Saturday, November 15, 2008
Sympathy
I quietly cursed under my breath while quickly trying to scribble down the daily quote in my studio art class. I was hoping to finish swiftly so I could go up to the teacher and ask her some questions about next week’s art assignment, But of course I was not fast enough and a line of about seven people were before me by the time I was finished. With a sigh I turned on my heel and headed back to my seat, hoping that eventually the line would die down so that I could saunter over and have a few words with her. I pulled out my sketch book and a mechanical pencil so I could begin the weekly drawing while keeping a wary eye on the line. Minutes went by and I quickly came to a conclusion that when one person was done talking to her two more bodies were added to the line… I wouldn’t get to talk to her today. Another heavy sigh escaped my lips and I flipped my sketchbook closed, I didn’t really have the patience to draw today.
I like where I sit in my art class, I have two of my best friends sitting on either side of me and good acquaintances opposite of us three. We have good discussions and give each other a lot of beneficial feedback, which is an exceptionally good thing in an art class (because critiquing is very important in perfecting your skills and artwork). After closing my sketchbook I’d gaze over my friends sketches, inside my mind was yelling at me and condemning me to imperfect procrastinating artwork for the rest of my life because I had set my sketch aside. But my conscience was silenced when I turned to the right of me and saw his face (We will call this boy Goph for privacy and the purpose of avoiding embarrassment).
Goph had his head slumped on his arms strewn on the side of the table, his hood shadowed his face and his breathing was heavy. I crept closer so that my face was close to his, and whispered. “Are you okay?” He shuffled a bit in his seat and slightly lifted his head up so that he could be audibly heard. “No.” He grumbled, then dropped his head upon his arms once more. The corners of my lips turned down into a sort of pouting expression, and I pulled the back of his hood down so that his dark golden curls shone in the diffused light of the classroom. He groaned at this and shifted his head so that he was peering at me. Like a ninja one of my hands disappeared beneath the table and skillfully poked his side, this made him jump a little and I pulled a face at the same time. This made him smile, which resulted in me smiling. Goph hardly ever smiles, but when he does it is like rain falling upon a dry harsh dessert; Very rare but welcoming like a blessing.
After seeing him smile I took the chance and attacked him with more questions, since I had left him vulnerable. I was not being nosy, just trying to figure out what was wrong and if I could help. Quietly, like a whisper in the wind he told me his story and then once more slumped down upon the table. The story had left me distressed, and contemplative. But I sat up and gradually placed my arms around him in a comforting and affectionate hug, one of his hands had found my elbow and he squeezed it (this apparently was his show of mutual affection). I whispered some things in his ear, and he did not reply… But I did not expect him to. Shortly after the hug the bell rang to excuse us from class, and my head was filled with puzzled questions and emotional conclusions. The majority of the class was pushing out the door like ravenous wolves trying to be first to lunch, but my feet slowly shuffled along down the hall while my gaze never left Goph, my heart whispered “Please be alright.”
I like where I sit in my art class, I have two of my best friends sitting on either side of me and good acquaintances opposite of us three. We have good discussions and give each other a lot of beneficial feedback, which is an exceptionally good thing in an art class (because critiquing is very important in perfecting your skills and artwork). After closing my sketchbook I’d gaze over my friends sketches, inside my mind was yelling at me and condemning me to imperfect procrastinating artwork for the rest of my life because I had set my sketch aside. But my conscience was silenced when I turned to the right of me and saw his face (We will call this boy Goph for privacy and the purpose of avoiding embarrassment).
Goph had his head slumped on his arms strewn on the side of the table, his hood shadowed his face and his breathing was heavy. I crept closer so that my face was close to his, and whispered. “Are you okay?” He shuffled a bit in his seat and slightly lifted his head up so that he could be audibly heard. “No.” He grumbled, then dropped his head upon his arms once more. The corners of my lips turned down into a sort of pouting expression, and I pulled the back of his hood down so that his dark golden curls shone in the diffused light of the classroom. He groaned at this and shifted his head so that he was peering at me. Like a ninja one of my hands disappeared beneath the table and skillfully poked his side, this made him jump a little and I pulled a face at the same time. This made him smile, which resulted in me smiling. Goph hardly ever smiles, but when he does it is like rain falling upon a dry harsh dessert; Very rare but welcoming like a blessing.
After seeing him smile I took the chance and attacked him with more questions, since I had left him vulnerable. I was not being nosy, just trying to figure out what was wrong and if I could help. Quietly, like a whisper in the wind he told me his story and then once more slumped down upon the table. The story had left me distressed, and contemplative. But I sat up and gradually placed my arms around him in a comforting and affectionate hug, one of his hands had found my elbow and he squeezed it (this apparently was his show of mutual affection). I whispered some things in his ear, and he did not reply… But I did not expect him to. Shortly after the hug the bell rang to excuse us from class, and my head was filled with puzzled questions and emotional conclusions. The majority of the class was pushing out the door like ravenous wolves trying to be first to lunch, but my feet slowly shuffled along down the hall while my gaze never left Goph, my heart whispered “Please be alright.”
Labels: Affection, Art, Distress, friendship, high school, impatience, Love, sad, sympathy
--Cloud Envy.
10:08 AM
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10:08 AM
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Saturday, November 1, 2008
Halloween :]]
Last night was Halloween, as most of you know. Most adults would see me as too old to go trick-or-treating, but they are quite mistaken. I will never grow up and therefore I will never b e too old to trick-or-treat. Now that I’ve said that; That is exactly what I did last nighttttt. Aha. The night was filled with a lot of different emotions and scenarios, so I doubt I will forget anything that happened.
The (starting) group consisted of thirteen people, thirteen! It was amazing. Never before had I ever trick-or-treated in a group larger than about four people. We startled every house we came to with our massive numbers, It made me laugh. However the large group was also a disappointment, it was hard keeping track of everybody and a half of the group was always too far ahead. We had dispersed into new neighborhoods unknown to me, and the group gradually separated into two different groups. The group I was in had five people in it. The reason the large group had split was because the other section (the one that was always ahead) had taken a road I did know, and I knew the road simply would lead them to Main Street and they’d eventually backtrack to us. I was mistaken.
Through the course of the night my group of five had wound itself so far into the uknown neighborhood that we had subconsciously become lost. My friends phone began to vibrate so she answered, it was a friend from the other group calling her. Apparently the girl who had called my friend had been separated from the larger group, and she was lost. Not until that moment had I really looked around and realized, we were just as lost as she was. It took about two hours until we finally found the girl who called and was lost. We(my group) had stumbled about for the two hours and walked about four miles… We hadn’t known where we were until we came to an intersection and Kings (a grocery store) came into view. But back to the main topic.. We had found the lost girl, and she told us her story with a heavy heart. Apparently the large group she was with had completely ditched her, and she had sat on a street corner waiting for us to find her. It made me very upset because this disgruntled little girl was one of my very best friends. With her as an addition to our group we had six, but shortly after a boy who was in the group went home so we were left back to five.
The rest of the night was remaining, and so gradually the five of us made our way back to my neighborhood (which we hadn’t pillaged yet). My hopes and head were high, of course we had lost two hours of valuable trick-or-treating time… But finding a friend was much more important than cheap candy. We had stayed out until ten o’clock , a lot of the houses we visited were surprised to see us. Mostly because it had been raining outside for an hour and we were soaked, but we had happy spirits and ignored the trickles of rain that would occasionally glide down our cheeks. I hadn’t gotten very much candy at the end of the night, only half a pillowcase… But near the end I started thinking about it and when I started the adventure I wasn’t excited for the candy. I was excited because I was going to see all my favorite people in the world that night, and on my favorite holiday. This morning my feet hurt, and I have the sniffles... But I wouldn’t have traded yesterday for anything, it was fabulous.
The (starting) group consisted of thirteen people, thirteen! It was amazing. Never before had I ever trick-or-treated in a group larger than about four people. We startled every house we came to with our massive numbers, It made me laugh. However the large group was also a disappointment, it was hard keeping track of everybody and a half of the group was always too far ahead. We had dispersed into new neighborhoods unknown to me, and the group gradually separated into two different groups. The group I was in had five people in it. The reason the large group had split was because the other section (the one that was always ahead) had taken a road I did know, and I knew the road simply would lead them to Main Street and they’d eventually backtrack to us. I was mistaken.
Through the course of the night my group of five had wound itself so far into the uknown neighborhood that we had subconsciously become lost. My friends phone began to vibrate so she answered, it was a friend from the other group calling her. Apparently the girl who had called my friend had been separated from the larger group, and she was lost. Not until that moment had I really looked around and realized, we were just as lost as she was. It took about two hours until we finally found the girl who called and was lost. We(my group) had stumbled about for the two hours and walked about four miles… We hadn’t known where we were until we came to an intersection and Kings (a grocery store) came into view. But back to the main topic.. We had found the lost girl, and she told us her story with a heavy heart. Apparently the large group she was with had completely ditched her, and she had sat on a street corner waiting for us to find her. It made me very upset because this disgruntled little girl was one of my very best friends. With her as an addition to our group we had six, but shortly after a boy who was in the group went home so we were left back to five.
The rest of the night was remaining, and so gradually the five of us made our way back to my neighborhood (which we hadn’t pillaged yet). My hopes and head were high, of course we had lost two hours of valuable trick-or-treating time… But finding a friend was much more important than cheap candy. We had stayed out until ten o’clock , a lot of the houses we visited were surprised to see us. Mostly because it had been raining outside for an hour and we were soaked, but we had happy spirits and ignored the trickles of rain that would occasionally glide down our cheeks. I hadn’t gotten very much candy at the end of the night, only half a pillowcase… But near the end I started thinking about it and when I started the adventure I wasn’t excited for the candy. I was excited because I was going to see all my favorite people in the world that night, and on my favorite holiday. This morning my feet hurt, and I have the sniffles... But I wouldn’t have traded yesterday for anything, it was fabulous.
Labels: Candy, dedication, excitement, friendship, Halloween, lost, Love, Trick-or-Treating
--Cloud Envy.
8:18 AM
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8:18 AM
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Sunday, October 26, 2008
My Pooh-Bear
Do you remember the feeling you got when you realize you lost your favorite toy when you were little? Well, my comfort toy was my pooh-bear and I remember how it was for me when I forgot it at my mom’s house. I was alone. I was in despair, for my world was torn apart and there was no reason to go on living so you just brake down and cry.
Well, my whole point of this is the not the lost feeling, but the feeling when you get that toy back. Your heart sings with unreserved joy!
After my whole rant here, this blog is about what makes you really, truthfully happy. That new Prada bag isn't going to give you the same joy as that toy that you once had. After a while that bag (that is so not worth what you paid for it), looses its effect. It is so last season. You can't be seen with an outdated Prada! Pfffft! Now… that pooh-bear will never be outdated, outdone, nor will I be sad about what I once paid for it.
So. Back to an actual story that will, like you know, relate to what I just slowly killed you with in the last few paragraphs.
When I was three I was given a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal, at the time it was almost as big as I was. I had grown very attached to the stuffed animal since the moment I saw it, I spent all my time with the thing. When I didn’t have the strength I would drag it on the ground and this caused the toy to become very dirty and mauled looking, but I loved it all the same. I sat him at the table with me when I ate, he slept with me, and on several occasions my parents would find him in the bathtub with me. I loved pooh-bear, he was my best friend.
Growing up I had to wean myself away from the pooh-bear. My mom’s boyfriend at the time had sold it at a pawnshop for money (or so she thought[who would sell an old tattered toy like it, and expect to get money from it I’ll never know]). And so I was forced to face the cruel reality that I would never get to snuggle my pooh-bear again. Of course I got older and slowly, I began to forget about my favorite stuffed animal. Not until just recently had my mom discovered the animal in one of her rented storage sheds in Midvale, when she presented it to me at first I had no recollection of the toy; But minutes passed and my mom renewed memories in my mind of all the adventures pooh-bear and I had together.
After you have been reunited with the toy you have missed so much, you don't ever want to let it go again. You love it. My Pooh-Bear is my family, figuratively speaking. You can't replace it, it doesn’t go out of season, and it will always be worth more than your damn Prada bag. Way more.
Well, my whole point of this is the not the lost feeling, but the feeling when you get that toy back. Your heart sings with unreserved joy!
After my whole rant here, this blog is about what makes you really, truthfully happy. That new Prada bag isn't going to give you the same joy as that toy that you once had. After a while that bag (that is so not worth what you paid for it), looses its effect. It is so last season. You can't be seen with an outdated Prada! Pfffft! Now… that pooh-bear will never be outdated, outdone, nor will I be sad about what I once paid for it.
So. Back to an actual story that will, like you know, relate to what I just slowly killed you with in the last few paragraphs.
When I was three I was given a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal, at the time it was almost as big as I was. I had grown very attached to the stuffed animal since the moment I saw it, I spent all my time with the thing. When I didn’t have the strength I would drag it on the ground and this caused the toy to become very dirty and mauled looking, but I loved it all the same. I sat him at the table with me when I ate, he slept with me, and on several occasions my parents would find him in the bathtub with me. I loved pooh-bear, he was my best friend.
Growing up I had to wean myself away from the pooh-bear. My mom’s boyfriend at the time had sold it at a pawnshop for money (or so she thought[who would sell an old tattered toy like it, and expect to get money from it I’ll never know]). And so I was forced to face the cruel reality that I would never get to snuggle my pooh-bear again. Of course I got older and slowly, I began to forget about my favorite stuffed animal. Not until just recently had my mom discovered the animal in one of her rented storage sheds in Midvale, when she presented it to me at first I had no recollection of the toy; But minutes passed and my mom renewed memories in my mind of all the adventures pooh-bear and I had together.
After you have been reunited with the toy you have missed so much, you don't ever want to let it go again. You love it. My Pooh-Bear is my family, figuratively speaking. You can't replace it, it doesn’t go out of season, and it will always be worth more than your damn Prada bag. Way more.
Labels: Childhood, Love, Stuffed Animal, Toy, Winnie the Pooh
--Cloud Envy.
10:15 AM
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10:15 AM
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Friday, September 19, 2008
Vastness of a Mind.
I am sorry that I wasn’t what you wanted me to be, that I was lacking qualities in your eyes. . . I apologize that I was not there when I knew I could have helped, but didn’t- I am remorseful that the world has not been kind to you, and because of that you have become what you are, and ultimately are unchangeable. It is too late in your life, your habits have formed almost as instinct and change is impossible, not by any force of will can you be altered.
We all began existence in the usual way, as a cell- with the same characteristics and traits; In that form we were the same. . . It is the events that took place after our cellular simplicity that our individuality and process of thinking were developed. Everyone has a mind of there own, no two psyche are exactly alike and never in existence will there be two individuals who think precisely the same. For such a thing two occur two individuals would have to have experienced the same dealings, from the begging process of fertilizing the seed and early development, to birth, childhood, and so on. Anything that had occurred in ones life would have to have been mutual for the other, and out of all the possibilities, percentages, and ratios a thing like that will never happen- Concluding that no two minds will ever think exactly the same.
Stating that, I can tell you that I will never see your thoughts and opinions in the defined light that you see it, we might share a mutual belief but the things that create this belief within us might not be the same, and our thoughts will differ when contrasted in a separate light. I understand what you have done was a reaction to a decision of mine- I beg of you not to feel upset with my choice, nor to strain yourself trying to view from my perspective and accept why my verdict and actions were so. It is your choice as to how you further react, even to this blog. I am human, I feel, I cry, I breathe, and my heart does beat. . . But because of my past, I have been molded into a sensitive soul. A fragile thing, alert to the people and objects around her but unable to see them clearly for what they really are or might be capable of- But because of the events that have taken place I have been given new eyes, a new sense of acceptance and a mindset of self preservation. I am taking life into my own hands and I will no longer allow my relationships with people or future to be chosen for me by chance or poor decisions, I won’t be swayed by your words or your actions for I want to become strong. . . I hope that you will stand beside me, but do not expect me to become dependant on your opinions. I am tough enough to cope with this insane asylum of life on my own, but with a hand to catch me when I stumble it will be much easier. For those that are loyal and true. . . I love you within the most genuine depths of my broken little heart, I can guarantee that I will not see problems that may arise for you exactly the same as you do, but I will try to understand and help as much as is within my power for that is the duty of a true friend- and should be the medium that creates and defines a good person.
We all began existence in the usual way, as a cell- with the same characteristics and traits; In that form we were the same. . . It is the events that took place after our cellular simplicity that our individuality and process of thinking were developed. Everyone has a mind of there own, no two psyche are exactly alike and never in existence will there be two individuals who think precisely the same. For such a thing two occur two individuals would have to have experienced the same dealings, from the begging process of fertilizing the seed and early development, to birth, childhood, and so on. Anything that had occurred in ones life would have to have been mutual for the other, and out of all the possibilities, percentages, and ratios a thing like that will never happen- Concluding that no two minds will ever think exactly the same.
Stating that, I can tell you that I will never see your thoughts and opinions in the defined light that you see it, we might share a mutual belief but the things that create this belief within us might not be the same, and our thoughts will differ when contrasted in a separate light. I understand what you have done was a reaction to a decision of mine- I beg of you not to feel upset with my choice, nor to strain yourself trying to view from my perspective and accept why my verdict and actions were so. It is your choice as to how you further react, even to this blog. I am human, I feel, I cry, I breathe, and my heart does beat. . . But because of my past, I have been molded into a sensitive soul. A fragile thing, alert to the people and objects around her but unable to see them clearly for what they really are or might be capable of- But because of the events that have taken place I have been given new eyes, a new sense of acceptance and a mindset of self preservation. I am taking life into my own hands and I will no longer allow my relationships with people or future to be chosen for me by chance or poor decisions, I won’t be swayed by your words or your actions for I want to become strong. . . I hope that you will stand beside me, but do not expect me to become dependant on your opinions. I am tough enough to cope with this insane asylum of life on my own, but with a hand to catch me when I stumble it will be much easier. For those that are loyal and true. . . I love you within the most genuine depths of my broken little heart, I can guarantee that I will not see problems that may arise for you exactly the same as you do, but I will try to understand and help as much as is within my power for that is the duty of a true friend- and should be the medium that creates and defines a good person.
Labels: Appologies, Deciet, emos, friendship, Hardship, Heart, Love, Loyalty, Mind, Physce, Relationships, True
--Cloud Envy.
5:47 AM
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5:47 AM
0 commented