Trees

Here's some more art!

(You can tell I really like trees....)

I ain't no spelling wiz

People I have a confession to make.

I suck at spelling. Horribly.
It's been one of those things that I've always struggled with, and it embarrasses the heck out of me.
It's super sad when I can't even get spell checker to understand what I'm writing. (Sometimes I have to write another word then pull down the little synonyms bar to find the word I've been trying, for like 15 minutes to write.)

Is it because we now have technology to save us from our neglect of spelling?
Is bad spelling going to grow into a pandemic because the computers can do it for us?
Maybe spelling will die out like cursive did. (Learned it in like, 2nd grade... never used it again...)
I mean most people write like they text.
LOL.    

Poem wizards

Man I was reading some of the poems that Mr. Nelson put a link to and I have to agree with him. On turning ten by Billy Collins was by far the best.

That poem is totally amazing! How the words work together to make such a beautiful poem. Wish I had that talent, or at lest Billy Collins style!

My favorite line is
"... A kind of measles of the spirit, a mumps of psyche, a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul..."
This line is perfect, nails the mood right on the head.
 

Finished

 front

 side

My carving project is done!

Yay! 

Shark

 My niece: Hey, you.

Family friend: Yeah?

My niece: Your a shark, right?

Family friend: Uh, yeah?

My niece: Then eat my leg.

Kids, they say the funniest things.    

Dumb ways to die

So for all you non tourists who watch this you must be confused.

Let me explain,

 this is an Australasian Safety around trains commercial. 

So funny and has a catchy tune. It is pretty morbid though.

I wish our commercials were more like this.  

Hide out during family reunions

The formula of greatness.

What? I like already made directions on how to make a Peanut butter and Honey sandwich!! What more do you want?!

Pfff. Fine.

Here's how to be a good artist.

1. First off, lose that attitude of "I have to be already good at drawing/ writing/ dancing/ acting or whatever." People who say that as an excuse make me want to slap you and push you off a cliff. You can be good at something your naturally horrible at if you want to be good at it and... do the rest of these steps. 

2. Ok, now that you've lost that attitude, you have to work. Hard. Looking at hard at a blank piece of paper or just wishing never got anyone jack. You want to be good you have to work and work, cry a little bit, work some more, cry lots more and even bleed for whatever your working for.

You want to know what work actually means? It means practice! So now reread step two and substitute the word work for practice. 

3.  Study. Study as much as you practice. Maybe even more. If you want to be really good at something, study people who are already good at it. It doesn't have to be a master, it just needs to be someone better than you at that time. Then if you get better than the person your studying, then repeat the process. That's how you become a Master at whatever your working to get better at. And don't stop. Masters don't go, "Hmmm... I'm good at this, I don't need to work anymore." They keep on practicing and studying.

4. Experiment. Try new things! It helps with your art. If you keep doing the same thing and want different results, well you have to do something different! Think about it, lets say a person who draws really good unrealistically like fantasy stuff, whats to get better at drawing fantasy. One of the best ways to get better at something is to do something else. So lets say this person now studies realism for a little bit. That person can take things he/ she learned from one subject to another subject. Plus You can throw out what doesn't work, well actually you can't. Keep it, just don't show it off. Things that don't work can give ideas on how to make it work or give you entirely new idea.

5. I almost forgot one of the most important steps. You have to WANT what you are working for. You got to REALLY WANT it. 

2r+ w(x^2)= Good writer 

isn't just for writing its for any thing really that you want to be good at.

Reading is just Practice and Study, Writing is just whatever you want to be great at, and well experiment is just experiment. And the end result is just Good (Insert what you want to be good at.)

So there that's how to be a good artist/ whatever.     

It's a little late... for Halloween stuff

Yeah made this out of paper mache.

Some of you may of saw this during Halloween, cause I made it for a friend for his costume.

Any one know what it's from?

Post of lamenting

{SIGH} 

I've been swimming in AP art homework for the last couple weeks

Sorry everyone for the lame and non-existent posts.

So here's part of my excuse.

Hope you like it. 

(P.S Its an Abstract piece.)  

Stealing. It's an art, I tell you.

My slumbers are filled with disturbing dreams,

The Game that was in constant flux.

"What do players really have to say, anyway?"

What got you into trouble this time?

Yeah, they knew, the enemy is strong and I am weak.

And it's so pretty it just about kills you.

He's civilized in his heart,

It's like he had it planned,

Its a prestigious honor,

And there's no mistaking it for anything else

People forget

That we are so afraid of the sight of death

and not afraid of the dark.

Its a gift you're given before you go.

Bored

I'm bored with school 

bored with the new classes but the same old system

I'm sick of assignments

and waking up early. 

Bored that I have the rest of this year

before something new, (its called college)

comes around.

Rock in my shoe

There a rock in my shoe, and it's bugging me.

I should reach down and try and get the rock out. 

Pull off my shoe and dump it on the ground.

But I don't

It makes me think of you, 

You little rock in my shoe,

and I don't want you to go away just quite yet.

PB&H

Stands for Peanut Butter and Honey. Sorry all your Jelly fans. I guess you can convert these direct orders over to your horribly disgusting Peanut butter and Jelly sandwiches. (I am NOT a fan of jelly.)

Direct orders to make a PB&H

Step 1: Collect Peanut butter and bread of your choice. Grab the Honey too. (Or {Shiver} jelly)

Step 2: Set two pieces of bread side by side so they are flat. (Yes somebody thought they were smart and put them long ways in a tepee set up so they were 'technically' side by side.)

Step 3: Put peanut butter on one of the slices of bread. Put how ever much you want.

Step 4: This step differs for everyone. If you like the more peanut buttery taste put the honey on the same side as the peanut butter. If you like more presents of the honey flavor (like me) you put the honey on the other piece of bread, the one without the peanut butter on it. Put how ever much honey you want. (Switch honey for jelly all you uncultured people who eat jelly.)

Step 5: Put the peanut butter smothered slice on top of the honey cover slice (honey tends to run more than peanut butter.) please put the peanut butter and the honey facing each other when you put them together. (Once again someone thought they were smart and put them opposite, so that the honey and peanut butter were facing outside, instead on the inside like your suppose to.)

Step 6: Eat the wonderful creation (Except if its jelly... >:) ) How ever you eat it, daintily or just shoving into that hole in your face, just enjoy. This is a direct order.         

Kleptomania for hearts

I smile at you, or at least my face does. The muscles pulling and twisting to put up the charming mask. 

You don't notice

You give me a quick embrace. Your so warm and full of life, and I, I'm so deathly, gravely cold. We pull apart. I look into your eyes, your chocolate brown ones. You look back into my deep and icy black ones.

Who knew the endless abyss was so shallow?

You don't or refuse to see that, unlike those twinkling brown eyes of yours, mine have no depth, no spark, no anything, just flat and dead. Black holes that suck in any light that is foolish enough to wander to close. And you were a fool. I'll crush that light in your eyes and let it dribble through my fingers. 

How could you not see? Ha, that's easy. 

I could of spiked you drink, to befuddle you mine and silence your senses. But I don't need anything that primitive as drugs. I have something much more powerful than any drug.

My words, oh so well rehearsed, paint over your retinas and make me the most beautiful human being, instead of the ravenous monster I am. My kiss chains you to me and you cannot, will not run away. 

You think I love you, so you love me. That's why you don't run away. That's why I can steal your heart away. I can just start pulling out your heart, and you'll just sit there and smile at me. And I'll smile right back, busy at work. It's when I'm finished, that your smile fades and you start to cry. "You broke my heart." Broke it? No, my dear friend, I didn't break it. I took it, I took all of you heart, for myself.

I don't need you anymore, now that I have what I wanted, so I ignore your calls and leave you curled up on the ground to cry your soul out, since your can't cry your heart out any more.

I admit your heart is beautiful as all hearts are. Every time I see your heart in its place of honor, on a glass pedestal in my house, it makes me wonder what it feels like... to have a heart, beating in your chest. Of course its a silly and absurd notion.        

What can you do with a ... Brick?

A strange topic for a school post... but...

Uses for a Brick

Uses for a Brick... hmm... well of course you can build a house, if you got mortar. Not going into a house that's not glued together.
And bricks are oh so famous (or infamous) for being choice weapons in like a billion TV and Movie shows.
Whether it's using them for a substitute baseball bat or using it to let people take really really long swims, bricks are always strolling up and down the red carpet in Hollywood.

I guess they could be used for last resort cannonball. As long as the target isn't far... maybe if is spins end over end it will fly longer. This could be something for the Myth busters to solve.
I bet some homeless guy has a brick for his best friend? (I'm kind of reaching there.)

And if the brick has holes it could candles...flowers... dynamite... lets just say it can hold a lot of things upright in those holes.

Bricks are great for breaking the law! Like lobbing them at windows (Not recommended.) or hey how 'bout throwing them of the empire state building! That would make a pretty sweet craters in the cermet.

Bricks can be used for plastic surgery (whether voluntary or not.). They can be used for dentistry too. It won't be too accurate, though.
   

Procrastinators unite... Tomorrow!

I'll do it tomorrow,

not today

Is something we all kind of say

I've got other things to do 

than to slave my time away

doing something I can do

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow

Ha ha, is something that is given in promises

like pennies are left in the streets.

Tomorrow

I'm sorry you just can't guarantee  

The only thing you can 

is that if you keep on saying 

Tomorrow

There's going to be a whole lot of 

What happened to yesterdays.

Best Costume ever.

Wish I could have this around town, or on Halloween. Dang I could scare a lot of people.

Letter

Just to let you know, so you guys don’t get confused. This post is about if I could mail myself a letter, after I died, to my past self. So… with that outta’ the way

Let the befuddlement begin! 

 Dear me,

Hey, it’s me or I guess you. Yeah, it’s kind of confusing. Well it gets a little weirder. I’m or you are dead right now in the future.

Yeah… this isn’t a joke. Or a prank. Yeah you die in the future. Not like that’s a surprise, I mean, your mortal and everything…

Yes, totally know what you’re thinking right now. “Wha-? How? How did I die?”

            … This is kind of awkward. 

We died rather… well… it was… really … anticlimactic. Um… I… or rather you in four years, seven months, sixteen days, fifty-three minutes, forty-one seconds will die.

… Don’t rush me about how we died! It’s … so… embarrassing.

Well I guess I can’t beat around the bush forever… Ok. This is how we died.

One that fine, yet horrid day, we (Or I guess I… I mean I was the one who experienced it… this is so confusing.) I when down to Wal-Mart to buy some Advil, I had a splitting headache, and I marched up and got that Advil and unbeknownst to me somebody had ripped a hole in there ice bag and the ice had fallen out and melted on the floor.

Now back to me, I was rushing to the check out isle.

In those few fateful steps to the check out counter… I slipped… on the ice… and well… I fell a backwards and hit the back of my head.

And died.

 Right there, in Wal-Mart, I died because I spilt my head open by slipping on some stupid melted ice!! Give’s a splitting headache a new meaning.

Yeah slipped, died and was floating above my body as people freaked out and screamed for doctors and called 911, that whole nine years.

The only nice thing was that our parents sued Wal-Mart, won and are now millionaires.

When to the pearly gates way to fast, Oh! No, no We didn’t make it to the pearly gates its just the expression. No, it was that accident in sixth grade that kept us out. You know with all the casualties… but it’s not too bad down here, I mean it’s a prison, and it’s a bit stuffy and hot here down in the eternal barbecue,  But is not to bad, you get Cable down here. 

Oh, and I’m guessing your wondering how I’m getting this letter to you. Let’s just say I pulled a few strings and had some friends in high up places.

So with that huge, ugly story, here comes my advice.

Either you can work for a charity for a couple years or donate more than a thousand dollars to make up for the six grade fiasco or…

You can start robbing and breakin’ the law… that thing in six grade, man that really was a big no no in heaven.  They talked about it for weeks up in the clouds.

Oh and DON’T GO TWO WAL-MART IN FOUR YEARS, SEVEN MONTHS AND SIXTEEN DAYS!! And were some ice cleats or soccer cleats (Less likely to scratch up flooring.) for the rest of you life. And maybe we’ll avoid this mess all together.

                                                                                                                        Sincerely You 

Nonsense, just nonsense

A post about anything...
Shoot. All this freedom is constricting. Well I've got to say it. I got nothin'. Thank goodness I write out my ideas for the prompt during the week or else I would have no I idea for the other post.
       
So I guess I'll write about what ever is going in my head. It will most likely not make any sense.

Usually this kind of thing is like way easy for me. Writers block is so so evil. Usually through the week I get an idea and write it down in my Spiral bound notebook, (I Hate composition notebooks. One of my pet peeves.) with a gleefully mischievous happiness. Joyfully scribbling away.

But this week my ideas have skipped out on me. or the wire in my brain has a short. (Mentally kicking myself)

Sorry guys, this ain't the week for any earth shattering writing.
Hopefully the writers block will have lifted for next week.

    

Don't think about it

Uuuugggg.... It's some time in the morning, and my mind is still ticking. 

I don't want to think about you.

Your like a spreading disease. Your wiggling into every thought.

I'm NOT going to think about you.

I'm not thinking about you like the right shoe thinks about the left shoe.

(Sigh...) No no no. Not thinking about you.

Think think think...

Think about home, think about sleeping, think about... about

Ooooh! I Refuse to think about you!

Your like my shadow, always there in the background 

Why? 

You've burned everything around you! 

All that is left is ashes and you.

If you want to burn something else so badly

go set yourself on fire.

But don't make me think about you.

Terrify me

The one thing we all got in common

I'm afraid, your afraid.

That thing that makes your body Numb

Yet sets every nerve is on fire

         hairs are standing up on end

Breathing shallow, shaking with each intake of new air.

Heart is fluttering about trying to escape its bony cage.

Goosebumps creep everywhere, chill edging into you soul.

You can try to deny it. Or hide it.

But it will just sit there like a dead weight on you.

Me? Yeah, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid of ignored. 

Who's that person? Forever and always.

I have a NAME!

Saying the wrong thing.

People remember that more than your brilliant and witty remarks

Is it just me? Am I paranoid?

I'm afraid of dreams.

Your Falling

                        falling

                                 falling...

                                          You try and wake up before you hit the ground. But you just hit it

anyways. 

I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up and be five again, and this life was a lie and a fake. 

(It was all just a dream.)

I'm Afraid someone is always Watching (Looking) Seeing (Examining) me.

I'm not some interesting play thing!

   

I'm afraid of being wrong 

that angel wings I thought I had

Were really demonic ones instead.

I'm afraid of losing my parents, of losing

My family.

I'm afraid I won't care if I did lose them.

I'm afraid I'm the monster I've been afraid of.

I'm afraid that my heart that beats is frozen solid 

That maybe it never was beating in the first place.

That everything I feel is something made up by others

And that I'm imagining it cause I have no heart. 

I'm afraid of being not good enough

To others 

But mostly Not good enough for my self.

I'm afraid that I'm not going to see the light

And be alone in the suffocating darkness

Forever...

We're all afraid of each other, ourselves

Things, ideas

But at least we all can comfort each other 

Because we all have something in common...

Shoulder angels

Ok, have any of you guys seen The Emperors New Groove? Well I hope you have because this post will make a lot more sense if you have.
One of my favorite parts is Kronk and his shoulder angels. (Seriously, it is so funny. Best part in my opinion.)
Well have to admit it guys, I also have shoulder angels too.
{Guys right as I wrote this down I could hear the creepy video that Mr. Nelson showed us replaying in my head, and it was at the part "... Listen to the voices inside your brain...". [Shudder] I hope i'm not crazy.}

Well on that note let me introduce my shoulder angels.

My good Angel *(Angel) is okay, what I mean is that I listen to him and a pretty great guy. He's quite the dry humored   fellow.  He's always serious. As well patient and kind. (Well he's suppose to be!) He's pretty darn witty and often is not into taking risks.
*(For the sake of all you guys, I'll call him Angel and her Imp, I never had a name for him or her cause I always referred to them as He or She. That kind of gets confusing in writing.)

Now my little devil angel (Imp) is, I have to confess is way more entertaining. Just to listen to! Not to actually do what she says. (Yes its a she. And it's not a statement about anything. She has always come across as a girl.)
She is freaking hilarious. Theatrical, dramatic and extremely sarcastic.
Also Adventurous, impatient, and very lazy. (Let's just say, if there's a way to avoid work, she'll do it.)
She is a handful. (Not to mention an earful. She also talks non-stop.)
She's kind-of like a big, giant, Great Dane puppy. Still figuring out how to use her legs.
And I guess Angel is more like a small older dog, very fluffy too. Since we're on a dog comparison.

Now these two talk to me all the time, commenting or giving advise.
I mean just when writing this they were giving commentary on stuff.

Like Imp over here [Pointing to my left shoulder.] was saying that I needed to add that she was totally awesome and is smokin' hot. And that Angel is sooo boring. He's like a old, dried up bagel that somebody forgot in the corner. No sense of fun. And that the dog description was totally off. She says he's more like an wrinkly, old, fat, bug-eyed Chihuahua.                         

And Angel over here [Pointing to my right shoulder] says that my description of Imp was right on the mark... possibly inserting Drama Queen instead of dramatic would of been a superior choice of words, though. And that He hadn't thought Imp like a puppy, but it was surprisingly accurate. She does run around, getting tangled in objects in her way, and sticks her nose in unpleasant things because she too childish to know any better. {Imp's adamantly denying that she is "Childish".}
(Oh forgot to tell you that Angel is quite proper and a bit stuffy. Beware of long words.)

Now my question for all you guys is, Do you have shoulder angels? I would love to hear about them.

Well this is the end of the post. But you'll probably hear more from my shoulder angels pretty soon. 
 

Advise to myself

I was thinking to myself what if I could go back?

Travel back in time with the knowledge I now possess... 

No, that would change everything.

I kind of like what I've accomplished learning the hard way

I think I would rather be able to talk to myself. 

A phone call to the past 

like that movie called Frequency

I don't want to cheat myself of experiencing 

the happy accidents and the frustrating defeats 

So here's my advise to my past self 

Love the age your at! Keep playing with your imaginary friends

and do stuff that for your age. You'll get older and lose that as you get grow so enjoy it now.

But don't worry, new fun things will come around as you mature.

Look to the future, but don't let it keep you from the present

And don't Romanticize the past and forgo tomorrow, wishing to stay forever in one spot.

(Fun and good but It really wasn't that amazing.)  

Don't eat all those Oreo's in Disneyland!

Trust me it a horrible night if you do.   

Keep thinking of those stories you wish to write

You'll have so much fun if you do.

Keep being in those worlds that are in your head

But be careful to still live in the one your in.

Don't worry about your older siblings, 

they get nicer and become some of your best friends

and listen to their advise only half of the time.

Don't get so down on your self about not being good at something

But still get annoyed with it, cause it will make you work 

harder to get better. 

And you will! Trust me I know!  

When mom or dad tells you to do something

Do it with a smile on your face! 

Live becomes soooooo much

easier when you learn that your going to have to do it anyway,

but you can do it with a good attitude.

(Yes dad was right all those times. Choose to have a good attitude.)

Read your scriptures! DO IT NOW! 

it really does help.

My last piece of counsel to myself is

Give more hugs and kisses

Embrace a little longer, give additional smiles

Laugh longer, listen better

    

        

Oxymoron love

What is this thing called... Love? 

Some tell me its is soft and fluffy like a cloud

But others tell me it will just let you down, because its just a bunch of water molecules.

Some argue that love is what moves the world

Other say is money and power that makes the world go round

So what is Love?

I think Love is an Oxymoron

Love gives you tender kisses as it sticks a knife in you chest 

and gives it a few twists for good measure.

Love is that creeping spider, when your not looking for it, 

It decides to try and slink into your life. When you finally spot it,

some scramble for the highest ground, voice jumping a few octaves higher 

as they scream

"KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT!"

while others find it strangely magnificent and majestic, 

and they don't mind it sliding into their life. 

Love is quiet, but if you ignore it,

It'll blow your eardrums out with its shout

and break every bone you've got

'Cuz buddy 

Love's got anger issues.

Love is shallow and Love is deep.

You can lightly skim its crystal blue waters.

Or fall head first into it's black, pressure cooking fissure.

it will pull you into one or the other,

heck, maybe it will suck you into both

Love has the recollection of a Elephant

and the memory of a goldfish. (Three second long.)

It keeps bring back the painful things you wish you didn't know

But lets you forget the all little mistakes you've made.

So what is Love?

I don't know

Maybe it is a cloud

Its whipped creaminess can let you down

Maybe Love moves the world 

And money and power too

(its just the love of different things.)

  is it too hard to have to ask Love to be one thing?

So what is Love?

Love changes it mood like swing. 

You try and pin it down, label it, define it.

But it'll flutter away as soon as you think you got a grip on it.

So I think Love is an Oxymoron.
But Love doesn't care. 

   

  

I dare!

I dare you to stare at this for an hour, while listening to Yellow Submarine by the Beetles. 

Something about people in general, from the perspective of someone who's feeling very anti-social

People. Humans.

I got only one word for ya.

Stupid.

Yeah it's harsh, but it's the truth.

It would of been funny ending this post, not explaining myself. But I thought better of it. Too many people who would be like "Wha?" or "You're a mean jerk, saying people are stupid. People aren't all stupid..." and they would try to change my closed mindedness.

So here I am writing way longer than I wanted to.

People are stupid for some unknown reason to me. ... Wait. I got it. 

I have the reason.

THEY GET IN MY WAY! (Figurative and literally)

In traffic, in the halls. I hate it when your trying to get to class and as usual its jam packed people. And there's always that knot of people right in the middle, talking and being like that stupid road construction that all over the place here. So there's that one tiny little spot, where you could squeeze through, (most of the time its next to a wall.) to get to where your class is. You have someone in front of you walking toward that opening. Then they stop right in front of the opening and start talking to someone. (WHY????!?!? WHY COULDN'T YOU BE BEHIND ME?!?!)

So your stuck between two chatty Cathys, unless you wanna mow over them. Which is soooo temping some times.

Or your sitting by yourself and someone thinks your a poor friendless soul, so they come up to be nice.

I'll admit it's a nice gesture, and some people want it, but did it cross your mind that maybe you (or I)  wanted to be alone?

So they continue to talk to you, cause you talked back, because you wanted to be polite, but they think it's because you want to talk to someone.

Once again politeness keeps you from getting things done. It's so overrated.

But I see the problems with having guillotine-like bluntness. Now people may get in my way, but is a necessary evil to endure. (Ok, sometimes they aren't so annoying.) but the effects of hanging out with other human beings is helpful. If I avoid people too much I might end up one of those: Future Cat People of America. [It can happen to you too. If you agree with this, and feel like only animals (namely cats) understand you. PLEASE! GET HELP! NOW!!] 

Other people are needed to keep others sane. (With they're insanity. Makes no sense to me. Does it to you?) 

So I'll be nice and polite, unless you corner me, annoy me or invade my space bubble, then I will be oh, so brutally blunt. And/or maybe I'll claw your face off. (Figuratively or possibly literally.)

For those who are shocked, or don't understand a word I am writing. Yes I'll tolerate you. But don't ask questions. It's annoying. I've already explained more than I wanted to, purely out of politeness. 

For those who understand or kind of understand. 

Thanks for understanding. You're Awesome.

(Short, Sweet, To the Point. My time is valuable to me. I assume its valuable to you too.)

So, this post just let you know, I'm a pretty selfish person. Egotistical too. But I'm just stating out loud some of those things everybody thinks. (Unless you are the perfect person, and never think this.) To be selfish is to, well be human. Some of us are just better at it. (You can go cry about it on your own time.) 

And I guess... grrr... out of my duty to politeness (a very demanding thing it is.) I'll let you know, that I don't always feel this way about people. It's just every other day.

 Or every other hour.            

Intro P.S I suck at naming things.

Hello Everyone! Welcome to my blog, where I post stuff to appease my teacher so I can get a good grade!
Believe it! OK, made it's not the only reason I have this blog... I do have a secret love for writing. Shhh! Don't tell!
Writing has always been something I've kept to myself or to a very small group, cause... well its taking a piece of yourself a showing it to someone. Ex: It's like pulling out your heart and letting someone put in under a microscope, it's really uncomfortable. (And kind of gross.) And there's always that nagging feeling that they could crush it really easily. (You wouldn't be that heartless would you?) So to show anything to you guys, (and girls for any who feel offended that I grouped you with the boys.) is a real treat or maybe a cruel punishment. You decide, as for me, I'm going to write!