This is intended for males of all ages, but can be targeted specifically at middle-aged men. Its purpose is to show that being romantic isn't something to be ashamed of.
Thursday February 26th, 2009
Listening idly to his friend's constant chatter, Fitzroy Beckett casually walked into Home Depot for a quick look around. His friend, Mitch Barrow followed him, his babbling never wavering even when Fitzroy would take a sharp turn. The two of them often joked about Fitzroy's mother being evil for naming her son something as ridiculous as "Fitzroy". They eventually started calling the Beckett "Fitz" or "Roy" instead of "Fitzroy". When asked about it, Mitch would usually answer it was because Fitzroy was such a stupid name, but in actuality it was because the two of them got tired of Fitz's long name.
Fitz sighed a little, rolling his shoulders as he walked all the way to the other side of the hardware store, casually dressed in black slacks and a red t-shirt under his gray winter coat. As the two of them neared the cashiers in front of the entrance to the rest of the mall, Fitz's eyes wandered over to a mother and her two children at a flower stand. The mother was sifting through the topmost flowers, which were a rich purple colour. Fitz paused in his long stride, remembering that his wife of ten years loved flowers.
Mitch slowed to a stop, standing directly behind Fitz as he continued to prattle on about insignificant things. Fitz tried to think of any sort of excuse to give his babbling friend about why he was buying a flower for his wife, but his brain came up empty. Of all of Mitch's and Fitz's friends, Fitz was the most masculine, the most stereotypical male of the entire group. Would buying a flower for his wife, for no reason whatsoever, degrade his manly visage? Mitch was his best friend, and the nerdiest of the bunch, so would he care?
Fitz only had a few more seconds to decide, given Mitch was still ranting on, but the other man would notice they weren't moving and question Fitz. The Beckett frowned a little, thinking back on his wife to help his decision. She was probably one of the greatest things that has ever happened in his life (except maybe sports and Mitch), never mind her rather irate temper and killer right punch. In fact, Fitz might actually be feeling it later tonight if he pushed enough buttons, given she called him a couple of hours ago complaining about a bad day. But when he imagined her reaction to getting that violet flower, Fitz felt a little tug at the corner of his lips.
Sucking in his gut and leaving Mitch standing in his dust, Fitzroy Beckett confidently made his way over to the pretty purple flowers at the top shelf of the display.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Missing Piece
This is intended for all ages, but can be narrowed down to children, teenagers, and young adults. Its purpose is to show that people who are complete opposites can still be friends.
Wednesday February 25th, 2009
She sat at the back of the bus, a simple HB pencil entwined in her fingers as she drew strokes of graphite on the blank page resting on her lap. The crinkles of concentration marring her forehead couldn't be seen past her dangling dark brown locks, tickling the tops of her knuckles as they swayed to and fro. Dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black hoodie, it wasn't hard to tell that Nilda Garcia was a girl of solitude. Many of the passengers entering the bus would avoid taking seats near her, opting to stand a fair distance from her frightening figure.
Nilda didn't seem to notice, so caught up in her latest masterpiece as she rotated from smudging to drawing gentle strokes along the paper. Socializing wasn't really her strongest forte, having been shunned for much of her childhood. Even when she had friends they weren't really friends because they were just playing with her, putting her down to make themselves feel better. She was weird, they would all think, what other excuse were you looking for?
Nilda hummed softly under her breath in thought as she gazed long and hard at the black and white drawing. Something was missing... only she couldn't put her finger on it. With a little shrug, Nilda fished into her pocket to bring out an inking pen, slowly replacing the sketchy pencil marks with a clear, solid black. It didn't take as long as actually drawing the picture, but even as Nilda pulled back to observe her drawing, she still couldn't escape the nagging feeling of something missing.
The bus slowly came to another stop, letting on a few more people before it continued on its predetermined route. One of the girls boarding the bus (probably of asian descent and dressed in light colours), gasped as she caught sight of the solitary girl with the drawing pad. With an excited, "Nilly?" escaping her mouth, the happy girl drew closer, her smile widening and her eyes sparkling as she confirmed the identity of the darkly dressed Nilda.
"Gwen?" Nilda asked, before surprisingly her mouth broke out into a beautiful smile. The other girl, Gwen, laughed slightly and made her way to the back of the bus, sitting beside her friend and hugging her briefly. They exchanged simple pleasantries, much like the ones often asked in small talks, only it didn't sound awkward at all. The small talk was quickly extinguished once Gwen noticed the drawing pad lying on Nilda's lap. A slow smile spread over Gwen's face as she pointed to the drawing.
"Can I see?" Gwen asked, to which Nilda replied with a shake of her head. Her face fell, obviously displaying disappointment. Nilda laughed a little.
"Maybe later, because I'm not done. It's missing something." The artist told her friend. Gwen asked if she could help in finding out what the missing thing was, only for Nilda to laugh again and smile secretly. "No, that's okay." she told her friend, looking at her with a twinkling eye. "I already figured out what it was."
Wednesday February 25th, 2009
She sat at the back of the bus, a simple HB pencil entwined in her fingers as she drew strokes of graphite on the blank page resting on her lap. The crinkles of concentration marring her forehead couldn't be seen past her dangling dark brown locks, tickling the tops of her knuckles as they swayed to and fro. Dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black hoodie, it wasn't hard to tell that Nilda Garcia was a girl of solitude. Many of the passengers entering the bus would avoid taking seats near her, opting to stand a fair distance from her frightening figure.
Nilda didn't seem to notice, so caught up in her latest masterpiece as she rotated from smudging to drawing gentle strokes along the paper. Socializing wasn't really her strongest forte, having been shunned for much of her childhood. Even when she had friends they weren't really friends because they were just playing with her, putting her down to make themselves feel better. She was weird, they would all think, what other excuse were you looking for?
Nilda hummed softly under her breath in thought as she gazed long and hard at the black and white drawing. Something was missing... only she couldn't put her finger on it. With a little shrug, Nilda fished into her pocket to bring out an inking pen, slowly replacing the sketchy pencil marks with a clear, solid black. It didn't take as long as actually drawing the picture, but even as Nilda pulled back to observe her drawing, she still couldn't escape the nagging feeling of something missing.
The bus slowly came to another stop, letting on a few more people before it continued on its predetermined route. One of the girls boarding the bus (probably of asian descent and dressed in light colours), gasped as she caught sight of the solitary girl with the drawing pad. With an excited, "Nilly?" escaping her mouth, the happy girl drew closer, her smile widening and her eyes sparkling as she confirmed the identity of the darkly dressed Nilda.
"Gwen?" Nilda asked, before surprisingly her mouth broke out into a beautiful smile. The other girl, Gwen, laughed slightly and made her way to the back of the bus, sitting beside her friend and hugging her briefly. They exchanged simple pleasantries, much like the ones often asked in small talks, only it didn't sound awkward at all. The small talk was quickly extinguished once Gwen noticed the drawing pad lying on Nilda's lap. A slow smile spread over Gwen's face as she pointed to the drawing.
"Can I see?" Gwen asked, to which Nilda replied with a shake of her head. Her face fell, obviously displaying disappointment. Nilda laughed a little.
"Maybe later, because I'm not done. It's missing something." The artist told her friend. Gwen asked if she could help in finding out what the missing thing was, only for Nilda to laugh again and smile secretly. "No, that's okay." she told her friend, looking at her with a twinkling eye. "I already figured out what it was."
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Peaceful Pot
This is directed to teenagers, but more specifically to ones having a bad day. It's purpose is to show them that no matter how bad things seem now, they'll always get better if you work hard enough.
Tuesday February 24th, 2009
The mall was crowded, as per usual with teenagers taking a break from the grueling six hours of school (seven, if you included lunch). Squeezed between a group of glamorous teenagers and her own scruffy clothed parents at a jewellery store was Signe Kim. Korean-born (on her father's side) and Chinese-born (on her mother's side), Signe was your average fifteen year old trying to get by high school and find herself all at the same time. Some might say she was too average, dressed in her faded blue jeans, converse, and black winter coat. Her ebony hair, soft to the touch, cascaded over half of her face, shielding the nonexistent flaws she believed to be there.
"What about this one?" Signe heard her mother say, tapping the glass counter she leaned on to point to a shining crystal necklace. They were out shopping for her older sister's birthday present, the sister that was so incredibly successful and the daughter that her parents were so fantastically proud of. Signe glanced quickly at it, her eyes immediately darting to the tiny price tag tied to the end of the necklace. A little growl rumbled through her throat, and she could only roll her eyes and look away.
"Yeah, sure whatever." She replied, eyeing the group of girls beside her. They were giggling and gossiping and just being... girls. Signe growled quietly again and looked down to the necklace in the glass case. It was being taken out by the saleslady behind the counter and transported to the cashier on the other side of the store. Her parents were already paying for the expensive piece of jewellery with the nonexistent money in their savings account and giving it to the daughter who could probably buy it herself.
Feeling her blood boil beneath the surface of her skin, Signe pushed past the group of glitzy girls to exit the store, silently steaming at the fountain outside. The water was rippling gently against the stones, small coins resting at the bottom of the water. With an angry huff Signe threw a penny through the reflection of her face, making the waves temporarily rough and unsteady.
As the moody teenager walked away from the stone fountain, joining her parents at the entrance of the jewellery store, she never saw the rough waters slowly calm again into gentle, soothing waves, much like she would never realize the bubbling anger of her teenage life would slowly melt away into a pot of peaceful adulthood.
Tuesday February 24th, 2009
The mall was crowded, as per usual with teenagers taking a break from the grueling six hours of school (seven, if you included lunch). Squeezed between a group of glamorous teenagers and her own scruffy clothed parents at a jewellery store was Signe Kim. Korean-born (on her father's side) and Chinese-born (on her mother's side), Signe was your average fifteen year old trying to get by high school and find herself all at the same time. Some might say she was too average, dressed in her faded blue jeans, converse, and black winter coat. Her ebony hair, soft to the touch, cascaded over half of her face, shielding the nonexistent flaws she believed to be there.
"What about this one?" Signe heard her mother say, tapping the glass counter she leaned on to point to a shining crystal necklace. They were out shopping for her older sister's birthday present, the sister that was so incredibly successful and the daughter that her parents were so fantastically proud of. Signe glanced quickly at it, her eyes immediately darting to the tiny price tag tied to the end of the necklace. A little growl rumbled through her throat, and she could only roll her eyes and look away.
"Yeah, sure whatever." She replied, eyeing the group of girls beside her. They were giggling and gossiping and just being... girls. Signe growled quietly again and looked down to the necklace in the glass case. It was being taken out by the saleslady behind the counter and transported to the cashier on the other side of the store. Her parents were already paying for the expensive piece of jewellery with the nonexistent money in their savings account and giving it to the daughter who could probably buy it herself.
Feeling her blood boil beneath the surface of her skin, Signe pushed past the group of glitzy girls to exit the store, silently steaming at the fountain outside. The water was rippling gently against the stones, small coins resting at the bottom of the water. With an angry huff Signe threw a penny through the reflection of her face, making the waves temporarily rough and unsteady.
As the moody teenager walked away from the stone fountain, joining her parents at the entrance of the jewellery store, she never saw the rough waters slowly calm again into gentle, soothing waves, much like she would never realize the bubbling anger of her teenage life would slowly melt away into a pot of peaceful adulthood.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Reality and Dreams
This is intended for young men or women in their twenties, or even thirties. Its purpose is to show them that not pursuing their dreams could lead to a life they aren't completely satisfied with.
Monday, February 23rd
Standing at the receptionist desk of his optometrist, George Chin was your average Chinese man. He just came out of his appointment with his optometrist and was ready to pay his bills. Adorned in a checkered dress shirt and black pants, he talked politely and quietly to the secretary about his next appointment. With a shy smile and an embarrassed laugh, it wasn't hard to tell that George Chin was humbly modest.
Dressed the way he was, it also wasn't hard to tell that he worked in a company; a very professional company. He had just started his job a few years ago and was slowly making his way up the company ladder, hoping for a position of high status. He wanted to make his parents proud, and usually the only way he could do that was to be successful in whatever he was doing.
But there was a little part of him that longed for something more. Sure, he had a good job with a nice salary and a respectable home, but his life was a bit... dull. He was always been bending over backwards to please everyone he's ever met, trying to show the world he was a hardworking citizen, and at first he was okay with that. Who would want to sacrifice a stable lifestyle for anything worse? But George wasn't so sure anymore. His passion laid in theatre; it had always been his dream to produce a play that was stun anyone who came to see it, but he knew the risks that came with his dream. And so George cast aside his fantasies to slave in a cubicle at his company and make his parents proud.
After receiving his credit card from the secretary, George checked his silver watch and cursed quietly under his breath. Grabbing the briefcase standing on the floor beside his leg, he thanked the secretary quickly and left the small optometrist office.
Dreams were just dreams, and reality was just... well, reality.
Monday, February 23rd
Standing at the receptionist desk of his optometrist, George Chin was your average Chinese man. He just came out of his appointment with his optometrist and was ready to pay his bills. Adorned in a checkered dress shirt and black pants, he talked politely and quietly to the secretary about his next appointment. With a shy smile and an embarrassed laugh, it wasn't hard to tell that George Chin was humbly modest.
Dressed the way he was, it also wasn't hard to tell that he worked in a company; a very professional company. He had just started his job a few years ago and was slowly making his way up the company ladder, hoping for a position of high status. He wanted to make his parents proud, and usually the only way he could do that was to be successful in whatever he was doing.
But there was a little part of him that longed for something more. Sure, he had a good job with a nice salary and a respectable home, but his life was a bit... dull. He was always been bending over backwards to please everyone he's ever met, trying to show the world he was a hardworking citizen, and at first he was okay with that. Who would want to sacrifice a stable lifestyle for anything worse? But George wasn't so sure anymore. His passion laid in theatre; it had always been his dream to produce a play that was stun anyone who came to see it, but he knew the risks that came with his dream. And so George cast aside his fantasies to slave in a cubicle at his company and make his parents proud.
After receiving his credit card from the secretary, George checked his silver watch and cursed quietly under his breath. Grabbing the briefcase standing on the floor beside his leg, he thanked the secretary quickly and left the small optometrist office.
Dreams were just dreams, and reality was just... well, reality.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Diary of a Porcelain Doll
February 19th, 2009
My phobia of four-sided things was never really resolved in my last few days before becoming a bride. I was incredibly frightened when on the day I moved out of my home, my idiotic servant shoved me into a rectangular box and closed the lid. I could hear her outside of the case, going about her daily duties and sniffling back tears when she remembered walking in on her husband and his cheating harlot. That was a very fun day, I have to admit.
But I was so very terrified and furious at the same time for being locked in a box again, and by my blubbering servant, no less. But my ferocity quickly disappeared when I heard his voice speaking. Oh, so smooth and velvety it could send shivers down my spine. Even now I am sighing as I recall the huskiness of his voice.
It wasn't long before I realized that this box was what he was using to transport me to my new home, as a safety precaution so I don't damage my breathtaking physique. I was so touched that he cared so deeply for me, so I gulped back my fears and waited patiently. The trip took a fair amount of time, with many bumps along the way, but I bit my lip and refused to cry out.
The lid of the box finally opened, and my eyes needed to adjust to the brightness before I clearly saw his face and... the face of another woman beside him. Taken back, I regret to say I could only watch in horror as the woman cried out excitedly and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. My heart was slowly tearing in half, bit by bit as I witnessed the heartfelt display of love between the two. In my mind, I couldn't help but cry out, "who is this other woman?!" only to realize that the other woman was me.
Irony at its best, I suppose.
After a few more heartfelt kisses that slowly managed to render my heart empty and cold, the woman picked me up in her hands with care, obviously knowing the fragility of my form. She carried me through the hallways, almost all the way to the other side of the house before turning into a room and flicking the lights on. I was astounded to see the rows and rows of porcelain dolls littering the shelves, realizing this was to be my fate for the rest of my life.
Many of them called out to me; some questioning, others teasing. I couldn't speak for a small while, having been so overcome by the appearance of so many of my kind.
The woman walked over to a spot on one of the shelves, delicately setting me down and smiling before she left the room. The lights flicked off, but the sunlight from the window still gave enough clarity for me to look at the doll sitting on my left. He was a boy, with handsome dark hair and glittering green eyes. I felt that same heated feeling sweep up to my cheeks, leaving a strange panging in my once-cold heart as he smiled at me.
"Hullo." He greeted with his strange accent. It left a breathlessness to my voice as I replied in turn,
"Hello."
February 18th, 2009
He came again. Stepped right through the front door with his blonde hair glowing in the early morning sun. My heart started fluttering again when he gave me a glance from the corner of his eye. They were a striking blue, almost piercing straight into my soul! I was quite embarrassed that morning, not having proper hold of my bearings until he brushed past the piano and into the kitchen. It was unfortunate that I lost sight of him for the moment, but it was ample time for me to regain my proper demeanour.
He emerged again from kitchen and this time stared straight at me. My heart skipped a beat more than once and I felt that familiar heat rise to my cheeks. He was still talking to my bug-eyed servant, and I was thankful that I was not so entranced by his sapphire orbs to miss out on his discussion. It was the best thing I've ever heard in my entire life sitting atop this mundane piano (as no one ever plays it anymore). I could barely stop the giddy feeling that raced through my body.
He was taking me away! Whisking me to his home, and undoubtedly scandalous a suggestion it was, I'm sure he will hold true to his honour and wed me fairly soon. Oh, it is so exciting! Finally, finally like my mother before me (though I strangely cannot remember her) I will don a dress of white. I will carry a bouquet of flowers and decorate my face even more beautifully than it is decorated now. I will have a maid of honour, and bridesmaids and be united with my husband-to-be under the eyes of God.
I will be a bride.
February 17th, 2009
Ah, the dawn of another morning. I find myself rising with the sun these days, as its blasted light shines on my delicate eyes through the clear windows. I suppose it was much better than that horrible dark place where I could hardly breathe. It was terrifying in there, so much so that I now have this strange irrational fear of four-sided things...
But that's all in the past now. The sunlight is my present and will hopefully remain my future. After all, who can see such glorious perfection if it is hidden away in that tenebrious black hole? Certainly not the striking young man my idiotic servant brought in just a little while ago. Of course, though handsome he is it came as a surprise to me when he actually noticed my high standing. I thought for sure he would merely pass by my perch on this blasted piano without a second thought, just like all the others before him. But he didn't.
And you wouldn't believe how my heart fluttered so when he turned to my harebrained servant and actually asked about me. It was the most exhilarating moment of my life! If my cheeks had never always been that wondrous rosy colour I am almost positive it would've begun to be from the way my face flushed.
So it was a mighty disappointment when after learning of my history he merely turned and breezed past me without another inquiry. I often wonder if this is how my servant would feel if she realized her husband was committing adultery with some blonde-haired bimbo. Like someone had reached inside of me and ripped my heart straight out from my chest. And when the worst of the pain faded, I could still feel the dull throbs of agony wracking my body.
The sunlight in the window began to turn into a hazy orange glow, and I suddenly couldn't wait for night to come.
February 16th, 2009
That asinine servant that has been bumbling around the room for weeks on end has finally decided to pay some attention to her master and rid me of that cumbersome dust settling on my otherwise flawless form. Now my beautiful effulgent green dress will be the envy of everyone who sees me. Splendid!
Now if only that idiotic servant would realize that atop the piano is not an easily accessible place for people to worship me. I may be the master of all who step into this humble abode, but I am not so haughty as to (literally) place myself higher than them. Although I must admit that blasted servant must not be so foolish as this spot so high up in the air has certain... advantages.
But she still is very foolish, not even realizing that her pathetic excuse for a husband has been cheating on her with some featherbrained harlot.
Why if he was my husband... well I probably shouldn't get into that. To be unmarried is a most embarrassing thing, especially at an age like mine. It is once again another display of foolishness from my foolish servant, seeing as all the prospective suitors cannot see me from such a height. All my beauty, gone to waste. Dreadful, it is. Absolutely dreadful. Any man would be lucky to have me. I'm beautiful, much more beautiful than any virgin that has stepped through these doors.
It confuses me, how all those less enchanting than I have already been united in holy matrimony. It often makes me wonder if my availability has anything to do with being too beautiful. But that's preposterous! No one can be too beautiful, especially not me. The seductiveness of my face and purity of my body has nothing to do with my current unmarried state.
Right?
My phobia of four-sided things was never really resolved in my last few days before becoming a bride. I was incredibly frightened when on the day I moved out of my home, my idiotic servant shoved me into a rectangular box and closed the lid. I could hear her outside of the case, going about her daily duties and sniffling back tears when she remembered walking in on her husband and his cheating harlot. That was a very fun day, I have to admit.
But I was so very terrified and furious at the same time for being locked in a box again, and by my blubbering servant, no less. But my ferocity quickly disappeared when I heard his voice speaking. Oh, so smooth and velvety it could send shivers down my spine. Even now I am sighing as I recall the huskiness of his voice.
It wasn't long before I realized that this box was what he was using to transport me to my new home, as a safety precaution so I don't damage my breathtaking physique. I was so touched that he cared so deeply for me, so I gulped back my fears and waited patiently. The trip took a fair amount of time, with many bumps along the way, but I bit my lip and refused to cry out.
The lid of the box finally opened, and my eyes needed to adjust to the brightness before I clearly saw his face and... the face of another woman beside him. Taken back, I regret to say I could only watch in horror as the woman cried out excitedly and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. My heart was slowly tearing in half, bit by bit as I witnessed the heartfelt display of love between the two. In my mind, I couldn't help but cry out, "who is this other woman?!" only to realize that the other woman was me.
Irony at its best, I suppose.
After a few more heartfelt kisses that slowly managed to render my heart empty and cold, the woman picked me up in her hands with care, obviously knowing the fragility of my form. She carried me through the hallways, almost all the way to the other side of the house before turning into a room and flicking the lights on. I was astounded to see the rows and rows of porcelain dolls littering the shelves, realizing this was to be my fate for the rest of my life.
Many of them called out to me; some questioning, others teasing. I couldn't speak for a small while, having been so overcome by the appearance of so many of my kind.
The woman walked over to a spot on one of the shelves, delicately setting me down and smiling before she left the room. The lights flicked off, but the sunlight from the window still gave enough clarity for me to look at the doll sitting on my left. He was a boy, with handsome dark hair and glittering green eyes. I felt that same heated feeling sweep up to my cheeks, leaving a strange panging in my once-cold heart as he smiled at me.
"Hullo." He greeted with his strange accent. It left a breathlessness to my voice as I replied in turn,
"Hello."
February 18th, 2009
He came again. Stepped right through the front door with his blonde hair glowing in the early morning sun. My heart started fluttering again when he gave me a glance from the corner of his eye. They were a striking blue, almost piercing straight into my soul! I was quite embarrassed that morning, not having proper hold of my bearings until he brushed past the piano and into the kitchen. It was unfortunate that I lost sight of him for the moment, but it was ample time for me to regain my proper demeanour.
He emerged again from kitchen and this time stared straight at me. My heart skipped a beat more than once and I felt that familiar heat rise to my cheeks. He was still talking to my bug-eyed servant, and I was thankful that I was not so entranced by his sapphire orbs to miss out on his discussion. It was the best thing I've ever heard in my entire life sitting atop this mundane piano (as no one ever plays it anymore). I could barely stop the giddy feeling that raced through my body.
He was taking me away! Whisking me to his home, and undoubtedly scandalous a suggestion it was, I'm sure he will hold true to his honour and wed me fairly soon. Oh, it is so exciting! Finally, finally like my mother before me (though I strangely cannot remember her) I will don a dress of white. I will carry a bouquet of flowers and decorate my face even more beautifully than it is decorated now. I will have a maid of honour, and bridesmaids and be united with my husband-to-be under the eyes of God.
I will be a bride.
February 17th, 2009
Ah, the dawn of another morning. I find myself rising with the sun these days, as its blasted light shines on my delicate eyes through the clear windows. I suppose it was much better than that horrible dark place where I could hardly breathe. It was terrifying in there, so much so that I now have this strange irrational fear of four-sided things...
But that's all in the past now. The sunlight is my present and will hopefully remain my future. After all, who can see such glorious perfection if it is hidden away in that tenebrious black hole? Certainly not the striking young man my idiotic servant brought in just a little while ago. Of course, though handsome he is it came as a surprise to me when he actually noticed my high standing. I thought for sure he would merely pass by my perch on this blasted piano without a second thought, just like all the others before him. But he didn't.
And you wouldn't believe how my heart fluttered so when he turned to my harebrained servant and actually asked about me. It was the most exhilarating moment of my life! If my cheeks had never always been that wondrous rosy colour I am almost positive it would've begun to be from the way my face flushed.
So it was a mighty disappointment when after learning of my history he merely turned and breezed past me without another inquiry. I often wonder if this is how my servant would feel if she realized her husband was committing adultery with some blonde-haired bimbo. Like someone had reached inside of me and ripped my heart straight out from my chest. And when the worst of the pain faded, I could still feel the dull throbs of agony wracking my body.
The sunlight in the window began to turn into a hazy orange glow, and I suddenly couldn't wait for night to come.
February 16th, 2009
That asinine servant that has been bumbling around the room for weeks on end has finally decided to pay some attention to her master and rid me of that cumbersome dust settling on my otherwise flawless form. Now my beautiful effulgent green dress will be the envy of everyone who sees me. Splendid!
Now if only that idiotic servant would realize that atop the piano is not an easily accessible place for people to worship me. I may be the master of all who step into this humble abode, but I am not so haughty as to (literally) place myself higher than them. Although I must admit that blasted servant must not be so foolish as this spot so high up in the air has certain... advantages.
But she still is very foolish, not even realizing that her pathetic excuse for a husband has been cheating on her with some featherbrained harlot.
Why if he was my husband... well I probably shouldn't get into that. To be unmarried is a most embarrassing thing, especially at an age like mine. It is once again another display of foolishness from my foolish servant, seeing as all the prospective suitors cannot see me from such a height. All my beauty, gone to waste. Dreadful, it is. Absolutely dreadful. Any man would be lucky to have me. I'm beautiful, much more beautiful than any virgin that has stepped through these doors.
It confuses me, how all those less enchanting than I have already been united in holy matrimony. It often makes me wonder if my availability has anything to do with being too beautiful. But that's preposterous! No one can be too beautiful, especially not me. The seductiveness of my face and purity of my body has nothing to do with my current unmarried state.
Right?
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Makeup
I was walking in the school hallways today, and passed by two girls crowded around a locker. There was a mirror on the inside and one of the girls was reapplying some makeup. I slowed down slightly as I passed by them to listen to their conversation.
Girl 1: Look! I just got this colour yesterday. (Finishes applying makeup and turns to other girl.)
Girl 2: Oh that is so cute! Can I try?
As I passed by them, the subject of makeup got me thinking. If I were to make an estimate based off of my own experiences with cosmetics, I'd have to say about ninety-eight percent of girls I see wear it. Its hard to tell nowadays, though, since some of the colours are nude shades that match your skin tone.
Although I don't usually wear makeup (maybe once or twice a month), there's one thing that is really beginning to irk me about it. Normally I don't care too much if you wear makeup, but if you wear too much then I start to get agitated. People seem to forget that cosmetics are used to enhance your natural facial features, not cover them up because you think they're ugly. I'm not Christian or Catholic, and I don't believe in any "higher power" (because I don't practice any sort of religion) but I do know that many people believe God created the earth, and all the things that inhabit it, including us. I also know that people believe everything God creates is perfect, so I wonder why so many people use makeup to attempt to mask their face.
If everything God created is perfect, is it not safe to say your face is perfect too?
Michelle
Girl 1: Look! I just got this colour yesterday. (Finishes applying makeup and turns to other girl.)
Girl 2: Oh that is so cute! Can I try?
As I passed by them, the subject of makeup got me thinking. If I were to make an estimate based off of my own experiences with cosmetics, I'd have to say about ninety-eight percent of girls I see wear it. Its hard to tell nowadays, though, since some of the colours are nude shades that match your skin tone.
Although I don't usually wear makeup (maybe once or twice a month), there's one thing that is really beginning to irk me about it. Normally I don't care too much if you wear makeup, but if you wear too much then I start to get agitated. People seem to forget that cosmetics are used to enhance your natural facial features, not cover them up because you think they're ugly. I'm not Christian or Catholic, and I don't believe in any "higher power" (because I don't practice any sort of religion) but I do know that many people believe God created the earth, and all the things that inhabit it, including us. I also know that people believe everything God creates is perfect, so I wonder why so many people use makeup to attempt to mask their face.
If everything God created is perfect, is it not safe to say your face is perfect too?
Michelle
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Inside Jokes
I was at the subway station earlier today and waiting for a friend of mine to show up when a group of teenagers gathers close by. I figure now is a good time to eavesdrop, so I shift a little closer and listen to the bizarre conversation they're having.
Guy 1: Don't even joke. I'd totally own you with my awesome bear strength.
Girl 1: Yeah? Well let's see if you can catch me first. And that's only if I don't use my awesome siren powers on you!
Guy 2: (to Girl 2) Oh god, not again.
Girl 2: Well that's what you get when you hang out with a bunch of role-players.
Girl 3: (squeezes in between Guy 2 and Girl 2 and motions to Guy 1 and Girl 1) I bet on the ceiling.
(All of them laugh.)
Needless to say, I didn't understand any of it. Who would? But with the way all of them reacted to Girl 3's comment, its pretty clear that the remark was an inside joke only known by the five of them. That made me think about inside jokes in general. I'm pretty sure that eavesdroppers listening in on an "inside joke" conversation will probably think those people are insane, or pretty close to it. But I'm sure that a lot of them don't realize they probably seem just as crazy when they start talking about inside jokes with their friends.
Then again, my group of friends are so random that sometimes I start to wonder if I'm missing out on an inside joke.
Michelle
Guy 1: Don't even joke. I'd totally own you with my awesome bear strength.
Girl 1: Yeah? Well let's see if you can catch me first. And that's only if I don't use my awesome siren powers on you!
Guy 2: (to Girl 2) Oh god, not again.
Girl 2: Well that's what you get when you hang out with a bunch of role-players.
Girl 3: (squeezes in between Guy 2 and Girl 2 and motions to Guy 1 and Girl 1) I bet on the ceiling.
(All of them laugh.)
Needless to say, I didn't understand any of it. Who would? But with the way all of them reacted to Girl 3's comment, its pretty clear that the remark was an inside joke only known by the five of them. That made me think about inside jokes in general. I'm pretty sure that eavesdroppers listening in on an "inside joke" conversation will probably think those people are insane, or pretty close to it. But I'm sure that a lot of them don't realize they probably seem just as crazy when they start talking about inside jokes with their friends.
Then again, my group of friends are so random that sometimes I start to wonder if I'm missing out on an inside joke.
Michelle
You Are What You Eat
On Sunday I was in the Eaton Centre with a couple of friends, and we were in the food court on the first level. My friends wanted something to eat, but I wasn't hungry because I ate before we left. So I sat down at a table and waited for my friends to come back, and while I waited I heard a lot of people talking all at once. It was only then that I remembered the assignment I was supposed to do, and quickly tuned in to some of the conversations around me. Most of them were pretty boring and didn't inspire any thoughts at all, until I heard these two girls talking to each other about what they wanted to eat.
Girl 1: Pizza?
Girl 2: I had that last time. Let's get McDonald's!
Girl 1: Okay. I've been craving one of their burgers anyways.
Now I've indulged in the random fast food every now and then, but not often because my mom raised me to be this health freak that shouldn't eat a lot of oily and greasy foods. Of course that's not a bad thing, rather it's a really good thing! And I started to wonder about that one quote I hear every now and then (because lets face it people, what average person tells quotes constantly?) "You are what you eat."
Considering McDonald's is the most successful fast food business in the entire world, obviously everyone knows about that film "Supersize Me". I, myself, haven't watched it, but I know what its about. And we all know that most fast food restaurants have a lot of oil and grease in their foods, but my question is why do we still eat it? Why do we still eat all these foods that are bad for us and that we know are bad for us?
I think about this observation every now and then, and I can draw up a few answers that might suffice, but for the most part I'm drawing a complete blank. What about you?
Michelle
Girl 1: Pizza?
Girl 2: I had that last time. Let's get McDonald's!
Girl 1: Okay. I've been craving one of their burgers anyways.
Now I've indulged in the random fast food every now and then, but not often because my mom raised me to be this health freak that shouldn't eat a lot of oily and greasy foods. Of course that's not a bad thing, rather it's a really good thing! And I started to wonder about that one quote I hear every now and then (because lets face it people, what average person tells quotes constantly?) "You are what you eat."
Considering McDonald's is the most successful fast food business in the entire world, obviously everyone knows about that film "Supersize Me". I, myself, haven't watched it, but I know what its about. And we all know that most fast food restaurants have a lot of oil and grease in their foods, but my question is why do we still eat it? Why do we still eat all these foods that are bad for us and that we know are bad for us?
I think about this observation every now and then, and I can draw up a few answers that might suffice, but for the most part I'm drawing a complete blank. What about you?
Michelle
Monday, February 9, 2009
Crazy Fandoms...
So I was walking one day in the mall behind these two girls, and there was also another girl walking behind me, who probably was a complete stranger to the two of them. I was listening to their conversation about Twilight, which went something like this:
Girl 1: (cheering) Team Edward!
Girl 2: (in retaliation) Team Jacob!
And the girl behind me suddenly bursts out, "Team Emmett!" to which the previous two girls turns around with disgusted faces and remark, "Ew." That prompted this current blog. (It totally wasn't because blogging is homework and I'll fail if I don't do it...)
Now, I'm not a big fan of Twilight, even though I've read all four books. I think it had a good storyline, even though the plot did seem very fairytale-like. And I'm a horrible judge of "poor writing" unless its totally and completely obvious, so I can't relate to people who have read the book and think its a blasphemy to everything related to writing in general. But I have been given a taste of the insane fandom that the Twilight series has been granted with (who hasn't?), and I just have one thing to say.
You are all crazy.
(And now I will proceed to dodge various flaming instruments of torture thrown at my head.)
I would have worded that a bit more derogatorily (in a comment relating to your life, or lack thereof), but considering this is a school blog I'll just go with that.
To all those who are probably holding a grudge towards me right now, please remember that I, like you, am also a fan of the Twilight series. But unlike many of you "Twilighters" (for those who don't know, the official name of fans of Twilight) I don't go around putting down every single person whose likes/dislikes of Twilight clash with mine. That's also not to say that the non-Twilight fans have any of my sympathy either. If you haven't even read the book, please don't bother ranting about it in my face. And just a note of advice; complaining about how much you hate the book, or putting down any Twilighters simply because you don't like the fanbase doesn't exactly put you above those very same Twilighters.
Which brings me to my observation of the day (or Saturday) all summed up into one, nice, neat little question.
Ever heard of something called respect?
I mean seriously, I think the word has become nonexistent in my age group, and the age groups below me. They should just take it out of the dictionary! Now, I'm pretty sure my blog doesn't seem very "respectful" to a bunch of you, but if you haven't noticed, it seems like this is the only thing that'll really get your attention. If I preach on and on about respect, I'm pretty sure the majority of you will tune me out completely. Actually, I'm fairly sure most of the guys reading this blog will have moved on once "Twilight" was first mentioned. And if I'm proven wrong, I will be a very happy camper. But this observation I'm making is mostly for the girls, because thats where I'm seeing most of the animosity in the Twilight fandom, and it upsets me. I'm afraid to speak up about it anymore because I'm worried of all the abuse I'll get. (So please remember, for those who actually have the patience to read my entire blog so far, that I'm taking a big risk for myself right now.) I mean, sure it's nice to have debates about things we don't agree on, but when both parties leave the discussion with a thought similar to, "I hate anyone who doesn't agree with me," it starts to become childish, and even a little scary. Why can't you all just agree to disagree?
But that's just the ramblings of a sixteen-year old girl who all of you hardly even know. Feel free to disagree or agree with me in your comment. I will happily take your point of view into mind.
Michelle
Girl 1: (cheering) Team Edward!
Girl 2: (in retaliation) Team Jacob!
And the girl behind me suddenly bursts out, "Team Emmett!" to which the previous two girls turns around with disgusted faces and remark, "Ew." That prompted this current blog. (It totally wasn't because blogging is homework and I'll fail if I don't do it...)
Now, I'm not a big fan of Twilight, even though I've read all four books. I think it had a good storyline, even though the plot did seem very fairytale-like. And I'm a horrible judge of "poor writing" unless its totally and completely obvious, so I can't relate to people who have read the book and think its a blasphemy to everything related to writing in general. But I have been given a taste of the insane fandom that the Twilight series has been granted with (who hasn't?), and I just have one thing to say.
You are all crazy.
(And now I will proceed to dodge various flaming instruments of torture thrown at my head.)
I would have worded that a bit more derogatorily (in a comment relating to your life, or lack thereof), but considering this is a school blog I'll just go with that.
To all those who are probably holding a grudge towards me right now, please remember that I, like you, am also a fan of the Twilight series. But unlike many of you "Twilighters" (for those who don't know, the official name of fans of Twilight) I don't go around putting down every single person whose likes/dislikes of Twilight clash with mine. That's also not to say that the non-Twilight fans have any of my sympathy either. If you haven't even read the book, please don't bother ranting about it in my face. And just a note of advice; complaining about how much you hate the book, or putting down any Twilighters simply because you don't like the fanbase doesn't exactly put you above those very same Twilighters.
Which brings me to my observation of the day (or Saturday) all summed up into one, nice, neat little question.
Ever heard of something called respect?
I mean seriously, I think the word has become nonexistent in my age group, and the age groups below me. They should just take it out of the dictionary! Now, I'm pretty sure my blog doesn't seem very "respectful" to a bunch of you, but if you haven't noticed, it seems like this is the only thing that'll really get your attention. If I preach on and on about respect, I'm pretty sure the majority of you will tune me out completely. Actually, I'm fairly sure most of the guys reading this blog will have moved on once "Twilight" was first mentioned. And if I'm proven wrong, I will be a very happy camper. But this observation I'm making is mostly for the girls, because thats where I'm seeing most of the animosity in the Twilight fandom, and it upsets me. I'm afraid to speak up about it anymore because I'm worried of all the abuse I'll get. (So please remember, for those who actually have the patience to read my entire blog so far, that I'm taking a big risk for myself right now.) I mean, sure it's nice to have debates about things we don't agree on, but when both parties leave the discussion with a thought similar to, "I hate anyone who doesn't agree with me," it starts to become childish, and even a little scary. Why can't you all just agree to disagree?
But that's just the ramblings of a sixteen-year old girl who all of you hardly even know. Feel free to disagree or agree with me in your comment. I will happily take your point of view into mind.
Michelle
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
