wait i'm still here

*regally bursts into room to interrupt own memorial wake because everyone thought i was dead*

Jk suckers I'm still aliveee

Okay but in my defense, I have been up to my eyeballs in being busy and procrastinating wonderfully about it. 

I have a job now!  I work at the county library with a bunch of other amazingly nerdy bookworms who are like second family now. 

And basically that's it.

That's my life.

I work.

Come home.

Collapse on my bed and watch YouTube and check Instagram and do absolutely nothing productive because SHELVING IS A HARD AND EXHAUSTING JOB #hugabookshelver #theyhaveahardlife

Draw the Captain America colored pencil extravaganza that is taking 2000 years and then some.

Eat and procrastinate on sleep until I regret my life.

Repeat. 

I feel so adultish and it's great but tiring and I have no life at the moment so please if you want to hang out, I might be able to fit you in on my schedule in 3 weeks but I probably won't want to hang out because I like my alone time. 

*realizes all I do on this blog is complain about being an adult*

I can't wait to show y'all my Cap picture though because even I have to admit it's pretty good...

....I totally messed up his right arm though so haven't figured out how to work around that one yet.

SO HOW ARE MY LOVELY POTATOES DOIN. 

I need to replenish my gif collection (I got a new laptop and I haven't downloaded my gifs onto this one yet) so apologies for the lack of moving images to satisfy your short attention spans

Just kidding y'all are amazing

2 Exciting Things That Happened Lately:

1) I saw Baby Driver and iT WAS AMAZING EVERYONE GO WATCH IT AND BRING YOUR FRENS

2) I found a book of Emerson's Essays that was published in the 1880's and has a pen inscription inside from 1901 and it's literally the coolest book I own (do I plan on ever reading it?  Probably not.  But it once belonged to a dude named George E. M. Cook who obtained the book in 1901 so WHO CARES.  History.) 

I may post a picture next time I post.  Sorry, I'm too tired now. 

Here's some classic Frank Sinatra music to brighten your day because I love Frank Sinatra:

Bye, potatoessss

Did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me

Prisoner of Art

Stays up late at night,

to hear the whispers of the dark

and kiss it good night.

 

Writes poems until

eyes burn and back starts to ache.

Keep the Muse alive.

 

Drinks too much coffee

to let the fingers explore

new worlds in the arts.

 

If I shall die young

then I will have created

many beautiful things.

**************************************************************************

// never stop writing.  never stop creating.  push yourself to new limits.  let the world see your heart.  //



The Butterfly Circus

Dreams

by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

**********************************************************************

I normally don't post videos but this time I couldn't resist.  This beautiful and heart-touching short film is called "The Butterfly Circus" and is directed by Joshua Weigel featuring the amazingly talented actor Eduardo Verastegui and the equally inspiring Nick Vujicic. 

'The Butterfly Circus is the story of a renowned circus troupe traveling through the devastated American landscape at the height of the Great Depression, lifting the spirits of audiences along the way. During their travels they discover a man without limbs in a carnival sideshow, but after an intriguing encounter with the showman, he becomes driven to hope against everything he has ever believed.'  -IMDb summary

Please watch it and share it with your family and friends.  We need more films with messages like this in our world.



underwater

creature of gravity,

break your feet off the ground;

sever the vines that hold you down.

 

~~~

 

swallowed.

time stands still in the cold hollow

of the creature that fills you with its breath.

 

~~~

 

an alien world.

the whispers of its translucent skin

envelope you in a luscious, cold embrace.

 

~~~

 

you breathe through your pores,

one with the liquid wrappings that gently bind you,

suspended in a trap of time and moonlight.

 

~~~

 

what is left of your roots

rise up in orbs of human air,

unable to live submerged in the liquid of this dream world.

 

~~~

 

voices press against your ears.

the shapeless being that has swallowed you

is trying to whisper the secrets of its universe to you.

 

~~~

 

angel of another world,

watch the dust of a dying reality dissolve.

let the water renew your soul.

********************************************************************************************************

As requested by Mary-Catherine <3

// the heavenly music that inspired this poem //



A Study of Moriarty // Art Dump

"Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain" - Jim Moriarty, Consulting Criminal

 

Here are a few facts for you. 

1)  I love Sherlock because it's a brilliant, aesthetic, and addicting show full of the most amazing acting and plot-twists. 

2)  I also love Moriarty because he's the most evil and terrifying villain I've ever seen on a screen. 

3)  Steven Moffat.  I'm going to find you.  And I'm going to make your murder look like an accident. 

I won't go into depth about Moriarty's character, because it's like a black hole of sadistic insanity you get sucked into.  Just like the fandom. 

All you need to know, is that James Moriarty is one of the most fascinating and evil characters ever invented and is an arrogant, psychopathic, and brilliant genius. 

So what do I do when I find a character that I'm just so in love with, so deeply fascinated with their character that it's very hard not to throttle every other human who says derogatory things about said character?


I draw a picture.  That's what people DO.

Here is le picture.  I call it "A Study of Moriarty" because you know...A Study in Pink?  Get it?  I'm hilarious shut up.

I actually kept track of the progress this time so here is the step by step progress thing.


Step 1.  Find a reference image.

This is always the hardest part because I can never decide on an image.  It's a process of "I LOVE THEM ALL but which one SPEAKS to me the most."  I decided this one looked the most "evil" so there we go.  (Don't get me wrong though, I still want to draw all the rest)

 

Step 2.  Scribble out an outline.

I hate this part.  It usually involves long pep talks and me mentally preparing myself to take the plunge.  Because this is the part that will decide whether or not the entire picture will turn out and within a few seconds of that pencil being in contact with paper, tell me if it's a Drawing Day or a Not Drawing Day.  And it always turns out to be cringey no matter how much I try on the outline. 

look how cringey this is.  the cringe.

Step 3.  Recklessly start shading.

I have the patience of a small armadillo sitting on a cactus so no, I am not going to wait to check it the outline needs to be revised I JUST JUMP RIGHT IN WITH MAH BLENDER.

slightly less cringey and more evil but still

Step 4.  .....More shading.


This lasts forevaaaaahhhhhhhh.  Because this is the phase where I notice all the places my outline failed me and the proportions are all over the place.  And then my eraser comes out.  And I erase what I just shaded.  And this happens like 68 more times and my patience is usually snapped at some point.

the glare is coming along nicely

Step 5.  Realize proportions are still not right and panic.


..........................................
I hate this part so much it makes me have so much self-loathing and doubt and I basically start planning another career in law or medicine because THE ARTS HATE ME LOOK AT THIS MONSTROSITY. 

it was here that I realized with a sinking heart that his mouth was too small

Step 6.  Give up on the face and just start the suit.


This is where I throw in the towel, scream "IT'S GOOD ENOUGH", and just start shading the lovely creases of Moriarty's Westwood suit.

it's hard to draw with that face leering up at you

Step 7 (Step the Last).  Cry over the finished (?) product.


I always end a picture when my patience finally snaps and I have no desire to fix anything else I just want it to be DONE. 

kalghslghsHSLDKGHSskdhg

Aaaand that's the step-by-step progress of "A Study of Moriarty", everyone! 


Then I have to run around and show my parentals my new picture and spend an hour looking for good camera angles and places with good lighting and props for the photoshoot and which Instagram filters to use and....it's a lengthy progress. 

Well, that's the art dump for this decade.  Enjoy. 


Now have some heart-wrenching Twenty One Pilots concert renditions because feels:

Bye bye darlings.



The Maze Ghost

I am a ghost, transparent and silenced,

The bitter tracings of what's left of my soul,

The peeled away mist to reveal my heart--

A raw, pumping, trembling piece of meat--

I am nothing more than my mind

Dancing across the melting sun

As my laugh drowns my ears and chokes me.

No longer trying to be someone I'm not,

Just turn my eyeballs inward to light up

The dark that devours the maze of my head.

Running and tripping to find a safe refuge

Before the light goes out and the monsters find me.

I want to change, but I do not know how so I

Run and ignore the storm destroying my shell.

I am invisible, a spirit of torn apart dreams,

Guarding the flickering lights of my hope.

The black shade in my mind is cool and deadly,

I find patches of light where the fingers can't grope.

Curled up in my silence I pray when my thoughts

Are lucid enough to remember to call for help.

There's a war raging outside but in here I am free--

Insane and terrified but at least not in a cage--

Just the monsters to run from and the pits to escape.

My monsters are safer than the monsters outside,

I know them--they smell of my scent--they're my children.

My dying brain is a maze that I will never escape.

The maze ghost is the only creature still alive.

Immortal, undying, pursued by my creations,

Heart drenching my soul in blood as I flee.

But perhaps when the sun shatters the moon and

my words sing the monsters to sleep and the sky falls in,

I'll see the light of a rising soul and the burning liquid

Will quench my hunger, the gnawing yearning inside.

And I'll crawl out of my blackened and trampled maze

To find the war is over and the smoke is gone.

I can be myself and be silenced no longer.

I am a ghost in the maze of my head.

I guard my thoughts and keep the monsters in check.

Immortal curator of a fragile galaxy.

Alone and happy that way.

***************************************************************************************

This one goes out to all my fellow introverts who live in their minds. 



How to Numb a Heart

They say it's a gift to be sensitive,

That emotions make us human.

But your words fall into icy hands

And fall lifeless at my bare, frozen feet.

 

Trying so hard to numb the pain,

I'm trying so desperately to freeze.

My emotions are killing me inside out,

Tell me how can I stop my heart?

 

I am a lost ship at sea drowning in salt.

Tell me how I can cut my nerves apart?

I don't care what you say my only goal

Is to find a way to numb my heart.

 

I am dying, I am drowning.  I can't hear you.

I've gone too far this time, I don't trust myself.

Am I doing this all wrong?  I just want to

Stop feeling these emotions that drown me.

 

My heart is so fragile I can feel it breaking,

I become a surgeon and try to mend the tears.

Ice spreads and grows, I keep the chemicals pressed.

To stifle my nerve endings, to save my brokenness. 

 

Tell me please what I want to hear.

I'm killing myself but can't feel the pain.

The more I scream the less I hear,

So tell me how to numb my heart.

 

*********************************************************

 

My poems are the words of my heart.  Treat them gently, humans.

 

 



unraveling

sunset fades, its colors swirl,

and melt into a purple shroud.

reds are bleeding, are dripping, into

the oncoming, devouring night.

time unravels, a mad dance through

the sky.  colors unraveling, unwinding,

into black.  black is nothing but shades

of blue so even the night is reversing.

the wind, it blows the sky to shreds, it

tears the trees and turns back the time

from running too quickly and jumping

ahead.  it's all an intricate game.

time will tear, and colors burn, as the

world grates and sparks on its heels.

you can only unravel colors so far

before the wind unwinds itself, too.

***********************************************************************************

   //it's all just a horrid game we play, dancing with our demons and shying from the light.  but if you take my hand, i can show you a better world where you are no longer alone//



Paper Bag Lungs

Breath.

Air that trickles down your

throat and fills the

paper bags in your chest.

Breathe.

Inhale the dry liquid.

Fill the paper bags.

Can you hear them crackle,

crackle

crackle

In the cavity next to your heart?

I have paper bag lungs.

They are noisy as hell.

Like

an accordion they

pump, inflate, outflate,

inhale, exhale, repeat.

Like

an accordion they

accompany every movement

with soft protests of music.

Can you hear the music?

Wheezing

Wheezing

The deathly chords play

in the paper bags I call lungs.

The sound is my orchestra.

Paper

crackles and crumples,

Yet my instruments of life

are fragile and easy to tear.

Paper

fills my chest and drowns out

the beating of my heart with

tearing, ripping, struggling gasps.

I can feel the tears leaking air.

Gasping

Gasping

Gulping to fill the paper bags.

Trying to swallow more air than I can

because my paper bag lungs are torn.

Lungs.

You never realize how much

your cardboard body needs them.

Those invisible paper accordions.

Lungs.

They are supposed to help the heart

play the music of your life in the

symphony of your breathing

Breathing

Stopping

Screaming but your lungs are gone.

Crumpled into wads of tissue.

Oh, how dangerous our paper bags can be.

****************************************************************************************************************

~Dedicated to all my fellow asthmatics~

Sea of Stardust

Rolling golden waves in the night,

Gently hissing, pouring, swirling,

Flashes of sun and star combined

In the sea of stardust.

 

A shooting orb is swallowed by the gold

And burns out with a bright, raw cry.

Its glowing life force joins the ocean

Of liquid, melting stardust.

 

As sand in the Sahara, as the gold on a beach,

Baked in the suns of a million universes,

Burning the feet of tumbling asteroids,

Thus shimmers the brilliant sea of stardust.

 

Roiling, churning, whirlpools and maelstroms,

The cry of the ocean is the singing of celestial voices.

Tinted with every color that glitter possesses,

A desert of magic and death.

 

Like quicksand, the dust drags you in,

Cold fire crawls up your nose and eyes, taking your life,

Whispering the longing song of the night

As it drags you to join the ocean of light.

 

There, twinkling somewhere in the night,

A desert patch is seen of gold and ice.

A howling wasteland of singing stars

Is the dangerous sea of stardust.

***************************************************************************************************************

I meant to do a New Year post......but then Life happened.  (I hate Life sometimes)

So until school and Life slows down* I will just post aesthetics and poetry because this new year is gonna be a good one full of happy INFP things, eh folks?

*aka until I stop being lazy and procrastinating

Au revoir, mes amis!