the pencil is mightier than the charcoal. still.

i've been drawing a lot recently and i suspect i'm going through some kinda phase.

first it was folding stars, then the paper flowers and then the hearts.
And now it's the stars. again.

what is with me and folding papery stuff now.
idek exactly.

but back to the topic. i'm drawing. a lot. and that's not exactly good. because well. it kinda eats into my time and when i start drawing i can't really stop.

after eoys i'm going on a drawing spree. whee.
but anyway.

yeah. so i've 'designed' the dresses for the "if (cca) were to be a dress" album. so far--

2 ES dresses (but the first design was crappy)
1 Modern Dance dress
1 String Ensemble dress

i think i might do the Chinese Dance dress if. well. if there's really a spare period when the teacher's not exactly talking about the point at hand. or maybe another ES dress.
it's fun, but sometimes you can get stuck because you don't really know about that cca but still, it's your general impression of it anyway.

yeah. and i don't really want to waste my sketch book's pages by randomly doodling. so well. i'm trying out a more shading kinda style.

yeah i know how this sounds so ridiculous, especially when i've got eoys around me and all.

but anyway i like pencils. sure, charcoal is good for shading, but pencil is neater and more available and i've not really used charcoal before but i think it's rather hard to erase? so you have to- like- be very decisive on what you want to draw and stuff. and besides, freshly sharpened pencils smell a little like books but more... how do you say it. nice. well. it's just a kinda metallic crisp argh i don't know how to describe it.

yeah. pencils are beautiful.

my mom is really irritating sometimes even though i try to tolerate her, you know. i mean, idek why but it's like she's intent on making me do things i don't wanna do and i try to be nice and speak all gently but yeah and then she gets too sensitive and say that i hurt her when she's said more hurting phrases to me but.

pencils.
and then loon introduced this website of many, many beautiful words so i thought.
well.
dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com
it's full of words.
beautiful words.

if being a nerd means being in love with words then-
oh of course i am a nerd whaddya think i was.

so there.

one-shot on Johnlock~ :D

I should be getting on with exhibition research and crap but I'm not in the mood to examine every single line of Edgar Allan Poe's lovely scholarly poem.

Chews on mango pudding.
I like pudding.

Now I shall gather something from my !nspiration box!
And hopefully it won't be crap.

Conditions:
"Everything linked up to one big shit of a mistake"

... how emo was I when I wrote this condition.

HERE IS BEGINS!~~~~~~~ warning: ANGST, JOHNLOCK (slight hints of homosexuality)

A poem about Mary-Sues. From the "Inspiration" drawer.

It's been long since I've done anything productive.

So there. I shall pick out something from my "!nspiration" box aaaannnddddd.

._____________.

WHUT.

Conditions:

• write a poem
• about Mary-Sues
• Genre is fantasy
• There must be no sarcasm
• Use these words: "stickers" and "crab"

O.O

Do I have to?

Mary-Sue 

Mary-Sue, Mary-Sue,

all stickers and all lovely beaus.

Shall we eat steak, I moo'ed.

But fluffy ponies are so beautiful, too!

This poem makes no sense,

Oh but Mary-Sue's great at defense

Even though she's not worth ten cents--

On a totally random topic, whales jump over fences.

Mary-Sue, Mary-Sue, 

Oh how you do burn, ravishing like ponies too!

Tell me how you avoid crabs, please do.

And sip some tea while I boo!

Conclusions are always so hefty,

Even as Mary-Sue judges so fairly,

Eating a cheescake with some berries,

I'm suspecting my mind's sanity.

~END~

THAT BURNS.

IT WAS HORRIBLE.

WHY DID I EVEN WRITE THOSE CONDITIONS?

Post-it ノート: .______.

Imagine how a gangsta walks like.

NOW WITH 120% MORE SWINGABLE ARMS!

That's what I did.

*swing* *swing* *swing* *swing* *swing*

I am bursting with ideas. And yet unable to write them down. I am able to picture them, but not pen them down. This is disastrous.

And facilitating sessions... I really, really don't want to use 'Twilight' as an example. Sigh.

HP fanvirus still going strong.

♫♫♫ ♥ 066s5c 5s f6r the s643 ♥ ♫♫♫

H5!  5 have dec5ded t6 ty*e 5n c6de beca4se 5 352e 5t and...

5t's rea33y rather f4n, what say y64+


b4t 06st 6f 5t 5s rea33y, rea33y easy t6 f5g4re 64t.  ☺y64 d6n't say+

n6w, n6w, y64 0ay th5n2 why 6n earth 5 a0 d65ng th5s, b4t 5t's rea33y 14st f6r enterta5nt0ent *4r*6ses. *rec5se3y, 5 a0 rather... we5rd ☻☺☻☺☻☺☻☺☻ 0ay we a33 35ve 5n har06ny! *eace t6 the w6r3d!

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫


Yay, now I have been magically revived...

Yesh, there will be no more failed codings!

I shall speak in-- hopefully-- good English and present to you my upcoming play.

Why, I am indeed feeling rather egoistic right now. :D
That is never a good sign, but oh, what can I do?
/egomoment/

I have really no idea what my new play is going to be called, but it may be a little crude and offending.
/stares around furtively/

Hm, but let's have a look at how it's like till now.

Cutscenes:

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

MICHAELA

What? Oh, hello, Mason.

MASON [swiftly grabs the cigarette from CATHY]

Oh, hello there. You know it isn't good for you, Cathy.

CATHY

Since when did you give a damn about me? Give me back the damned cigarette you--

MASON

What will it be this time? "Moronic idiot"? That still sounds hilarious.

CATHY [mumbling]

Filthy mongrel.

 ♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

MINDY

Aunt Caaaaaathy!

CATHY

What now, Min-Min? And I'm not deaf.

MINDY [scowls]

No more calling me that! Where's Daddy?

CATHY [in a subdued voice]

Killing people.

[aloud]

Oh, he's working.

♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫♫

Okay, that's it.

I can't reveal any more of the failure-of-a-play  them because it would spoil the whole plot and they aren't really... sensitive parts so it should be okay! :D

/realises what I said/

oh...

/shudders/

I hope that doesn't mean that the rest of the failure-of-a- play is... censored...

...

oh what have I done.

/ego crushed/

Post-it ノート: Arr, you bag of simpleton.

"I pen down my dreams in flickering wisps of chords for her to sing out in melodious, hopeful lyrics"

"Because songs are vocalised sermons of literature--from the heart"

"Power corrupts--absolute power corrupts absolutely"

"I have hope, so let me keep it"

--notes taken down happily

Enjoy the music below while I rant.

Had a lot of inspiration today, heard a local band singing and I thought it was rather nice.

Struggling with the temptation to sleep, yet I has done nothing--nothing-- productive today. Not at all.

I haven't even planned for tomorrow! Went to Changi Terminal 3 and saw a lot of things I wanted to buy. But they are:

1. Expensive
2. More of a "want'' than a "need" to me.

I spent 2++ hours in the library reading a book. And it was so amusing, because I was triumphed by the simply amazing twist of the book. Got home, lazily went to bathe. And now, blogging.

In other words, wasting away precious sleep time.

I have microfiction to do (but let's just do it... later.)

Organising some sort of gathering soon, a little... messy?

Gahh. I need to study a lot for June hols. I has decided to make a (very, very sketchy) list of things to do:

1. MATH (BT2 is really gonna be hard, I've heard)
2. CHINESE ( I NEED TO TOUCH UP ON IT.)
3. EXERCISE (harhar.)
4. Learn to be a better person (no comment)
5. Finish a sketchwork. OR a paint work. Anyway, something decent. AND COLOUR IT. (if it's a sketch, then... black and white)
6. Finish a play :D (this should be ranked last.)
7. Learn to ride a bike. (without any casualties, I hope)
8. Improve my writing skills
9. READ A LOT OF BOOKS. :D

I am tired now. I am tired. I need sleep.

Oh banana I just wasted one whole day away.

But at least I got to eat some caramel chocolates :D

I have made up new resolutions.

And--*yawns* and new-- *falls to ground with a thud*

Dreaming Out Loud

I'm dreaming out loud,
An ethereal world of vivid sketches
that circle a tangled mess of mystic clouds--
In a sea of bony, grimy faces, the lot of wretches.

In a blood pool of mauve carnations,
My fingers dig out cocoa wishes
formed through bitter accusations
and later reduced to moonstone ashes.

Pelting shards and fragmented fantasies,
I shoot down shadows of Cheshire Cats.
They vanish into the dawn of glittering faeries,
where magic--upon my head-- she pats.

Crochet doilies traipse on threads
of lingering passion and scattering stardusts.
Flimsy wings and mirages of patched up shreds,
I see them through mirrors of blinded trust.

In a thicket of mismatched constellations,
Upon a kaleidoscope of beaded stars,
I trace on the canvas, my starry-eyed creations.
I'm dreaming out loud-- dreaming away scars.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Oh, so fail.

Inspired by: Stop and Stare, Onerepublic. :D

Whatisthiscrapidon'teven. harhar.
I should have submitted this for Montage!!! T.T

Caught

Is this farewell?
She sings out a scratchy note,
scratching her head, nonplussed.
it is the truth;
for no other note could ever replace this one.
yet so fragile, it gets clasped in her throat,
the scars opening up,
red scarlet running through her fingers
while they anxiously comb through her hair.
it is dangerous, devastating and enchanting.
it feels almost a sin to divert her attention.
dust, thick and lazy, streams about her in a quiver.
the cobwebs are torn apart (mercilessly and callously).
she coughs out the waxy liquid
as they litter her body with frantic kisses.
desire, almost lust.
she can no longer run away.
hold her breath, hold her breath.
it steals her heart away and she gasps.
gasps.
This, is the end.

Spun into a web of lies,
conflicting unimaginable elements that matched so well
it keeps the light at bay,
she spreads the jam evenly over the surface,
grins and the magic is cast.
already told, the tales of her tears.
legends, myths.
they whisper conspiratorially with an exaggerated wink.
the cowering figures hide in the corner.
guilt touches them with her presence,
giggling innocently (but not quite so, not quite so)
gracing their ripped conscience
as she bows in mock-honour.
this is no place for you. come with me.
come with me.
she lights the spark with promises
wildly beyond their greatest passions.
sarcasm sidles itself comfortably along the words that drop from her lips.
it coils like a snake around them, hissing politely.
ignorance, greed blinds them.
doom, is all their futures spell out.

don't.
don't.
don't.
don't.
DON'T!
... you could have just listened.
__________________________________________________________________________________


This is the full version of 'Caught'. :D
Wrote it on a whim. :D

Ollie

Hello, how are you?

Hello, how are you?
It seems really tiring, trying to catch some sleep on the bus (while standing) and trying not to fall.
Amazingly, just before cca, I stood at the parapet, feeling the rain beat across my face and body.
And I just stood there, sorta dazed by the beauty.
And then inspiration just hit me. It was only a slight flurry of rain, not heavy. The sky was rather bright and I wondered lightly, if there would be a rainbow. :)
It was cold inside the conference room. Like, freakishly cold. We had activities which were rather weird and I mused lightly at why there should be ccas and all. Seems kinda out of point. I mean, organising all those competitions when no one is going to participate willingly?

But I'll try my best to enthrall my class.

I suddenly feel as though a weight has been raised from my shoulders, before doubling the effect, making me slouch and groan under the pressure.
Art was horrid, yet so funny. It was just so funny to hear Joanna exclaim some really (in my mind) perverse words without-- well, she is kinda naive and innocent. I feel so bad for corrupting her now.

Y'know, it's impossible to read the same book over and over again without realising a few points. I drummed my fingers against the table, humming a tune lightly. It's a habit I can't get rid of (or won't?) Because it just seems so attention demanding even though I was merely bored. Sometimes I feel so fake, so--what's that word again? I'll get back to it anyway. It's as though I hate maintaining eye contact with certain people, because their bluntness and intelligence make me fear that they can see me through; those careless tugs on my skirt and flipping of hair, before decreeing that I am so unnatural.

And it just gets worse because I know I just don't belong anywhere.

And I'm just so tired.

Ollie

give me something that'll haunt me

she, was simple.
she wanted something so innocent, he couldn't resist.
pointing at the piece of paper, she cried out in her soprano.
he retrieved it for her.

the beginning of a bond.

it is raining,
the thunder wrecking all of her peace as she cowers in a corner.
he arrives in time to comfort her.
and she grabs the warmth without hesitation.

we'll just have to watch and wait.

the desires she craved,
presented in front of her.
her humble servant bowed.
and she felt the world.

he was the world to her.

but as she grew,
lusting for more,
her insatiable diet for everything
she yearned to possess.

just as she was to him.

to feel the sheer feathery weight on her fingers,
silk dancing around her flawless complexion
and gold that cupped her fingers
with respect and awe.

but she owned the world.

nothing was ever enough;
it grew, the monstrous want.
demands that he couldn't satisfy,
uttered from her perfect lips.

and of course, she owned him.

she wanted the stars,
so he gave her his eyes.
the bright wondrous sparkle of hope within them.
they shone, like the stars.

and she flung them aside.

she wanted ability, talent.
so he gave her his limbs.
they crafted meticulously,
in process of building the demon within her, unconsciously.

but she scowled.

she wanted recognition,
so he gave her his smile.
one that she used to delight in,
something that pieced together her broken soul.

yet she still wasn't satisfied.

she wanted more, more.
yet it was only his soul that was left.
without hesitation, he delivered it to her.
she stared in awe.

but rejected it.

his heart, still pulsing.
his mind, still whirling.
his soul, broken.
as his sanity flew out of the window.

he, was eternally bonded to her.
i, am your master.
and you are of course, nothing.
nothing but entertainment.  

__________________________________________________________________________________

Wow. How sad.
TT^TT poor 'he'.
inspired by Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift.
angst. angst.

Ollie

Musings-- Reality is boring, admit it.

Where is the thrill in our lives?
The excitement, adventure?
Eventually spinning out a new legend for ourselves.
--
In the movies.
--
How to get into a movie?
--
Movies are fake.
It's just imagination!
--
Hm, so where to get an extra bout of inspiration?
--
Maybe if we were in the future, we'll be able to buy inspiration!
And it's like a stimulating incident that continues forever until we die or want to get out!
--
Inspiration can't be bought!
It's for ourselves only, originality!
--
Non, imagine a good composition.
--
It is sold for inspiration for greater compo.
--
Yes! But the better compo is built on the original one.
It's not INSPIRATION!
--
Pfft, it's just a copy, and edited copy.
This topic proves to be useless.
--
So... where do I get inspiration now?