clothes scattered all over the place and of course, my bloated stomach.
“Mom! I thought you left, why are you home?” I yelled, angry and scared of what was about to come.
She didn’t move, she didn’t speak. She stared at my stomach. And stared. And stared until time decided to restart itself.
Sunday, 5 July 2009
Subconscious Plots pt 2
Stephanie was trembling in bed, kicking at the sheets and mumbling frantically. Lost in the depth of her subconscious, she walked along a forest path lit by fireflies dancing in jars. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t sad. She felt serene, as if she was floating through. The ground was soft and her bare feet sank into the damp mud with every step, it stuck in between her toes and slipped under her toenails. A singer’s voice pranced in the air, stroking her desires, a velvety call, so alluring.
“Take off the blindfold…” it chimed.
Had Stephanie heard correctly? She stopped to look around but couldn’t see past the thick trees or the lit path.
“Remove it…”
Yes, it was definitely telling her to betray her husband, but where was it coming from? There was nobody around.
The voice continued to tempt her and, afraid, Stephanie started picking up her pace. The voice didn’t cease to follow her, it probed her mind as she tried to find a way out of the forest.
“You know you want to,” it taunted.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Stephanie screamed, her shouts causing the trees to shake, as if they were laughing at her pathetic attempt.
“Stephanie… He should trust you…”
Startled by the floating body of a girl, Stephanie started shrieking for help, not tearing her eyes away for a second. Stephanie looked closer into the dark holding-place and watched the body turn to face her. A blue, shriveled face stared into hers and lifted a crooked finger up to her frozen lips. Stephanie flew back realizing she and the corpse shared the same face. The girl in the well was Stephanie.
“What have you done to my husband?!” She screamed, backing off the bed and crashing onto the floor.
The monster opened a large, yellow eye, u ndoubtedly looking scared, but then it saw Stephanie on the floor and all fear turned into fury. It fpounded onto four legs and released a deafening roar.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” it yelled, Salive swinging from the end of its sharp, yellow fangs, dripping slowly onto its chin.
Its eyes blazed with anger, and the thick mane on its head stood bristled, its claws teared at the bed sheets under it as he lunged towards the shrieking Stephanie. Her face was wet with tears and white with shock, screaming Leo’s name.
“DON’T YOU SEE?” the monster shouted, knocing her onto her back, snarling inches away from stephanie’s face. “I AM LEO”
Stephanie caught her breath and stared at the beast, there was no trace of Leo in this beast. She shook her head,
“What have you done to him?!”
The beast lifted his paws off her shoulders and looked at her with his sad eyes,
“Why do you think I asked you to wear the blindfold, Stephanie? You have ruined everything.”
“Take off the blindfold…” it chimed.
Had Stephanie heard correctly? She stopped to look around but couldn’t see past the thick trees or the lit path.
“Remove it…”
Yes, it was definitely telling her to betray her husband, but where was it coming from? There was nobody around.
The voice continued to tempt her and, afraid, Stephanie started picking up her pace. The voice didn’t cease to follow her, it probed her mind as she tried to find a way out of the forest.
“You know you want to,” it taunted.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Stephanie screamed, her shouts causing the trees to shake, as if they were laughing at her pathetic attempt.
“Stephanie… He should trust you…”
It hit her weak point. Stephanie had often questioned why Leo would not let her see him at night, was he afraid of something? Shouldn’t he trust her?
Afraid, Stephanie started rushing through the dead trees. She ran as the branches scratched at every exposed measure of skin, leaving long, whip-like lashes to drizzle red. The faster she ran, the louder the voice screamed the orders, drowning out her own thoughts. Unable to handle the torment, Stephanie slowed down to a crawl, clutching her bruised arms. She walked alongside the voice until her exhausted feet pulled her to her knees before a well. She pulled her head over the edge and looked in.
Afraid, Stephanie started rushing through the dead trees. She ran as the branches scratched at every exposed measure of skin, leaving long, whip-like lashes to drizzle red. The faster she ran, the louder the voice screamed the orders, drowning out her own thoughts. Unable to handle the torment, Stephanie slowed down to a crawl, clutching her bruised arms. She walked alongside the voice until her exhausted feet pulled her to her knees before a well. She pulled her head over the edge and looked in.
Startled by the floating body of a girl, Stephanie started shrieking for help, not tearing her eyes away for a second. Stephanie looked closer into the dark holding-place and watched the body turn to face her. A blue, shriveled face stared into hers and lifted a crooked finger up to her frozen lips. Stephanie flew back realizing she and the corpse shared the same face. The girl in the well was Stephanie.
*
Stephanie bolted upright, covered in sweat and confined to the darkness of her blindfold. She could feel Leo’s body beside her, large and lost in sleep. What was that dream about? The voice was telling her to take off the blindfold. Was it a sign? Stephanie ran her fingertips over her cloth-clad eyes. Leo had only asked her of one thing, nevevr to take it off, but why? Did he have some strange sleeping habits? Stephanie decided that she would take off the blindfold to see for herself, she would love him no matter what.
She hesitantly wrapped her fingers around the sash and bit her lip. One tug is all it would take. She didn’t know why her heart was pounding, or why her head was racing like a train that ran off the tracks. With one cold, sharp breath, Stephanie pulled the blindfold off and choked on her breath. Leo was nowhere to be found, instead, a large beatly monster lay in his place.
Stephanie bolted upright, covered in sweat and confined to the darkness of her blindfold. She could feel Leo’s body beside her, large and lost in sleep. What was that dream about? The voice was telling her to take off the blindfold. Was it a sign? Stephanie ran her fingertips over her cloth-clad eyes. Leo had only asked her of one thing, nevevr to take it off, but why? Did he have some strange sleeping habits? Stephanie decided that she would take off the blindfold to see for herself, she would love him no matter what.
She hesitantly wrapped her fingers around the sash and bit her lip. One tug is all it would take. She didn’t know why her heart was pounding, or why her head was racing like a train that ran off the tracks. With one cold, sharp breath, Stephanie pulled the blindfold off and choked on her breath. Leo was nowhere to be found, instead, a large beatly monster lay in his place.
“What have you done to my husband?!” She screamed, backing off the bed and crashing onto the floor.
The monster opened a large, yellow eye, u ndoubtedly looking scared, but then it saw Stephanie on the floor and all fear turned into fury. It fpounded onto four legs and released a deafening roar.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” it yelled, Salive swinging from the end of its sharp, yellow fangs, dripping slowly onto its chin.
Its eyes blazed with anger, and the thick mane on its head stood bristled, its claws teared at the bed sheets under it as he lunged towards the shrieking Stephanie. Her face was wet with tears and white with shock, screaming Leo’s name.
“DON’T YOU SEE?” the monster shouted, knocing her onto her back, snarling inches away from stephanie’s face. “I AM LEO”
Stephanie caught her breath and stared at the beast, there was no trace of Leo in this beast. She shook her head,
“What have you done to him?!”
The beast lifted his paws off her shoulders and looked at her with his sad eyes,
“Why do you think I asked you to wear the blindfold, Stephanie? You have ruined everything.”
Monday, 29 June 2009
The Lemon Law.
Please tell me why of all buck-tooth hillbillys, we have to reflect on Miley Cyrus? There are loads of songs out there that we could reflect on, why pick something as juvenile and straightforward as The Climb? What are we, 10? Everybody knows that it's about the journey and not the destination, please, she freaking says that in her lyrics for crying out loud.
Why couldn't they pick something a bit more challenging, that's another thing I dont like about my school, they dont CHALLENGE us. They give us work that's of a 13 year old's standard and it's annoying. They might as well pick a song like Barney's I Love You, that requires just about as much thought process.
Onto a happier note...
I finished my How I Met Your Mother Season 1 marathon, and let me tell you, the magnitude of awesomeness is not comparable to anything. It was like ten 500m tsunami's hitting the terminators sheild and backlashing onto itself, only worse because there was 5000m of humiliation thrown in, too. Yes, that awesome.
So I still have a ton of Home-Study homework to do, they gave us some time off school but they then gave us online classes and homework, did I mention I believe it is officially the start of the digital age? Hah. Mark my words. When textbooks come out in the future and they look a little something like this:
Then we'll see who gets the last laugh. :) In case you're slow and honestly questioning who, it'll be ME. Because I'll have my name in textbooks.. wait there wont be books.. okay digital textbooks! And you'll be.. fixing your internet. HAH.
Why couldn't they pick something a bit more challenging, that's another thing I dont like about my school, they dont CHALLENGE us. They give us work that's of a 13 year old's standard and it's annoying. They might as well pick a song like Barney's I Love You, that requires just about as much thought process.
Onto a happier note...
I finished my How I Met Your Mother Season 1 marathon, and let me tell you, the magnitude of awesomeness is not comparable to anything. It was like ten 500m tsunami's hitting the terminators sheild and backlashing onto itself, only worse because there was 5000m of humiliation thrown in, too. Yes, that awesome.
So I still have a ton of Home-Study homework to do, they gave us some time off school but they then gave us online classes and homework, did I mention I believe it is officially the start of the digital age? Hah. Mark my words. When textbooks come out in the future and they look a little something like this:
THE DIGITAL AGE (2009-current)
A time when everything was controlled digitally, hence the name of the period. Classes, newspapers and even relationships were now performed over the internet.
....
The era was first announced by Joanna Marie S. Kennedy (1993-present) who has found a way to turn herself into a robot so she could experience everlasting life..
Then we'll see who gets the last laugh. :) In case you're slow and honestly questioning who, it'll be ME. Because I'll have my name in textbooks.. wait there wont be books.. okay digital textbooks! And you'll be.. fixing your internet. HAH.
Thursday, 25 June 2009
A perfect Memory.
This is some creative writing I never had the drive to finish. I wrote a few chapters, but I guess I liked the idea of it more than anything. I was so ready, with my storyline and all the events and characters all written down, but looking at the long list drained me out, how was I going to write about all of that? I'll try my best to continue writing little passages for this, because I want the main character to have an amazing, eventful life. But that can't happen if I dont give her one.
Eva opens her eyes to a new day; she acknowledges me sitting on the edge of the bed and reaches out for my hand. I extend my arm so she can reach, and she grips on it softly. I ask her if today is going to be the same as yesterday, a stupid question, really.
“Every detail of today will be different from yesterday: The way the clouds cross the sky, the direction in which you will pour your juice, even the number of water droplets falling out of my tap. You should know that by now.”
Of course, I nod my head, rolling my eyes. I’ve heard things similar to this all my life. I ask her if she wants to get up now, but she shakes her head.
“I have to think of my grandchildren’s smiles so I can lift myself out of bed” she explains. After a few minutes she sits up, and manages to stand. She walks across to the bathroom, and I start to make the bed.
Eva gets out of the bathroom and sits at her dressing table, she examines her wrinkled face and pets her white hair, and she catches me watching,
“That's how you know how much someone lived, you know? Wrinkles like these are marks of times sadness has made you frown or furrow your brow, and times happiness has made you laugh out loud. Trust me, you will know how much someone has lived by the depth of their creases.”
She pulls out a thick diamond necklace from her drawer, smiling as she touches the sparkling rocks. She opens her wardrobe and searches through her clothes, she finally pulls out a scarlet ball gown, I start laughing, she has been wearing gowns everyday this week. She winks at me,
“The world tells me I have nothing to live for at 72-”
“-You’re 77,” I remind her,
“Shh! somebody might hear you! Anyway, let me tell you, missy, I have no shame wearing my finest dresses and jewels when I have no plans of leaving my house, and I love it that way! Today we will lounge around, eat chocolates from a fancy box and listen to some fine music, not the crap they play on the radio, and maybe we’ll watch one of your fathers movies!” she says excitedly.
I help her cross the house, so we can go eat breakfast in the kitchen before relax in the living room then feed the birds, a regime we’ve been following for the week I’ve been here. She lets go of her tight hold on my forearm and climbs onto her kitchen stools. I pull out the silver bowls she’s had since her mother passed away and set them on the table, adjacent to her crystal cups, just the way she likes it. I’ve never been much of a cook so I throw in random spices along with the eggs in a pan, and hope it turns out good. Eva hides a smirk when I shuffle them onto her plate.
“I saw that. And eat it, eggs are full of protein”
“Like I need protein,” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but we both know what she was going to say. I hand over her medication, a dozen little pills that are meant to sustain her life. We look outside the big window, both calmly watching the gray sea and it’s cold mist as we chew on (perfectly tasty) eggs and sip on orange juice. The gardener interrupts our serene morning by starting his lawn mower, so I get up to clean the plates. Eva turns to face my back at the sink,
“Why now?” she asks, “Why do you only choose to visit me now?”
“Because you asked me to” I remind her, she sighs.
“I know, but why should I have to ask you? Why can’t you just pop by and surprise me?”
“Because I work and I have to organize a date if I want to get time off, and I did visit! Christmas, Easter, your birthday, I did!” I argue,
“Fine,” she sighs, I start to feel slightly bad.
I turn off the tap and dry my hands, then walk over to her. I extend my arms slightly then retract them again, unsure of my next action. She gives me a strange look, as if we’re playing charades and she has no idea what I’m trying to do. I lean over and hug her; she hugs me back, breathing into my hair.
We sit on her fat armchairs, which smell of powder and expensive perfume, Eva has a box of “expensive” chocolate on her lap and I lean over to pick one, but she slaps my hand away,
“Get your own,” she moans.
I give her my death stare and she rolls her eyes,
“Fine, but let it melt in your mouth, don’t chew, so it will last longer and I’ll have more for myself,” She laughs, offering me the box.
I look at her, happy as can be in her diamonds and scarlet dress, eating fine chocolate with her feet propped up.
“Can we look through some old photo albums?” I ask.
She smiles and says her signature line, ‘I don’t need photographs to remember the past’. I look at her pleadingly. She finally nods and points to the bookshelf, I pull them out and sit on the floor beside her chair. Propping the album on my knees, I motion to flip the cover open. It’s something I’ve done many times before, but for some reason, this time feels different. This time, I’m nervous.
We look at the black and white photos of Eva when she was barely six years old.
“I remember that day! My hair was in curlers for hours,” she explained.
I’ve always been jealous of Eva’s unreal memory, unfaltering even at the age of 77.
“Tell me your life story?” I ask. She looks at me, unsure if I was joking or not.
“72 years worth of stories, are you sure?” She asks,
“Yes. Please. I never got a chance to know everything about you when I was growing up. And while I’m here, I want to know. Please.” I beg.
Eva looks deep into my eyes and finally realizes that I’m serious, she draws a deep breath and nods.
“Every detail of today will be different from yesterday: The way the clouds cross the sky, the direction in which you will pour your juice, even the number of water droplets falling out of my tap. You should know that by now.”
Of course, I nod my head, rolling my eyes. I’ve heard things similar to this all my life. I ask her if she wants to get up now, but she shakes her head.
“I have to think of my grandchildren’s smiles so I can lift myself out of bed” she explains. After a few minutes she sits up, and manages to stand. She walks across to the bathroom, and I start to make the bed.
Eva gets out of the bathroom and sits at her dressing table, she examines her wrinkled face and pets her white hair, and she catches me watching,
“That's how you know how much someone lived, you know? Wrinkles like these are marks of times sadness has made you frown or furrow your brow, and times happiness has made you laugh out loud. Trust me, you will know how much someone has lived by the depth of their creases.”
She pulls out a thick diamond necklace from her drawer, smiling as she touches the sparkling rocks. She opens her wardrobe and searches through her clothes, she finally pulls out a scarlet ball gown, I start laughing, she has been wearing gowns everyday this week. She winks at me,
“The world tells me I have nothing to live for at 72-”
“-You’re 77,” I remind her,
“Shh! somebody might hear you! Anyway, let me tell you, missy, I have no shame wearing my finest dresses and jewels when I have no plans of leaving my house, and I love it that way! Today we will lounge around, eat chocolates from a fancy box and listen to some fine music, not the crap they play on the radio, and maybe we’ll watch one of your fathers movies!” she says excitedly.
I help her cross the house, so we can go eat breakfast in the kitchen before relax in the living room then feed the birds, a regime we’ve been following for the week I’ve been here. She lets go of her tight hold on my forearm and climbs onto her kitchen stools. I pull out the silver bowls she’s had since her mother passed away and set them on the table, adjacent to her crystal cups, just the way she likes it. I’ve never been much of a cook so I throw in random spices along with the eggs in a pan, and hope it turns out good. Eva hides a smirk when I shuffle them onto her plate.
“I saw that. And eat it, eggs are full of protein”
“Like I need protein,” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but we both know what she was going to say. I hand over her medication, a dozen little pills that are meant to sustain her life. We look outside the big window, both calmly watching the gray sea and it’s cold mist as we chew on (perfectly tasty) eggs and sip on orange juice. The gardener interrupts our serene morning by starting his lawn mower, so I get up to clean the plates. Eva turns to face my back at the sink,
“Why now?” she asks, “Why do you only choose to visit me now?”
“Because you asked me to” I remind her, she sighs.
“I know, but why should I have to ask you? Why can’t you just pop by and surprise me?”
“Because I work and I have to organize a date if I want to get time off, and I did visit! Christmas, Easter, your birthday, I did!” I argue,
“Fine,” she sighs, I start to feel slightly bad.
I turn off the tap and dry my hands, then walk over to her. I extend my arms slightly then retract them again, unsure of my next action. She gives me a strange look, as if we’re playing charades and she has no idea what I’m trying to do. I lean over and hug her; she hugs me back, breathing into my hair.
We sit on her fat armchairs, which smell of powder and expensive perfume, Eva has a box of “expensive” chocolate on her lap and I lean over to pick one, but she slaps my hand away,
“Get your own,” she moans.
I give her my death stare and she rolls her eyes,
“Fine, but let it melt in your mouth, don’t chew, so it will last longer and I’ll have more for myself,” She laughs, offering me the box.
I look at her, happy as can be in her diamonds and scarlet dress, eating fine chocolate with her feet propped up.
“Can we look through some old photo albums?” I ask.
She smiles and says her signature line, ‘I don’t need photographs to remember the past’. I look at her pleadingly. She finally nods and points to the bookshelf, I pull them out and sit on the floor beside her chair. Propping the album on my knees, I motion to flip the cover open. It’s something I’ve done many times before, but for some reason, this time feels different. This time, I’m nervous.
We look at the black and white photos of Eva when she was barely six years old.
“I remember that day! My hair was in curlers for hours,” she explained.
I’ve always been jealous of Eva’s unreal memory, unfaltering even at the age of 77.
“Tell me your life story?” I ask. She looks at me, unsure if I was joking or not.
“72 years worth of stories, are you sure?” She asks,
“Yes. Please. I never got a chance to know everything about you when I was growing up. And while I’m here, I want to know. Please.” I beg.
Eva looks deep into my eyes and finally realizes that I’m serious, she draws a deep breath and nods.
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
Starts where it ends
School was suspended until July 6th. How awesome is that? Awesome enough to dance around with socks on and nothing else! Not that I did that.
I haven't got many updates right now, my fingernails are painted orange to celebrate my freedom. My eyes are dragging downwards, yearning for sleep. I have more chapters of my story but theyre on paper and quite frankly I cannot be bothered to type them up, but I will. I promise and that means I really will because I always keep my promises.
They posted online classes and homework on the school website, might as well give us online detention. : But no, it's fine. At least I'll have something to do. I've done half of my Chem homework and like, 1/10 of my Eng. Haven't touched math.
--
She sat on the edge of her wooden chair, rocking back and forth. Ice cream spilt from her pores and ran down her wrists, sticky trails of sweet indulgence. Her hair was messy from the wind's sweet caresses, the clocks ticked by in perfect timing, creating a somewhat stiff Waltz for the birds. Her sleepy eyes called for rest, but she forced them open, continuing to watch the bright screen in front of her, and the black worlds which scrawled all over the page like dancing zebras. They galloped and skipped, black stripes against white. Or was it the other way around?
--
So tired.
Creative writing to be posted tomorrow. :)
Cheers
I haven't got many updates right now, my fingernails are painted orange to celebrate my freedom. My eyes are dragging downwards, yearning for sleep. I have more chapters of my story but theyre on paper and quite frankly I cannot be bothered to type them up, but I will. I promise and that means I really will because I always keep my promises.
They posted online classes and homework on the school website, might as well give us online detention. : But no, it's fine. At least I'll have something to do. I've done half of my Chem homework and like, 1/10 of my Eng. Haven't touched math.
--
She sat on the edge of her wooden chair, rocking back and forth. Ice cream spilt from her pores and ran down her wrists, sticky trails of sweet indulgence. Her hair was messy from the wind's sweet caresses, the clocks ticked by in perfect timing, creating a somewhat stiff Waltz for the birds. Her sleepy eyes called for rest, but she forced them open, continuing to watch the bright screen in front of her, and the black worlds which scrawled all over the page like dancing zebras. They galloped and skipped, black stripes against white. Or was it the other way around?
--
So tired.
Creative writing to be posted tomorrow. :)
Cheers
Sunday, 21 June 2009
Chapter 13: Subconscious Plots
Victoria woke up with a jolt. She assured herself it was just a dream, but she couldn't help worrying. Her dreams had turned out to be actual events a few times before, she had to know, make sure it wouldn't happen. She rubbed her temples and cleared her mind of the stress that could add possible evidence of age to her radiant skin, she shakily stood up and took a deep breath. She rummaged through her shelves, what she was looking for wasn't there. She opened her dusty cabinets, pushed aside the dead rats and jars of medicine. She was starting to panic, but quickly remembered her last keeping place. She pulled out her heavy trunk, she always liked it. It was a chest made of dark wood with a metal frame, engraved with some foreign language she never understood, she recalled her fathers explanations..
He looked at her from behind his thick glasses and white beard, she sat on his lap and the chest lay before them. He ran his fingers over chest, smiling. "Vicky, do you see this? This is a language of oriental mysteries. Of men in silk robes and strange antiquities. They speak with sharp tongues and their words are drawn like pictures" he explained with such a faraway look, "Oh Vicky, you should see their treasures! The whitest porcelain you'd ever see, encrusted with gems you could only dream of! Blue, red, green, every colour imaginable!" her father let her look closely as he watched from his big armchair, smiling at her curiousity.
Victoria held the broken lock in her hand, she twisted it and unlacthed the lid. The contents of the precious trunk shone in the dark room, there it was. The ball made of pure crystal, with voices that could tell the future. She held it in her palm. waiting for a sign. Nothing. She shook the fragile ball, an army of voices moaned inside the sphere.
He looked at her from behind his thick glasses and white beard, she sat on his lap and the chest lay before them. He ran his fingers over chest, smiling. "Vicky, do you see this? This is a language of oriental mysteries. Of men in silk robes and strange antiquities. They speak with sharp tongues and their words are drawn like pictures" he explained with such a faraway look, "Oh Vicky, you should see their treasures! The whitest porcelain you'd ever see, encrusted with gems you could only dream of! Blue, red, green, every colour imaginable!" her father let her look closely as he watched from his big armchair, smiling at her curiousity.
Victoria held the broken lock in her hand, she twisted it and unlacthed the lid. The contents of the precious trunk shone in the dark room, there it was. The ball made of pure crystal, with voices that could tell the future. She held it in her palm. waiting for a sign. Nothing. She shook the fragile ball, an army of voices moaned inside the sphere.
"Show me the truth" She told it.
She stared into its dark clouds, and no doubt, they were swirling in the small, trapped atmosphere. They navy mist started turning into a pink haze and a hollow, shrill voice spoke from it."Your dreams are more than pictures in your mind. Your dreams have a purpose, a destiny. Your dreams do not lie to you, what you see is what will happen." it sang.
Victoria watched, gutted. Her anger boiling under skin. The smoke inside the ball danced into pink and then turned into the darkest shade of the night sky.
Saturday, 20 June 2009
Spread it around like a big piece of butter.
Alas, the weekend arrives like a warm hug on sunday mornings. The first week of school was basic orientation, but I was lacking so much sleep I crashed on my bed when I got home yesterday, around 5pm, and I woke up at 10am today. Much Need Rest is now ticked off my To-Do List. :) I watched Obsessed and The Secret Life of Bees, then did my Chemistry homework (which was to make some random collage about chemistry in society, I love making collages) and I just typed up some stuff for History. I'll finish the rest tomorrow.
I have another chapter for my story in my notebook, well, 3 chapters actually, but I promise to type them up here tomorrow. So that will be my Creative Writing input for the mo'.
I have another chapter for my story in my notebook, well, 3 chapters actually, but I promise to type them up here tomorrow. So that will be my Creative Writing input for the mo'.
Btw I was stunned yesterday because Gia told me she has never licked the spoon after baking cookies. WTF, RIGHT? Who the hell doesn't or hasn't ever licked the spoon? Thats the best part about baking. I usually eat the cookie dough because it tastes better than the actual cookies. Who gives a sh*t about Salmonella? Psh, if you let that stop you then you haven't lived!
Who agrees with me? That licking the spoon is the best and most sacred part of baking? And who hasn't done that before?
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
Just the way I like it.
Bathroom floor, tiles cold, lights off. Just how I like it. No water running, nobody around, no sounds but the voices in my head, telling me what to write.
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru de va om
Pen in hand, scribbling away onto the crumpled paper, blue lines supporting the weight of the heavy words. My letters different sizes, my dots and crosses uneven. Light shines in from behind the windows grill, cutting rays into different sizes.
Sounds of laughter shades of earth are ringing
Through my open views inviting and inciting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a
million suns, it calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru de va om
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru de va om
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Pen in hand, scribbling away onto the crumpled paper, blue lines supporting the weight of the heavy words. My letters different sizes, my dots and crosses uneven. Light shines in from behind the windows grill, cutting rays into different sizes.
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
That call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box they
Tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru de va om
That call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box they
Tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru de va om
Nothing's gonna change my world.
My bones cry against the hard floor. Call out for me to protect them with blankets of flesh. My ribs jut out and shoulders shake, an unsteady foundation. I am losing myself in a universe of my mind, worlds of passion, stars of hopes and asteroids of fears. My galaxies entwine and crash against each other, millions of specks fly through my sky, lost in orbit.
Sounds of laughter shades of earth are ringing
Through my open views inviting and inciting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a
million suns, it calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru de va om
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Saturday, 13 June 2009
Silence over daybreaks.
Had our first day of school today, it wasn't that bad. I'm in 3A, Junior year. My homeroom teacher is really awesome, she went on about how it was important to practice our rights, and how she'll defend us if teachers abuse their authority over us. She's really sweet and she tried her best to make us comfortable. She's the kind you'd like to hug. She's also very firm in her beliefs, she made us stand up and sing a Praise & Worship song while clapping our hands. It was alright. My subject teachers are all pretty goody, my timetable is good, I like having math and science as my first subjects, because I actually listen when I have no energy in the mornings. My class is okay. We're all still shy around each other and we haven't really broken the ice. I can tell we'll be an okay class, a pretty quiet one most probably. Which is good because I have to focus this year, anyway.
I was really happy afterschool because we talked to our Club Advisor, Ms Mina, who has so many real PLANS for the club, I'm so happy. She's a star.
So that's about it. I have a short passage of creative writing, it isnt that good. According to my "Biorythm" my Creative Period is over for the mo'.
Peace out, friends.
Photographs take me to place away from where I am. They captivate me, stir emotions that never existed, creating memories of a life I never lived. For a while, just a short while, during the few milliseconds right after I look at a photo, I am transported. I am in the photo, laughing with the girl lying in the daisies, blowing bubbles and squinting at the sun. I can feel what she feels, I can see what she sees. But then that fades, that partial existence in another moment, another life, it vanishes and I am left where I started. On the floor, with photographs in my hand.
I was really happy afterschool because we talked to our Club Advisor, Ms Mina, who has so many real PLANS for the club, I'm so happy. She's a star.
So that's about it. I have a short passage of creative writing, it isnt that good. According to my "Biorythm" my Creative Period is over for the mo'.
Peace out, friends.
Photographs take me to place away from where I am. They captivate me, stir emotions that never existed, creating memories of a life I never lived. For a while, just a short while, during the few milliseconds right after I look at a photo, I am transported. I am in the photo, laughing with the girl lying in the daisies, blowing bubbles and squinting at the sun. I can feel what she feels, I can see what she sees. But then that fades, that partial existence in another moment, another life, it vanishes and I am left where I started. On the floor, with photographs in my hand.
Thursday, 11 June 2009
Hiatus
Blogging has started to feel like an obligation. I'm not very good when obligated to do something.
Will take a break away from this. See you when I get back. :)
Kick off your sunday shoes.
Dear Joanna,
I’m writing this letter to you because we both know that it’s the only way you’ll understand. I wanted to tell you what I keep stored in my mind.
First of all, thank you. Thank you for practicing your patience today. That you for not fighting with your mother, and trying to adjust your stubborn attitude. You know, how you go all quiet and cold when you don’t get what you want, how you guilt the person into giving in. It’s not nice. You can’t always have your way, and thank you for dealing with that.
Second, thank you for standing up for yourself. You usually want to be friends with everyone, want to be liked by all the people you know. But you have finally grown to understand that it doesn’t matter if people don’t like you, as long as you’re being true to yourself. You know who matters, and you know who doesn’t. You know you matter to me, so thank you for taking care of your rights and beliefs.
Third, thank you for being rational. You did not complain today when your mother bought herself something nice, and you did not buy anything. You did not ask your mother to buy your friend’s birthday gift, you bought it with your monthly allowance, something you wouldn’t have done for something that expensive. You did not pick up whatever your eye fancies and put it in the supermarket trolley, usually you would sneak a few bars of chocolate between the milk cartons, but today, you did not. Thank you for hugging your mother when she agreed to buy a small gift for your other friend, even if it was on a sale. Thank you for biting your lip when your mother made your temper twitch, thank you for swallowing your anger.
I’m proud of you, you are truly growing and recovering from your stubborn, spoilt ways. And about those nerves, I know that they’re going to go away soon. Your palms wont get clammy and your stomach won’t knot. You’ll realize that there’s no need to be nervous anymore, you’ll realize that there was a reason to be. And you’ll be truly happy. I just know it.
Lots of love,
Yourself.
I’m writing this letter to you because we both know that it’s the only way you’ll understand. I wanted to tell you what I keep stored in my mind.
First of all, thank you. Thank you for practicing your patience today. That you for not fighting with your mother, and trying to adjust your stubborn attitude. You know, how you go all quiet and cold when you don’t get what you want, how you guilt the person into giving in. It’s not nice. You can’t always have your way, and thank you for dealing with that.
Second, thank you for standing up for yourself. You usually want to be friends with everyone, want to be liked by all the people you know. But you have finally grown to understand that it doesn’t matter if people don’t like you, as long as you’re being true to yourself. You know who matters, and you know who doesn’t. You know you matter to me, so thank you for taking care of your rights and beliefs.
Third, thank you for being rational. You did not complain today when your mother bought herself something nice, and you did not buy anything. You did not ask your mother to buy your friend’s birthday gift, you bought it with your monthly allowance, something you wouldn’t have done for something that expensive. You did not pick up whatever your eye fancies and put it in the supermarket trolley, usually you would sneak a few bars of chocolate between the milk cartons, but today, you did not. Thank you for hugging your mother when she agreed to buy a small gift for your other friend, even if it was on a sale. Thank you for biting your lip when your mother made your temper twitch, thank you for swallowing your anger.
I’m proud of you, you are truly growing and recovering from your stubborn, spoilt ways. And about those nerves, I know that they’re going to go away soon. Your palms wont get clammy and your stomach won’t knot. You’ll realize that there’s no need to be nervous anymore, you’ll realize that there was a reason to be. And you’ll be truly happy. I just know it.
Lots of love,
Yourself.
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
Meet Chu at da Bronx.
Today, I am really happy, I'm going to do some creative writing and I'll post it ASAP.
I managed to complete 4 out of 10 in my summer wishlist, all in one day! Before today, I had nothing. :(
I managed to complete 4 out of 10 in my summer wishlist, all in one day! Before today, I had nothing. :(
So Gia and Cami came over around 10am and we went to school to sell one of my Pussycat Doll concert tickets. (Thank you Yani, btw)
We went for lunch courtesy of my mother, and onto Darren's house we went. We made another episode of Joey & Cameron, where I believe I accidentally killed Cameron. I'll post it sometime. So that's one on my list checked off.
We watched Repo Man: The Genetic Opera which has this Rent and Sweeny Todd kinda fusion to it, it's really good! A lot of Gore and Goth. Paris Hilton is there and there's this one sick scene where she's singing and her face... I'll leave you hanging :)
Then we went swimming and jacuzzi-ing, it's fun to sit on the little people and drown them, teehee. We sat in the jacuzzi, it was soo warm. Probably due to a lot of kid's piss, but oh well. There were bubbles? Who can resist bubbles!?
Then we had a BBQ dinner, I ate so much it was so good. We forgot to bring candles so it was hard to see our food but it was fun :) There's another 2 checked off my list, BBQ and group dinner. Woot! We had to go `cos our parents were getting annoyed, we were taking cabs home and cabs+nighttime=bad rapist drivers.
So yeah. We found one, and the guy wanted to charge us 30 pesos more for 2 stops, and we agreed. So we turned around to say our goodbyes, and the cab drove up the road, we thought he was just gonna U-Turn.. but he never came back :( FAIL.
It was hilarious. So there's another but instead of MRT Adventures, it's Taxi Adventures, yay! So we dropped cami off, then Gia and I got off and her dad sent me home.
Oh, did I mention my ex texted me? Probably due to his assish behaviour the day before.
Hey jo...
if its about the tickets, what? If its not, then i'm busy.
Ayt. Nevermind. I just wanted to try and be friends but I see that's not possible.. bye.
K
No, I don't feel bad. The few people I let into my life should be the ones I choose. I should decide who my friends should be, who to trust and love. I don't have to "make it work" or make sure I'm on good terms with everyone I know. Just because you're not friends with everybody doesn't mean you're a bad person, it means you're a real one.
And finally, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MON! I LOVE YOU. Seriously, I do. You are one very very very special person. Happy 16th, I hope you make it awesome :) And I'm so sorry for not realising today is the 11th. I am going to go and buy you something very nice. :)
I LOVE YOU.
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
9th O` June
Can't bring myself to write.
So here's a video about my day.
Sorry it's such a close up and sorry I dont look good.
Hope you had a good 9th of June :)
Monday, 8 June 2009
Violation
He stroked her hair and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, bottle of gin in one hand, and the other around her waist. She giggled and kissed the side of his head, and his face, and his neck, never touching his lips. He took another gulp of the amber liquid, and then another. They laughed and rolled around in the dark park, nobody would hear them, nobody would disturb. He took off her coat and laid it on the floor, so they had something to lie on without any evidence they had done something dirty. She moved onto her back and watched the few stars shining in the sky. He ran his hands over her leg and she let him. He shifted over her and planted a wet, uncomfortable kiss on her lips, laughing as she pushed him off, she rubbed her mouth and licked off the bitter taste, lightly shrugging it off. He kneeled above her and swung one leg over to her other side, locking her inbetween them. She pushed him away but he held her wrists, hard. She told him to stop but he ignored, and continued attempting to force his tongue into her mouth. Her heart raced faster as she struggled to break free, he pushed her wrists into the ground beside her, leaving her paralyzed in shock. She started calling for help, but nobody was around to hear, he momentarily let her arms go as he ripped off her buttons. She hit him as hard as she could, in every direction, but one hard pound of his fist was enough to keep her still. He tore off her blouse and started moving down to her skirt, tears started collecting in the basin of her eyes. He yanked her skirt above her waist, and ripped through her satin knickers. She kicked as hard as she could, but another blow to her face sent her nose gushing crimson blood, and silenced her once more. She started crying for her family, for her God, for anybody who was passing by. She begged him not to do it, but with one hard shove, he was inside her, sending a ripple of pain through her core. Her cries softened into whispers, but she did not stop asking for help. He thrusted inside of her, as she lay still, unspeaking, unmoving. He finished with her and lay beside her ruined body, she was there physically, but her mind and soul was somewhere else, sitting on the stars until they dimmed out, asking what she did to deserve this.
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Hippies Song.
We'll bang the beats on our guitars and never comb our hair.
We'll hitchike to get to where we need to be, and we wont give it a second thought,
We'll become best friends with strangers, and braid flowers into bracelets.
We'll make daisy chains and loose braids, skinny dogs and bonfires.
We'll tell stories of our histories, laugh and sing into the night air.
Friday, 5 June 2009
Holy Water
I read an amazing piece of truth at this certain blog I've been following. I recommend you check it, it's stellar.
The wet tiles on the walls and floor feel like they're supporting my weight. One missing surface and my shivering frame would come crashing into a never-ending darkness. The shower head continues to spray cold needles of water, soaking my hair and clothes, washing away my sin. The thick fabric of my shirt sticks to my chest and heaves along with it as I breathe in and out. My hair, clamped together like dreadlocks submerged underwater. My tears disguised with the water tracks running down my face, one of the reasons I choose to cry in the shower: You can make yourself believe that you aren't. No salty streaks, no hot-headedness. Just the cool water gliding over you until you find the strength the stand back up.
I clutch my arms around my knees and bury my head into them. What would it be today? The balcony, the many pills lying around, the rope, or possibly one of the sharp knives in the kitchen?
Would I have the strength? No, not physically. But mentally, I can twist and turn, run down any dark alley I want. I have been doing it for days. Conjuring some sick ideas to cut my thread and let me fall into hell. I am alone. I am wandering along a dark hallway, looking for a light that's nowhere to be found. Looking for a hand that will be able to pull me out of this depression, but not finding anything.
The wet tiles on the walls and floor feel like they're supporting my weight. One missing surface and my shivering frame would come crashing into a never-ending darkness. The shower head continues to spray cold needles of water, soaking my hair and clothes, washing away my sin. The thick fabric of my shirt sticks to my chest and heaves along with it as I breathe in and out. My hair, clamped together like dreadlocks submerged underwater. My tears disguised with the water tracks running down my face, one of the reasons I choose to cry in the shower: You can make yourself believe that you aren't. No salty streaks, no hot-headedness. Just the cool water gliding over you until you find the strength the stand back up.
I clutch my arms around my knees and bury my head into them. What would it be today? The balcony, the many pills lying around, the rope, or possibly one of the sharp knives in the kitchen?
Would I have the strength? No, not physically. But mentally, I can twist and turn, run down any dark alley I want. I have been doing it for days. Conjuring some sick ideas to cut my thread and let me fall into hell. I am alone. I am wandering along a dark hallway, looking for a light that's nowhere to be found. Looking for a hand that will be able to pull me out of this depression, but not finding anything.
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
Chapter 12: Love in the Summer
Leo and Stephanie lay in the grass talking about their lives and everyone in it. They knew they had a deep connection as he showed her the forest cabin he was lending her. She made the dusty, old shack look like an exciting getaway, it was like she was a criminal that burned with passion, and he was the man tied between her and the law. Weeks passed and although it was soon, Leo knew their lives were entwined by the hands of fate. They were meant for each other. So somewhere between their sugary pet names and the endless amount of time they spent together, they fell in love. And shortly after, they were married.
Leo led Stephanie through the castle walls, her eyes looked around in wonder. Her mouth was fixated on the word "Wow" in the ballroom, she squealed with delight in the throne room, and nearly wet herself out of excitement in the Royal Treasury.
Leo took her to their sleeping chamber, and placed a blindfold in her hands.
"You must always wear this at night, Stephanie. Never take it off as long as the sun is down. That is all I ask of you,"
Unfazed by the simple task, Stephanie accepted the blindfold, and during her first few weeks in the castle, she was an obedient wife. She was often tempted to take a peek, but she always managed o stop herself. Life was good, better than it had ever been. Here, away from Victoria. She never had to worry again.
Or so she thought.
Tonight, we'll shine like newly polished dimes.
I'm going to a Fashion Show tonight for Philippine Fashion Week! Selina sent me a text message this morning asking if I was free, and I had to convince my mom who, at first, didn't want to let me go because SHE wanted to go and Sely didn't have an extra ticket for her.
BUT I'M ALLOWED TO NOW! As long as it isn't raining when that happens. Shit, I have to find something to wear!
BUT I'M ALLOWED TO NOW! As long as it isn't raining when that happens. Shit, I have to find something to wear!
Friday, 29 May 2009
Oh, it's what you do to me.
Did you bring your cigarettes?
Yes. Did you bring your good mood?
Yes. Did you bring your good mood?
I was pissed off, and my dad was as well, for other reasons, so we went to Fully Booked and browsed through the thousands of books in the freezing cold. My dad was surprised that they actually had some good books, well duh, it has 5 different floors, there’s bound to be something. I bought Time Magazine (so intellectual! Har har) and it has articles on the 100 most influential people, written by influential people. :)
We went to Starbucks and had this awesome brownie! It was marveloso! Chocolate and walnutty goodness. *Like candy canes at Christmassss* Ah. And he had a caramel macchiato and I had a mocha frap. Mom met us there and we sat for a while talking about me & my sisters and our different approaches to things, I came to the conclusion that Jayne’s the most artistic (no surprise there), Stephanie was the sportiest and easily still could be, and she’s also the best at puzzles and things, and I am the most perfect. Har har, I kid. No, I’m the most all-rounded but I’m also creative + logical (can you say perfect? Yes, you can)
Then we went to New Orleans, which is so cute, as you can see. The light on the ceiling is basically a chandelier kinda thing made out of drum cymbals! And there was a pianist, bassist and singer there. T’was nice because the atmosphere was chilled and people were laughing and clapping after the lady sang, which is far better than those restaurants where everyone is quiet and nobody pays attention to the singer. I didn’t take pictures of the food but we had Clam Chowder, BLT Salad & Ribs. Ahh, the ribs were so good. I recommend that place. It’s right beside Clawdaddy’s and Von Dutch @ Bonifacio Highstreet. The servings are large and decently priced, too.
Okay I’ll sign off now, this is getting long.
So long and farewell, good blog readers!
Big Kisses
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Afternoons
Baby lets run away to Cuba,
you can smoke cigars,
and I can dance the night away,
we can wake up to the smell
of rusty cars and spanish food,
tangled in our sheets,
what do you say?
I got home a couple of hours ago. I went to Greenbelt with my parents since my dad felt like going out. We went to this charming Cuban restaurant called Cafe Havana, I wish I had my camera so I could take a picture, but I didn't. We ate and talked about cigars, then I had to run off to find the others because the movie was starting in a few.
It was so good to see Jerrell, Cuenca, Aljohn, Ramon, Carina and Bianca again. Haven't seen them in so long, and they said I got darker (YAY!). We watched a film called House which was some lame horror flick. It was about a couple who got in a car accident so they trek back to civilization in the middle of the storm, they find a Bed & Breakfast and it just goes all weird. The house isn't haunted, but it manifests your sins and fears, so yeah.
Anyway afterwards we went to Timezone (this arcade) and spent Aljohns money on games. I lost to Carina in racing, then we played that game where you have to shoot as many hoops? Well the deal was the winner gets a kiss from each of the losers, and guess what? Aljohn won : So Carina, Bianca & I gave him a kiss on the cheek each. Then we played air hockey and it was so much fun, I was with Aljohn, Cuenca and Jerrell were a team, and we were whooping and laughing so loudly it was so much fun, we were losing like, 5-2 BUT WE CAME BACK! And the final score was 6-6 :D
Then I met back up with my parents and we drove home through the rain and traffic and talked about music and blogs. :)
How do your parents feel about blogs?
Lime-green Lighters
I just have to say that the weather over here in Manila is the weirdest thing ever. At least back when I lived in Malaysia, the weather was consistent. There would be days of pouring rain, then it would lighten to a drizzle, then become cloudy, then the sun would peek out, then it would really hot. This would happen over a span of days. But this morning I woke up to thunder, and when I looked outside, it was sunny! What the flabbergast! My mom said it drizzled a bit earlier, but there's no evidence of that. And the middle of the sky is grey and heavy while the sides are bright blue. So strange. Make up your mind, Manila skies.
OKAY, now that's over, sorry that I haven't blogged in ages, guys. I just got back from my mothers province... farawar among the rice fields and farmers and stuff. It was alright, there was a fiesta so there was a lot of food + people. And my aunt has an xbox with all these games so I was playing that most of the time. But I'm back now and as excited to blog as ever!
I'm going out later, around 4pm to catch up with Jerrell and a few others. I don't what we're going to do, I haven't been to the mall in ages and it's not actually that appealing. But I miss those guys so I'm up for it.
You know what? A lot of the time I happen to think that I'm ready to take on stuff, but when it actually happens I feel so small and lost unless I've done it once before. I feel pretty mature for my age, I mean, when my mother isn't around I'm the one who does the groceries and pays the bills and sometimes cooks. I just feel like I'm pretty responsible. But it's annoying that others don't see that. It's always "Oh you're 16 you're supposed to be responsible" but what 16 year old is expected to do that kinda stuff : It's kinda hard because my sisters still live in Malaysia and I guess I get most of the responsibility. I just feel like the responsibility doesn't get me the freedom I deserve. Shouldn't freedom come with responsibility? I should be allowed to go out in the evenings, but yet I can't because of one mistake I made A YEAR AGO!!! Sighhh : Mothers are so paranoid.
One last thing, there's this guy, Mr. Fettucini, I'm not looking for anything complicated in my life, and I know he isn't either. But I'm kind of into him and he drops signs, too, or so I think he does. I DON'T want another boyfriend, dear God that's the last thing I want, but I do want somebody I can be into, you know? I miss the butterflies and the retarded happiness. But the thing with him is that he thinks he can see right through me and he thinks he's so cool and collected. What say you about me shaking him up a bit? I'm gonna confuse him `til his brain is mush.
PEACE OUT MY LOVELY READERS.
BIG KISSES.
Goodbye friends & blog readers!
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Toothpaste Kisses & Heart-Shaped Bruises
So I wrote a new passage for my Stephanie Story and I really like it, but the notebook is in the other room so I can't really be bothered to go and type it up. I will maybe when I finish the whole story? Or when the notebook happens to be beside the PC. Anyway, I took a video of myself writing because I wanted to see how I am, usually I'm pretty blind when it comes to myself. I just have to say: I AM SUCH A RETARD!!! You'll see what I mean when you watch the vid.
So yesterday I went to Merville to hang out with Cami and Gia since it's been forever. Gia came over at 7AM. : SEVEN. When the world is still asleep. But anyway, my neighbours maid gave her this look of death which kind of read as "who is this unknown tresspasser?!" Twas Freaky.
So we watched Aus. Next Top Model and laughed at the Australian humour, and around 12.30 we went to Cami's. We played some ps2 games and Guitar Hero (which i epically suck at) I went online and watched them play. Then we went swimming at Miggo's house, went back to Cami's and watched Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging, then we had dinner and played hotel 626! Cami sent us back to my place :) I love those girls so much.
YOUR LIGHT IS ULTRAVIOLET.
Sunday, 17 May 2009
Dancing for the world to see.
Standing in the eye of a whirl pool,
carried here by my flourescent balloons,
voice squeaky with helium and high.
Nothing driving my creativity,
no passion bursting with ravens
taking flight and screaming into the sky.
Waters lapping fiercly around my waist,
ruby shoes drowning underneath,
box of delights in my hand.
Music hanging from my earlobes,
teeth pulling apart my lips,
dangerous content, to be rocked
by strange ecstasy.
That was a weird entry. Images flashed in my head, words slipped out of my mouth.
Saturday, 16 May 2009
I can make you Ice Cream, we can be a Sweet Team.
Summer passes without sand caught in my undies, the sea beneath my toes, ice cream dripping down my fingers or sandcastles knocked down by the shore.
Summer passes without the culture of a foreign land, no strange faces by the road. No unusual food or customs, no pristine hotel rooms.
Summer passes without the late night fun, no artificial lights under the dimmed stars, no drinks that swirl inside your head and no music that taps your toes.
Summer passes without the girly sleepovers, no popcorn infront of the tv, no messy manicures or giggles way past midnight.
School starts on June 8th, and I don't really know how to feel about that. Most of you know I don't like my school, I hate the way they teach, I hate that they emply teachers who are young enough to be our siblings, I hate how they neglect the arts, this list goes on. I haven't missed school this summer, which is good because that means I didn't get bored even when lazing around at home. I'm excited for the new subjects we're going to take on (World lit and history, final-fucking-ly. Takes forever for this school to get started) and I have passion for things when I'm at school. My writing is always better, and I get to act, due to my club, which I am now president of :) And much more. I just wish summer was more eventful. I hate letting my days pass by like they do, no thrill of new things. I'm always craving for adventure, but I never seem to go out and grasp it. Too many things hinder my chance of exploration, but half of these things are probably inside my head.
I've been water colouring and sketching more, lately. I still suck, though :(
Summer passes without the culture of a foreign land, no strange faces by the road. No unusual food or customs, no pristine hotel rooms.
Summer passes without the late night fun, no artificial lights under the dimmed stars, no drinks that swirl inside your head and no music that taps your toes.
Summer passes without the girly sleepovers, no popcorn infront of the tv, no messy manicures or giggles way past midnight.
School starts on June 8th, and I don't really know how to feel about that. Most of you know I don't like my school, I hate the way they teach, I hate that they emply teachers who are young enough to be our siblings, I hate how they neglect the arts, this list goes on. I haven't missed school this summer, which is good because that means I didn't get bored even when lazing around at home. I'm excited for the new subjects we're going to take on (World lit and history, final-fucking-ly. Takes forever for this school to get started) and I have passion for things when I'm at school. My writing is always better, and I get to act, due to my club, which I am now president of :) And much more. I just wish summer was more eventful. I hate letting my days pass by like they do, no thrill of new things. I'm always craving for adventure, but I never seem to go out and grasp it. Too many things hinder my chance of exploration, but half of these things are probably inside my head.
I've been water colouring and sketching more, lately. I still suck, though :(
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Happy Mothers Day
I'm seven years old again and I wake up, my mother isn't in sight. I'm disappointed, like an old woman who missed her favourite television show. I know she won't be back for a while, why didnt she wake me up? I usually go everywhere with her, and make sure she kisses me goodbye if I dont. I walk downstairs, the house is quiet, no older sister, no parents. Just me and the maid, who's too busy to be any good company. I look through through the staircase handling, into the living room embossed in gold light. Christmas tree on one end, sparkling blue and silver; Piano untouched and silent; Couches unwrinkled and puffy. Through the sliding doors you can see the garden, it looks lonely. My dog engrossed in his dream, he kicks a little, then stays still once again. I stand on the landing, unmoving, charmed by the surreal atmosphere my usually hectic house is in. I miss my mother. I walk over to the telephone, repeating her cellphone number in my head, pick up the reciever and poise my hand, ready to dial. I catch a whiff, Chanel No. 5 on the phone. It's my mothers perfume, and the familiarity of it is enough to ease my impatience. I feel her close to me, her arms around me and her perfume surrounding my world.
I put the telephone back down and decide I can wait until she gets home.
After that day, I escaped to the small, scented world of the telephone reciever whenever I missed my mother. It was enough to temporarily bring her back to my side.
Happy mothers day, mom. Although you have no idea I'm writing this, and you actually just told me to get off the computer. I love you!
Joanna
Fuzzy Carpets + Polaroids
In reply to the comments posted on my previous blog, I just want to clear things up.
I do love comments, I really do :) And by saying I was advised against the states and England, I wasn't saying there was anything wrong with it. For one, my mother doesn't want me to move too far away (don't they all?) and more than one person has told me about the depressing English weather. Second, my Father doesn't really want me to go to the states because, well, he's British and I guess he just doesn't like America or whatever. But I have still looked at universities everywhere, and another thing advising me against the both of them are the entry requirements. Here in the Phils we don't take SATs or "A" Levels, so it would be quite difficult completing them of finding an equivalent.
Just wanted to clear things up, it's not a personal dislike, seriously.
I do love comments, I really do :) And by saying I was advised against the states and England, I wasn't saying there was anything wrong with it. For one, my mother doesn't want me to move too far away (don't they all?) and more than one person has told me about the depressing English weather. Second, my Father doesn't really want me to go to the states because, well, he's British and I guess he just doesn't like America or whatever. But I have still looked at universities everywhere, and another thing advising me against the both of them are the entry requirements. Here in the Phils we don't take SATs or "A" Levels, so it would be quite difficult completing them of finding an equivalent.
Just wanted to clear things up, it's not a personal dislike, seriously.
Kookoo Kachoo
Another creative moment! Decided to make a mini magazine! I'm going to play the roll of the editor, the writer, the photographer, the model & the layout director!
Topic ideas greatly wanted!
I have also been spending my evening looking for Universities. I've been advised against the US so now I'm looking at France and Spain.
Topic ideas greatly wanted!
I have also been spending my evening looking for Universities. I've been advised against the US so now I'm looking at France and Spain.
Saturday, 9 May 2009
C'est ma vie.
So here I am, sitting on a green plastic chair which numbs my butt, electric fan making my messy hair even messier and taskbar blinking away at my recieved messages. Teen vogue sits on my lap, obedient and waiting to be flipped through.
I'm not a Teen Vogue collector, sorry. I find it too serious for a teens magazine. I want to be able to relate to the girls I see on the glossy pages, envy them a little bit, think that I should be in there too! But with Teen Vogue, I don't even know what to think. The girls look too unreal, like Barbie brought to life. I don't envy them, I just wonder how much make up has been put on them, and how much photo-shopping has been done.
If I had it my way, I'd take out 50% of the adverts in Teen Vogue, and I'd replace them with articles. I'm pretty sure they've employed enough writers, so they can put them to work. I don't get the point of having too many adverts and nothing to read. You want a magazine you can go back to again and again. Oh, but I do love the perfume adverts with the little sticky side pockets which you peel back to smell the scent! Makes the magazine smell like a perfume store! Yes, Teen Vogue would win the award for Best-Smelling Teens Magazine.
When I think of Teen Vogue, I think of sophisticated socialite teens from New York or California. You know, those rich spoilt brats who indulge in every temptation in the book and still look amazingly flawless while doing so? Yeah. Teen Vogue does capture that essence, with all the expensive clothing and alien-like models, so kudos to them for that.
Anyway, it's sitting on my lap because, once again, I was thinking about University and my future career. I was advised not to go to England for Uni, so I'm thinking about Aus or America. Also since I'm more familiar with American media, it'd be easier than having to understand a whole new style.
Most of you know that I'm not the kind of person who would want to write about fashion or celebrities and stuff like that, it's just not me. There are enough people writing about that kind of stuff, and I was to keep it real. If I had the opportunity, I would dive in to work for a magazine that features REGULAR people, features people who don't get enough attention, people who do so much more than wear "In Season" clothes, or act in a film. Things like National Geographic, or as I read in Teen Vogue, Me Magazine.
"Me magazine is all about showcasing gifted people in creative fields who might not be getting the recognition I think they deserve. Each issue spotlights one person who acts as the guest editor. They curate the content of the magazine and choose a group of friends to focus on, who act as contributors. From start to finish, each issue takes about three months to make."
I want to do that. Spotlight people who deserve it and dont get enough limelight.
But I've gone on long enough, time to get back to those blinking instant messages, and my unanswered emails.
I'm not a Teen Vogue collector, sorry. I find it too serious for a teens magazine. I want to be able to relate to the girls I see on the glossy pages, envy them a little bit, think that I should be in there too! But with Teen Vogue, I don't even know what to think. The girls look too unreal, like Barbie brought to life. I don't envy them, I just wonder how much make up has been put on them, and how much photo-shopping has been done.
If I had it my way, I'd take out 50% of the adverts in Teen Vogue, and I'd replace them with articles. I'm pretty sure they've employed enough writers, so they can put them to work. I don't get the point of having too many adverts and nothing to read. You want a magazine you can go back to again and again. Oh, but I do love the perfume adverts with the little sticky side pockets which you peel back to smell the scent! Makes the magazine smell like a perfume store! Yes, Teen Vogue would win the award for Best-Smelling Teens Magazine.
When I think of Teen Vogue, I think of sophisticated socialite teens from New York or California. You know, those rich spoilt brats who indulge in every temptation in the book and still look amazingly flawless while doing so? Yeah. Teen Vogue does capture that essence, with all the expensive clothing and alien-like models, so kudos to them for that.
Anyway, it's sitting on my lap because, once again, I was thinking about University and my future career. I was advised not to go to England for Uni, so I'm thinking about Aus or America. Also since I'm more familiar with American media, it'd be easier than having to understand a whole new style.
Most of you know that I'm not the kind of person who would want to write about fashion or celebrities and stuff like that, it's just not me. There are enough people writing about that kind of stuff, and I was to keep it real. If I had the opportunity, I would dive in to work for a magazine that features REGULAR people, features people who don't get enough attention, people who do so much more than wear "In Season" clothes, or act in a film. Things like National Geographic, or as I read in Teen Vogue, Me Magazine.
"Me magazine is all about showcasing gifted people in creative fields who might not be getting the recognition I think they deserve. Each issue spotlights one person who acts as the guest editor. They curate the content of the magazine and choose a group of friends to focus on, who act as contributors. From start to finish, each issue takes about three months to make."
I want to do that. Spotlight people who deserve it and dont get enough limelight.
But I've gone on long enough, time to get back to those blinking instant messages, and my unanswered emails.
Friday, 8 May 2009
Ive got a lovely bunch of coconuts.
I wrote a song about my recent events. :P
Okay that's all i have so far. No chorus yet. :P HAHAH okay I made that up on the spot. Not bad!
So yeah, that song has described my day. It was such a gorgeous day today. But Now i see grey clouds coming through :( I wanna go to the beach! PLEASE.
Was supposed to go to Tali Beach yesterday (hey hey hey)
But the rain was stormin' so my momma said No Way,
I kicked up a fuss and made her let me go,
she said if there's no rain, then you can tomorrow (oh oh oh)
Rain was pourin' and it wouldn't stop (No, no)
So I decided there's no point, I'm just outta luck,
Told my hosts that I wouldn't show,
then I wake up today and whatdya know?
The sun is shinin' and the sky is blue,
through the cur'ains, heat is passin' through,
murphy's law is so unfair,
it bites when you dont want it there (yeah yeah!)
so then my momma tried to give me hope
"well go beachin' this weekend, if you wanna go" (oooh ooooh)
so i jumped on the net and looked for places
where we can chill and tan our faces (shooba dooba)
But then i start realising it was gettin' cooler
i look outside and the clouds are fuller
they're getting grey and the wind's comin' around
just to think i thought the storm had left this town (oohh la la la, oooh la la la)
Okay that's all i have so far. No chorus yet. :P HAHAH okay I made that up on the spot. Not bad!
So yeah, that song has described my day. It was such a gorgeous day today. But Now i see grey clouds coming through :( I wanna go to the beach! PLEASE.
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Shake Well before Drinking
New blog layout!
I know how I've been saying I needed to get a new layout, refresh the page a bit. This one's a big more ME, and it isn't dark and scary, I feel good about it :)
I'm off to Tali tomorrow, which is a beach for those who don't know. Gio says were going even if a tsunami hits, ahha. I'm looking forward to it but I'm also worried I'm gonna be left out cause all the girls will have their boys, and the rest are Gio and his friends. :/
Will update my little blog world after I get back.
WOOHOO.
xx, pray that I get a tan!
Monday, 4 May 2009
Snickerdoodles.
I don't know why I'm such a competitive person. I always want to be, if not the best, then one of the better ones. I want to be recognized when it comes to what I do. When I see amazing work done by others in fields that I am also interested in, yet I cannot compete with, I feel bad. I want to be just as good, even if I'm only 16 and that person is a 40 year old with 20 years of experience and a degree.
I've been leaning towards magazine journalism for a while now. It's one of the more stable career choices I have chosen, unlike acting. I thought that it was a pretty decent choice as I would love to broadcast interests and empower my audience through glossy pages and bright pictures. But I have been disheartened. Multiple replies on Yahoo! Answers has left me feeling like it is not a good choice, that I will be led astray with this degree, wasting my time and money.
I am confused. You might decide to say: You're only 16, you have plenty of time! But do I really? I have two more years of high school, studying away (which I do not do) so I get grades good enough for the University of my choice. After those 2 years are up, I'm expected to have my decision. But will I ever really know? Kids like myself are planning their future with every decision, trying to set it in stone. I have the idea that one failed subject will prevent me from getting into University, therefore ruining my chances of a decent job, and therefore ruining my life. In other words, Failed Grade = End of Life.
Going back to my previous question, will I ever really know? Will we ever really know? We all get those moments of clear understanding, where we know what we want to do with the rest of our lives. We may decide at the age of 6 that we want to be a Police Officer, but ask the departments filled with cops who take bribes, ask them if that was what they were expecting. Many people decide to go for the power jobs: Lawyers, Doctors, "Business Men". But after a while, they end up wishing they had done something like photography, or music.
It all goes down to getting a job that will provide your family, not what you dream of doing, they say. Get the degree that will land you a job, then go back and get the degree you actually wanted. But who actually ends up going back?
Undergo this Operation
Adobe Photoshop CS3 was staring at me in the eye, pure hatred radiating from his. He looked betrayed, as if no person had ever hit his ego this hard.
"You've chosen me ever since we were young, Joanna," he said. I choked on my words, what was I supposed to say?
"You're so complicated now. I don't know what to do. It used to be simple with you, but I guess times have changed,"
"We all change!" He yelled. I nodded, it was true, but I couldn't be around people who made life harder.
"I'm sorry," I said. I turned around to face Picnik, so simple and fun, bringing back all the vain joy to my photo-editing.
I took his hand, and walked down the road. Not bothering to look back at Adobe.
"You've chosen me ever since we were young, Joanna," he said. I choked on my words, what was I supposed to say?
"You're so complicated now. I don't know what to do. It used to be simple with you, but I guess times have changed,"
"We all change!" He yelled. I nodded, it was true, but I couldn't be around people who made life harder.
"I'm sorry," I said. I turned around to face Picnik, so simple and fun, bringing back all the vain joy to my photo-editing.
I took his hand, and walked down the road. Not bothering to look back at Adobe.
So Yani posted the link to this photo-editing sight on her blog, and YAY! It's so easy to use and super cool, too!
Sunday, 3 May 2009
When that moon gets big and bright, it's supernatural delight.
Here's my list of things to do before Summer ends. I have about a month left, and nothing amazing has happened, which is really gay. I need some spontaneity, people! I was looking forwards to taking football classes with Gia, but she can't anymore so that's scratched out :(
Okay, here's my personal summer wish-list:
Okay, here's my personal summer wish-list:
MRT Adventures: a group of us are gonna take the electric train (MRT) and get off at random spots, explore, get back on and just go all over the place. I'm really excited for this, which explains why it's number one. :D
Go to a beach! Hell yeah! I need the sand and salt water and sun like a diabetic needs insulin shots
Group dinner + night movie. I love going to the cinema at night, when the malls aren't crowded and stores are closing. Plus, I want to have a dinner where we can look nice :)
BBQ! I talked to Darren about this a second ago and we're gonna have a bbq at his place, yay!
Go to Baguio. I'm gonna ask my mom about this :D I've never been, but I wouldn't mind some cold weather and cheap clothes :P
Ride a horse. YES! YES! PLEASE!
Go out for a whole day. From 8am-12am. Just doing whatever it takes to make the day go by.
Just HANG OUT. As in no activities, just simply sit & talk, wherever.
PAINTBALL & Laser Tag! Yes. I just hope we dont get ripped off like the guys did, last time. Laser Tag will be my fall back.
Make another episode of Joey & Cameron! We have a youtube video, search "Joey and Cameron" it's actually really funny :) I wont ruin the surprise.
YAY I've got a list of 10! I'm so excited to finish this list now! Okay, I'm going to update what happened every time I complete one of these numbers. Watch our for updates, lovely readers!
BIG KISS FROM THE HAPPY HIPPIE.
Saturday, 2 May 2009
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
Beloved readers of this blog.
I was just answering a favourite 5 survey on facebook (you can add me, just leave a comment asking for my deets) and the topic was "5 Movies that made you Cry" It really got me thinking but after a long time, I've decided these are a few that do the trick (i had to add one more, heehee):
- The Notebook
- Titanic
- What Dreams May Come
- P.S. I Love You
- Rent
- Riding in Cars with boys
There are times I just feel like crying, I wanna curl up with some Ben & Jerry's and a nice pillow, and bawl my eyes out. I know I can rely on these 5 to satisfy me in that way, hahaha. Anyway, I'm not going to tell you which parts made me cry, I want you to watch these movies yourself when you feel like you need to cry, too.
And I would love you to reply this post with 5 movies that made YOU cry :)
You see, My world is Different.
Find a voice, a personality, something that is distinctly you. And channel that originality into something you can show the world. Whether it be ink on the edge of needles, fabric in different shades and touch, images you capture behind a hard lens, or even just the things you do.
I haven't really been one interested in tattoos, although my sister has 5 (yeah, she's a walking canvas). And when it comes to fashion, I usually just wear what I feel like on the day. I dress up according to my attitude. I've never really had a particular style, if I think it looks good on me, I'll buy it (btw today I bought this drapey purple top, and Teen Vogue, because I wanted to treat myself to something nice). Behind the lens, I love to capture things as they happen. Someone laughing, or an old man just sitting by himself, thinking. I don't like it when people pose, beause it doesn't really show any emotion :/ (and I have 60 days left to collect my photos, which I will do as soon as I go out.)
Oh, and Darren & I have decided to go out one day and have "MRT Adventures", doesn't that sound rad?! We're gonna meet up somewhere, go to an MRT port and take the train! We'll get off wherever we feel like it, and it'll be totally spontaneous. I'm uber excited about that because I want to explore this place. I feel like I've only seen the surface of Manila, and something is telling me it has a lot more to offer. :)
Anyway, I have to sign off to make din din for my family, I'm suchan angel :D
Chicken Alfedo coming up up up!
Big Kiss
I haven't really been one interested in tattoos, although my sister has 5 (yeah, she's a walking canvas). And when it comes to fashion, I usually just wear what I feel like on the day. I dress up according to my attitude. I've never really had a particular style, if I think it looks good on me, I'll buy it (btw today I bought this drapey purple top, and Teen Vogue, because I wanted to treat myself to something nice). Behind the lens, I love to capture things as they happen. Someone laughing, or an old man just sitting by himself, thinking. I don't like it when people pose, beause it doesn't really show any emotion :/ (and I have 60 days left to collect my photos, which I will do as soon as I go out.)
Oh, and Darren & I have decided to go out one day and have "MRT Adventures", doesn't that sound rad?! We're gonna meet up somewhere, go to an MRT port and take the train! We'll get off wherever we feel like it, and it'll be totally spontaneous. I'm uber excited about that because I want to explore this place. I feel like I've only seen the surface of Manila, and something is telling me it has a lot more to offer. :)
Anyway, I have to sign off to make din din for my family, I'm suchan angel :D
Chicken Alfedo coming up up up!
Big Kiss
Massacre Blues
Pay no attention to the title, it popped up in my head earlier and I like the ring to it.
So last night, I decided to curl my hair with the iron, while watching 90210 on dvd. The way Annie and Naomi do their hair fascinates me. It's always perfectly curled and stuff, like whoah. So I wanted to try and I had it on high heat (which is deadly dangerous, I burnt my forehead once : ) anyway, I was curling curling away, and most people who use curling irons know that it kinda melts your hair into place, and makes your hair smell like a burning rubber factory or something like that. So I decided I'd just wash away the stink when I wake up. So I just took a shower, and guess what? MY HAIR STILL STINKS! It smells like a car that skidded on hot asphalt and its wheels are flaming up. Ugh! I shampooed it and everything but it still smells so bad :( I jsut hope I havent melted my hair or anything, I used to do that to my Barbies, and if my hair happens to turn out how Travel Agent Barbie's hair did, I will scream until my voice box shatters.
Ugh, can't ever how bad my hair smells. SMELLS LIKE CRAP.
Anyway, am off to SM to go buy some stuff and I'm thinking about making dinner tonight, pasta and salad :/ Yes, I should remind my parents why they're so lucky to have me. And while I'm there I'm going to hopefully get lucky and find a high waisted skirt! Haha, I really want one. Anyway, yeah. I'm out :)
PEACE.
So last night, I decided to curl my hair with the iron, while watching 90210 on dvd. The way Annie and Naomi do their hair fascinates me. It's always perfectly curled and stuff, like whoah. So I wanted to try and I had it on high heat (which is deadly dangerous, I burnt my forehead once : ) anyway, I was curling curling away, and most people who use curling irons know that it kinda melts your hair into place, and makes your hair smell like a burning rubber factory or something like that. So I decided I'd just wash away the stink when I wake up. So I just took a shower, and guess what? MY HAIR STILL STINKS! It smells like a car that skidded on hot asphalt and its wheels are flaming up. Ugh! I shampooed it and everything but it still smells so bad :( I jsut hope I havent melted my hair or anything, I used to do that to my Barbies, and if my hair happens to turn out how Travel Agent Barbie's hair did, I will scream until my voice box shatters.
Ugh, can't ever how bad my hair smells. SMELLS LIKE CRAP.
Anyway, am off to SM to go buy some stuff and I'm thinking about making dinner tonight, pasta and salad :/ Yes, I should remind my parents why they're so lucky to have me. And while I'm there I'm going to hopefully get lucky and find a high waisted skirt! Haha, I really want one. Anyway, yeah. I'm out :)
PEACE.
Friday, 1 May 2009
Not for Unicorns
Image from here.Today was the millionth chilled day I've spent at home this summer. I watched a bit of Australias Next Top Model, I read a bit of Shakespeares 'The Taming of the Shrew', and then I went online for about 5 hours. I talked to my best friend about stuff, I always enjoy talking to her because she's like a rock. She keeps me grounded and it's really comfortable being around someone you've known for so long. (enter harmonious music. Haha kidding)
Even though I didn't do much, I managed to save myself from the aggressive strangles of a reality many face each day, which is very heroic of me :D Haha, I saved myself from boredom! I actually dont get bored because I know this is better than being at school :)
Hopefully going to go pick up my film tomorrow! Hopefully. If things push through. Which I hope they do. If not, I hope Cami can come out so we can go to Glorietta together. I don't care if we just end up sitting in Starbucks talking for a long time, I just have to go to get my film and stuff.
Anyway, a happy weekend to all. May it be filled with things you want to do, whether it be finishing a book (I finished Angels & Demons, btw, stellar stuff.) or getting a piggyback ride from a Mexican migdet, you go have fun.
Lots of love and big kisses!
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