Anxiety is building up and clogging any rational thoughts that may or may not be residing in my brain. I would like to believe that I am a rational person but my actions in how I express my emotions say otherwise. I am just so incredibly anxious.
anxious, anxious, anxious.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Future References
So ... I sort of want to enter the industry of comics and animated entertainment. I recently discovered from a friend that I would be able to enter ACAD but not become fully enrolled as an ACAD student and could quite possibly take some sketching courses. The possible chance of improving my current techniques and add into that my current English degree, which is currently expanding my writing skills .... then.... dun duuuun duun da! COMIC BOOK ARTIST/WRITER
Live in my parents basment forevaaaa. :3
O man, how I honestly wish for this. I'm not looking to become a teacher, perhaps a novelist but having a BA of English on my resume isn't going to get me published ... but neither will any of the above. Why is it so difficult in North America to be financially successfull with an arts degree? I recall hearing from travelling friends that Europe has an amazing appreciation for the arts. So why are we lagging behind? I suppose the question of morals and financial situations plays a large part. I don't understand.
All this anime watching/ manga reading doesn't help either. O the life of an Otaku...
Live in my parents basment forevaaaa. :3
O man, how I honestly wish for this. I'm not looking to become a teacher, perhaps a novelist but having a BA of English on my resume isn't going to get me published ... but neither will any of the above. Why is it so difficult in North America to be financially successfull with an arts degree? I recall hearing from travelling friends that Europe has an amazing appreciation for the arts. So why are we lagging behind? I suppose the question of morals and financial situations plays a large part. I don't understand.
All this anime watching/ manga reading doesn't help either. O the life of an Otaku...
Friday, December 9, 2011
I Cant Wait
I can't wait for next semester when I can finally start writing and learning to improve my writing. I can't wait to learn about world religions and go in depth into the human pysche. I can't wait to explore mammal osteology and use highlighters in a 'productive' manner. I can't wait to learn French and be able to use swear words in more then two languages.
I can't wait for next semester and the frustration of unreasonable proffesors. I can't wait for the stress of 20 page essays and the all nighters that come with them. I can't wait for the caffeine crashes and the irritability of not having enough cigarettes and the extreme lack of nutrition, or sustenance of any kind really.
I cant wait.
I can't wait for next semester and the frustration of unreasonable proffesors. I can't wait for the stress of 20 page essays and the all nighters that come with them. I can't wait for the caffeine crashes and the irritability of not having enough cigarettes and the extreme lack of nutrition, or sustenance of any kind really.
I cant wait.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Dichotomy
A certain depth of solitude rains a casual existence in your presence.
The hope of a battered niche no longer cranes it neck and yet,
I still take careful steps.
When the last breath tornadoes through
and asks me of the yellow tail,
I reply with a shallow stagnation.
Do not question my ability to love, do not point bones and assume the knowledge
is there.
Still,
Weathered yearnings continue to seep through drains.
Single droplets of lively blood; iron, pungent
falter onto your shoulders.
And all I can produce is a stare.
The hope of a battered niche no longer cranes it neck and yet,
I still take careful steps.
When the last breath tornadoes through
and asks me of the yellow tail,
I reply with a shallow stagnation.
Do not question my ability to love, do not point bones and assume the knowledge
is there.
Still,
Weathered yearnings continue to seep through drains.
Single droplets of lively blood; iron, pungent
falter onto your shoulders.
And all I can produce is a stare.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Ghosting
Since the days of my young childhood I've always had a simple fasicnation with the concept of ghosts, but it was not until around my second year of high school that the acute curiosity became a full throttle obsession. My complete understanding of why they sparked such an interest has yet to be fully explored, I cannot give a concrete statement as to what makes them so honestly appealing. Once I had attempted to resolve the curiosity but unfortunately distractions came lurking my way (SCHOOL and high school pressures, hah.) But now, being four years older from that time, no longer obsessing, and having (hopefully) matured, perhaps that question can finally be solved.
When I had first attempted to put thought onto paper, I can recall being slightly frustrated. My initial intent in writing the piece involved explaining what a ghost was and then to elaborate on my perceptions of it. 16 years old, feeling like the whole world believes you are invisible and the only sentence you're able to write is, I am a ghost. Well, you and I both know that that simply stems from being 16. But at that time it was simply an honest statement reflecting my thoughts on how I believed the universe percieved me. Like much of the world population, high school wasn't the best experience of my twenty years of life. Much of it involved a heavy dependancy on others, a pathetic way to just simply not appear alone and avoid gawking eyes. Around that age I was slowly drifting from people whom I thought would be my best friends for life and no matter how long I talked with them or sat in their presence, the isolation continued to grow. In my own head, I honestly was just a ... ghost.
I can remember writing down the word malleable. A ghost is malleable. But malleability and figure change are two different things. I realize that now. In my own terms, ghosts are shape shifters, they are whatever the believer percieves them to be. There is no concrete image of a ghost, that is left to the imaginer. I like that idea, that a ghost can be whatever the believer believes it to be. No right or worng answer, just look between the black and white.
So what is the gray that limbers to and from the spaces of my cerebrum? I'm still unsure. But I know now that it is the one concept that allowed me to explore my 16 year old limitations and to further expand my treading distance in terms of human comfort. I had no idea how to appreciate the time spent alone, never fully acknowledged how freeing the comfort of silence could be. The thought of ghoshting challenged me to break apart from the constraints of my insecurities of being seen on my own. Yes, the comfort of humans was always nice but what use was it when that comfort disappeared? This is where ghosting came into place.
I was ghosting then, I am ghosting now.
When I had first attempted to put thought onto paper, I can recall being slightly frustrated. My initial intent in writing the piece involved explaining what a ghost was and then to elaborate on my perceptions of it. 16 years old, feeling like the whole world believes you are invisible and the only sentence you're able to write is, I am a ghost. Well, you and I both know that that simply stems from being 16. But at that time it was simply an honest statement reflecting my thoughts on how I believed the universe percieved me. Like much of the world population, high school wasn't the best experience of my twenty years of life. Much of it involved a heavy dependancy on others, a pathetic way to just simply not appear alone and avoid gawking eyes. Around that age I was slowly drifting from people whom I thought would be my best friends for life and no matter how long I talked with them or sat in their presence, the isolation continued to grow. In my own head, I honestly was just a ... ghost.
I can remember writing down the word malleable. A ghost is malleable. But malleability and figure change are two different things. I realize that now. In my own terms, ghosts are shape shifters, they are whatever the believer percieves them to be. There is no concrete image of a ghost, that is left to the imaginer. I like that idea, that a ghost can be whatever the believer believes it to be. No right or worng answer, just look between the black and white.
So what is the gray that limbers to and from the spaces of my cerebrum? I'm still unsure. But I know now that it is the one concept that allowed me to explore my 16 year old limitations and to further expand my treading distance in terms of human comfort. I had no idea how to appreciate the time spent alone, never fully acknowledged how freeing the comfort of silence could be. The thought of ghoshting challenged me to break apart from the constraints of my insecurities of being seen on my own. Yes, the comfort of humans was always nice but what use was it when that comfort disappeared? This is where ghosting came into place.
I was ghosting then, I am ghosting now.
Criminal
A video of myself singing Criminal by Fiona Apple using the built-in web camera on my laptop. The quality is terrible and thanks to my own life choices, breathing while singing isn't the easiest task anymore. Thank you cigarettes, thank you Helen for starting in the first place (sad face).
This isn't my first attempt at posting such videos, usually they are deleted after a day or two. BUT I'm not doing that any longer. Everyone must start somewhere right? I'm not looking to make it big, I'm looking to freely express myself in anyway I feel without feeling shame and constant insecurity. It's a slow start with a blog that only has one reader but perhaps someday health,life,&fire can reach a couple more and can quite possibly encourage other people to do the same. :)
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