The Ducks, Where Do They Go?

The man that I saw that day, I could only see one eye. It's not that he only had one eye because the piercing stare he was giving me - well, usually you'd need about fifty eyes. No, it was the dark tint in his glasses mixed with the sun going to another place.

Mother's Day.

A lot of people celebrate this holiday and a lot of people also celebrate birthdays.

After years of wondering, I found a site which was very helpful in determining the pattern to which years Mother's Day falls on my birthday which is May 12th. I have been wanting to know this ever since I turned eight-years-old, it was a great day (I think), mother bought me a Rugrats card (bright yellow) with $100.00 waiting inside, but she couldn't stay long, it was her first day at a new job (I know! The one day where two holidays require her to be here for me and stay at home for herself, she leaves. Darn trooper.)

Anyway, I have worked out only from the year 1908. The pattern is every eleventh year, six year, fifth year, sixth year and repeat. Next is 2013.

All the years are 1912, 1918, 1929, 1935, 1940, 1946, 1957, 1963, 1968, 1974, 1985, 1991, 1996, 2002 and 2013.

2013 would be something exciting to look forward to since it is the first time after all these years that I am finally having the holidays coincide, but I stopped celebrating birthdays and any holidays. So...

... yeah.

Art.

"You can judge a man by the quality of his enemies." I posted the artworks on Facebook, but I'd like to get them to a broader audience (i.e. anyone who will look). So bare with me.

These two scribbles (you can probably guess the original artist) were a result of not being able to sleep. I immediately got out of bed and these two were created. It's definitely a far stretch from what I was doing. 

This was initially meant to be a self-portrait to be entered in an Art Competition, unfortunately I didn't win, but they made it clear it wasn't a lack of talent. It was a majority of the previous winners all rooted from our school, they wanted to give other people a chance. Damn.

This is also a self-portrait (charcoal) and I also entered it into the Art Competition as above. 

This, again, was entered in to the art competition. I drew this by looking at a photograph of a Shakespeare critic and most people are amused by his facial expression, but trust me, this is the face he was pulling. If I find the original photograph (which was an art piece by itself) I shall add it. 

This was after I drew the first two ladies, I was originally going to draw a unicorn but I decided a horse with stegosaurus hump things is much more amusing. 

The first set of drawings and the last a mere scribbles. The three in between were done quite a fare time ago and I prefer to say that they are not my preferred style when it comes to human depiction. 

Scum.

You know what is pathetic? Truly pathetic?

Someone complaining about when a website updates itself. The prime example here is, of course, Facebook's Timeline. Regardless of if you like it or hate it. Why would you complain about something you can't change, yes, we can complain about the weather (also something that we can't change), but we can go inside. This means, to all those people who spend their entire lives (it definitely seems that way) on Facebook which in result fuels the company itself and supports updates and changes, then complains about it on the site you're complaining about. Are you retarded? Get off Facebook then. I am sick of having to hide people, delete friends over the amount of trivial shit you people complain about.

There is only one person who I love it when she complains about everything, I don't mind it at all and that's me. I tend to complain a lot (this is what I am doing here, I know, hypocrite! Sue me!), but notice how I haven't complained about Facebook's update and I haven't even complained about Blogger's update.

You people, if you're that upset about it, why don't you make a thirty minute video and plan to revolt. Make posters and stick them up, try to get Mark arrested, I don't know, like a photo on Facebook in your anger because we all know how liking photos gets people saved and makes hardcore changes around the world.

People these days, unfortunately killing is illegal.

No, no, no.

"You hated me before and we became friends."

Have I lost you forever?

...

I've got no claim on you now. Every figment makes a whole in the end. Does each piece grow until it boils over the surface of reality? Then, we continue once more with a fresh plate or does each figment stay as is and plus together adding over time to make that complete. This complete whole is our final state of sanity or insanity.

What is going on?

I'm No Baby, Papa.

I need to fix myself up, I need to clean myself out. I need to burn myself and sanitize myself until my brain is crying for freedom.

I need to feel the sting of cleanliness, the calm of bandages, the soothing power of a short-lived kiss... I need to feel.

I want to feel the wind, the storm, the rain on my head. I need to feel the caffeine infecting my blood stream, the ache of muscles after running.

To be continued...

I want to feel.

Something.