TV Screen
Happy endings are the beginning
Of a story full fresh
With losing and winning.
And when I remember
How I thought things were,
I know I create your story
Into something more.
Cause I’ll never know what’s seen
Backstage, behind that TV screen.
February 18, 2010 at 8:04 pm | Poetry | No comments
Window
It’s hard to not close
Those window shutters
When the light shows
And blinds your eyes.
.
A new day will rise,
You hear yourself say.
.
But the sun is there,
Already.
And all you have to fear
Is to see.
February 18, 2010 at 7:54 pm | Poetry | No comments
Self Indulgent
This blog.
February 12, 2010 at 6:56 pm | Lifepost | No comments
Dependence
When once upon another day I reread this blog post, I will understand.
It is better to depend less than it is to continue to depend as to depend is to live under the threat of loss.
And yet for all the logic cynicism claims, it is a reaction to emotional stimuli.
February 7, 2010 at 1:12 am | Lifepost | No comments
Expectations
I miss the days when being fulfilled in my life meant having a ton of friends on Runescape and skills trained higher than most players’. When I was satisfied with “hanging out” in my clan chat while “working on my goals,” and I never allowed myself to be distracted by time drains like Facebook.
I miss when I was satisfied with life and did not want anymore… Or at least I knew what I wanted: another 99.
I miss when I made my life uncomplicated and wish things could be that way again. When everything was easy and goals a straight path downwards.
I don’t know why I ruined my life to the mess it is today. I want to fix up things and tell myself it’s not too late, that I really haven’t screwed up.
But I am old and have wasted my time in indecision and will never have the chances I missed again.
But that’s exactly why I missed them.
I don’t know why I expect so much from life or the people around me. Plans aren’t so easy as in a video game. Real life isn’t the end all of all diversions. Castle Wars isn’t the only veering path. This unpixelated world, perhaps, is too much for me.
And I break down.
And I shrink.
Into my corners and walls.
And grow self-pitying.
And I write some words which flow in a senseless order on a page that was once clean. And I make that clean page messy with my words.
Because this is the way art is.
So I tell myself.
February 1, 2010 at 7:00 pm | Lifepost | No comments
Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
Today I saw this last act of Heath Ledger by that one director who used to do Monty Python animation.
Imaginarium, I shall call it for short, was a disaster of a movie, a horrific mess of confusion, hard-to-follow plot, and random scenes glued together.
But, it is also now in my list of favorite movies for all its imagination, vision, and splendid acting.
The film is a nonsensical craze of well-made randomness, the sort of thing I love to mindlessly devour for a 122-minute span.
January 31, 2010 at 12:06 am | Lifepost | No comments
I write this because I must occupy myself
…and in the writing of this, I will attempt that which has been attempted time and time again whether by form of the poem or prose, the measure or sentence.
I must remark that among all luxuries of life, the greatest is freetime and upon the capturing of freetime, I must stop myself from spacing out and gazing into the nothingness by keeping my mind active when I no longer wish to think, so I pray to you ancient, archaic, and rustic muses who rarely get prayed to anymore these days to help me in my plight to make this creation mediocre!
In all my endeavors to capture my freetime and let not the opportunities of everyday life waste, I must keep typing at a rate which I have never felt my fingers sore before, and in my plight, I shall forget all knowledge, all pasts which have taught me the secrets of the ancient backspace key which is in fact not so ancient, and forget all advices given to the writers of essays to omit that which is extraneous.
Oh, muses! I pray that you will let me ramble like art in all my verboseness and lack of terseness! Lend not to me the sweet elegance of great poetry but lend instead to me the reject of inspiration!
Okay, this thing sucks. I’m not continuing. I have no freetime.
It may seem a bit cliche, but I am about to announce my opinion on a topic which has captured the hearts of all lately, and I would hope that the opinion which I am about to present will come across as unique and insightful, but at the same time, I hope to not appear so self-conscious in my communication of my opinion. So, whether my opinion is in fact cliche or not, I will express it for all of you to take your own stance in response to.
I don’t love blueberry pie!
January 28, 2010 at 9:25 pm | True Rambles | No comments
College Application Essay
On a rainy day, I stay home like any other sort of day. I do not go outside often because the inner world offers much, yet there are times when I must venture.
I had stayed after school to attend an Art Club meeting, but I was restless of drawing indoors. The art teacher’s room had two doors leading directly outside, and I took the first, sneaking to the woods behind the school. After short moments of wandering down the hill to straight among the trees, I found my scene, as tree-filled as any other forest segment on a day as clear as any other rainless day. The minutes passed, and I sketched my forest in pencil, then wandered back to the school.
A week gone by, and I forget the day. The time is Wednesday, and I am bored in homeroom, so I flip through my pages, and find my forest in soft, plain pencil marks, and I take my colored pencils and fill the leaves with green and blue and the skies with red and yellow.
A classmate sees me, walks over, so I look up to smile and wave at her. She asks what I am drawing, and I show her. “Wow, that’s really good, I can feel the tension,” she says. Our small talk continued in the typical ways small talk goes, but I can only remember seeing then that upon my forest I drew tension, and colored reds among blues where there were no reds. I took a forest which was and created a new one which never was, and I realize then this is the way life is.
That things come just as they are, nothing more and nothing less, and I, in my perception, create the good and the bad, the stresses and joys. That in venturing outwards I see, and in returning inwards, I create. That all the world around me is but food to my inner perceptions as I paint my own reality and life.
When on one rainy day I stay inside, I think. My life is my creation, and the world my tools.
January 24, 2010 at 4:48 pm | Lifepost | No comments
Lines Like Ink
I remember drawing in pen. Doodling, scribbling, mindlessly tearing away at the surface of paper.
I throw away the paper and start again. I get a new paper; I am ready to create a fresh, new drawing.
I draw a line.
I fail a line.
The paper is young, and I tear it apart, ready to try again.
My strokes are inelegant and frustrated, and I waste many sheets.
But when I look at life, I realize I cannot throw out the imperfect me’s and start anew.
But it’s the curse of the perfectionist who judges all things from their beginning creation
because every mark, in pencil or pen, will always leave lines like ink.
January 19, 2010 at 6:45 pm | Reflections | No comments
Exhaustion
Life sure is tiring….
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Isn’t it?
January 19, 2010 at 6:34 pm | Reflections | No comments