I got out of my English class today. ^___^ Which means I get to sit in the art room for TWO WHOLE PERIODS! Ahh! And I bought lunch today ('cause Amy went on the leadership retreat... I am not much of a leader, therefore I did not go). Turkey club sandwich, which of cousre means it had bacon in it... urg. >.< No... no bacon. But it was the only thing that wasn't completely pig products, so I bought it. And the lunch lady gave me a free oatmeal cookie. I'm not sure why.
Maybe she's trying to poison us.
Gahhh! Paranoid! ^^;;
I have X-men to draw, dammit! I spent first period doing the same. Maybe I'll have the first page done tonight. Am already thinking about changing that first panel, though.
Me: Background... it needs background. Not just "innocence is illusionary" typed a thousand times.
I just did a background for that first panel... ^________^
Pietro: Ok... that sucks...
Me: I said a background. I never said it was good.
Now I'm going to post general poetry that I wrote for class and just got back.
"I am" (a formula poem)
I am broken and I am scarred I wonder what the therapist thinks I hear the musings of the forests I see the colors of my speech I want immortality and everlasting life I really can't stand repitition
I pretend I am psychotic I feel sadness for my sorrow I touch the stars; they burn I worry about my histronic characteristics I cry when they bring out the dead I am not afraid of retribution
I understand the meaning of a fucked-up life I say the world is cyclical I dream the gods; they laugh I try to find my person I hope he doesn't run from me I am not comfortable in my skin
"Lament of a Child"
The youth of today temper hardships Men of power control civilians Painblades slice smooth, sleek skin A razor, child-held, ripe with despair The sad-sickness spreads o'er the land Like a plague of rats devouring people Like a tremendous tower toppled by ivy-grip Helpless people procrate, populate, and pollute Red and raw skin like strip-hide The elders, the geriatrics, gripe and groan On porch steps and rock-seats like leaves in the breeze Embark on adventures of mild excitement Repressed dreamers who follow the past And long sleeves that hide and deny feudal wounds Soon fatal failures soak-rag our fears And crimson blood-rivers trickle down our spines Deriving pleasure and satisfaction from pressure and pain Ghost children cry in our silent ears Healing blood-blisters weaved from the skin Of our offspring's kin, who make love in quiet Entwining their fingers in blood-pools of dependency With closed eyes and tight lips Pensive parents shake their simple heads And run nervous hands through thinning hair To wonder what has gone wrong
And these are the comments for my poem "Drug of Choice" (it's back there somewhere). From my poetry class.
-"Being a god" is very accurate. Rock on you crazy diamond. -WDS -I like the detail and your love for what you like to do. -It is interesting that you seem to start out with a negative account of the concert but then you go into a more positive mode..... interesting- JM -Very good descriptions to draw reader into the picture. I can tell you want to be there- L.W - Good... I like your use of verbs... LaReasa -Very descriptive of the moment you want to be in. It gives a good mental picture. I like it a lot!- Megan L. - Neat! ^^ I wish I could have been there. I wonderful replanting into the mind of the singer, good description of the surroundings. Honestly one of your best. -SARAH -Really good Stephanie! You sure do a good job of describing a rock star and the electric snake. The crowd sounds scary though. Skin torched... -CDzeda
