Attention, bloggers. I know my last post was on July 15th, but I have not abandoned my blog, as you may think. So please, I ask that you do not delete my blog from your 'Followed blogs' list; because once we get a new computer, it will be back up and running. And it'll be much more interesting, too. I'll have new pictures, a new title maybe, and new writing. So please hang in there until I can gain access to my blog once more from my own house. Thank you.
- Ellen

....

Mood: Jittery
Listening to: With you - Rain
Spazzing over: Novel I'm currently reading
Biggest fear: Running out of time

Shoot, my haircut is bugging me! >.<

2 Synopsis - A drop of beautiful insanity

Mood: Good
Listening to: Doesn't matta - Anybody Killa
Spazzing over: Party Thursday
Favorite pencil crayon: Turquoise

Prim traced Jake's abs lightly with her index finger. His skin was warm and smooth. And tanned. His eyes were closed and Prim leaned in to gently kiss his nose. He opened his eyes and gazed at her. That rare gaze that only takes place in the eyes of a man or women who lay their eyes on the one who fills their heart, their one true love. And Prim gazed the same way back at him. She leaned in again to kiss me tenderly on the lips. Her short hair fell forward and brushed his face. Then she turned away and sat up on the towel next to him. The beach was so beautiful at sunset. And better that they were the only ones there. She poked the inside of her mouth with her tongue and looked out over the dark water, reflecting the blazing half-sun. She rolled back onto Jake.
"Let's do something." She suggested.
"Like what? You wanted to come for a tan."
"I have all summer for a tan. Let's go swimming."
"I didn't bring a suit."
"We'll go skinnydipping. C'mon." She tugged at his left arm. But he didn't budge. He looked at her face for a while and then laughed. A low laugh, more of a cough.
"Y'know, Prim. You're insane. Beautifully insane, though. It's what makes me love you so much." He sat up and pushed her hair behind her shoulders and kissed her tightly on the lips. She smiled sweetly at him and he said, "You're like a drop of beautiful insanity to me. And I love it."
She smoothed his hair back with her hair and tugged at the strings on her bikini bottom.
And they swam the evening away until the moon was clear and round in the sky.

Photos..

Mood: Lively

Listening to: Birthday sex - Jeremiah

Spazzing over: Him

Recently visited: Me cottage

I'm about to leave the house right now, and I have nothing to write about, so here's a few photos for you that I meant to post earlier.

This is the Washedemoak Lake in the morning.

And here's a girl I sculpted out of beach clay because I was bored. I'm going to paint her when she dries. She'll be Japanese, with a kimono.

And this I randomly drew on the back of my homework earlier this year. I thought it was kinda nice. So I'm showing it.

Synopsis - Broken promises

Mood: Hungry

Listening to: I got a feeling - Black eyed peas

Spazzing over: My horrible haircut

Favorite movie: Mamma Mia

Hannah rushed into her bedroom and turned to lock the door. She rested her head against the thin wood and sighed. She moved slowly to the chair in front of her vanity and sat down. She looked at herself in the mirror and concentrated on sorting her feelings out. She sighed as she admitted feebly to herself it wasn't possible now and just stared at her reflection. She saw the woman in the mirror, confused and in need of a rescue. She looked at her face. She had fair skin, wrinkles were beginning to show at the edges of her mouth. And she had smile lines. And there were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. And then she looked at her hair, and at her clothes. She had once worn short silk dresses and shoes that were worthy to play around in. And her hair, it was turning gray so quickly. And it was all pinned up and hidden underneath a small silk blue hat. She took her little hat off and set it on the vanity. She began to take the pins out of her hair and she set them beside her hat, becoming more and more upset as she saw there were more pins than she had remembered putting in. She took the brush from inside the top drawer, and began to brush out her hair. It was still just as long as it always had been, down to her elbows. But now her hair had dented and stuck in places where it had been pinned up for so long and the ends and edges were all light gray. And suddenly Hannah burst into tears. She bent forward and covered her aging face with her hands. The room were quiet, as to emphasize the sound of her sobs. She looked up again at her reflection. For a moment, she had expected to see mascara streams down her face. But then she remembered she'd stopped wearing make-up years ago. Only clear, hot tears dripped from her chin. Where had the time gone? Why had her heart closed and shut out love, and she'd let her dearest John go many years ago, all because she'd so suddenly taken her wealthy life seriously and altogether stopped having fun. John could've been with her now. She could've been happy. But she'd let everything go, because she'd had so much money, and she'd finally started to take her money seriously. When really, she should've realized that wealthiness isn't the same thing as happiness.

Attention, bloggers.

I won't be posting for a few days, because I'm going up country.

Perhaps there I can get a few good photos.

I'll write later. Bye.

A single petal falls to the ground.

Mood: Lazy

Listening to: Gimme gimme gimme - Abba

Spazzing over: Harry Headbanger from Mamma Mia

Nearest CD: Sheryl Crow - C'mon c'mon

The post's title has nothing to do with the post, I just thought it sounded appealing.

Yesterday, I went over to watch MoBr's soccer game. Actually, I didn't exactly watch it, but what else am I supposed to say when I sit on the bleachers in front of her game while looking down and drawing in my sketch book. I meant to doodle, but ended up drawing two people on two different pages, and each one took a while to complete. Here's one, of a Korean schoolgirl, and then another of a young girl sitting in a garden, though the garden isn't visible. A large range of flowers is difficult to draw. Especially when you've got a massive headache because the sun is beating down on you and you're wearing a black hoodie.

Also, while I was there, I saw someone that was just in my class before summer ended the year and who I thought I'd never ever see again. Though I wasn't alone on the bench, I completely went crazy. But silently. Except a few people noticed that I was suddenly smiley and shakey. As long as I don't know them. But unfortunately, I don't think he recognized me, since I got my haircut two days ago and it's shorter than it's ever been before.

I'm making progress with my Korean, by the way. I can spell and pronounce a few Korean words now, but I've just come to Lesson 5 and it's something about Compound vowels with W. Whatever that means. It's so hard, this language. At least I know the English language is the hardest to learn, which makes me feel a lot better.

Voulez vous?

Picture this..

You're standing in the middle of a singing dancing crowd. There's people here and there. There's some sexy guys and sweet boys. You're not sure what to do and you look down at your clothes to find that they're gone, and in their place is a short turquoise dress, one with a pretty blue sash around your waist, tied in the back as a bow, and the skirt of the dress flows slightly away from your body. It's a strapless. Suddenly you feel more beautiful than you've ever felt before. Your hair falls out of it's usual ponytail and falls soft and long on your back and shoulders. You look back up into the colorful lights.
And then you realize you have no clue where the hell on earth you are. You don't know anyone at all around you, you've never seen the pretty dress your wearing now, as you notice some shiny white flats on your feet with a pointed toe. You know this isn't a dream, because you're sure the music would have awoken you. But it hasn't. Where are you? And what will your parents think when they can't find you? How will you get home?
You look at the crowd around you and you suddenly realize this whole time they've been doing a dance simultaneously all around you, as if to say to you to do something, that you're the star of the party and you're supposed to keep the whole place alive.
So, think about this for a minute, what would you do exactly?
So you're at this party and you don't know where or how late it is. You don't know where your bed is, where you laid down to sleep a few hours ago, or what your parents will think when you're not there. But instead of worrying, you decide bravely you'll live in the moment for the moment and you're going to be the star of the party, like your stranger partymates are cueing you to do.
You shout, "Voulez vous?" And the crowd cheers. You begin to dance like you've never danced before in the middle of the large circle the crowd has formed around you. You move your body this ways and that ways, up and down, right and left, grooving to the music. Some 70's song you recognize. Your hair flies around you like it never does, and you smile so happily as you never knew you could dance as you're doing so now. You bring your arms high above your head and you're on your tiptoes. Your legs and swinging in and out all over the place. Suddenly you know the words to the song and you sing loudest of all. Everyone joins in and now they're dancing the same dance you're showing to them now. Though you don't know what's happening or how you got here, you're having the best time of your life. And it's the most excitement you've ever had. It's such a good thing you didn't waist the best time of your life worrying and thinking over things that you'd never figure out, right?
Voulez vous?

Synopsis - Silk to you, the poor and crying

The other girls ran around the room shouting and laughing. If you could see such a scene as now, you'd think it was a time of happiness, especially with the smell of roast beef and the the window panes frosted. But then, if you saw at the end of the chamber room, that there was a girl with long brown hair sitting still and silent at the edge of her cot wearing an oversized floral dress, your emotion of heart would completely change.
Flague couldn't imagine herself acting as the others were now. All happy and excited. But for what, nothing. Ideal mommies and daddies didn't just show up at the door at Christmas to bring you into their arms. Flague knew that. She knew the truth; that no parents were looking for a withered-looking eleven year old girl. So all she could do was wait til the end of life. But she also knew, being the oldest and wisest girl in the chamber room, that the end of life was still far away. So so far away, it would take years to grasp it, she imagined.
Rob then came into the room, followed by Sister Monica. It was time for Christmas Eve dinner, Rob announced. He left the room abruptly, to tell the other chamber rooms, and he was followed by all the other girls. And Flague was left alone again. As she usually was. It had once been her plan to just stop eating anything altogether. That way, death would come soon enough. But starving yourself was harder than people made it look. Besides, the Sisters made her eat, after they discovered she wasn't at dinner, and then came to bring her to the dining hall.
So Flague decided she'd think things over before Sister Monica came for her. She didn't know exactly what to think over, but there was so much to be sorted out. Too much; she didn't know where to start. She had once dreamed of running away; becoming a clothing designer. She'd be inspired by the orphans hear at the wretched orphanage. If they did a good deed or they answered a question correctly, or if they were the first to dinner when they were called, they'd get a star. And if they got a star, they'd get one piece of newer clothing than they already had. Flague had worn ratty dresses her entire time here. It was no use trying to earn a star. She had tried. When she was five, she made a goal to get as much stars as possible, and when her new parents came for her, she'd have the nicest clothes in the orphanage. Maybe even with earrings, and a tie, and socks, and shiny black dress shoes. But nobody had gotten that far before. But it was true a boy in the east wing wore a white shirt with buttons and a tie. Everyone admired him. Even Rob and the Sisters. That had once been Flague's goal, but she'd stopped reaching for that goal a few weeks after she'd decided it so.
Flague once dreamed she could run away and create beautiful dresses and shoes and bracelets and then she'd sell them and be rich. Her most beautiful clothes of all, she'd donate to the children at her old orphanage anonymously. And she'd send some of her plentiful money there, too. But it just wasn't possible. Not now. Not for her.
This was her hell. She was forever damned here until she grew old. But it had taken too long already for her to grow; and yet she was still only young. She couldn't take any more of this. Perhaps one day she would run away and fulfil her dream. But that would be when she could find the courage to do so. And she knew that courage for a withered girl like herself was impossible to find. She was forever damned in her worst possible hell, with a million girls who were kind and befriending, yet she was still alone. If she couldn't even find courage to talk to anyone, then she was going to be here a long time.

Synopsis - A drop of beautiful insanity

Prim's face was white, chalky. Her breathing was heavy, choppy, her hair sprawled over her stiff face. A chill shot through her body and she shook underneath the thin blanket that only covered her lower back. She opened her eyes, and was startled by the light shining through the open windows. She shivered again and slowly sat up, the thin blanket falling from her to her bed. She walked dizzily and unsure to the window and slammed it shut. She turned to look at her room. The familiar turquoise walls, her messy bed in the corner with the giant heap of shirts and jeans on the end of it. An empty water bottle was on the floor behind the closet door. And then she noticed the empty desk. Something was different. She stood looking at it for a while and realized the lamp was gone. And then she remembered she had pushed it to the floor last night. Prim stepped forward and peered around the edge of the desk and there it was on the floor. The light bulb was broken, little white bits of glass shattered around like pieces of an egg shell in a garden. The pink plate that had been the lamp's balance base had a big chunk broken out of it now. And the shade's wire shaping was bent over the rim of the garbage can. Prim couldn't feel herself. Slowly, the entire night came back to her. She sighed heavily and her arms shook. She flipped the switch on the radio. Perhaps music would help make the day come back as normally as it would if last night hadn't happened. Prim shuffled her way across the bedroom to her varnished dresser. She stood and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes went wide.
That cannot be Prim, she thought.
Thick, wide streams of dried mascara ran down her eyes to her chin, and there were black smudges on her cheek bones and her neck and jaw. The blue eye shadow she had been wearing yesterday had also followed the mascara down her face. Her eyes were tired, purple bruise-like shadows were highly visible. She touched her cheek. It felt stiff, like she hadn't moved it for years. And it was white, papery. Fresh tears bubbled up in her eyes and blurred the vision of herself. She dare not blink for fear of her tears being released. But they slipped from her eyes anyway. The tears were hot on her cheeks. Her face scrunched and the dried mascara crinkled. She flopped back onto her bed and covered her face with an already mascara smudged pillow. Here she would waste away, remembering nothing but horrible things she'd never expected or wanted to happen.
An hour later the phone rang. She was home alone, she knew, because her mother had always been quick to grab the phone. Not today. It rang and rang and rang. Prim growled like she was an animal and pulled the pillow over her ears. It stopped. Finally. But then she heard another sound. A song. She recognized the tune. Iris, by the Goo goo dolls. Her heart skipped a beat. Her cell phone. Her hand frantically flew to her pocket and she began pulling at the lining, searching for her phone. Without looking at the name of who was calling, she pressed Talk and yelled, "Hello?!" Anything to stop that horrid song to stop playing. To her strong dismay, there was a soft voice on the line. A very familiar, heart-stopping voice.
"Prim? Prim. Please, I ask you, do not hang up. Whatever you do, do not hang up."
Prim didn't say anything. She kept her eyes on her left hand clutching her pillow. Her cell phone was pressed firmly to the side of her face. She looked up into the mirror at herself. What a mess. She considered whether she should hang up on him or not. She had never hung up on him before.
"I would rather talk to you in person. But I can't see you now. Not now."
She still did not answer. She didn't even bother to think of a reply. She waited.
"Prim, I-- It's just-- I don't know how to start. I'm not going to say forgive me, because I'm not asking for forgiveness or for you to feel bad for this wasted body and voice at the end of the line. Prim, I just to make myself clear. It's-- Prim? Are you even there? Prim? I'm sorry." His voice broke on 'sorry'. She felt a pang of sorrow for him, but that quickly vanished. How could he?

OCD.

Cleaning my room this afternoon, I found an old sketch book behind my writing desk. I opened to find on the first page, a little paragraph I had written a year ago.

"Again this morning I felt as if I were not attached to my legs. It scared me, just as before. So I made for my beloved bedroom kingdom and drew. After I ran out of sketch books and paper, I drew on the bedsheets, the walls, until my only pencil turned to nothing, and I sat on my pile of dirty laundry, trying to think; wondering what Mama meant when she spoke of me and a disorder. And then I began to draw on my body."

And I remembered writing it. I remember I was again pretending that it was a piece of a novel. The girl who is speaking in this piece is a girl in grade one, who has OCD; Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's hard to explain: look it up. So I thought it'd be a good novel, you know, to write about this little girl with the anxiety disorder OCD.
So now, I'm going to take a shot at creating another piece of the story.
Hm..

"Honey, please, use this pretty colored paint here. Why make your own of the same color?"
I looked at Ms. Hans' long fingernails as she held the little plastic cup out to me. I shook my head. But she didn't seem to see. So I told her, "That green is too dark."
I can't tell why, but Ms. Hans put it down, sighed, and threw her hands up in the air. And then she walked away. I pictured her fingernails flying off her fingers and then hitting some of us in the head. I shielded my head for protection, and didn't set down my guard until the last bell of the day finally rang. And then I rushed home, so Ms. Hans wouldn't tell me to paint any more paper.



This is something I made on Microsoft Paint because I was bored. Also that this is sort of what the cover of the sketch book that I found the paragraph in looks like.

Church bells.

It's only darkness, and you're numb and not feeling. But then little bits of life creep into your soul, tiny pieces of light, and sound, and music. And you open your eyes, to find the familiar room you fell asleep in the night before, only it's different now, light; sunshiny. The dark has been washed away. And when you sit up, you feel dizzy from sleep, but at the same time, you're ready to face a brand new day. But not just yet; there's something there, keeping you sitting there in the room. It's music. A mystical music. An unknown sound coming from a distance. You remember the sound from days of your childhood. Suddenly, you remember other summers when you'd wake up in this same room, only you were younger, and you remember running in this same place with your barefeet, the smell of the ancient farmhouse filling your head and leaving memory marks inside your heart.
You sit in the middle of the parlor floor, and look at your two companions, still asleep with their mouths hanging open, having no clue whatsoever of the mystical bells ringing from somewhere outside your summer domain.
You remember yourself as a little girl. You sat on your parents bed, listening to the mysterious sound of bells coming from somewhere unknown. You asked your father what the strange music was. When you were small, you were tranzed by such beautiful unknown musical beauty.
Now that you're grown, you know the sound. But still, it hasn't lost it's effect on you. It's the church bells from the small church up the dirt road. You remember playing the graveyard as a child, and never you knew that this place was where the mysterious morning sound came from.
But now you know. And you climb out of your sleeping bag, sit on the old by the window, and listen. Though you can't see the music nor the church, you can listen, while looking out at the place where you grew up during your summers. The place that you'll soon lose, the place you'll be too old and too frail to visit anymore. And so you breathe in the memories, the smell, the sound, and the childhood church bells, as much as possible, so you'll have a mental picture album to look through when this place is no longer a place you'll spend your summer.

Canaday Day.

I don't even know when Canada Day is.. but I'm going to edit a picture or something that has the Canada Day theme and then I'll put it as my blog's front page picture just for that one day. Actually, no, I might not, because then I'll be up at my cottage that day I think and I won't be able to change it. Anyway, it was a clever idea. I'm bored. I'm gonna go listen to 97.3.
Bye.

Synopsis - Summer and Lust

It's still raining outside, and I'm home alone and bored this evening, so I've decided to sit in the rocking chair by the living room window and watch and listen to the rain falling and pitter-pattering on the window pane to pass the time away, and also to clear my mind for a while. I was sitting with my chin in my palm when I noticed a bit of moving color moving along the road. I noticed it was a boy, in a gray hoodie, and jeans. It was you, I realized. With nothing better to think of, I wondered for a long time after you'd passed why on earth a guy like you would be wandering through the roads, aimlessly, it looked liked,soaked in the pouring rain. It's cold out too, is it not? Because it sure is cold in here. That reminds me to pull my housecoat tighter around my bare shoulders.

The next day I'm left all alone at home once again. Mother went out for groceries. I don't even know where my sister is. I think I'll take a shower, I've been feeling a bit grimy lately. It's raining again today, the fifth day in a row. Some sunshine would be nice now, though it's good to stay inside when it's raining, that way I don't feel guilty for being so lazy. When I was putting away the last few dishes in the kitchen this evening, a piece of color moving out the window caught the corner of my eye. I put down the dishes to go look, and it was you again. Walking by the same spot, the same side of the road, the same time of day, in the same weather. This time you were wearing a blue t-shirt. You know, you're going to give me a headache, since you've been making me do a lot of thinking lately. In the shower, all through my crowded brain, I could only think wonder. You know, I'd wonder about you, I'd wonder about me, and then I'd wonder about you again. And then again.

That's a strange synopsis. But whatever, I love to write. I think I'll go take a shower now.

Learning a new alphabet.. but with forty letters.

This is so hard and confusing, but I am so determined. Guess what, bloggers. I'm learning to read and write Korean. I'm not making fun of their race or anything, because I am (from my friends' view mostly) the complete opposite of racist. I am 100% against racism. But I can't explain why, I just love Korean people and their language and their culture. I even told one of my friends that I wanted to date a Korean boy. I find most of them attractive.. and I think it's so adorable when they can't speak fluid english. There's this one Korean boy who went to my school this year, his name was Light Han. I love him. I love his style, his glasses, his hair, and though he doesn't even know I exist, I asked him to sign my yearbook. He signed it in Korean writing, and then at the bottom, he wrote, Light. He doesn't talk much, so I like to compliment him on his artwork. I usually don't stereotype, but I think all Koreans are really good drawers. Maybe it's a big thing in Korea? Anyway, so there's this Korean family that I know and who are really good friends of my parents, and really good friends with my younger brother, the kids come over a lot. I could easily just ask one of them to read what Light wrote in my yearbook, but that'd be no fun. I want to figure it out for myself. And after I do, I'll still keep on with my Korean studies. And guess what else. Every night I eat with chopsticks instead of Canadian utensils. I love their culture. I wish I was a part of it. Anyway, toodles, I'll keep you bloggers posted and let you know how my studies are going.