Newfound respect for Katy Perry

I like Katy Perry, but I kind of went...eh with her. As in, "Oh she has a new song..okay" and then I go off and do something more important. I listened to the song and I liked it. I wasn't crazy about it either. However, the video that accompanied this song made me like the song more. I didn't expect her to create a video like this really. For some reason, I just didn't think she was the type who would make a video that would...make me cry. Yes, I cried. I am a very emotion person and I only cry when I find something really beautiful. (I'm such a dork. Ah, well.)

When the man kissed the man he loves in the club...when the little boy with cancer was watching the woman give birth and his eyes were sparkling...my goodness. There is a lot of things I loved about this video. Her voice fit with the uplifting mood of her song. It echoes perfectly...along with the sparks of fireworks that appeared from everyone. The part with the magician getting mugged...ah..got me. She got me.

Hydrangea annabelle

These flowers surround my home in Jersey. My family loves these flowers and I do as well. It is a plant that survives beautifully during winter with it's brown leaves. During summer "eternal summer" is what it is called, its petals are a bright white. However, with Hydrangea, their petals differ depending on the soil it is in. The majority of the Hydrangeas around my house are white, but we do have some light violet and blue. This is a painting I made during my Surface Research class and the assignment was to take many photos of an object. Then we had to arrange it in a collage type manner and paint it. It is a 22x30 piece of paper and the medium is acrylic. I had fun creating this since the Hydrangea petals are small and in order to make them I had to do a fast curl. I'm really proud of this since I haven't been feeling so great lately. I feel way better now thanks to this.

This is the original Hydrangea flowers my mother put inside a pot inside. The flowers are dead by the way. When dying they turn green and then brown.

Vanessa Beecroft

Peep toe pumps, undergarments, snakeskin pantyhose and the au naturel are but, the thin surface of Vanessa Beecroft and her work. What she creates is both elaborate and extravagant, but that is the now for the Italian Performance Artist Vanessa Beecroft. This is the before. Born in Genoa, Italy, Vanessa Beecroft attended two near by art institutions. One of them was Civico Liceo Artistico Nicolo’ Barabino from 1983 to 1987 for ‘Architettura’ which translates to ‘Architecture’. The other was Accademia Ligustica Di Belle Arti from 1987-1988 for ‘Pittura’, which translates to ‘Painting’. Then during the year of 1988 to 1993 she attended a third art institution called Accademia Di Belle Arti Di Brera in city north of Genoa, Milan, Italy, for ‘Scenografia’, which translates to ‘The Art of Perspective’. Vanessa Beecroft is still performing to this day and her most recent work was in 2010. She has completed about 66 pieces of performance work.

It all started in 1993 where she officially embarked on her journey into the art world. Her first show was in Milan, Italy where she exhibited her diary, “Despair,” that she kept writing in everyday from 1987-1993. She felt that her diary was too distant and lacked, so she added thirty girls she pulled off the street for the exhibition opening. They were dressed in Vanessa Beecroft’s personal wardrobe. The thirty girls wore mostly red, yellow, pink and orange clothing accented with high-heeled shoes. They were told to walk around the gallery space around her book.

Her books contained her emotional impulses and anxiety on the food that she had to deal with everyday. An interesting fact about her diary was that its original use was intended for her to get help and get over her bulimic tendencies. During this exhibition she discovers her style that is somewhat cinematic where her work on stage is separate from the area containing the audience. She wants subtle and detached, so that the audience can reflect their own personality and impulses. In this work, the audience is not compelled to participate in her performance artwork, but to only be aware and participate emotionally.

Another important performance was a performance in 2007 called “Vb61 Still Death! Darfur. Still Deaf?” She first showed it in Venice, Italy. What she did in this work was that she painted thirty Sudanese women. However, the way they were arranged lying face down on the gigantic canvas made it look like they were dead. The paint used was red too. She made splatters and drips around the thirty naked Sudanese women. This performance represents the ongoing horrible massacres in Africa, particularly the genocide happening in the Darfur area of Sudan. The graphic nature represented in “Vb61” is also a statement about the public’s somewhat indifferent ways due to the spread of violence in the media.

She was able to have exhibitions around the world like France, England, Japan, America and other places. For instance, her piece called “Vb7” was shown at the Andrea Rosen Gallery in Long Island City, New York. She is very popular and name brands like Louis Vuitton, Prada and Tom Ford. She married to a Sociologist named Greg Durkin and she has two sons. Her performances are existential encounters between models and the audience. She has a fond of using a large amount of people in her work and they are usually naked. However, they aren’t always naked. Sometimes they can have only shoes on or only shirts on or they can have a wig. What she dresses her models in varies. She calls her hired models her “army” and she is positioned as their commander and they follow her set rules, which represents political, historical and or social aspects.

Vanessa Beecroft has received a lot of attention and has caused some controversy. People say her work is just voyeurism and nothing more. One unknown skeptical art critique was quoted saying her work is a “Hooters for intellectuals.” However in her defense, Leonardo Dicaprio said her work was “dope” in 1994 and a prominent art historian said that her work was “the best thing since Gilbert and George performed ‘The Singing Sculpture’ at Sonnabend Gallery.” It is Feminism vs. Exploitation. The feminism view is that Beecroft is showing the beautiful entity that cannot be touched and evokes the need for something to happen within the male and female audience. The Exploitation view sees how she makes her models stand in one place in high heels for three hours.

More controversy arises when she goes to Sudan and tries to adopt malnourished Sudanese twin babies. She wished to use them in her work and she did creating a “Virgin Mary” type scene with her breastfeeding the twins. It was called “The Art Star and the Sudanese Twins.” That enraged many people and a lot of people saw the photo as derogatory.

She received a similar reaction when she created a “Last Supper” type scene with her work “Vb65.” On a twelve-meter table for three hours, twenty-four African immigrant men, some dressed and some half dressed, ate a chicken dinner slowly without cutlery. Of course, the work she made was to represent something else and she did not think people would take it in a negative way. She wished to express the way people see the African race as savage. For the photo with her and the Sudanese twin babies she wanted to tell people to help those in need like the malnourished twins.

Vanessa Beecroft was quoted saying something along the context that she feels freer to perform in Italy. That is where she performed the “Vb65” piece in 2009. It was like somehow she knew, she had a gut feeling, that society would probably attack her like when she created “The Art Star and the Sudanese Twins” around the same time she made “Vb61 Still Death! Darfur. Still Deaf?”

I can understand her feeling and why she would perform in her comfortable zone in Italy. The way Vanessa Beecroft expresses herself in her creative works is that she creates and then steps back from her work. She wants her audience to create and interpret for themselves like a true performance artist. A performance artist doesn’t hand out the facts plain as day on a silver platter. They go about their own concept in a roundabout way symbolically. Vanessa Beecroft wants to create an intimate feeling between her models in her own fantasy world and the audience who watches them during the three hours of their exhibition. Their vulnerability and unapproachable aura, I bet makes the audience understand what she wants them to see. I believe this. I believe she does not want people just to see, “Oh, they are naked and wearing shoes.” I think her work takes time to understand and can be understood more in person. 

from here (poetry)

"from here"

leaves and hats tumble on the pavement

swept up by the howl of wind,

loud whispers reach the ears of ghosts who are too preoccupied to mind,

trees shake to mother's rhythm and

shower travelers with their blessings while embracing the folded hands of those still.

and
from here

memories dissolve on the surface of tongues.

minty, sweet, then bland.

eventful, then...

why am I here?

I do not know why

or remember

obnoxious blaring thump-thump beats through tiny cracks and missing windows, 

sneakers who converse together in another world,

waiting for numbered metal to roll closer to merge with the horde,

nor the wad of gum on the bench they are sitting in

and

from here

sitting, they stay.

Forgotten, but we will meet again.

-Yanni Rabor

A poem I wrote.

Dr. Dioscoro S. Rabor

It is kind of creep by how someone basically...stalked by family, but my Grandfather is an important man to the environment in the Philippines. He is the "Father of Philippine Wildlife" or " Father of Philippine Conservation." He was a world renown scientist (Ornithologist and a Mammalogist) and a professor at Silliman University at Dumaguete City. Then he transferred to the Mindanao State University. Then in the mid 70s he went to the University of the Philippines at Los Banos, Laguna. One thing I am sad about is being born in this generation. All of my older siblings were able to talk with my Grandfather and me...being the youngest among the first 11 grandchildren...was unable to meet him. Well, I was able to meet him, but he was old already and he wasn't well.

Anyway, he makes me want to do my best and succeed since he was a very educational and strict man. My entire family and my Grandfather are my biggest influences in all that I do really. When I feel down, I remember by family. Enough said.

I am happy someone uploaded his picture online. :D

Strangers. Performance art project and a stop motion too.

I wonder what strangers will think of a stranger's photo. My photo.

I wonder this when I pass my notebook and pen to my friend as she enters her classroom. I leave with my face hidden under a hood. They do not know. No, no they do not know me. And yet, I am allowing them to write as me. They will write about me and try to embody my mind. The good, the bad and anything else they want can happen to me.

The plot, the situation at hand...everything is in strangers hands.

I wonder if I look nice and friendly. I wonder if I look weird. I wonder if I look weak. Strong. Stupid. Intelligent.

I could rob a bank with their words and it would be so.

I am excited though. I am excited about the whole situation I placed myself in. This is the first step of my Performance art project. Today is the starting day. I will place myself at the mercy of an unknown group of people. I hope it goes well.

On another topic: Here is a stop motion animation group assignment of mine. First time, so it is not perfect. I still enjoyed it though even though it got annoying. The stupid thing wouldn't stay on the wall and behave.

One hectic convention (loved it)

Perfect.

The guy who posed here chose the perfect costume to wear that day.

Ghost...I really miss playing video games with my cousins. They were the ones who got me hooked on Call of Duty and I thank them for it. They also dislike how I can kill them from freakishly long distances.

No one knows who this man is, but I do. I will keep it that way since "they" might be watching. "They" as in the people who start liking a show and then ruin it by doing something embarrassing that hurts my pride.

I don't know who this guy is supposed to be. He was passing people cards though.

Ah, two singing synthesizer applications. How lovely.

Sakura and...crap, I forgot his name. It starts with an S. I never finished this anime, but I plan to...someday when the workload lightens.

Aw, Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Mars. I wonder if people still remember this show from back in the day. It used to play all the time on Cartoon Network.

The show was called Sailor Moon. It is one old anime, but not as old as Astro Boy or Voltez V. My older cousins used to watch it in the Philippines when they were very young.

A character from another show I like.

And more characters.

and more...

Yea, him too even though I never got into the show because, it is over 400 episodes. I don't think I will ever reach it even if I tried.

I wish I knew what he was.

Oh, Tim Burton, I will forever love your work. :D

I only know one of them from a show I watch. The one on the right...Medusa.

And the Toki Doki creator was there, but you had to get a ticket in order to see him.

Wish I knew what this man was, but I bet he was hot. It was very hot in the convention and with hundreds of body heat destroying the cool air, the environment was perfect.

They look familiar, but I can't recognize them. I am frustrated.

HULK.

Naruto pajama person, Akatsuki and Fullmetal Alchemist people.

Uh...I don't know who he is, but he looked interesting.

He was really tall...and I didn't know who he was. The artist gallery behind him was lovely. Many artists by name were listed and we tried to see everyone (and of course their art pieces).

Hayao Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke. I will always love that movie.

Ah, they look familiar again, but nothing is clicking. They looked cool though. Those are dolls, not kids. I was scared when I saw them for a second because, they were carrying their kid oddly. I was fearful they might fall...however, they were dolls. People did bring their kids though. I felt bad for them since they might be uncomfortable due to the thousands of people there.

NE-YO was there! I was so shocked. He had a tendency of looking down. It was also difficult to see him through the cameras and such.

He has a comic! Whoever drew him captured him well. I wonder who the artist is. I shall look into it soon.

My friend who went with me to the convention ran and snapped this as fast as she could. Ne-Yo was trying to avoid the crowd. While this happened I was in line for our lunch. Expensive lunch...they are money grubbing.

The guy looks so familiar...

On an ending note.

Writing in defense for people who stare.

Staring is one example of a pet peeve that many people have. 

Imagine yourself eating and talking to your friends at a public eating facility, let it be Five Guys or Cold Stone Creamery (whatever your heart desires), when this person walks past you drilling holes into your forehead. The stinging pain of the nail catches your attention and your eyes see this person staring at you. You take in their facial expression and it seems as if they have seen a three headed human. 

Your reaction?

You can respond in a extremely negative fashion. "What are you looking at?" Falcon punch.

You can respond in a calmer negative fashion without jail time. Look up and raise your eyebrow. Give them a glare and see what happens. 

Of course you can ignore them. Ignoring is good sometimes. You don't know this person looking at you. You don't owe them anything and your mother did not born (ha) you into the world to be hurt by some random human staring at you (like you have three heads). Who knows? They probably know you from somewhere.

That's probably it. They recognize you or they think they do. 

My advise is this. Ignore them and think positively. Maybe the person staring at you was stunned by your overwhelmingly, joint-stiffening beautiful (or handsome) features. Your eyes could be as blue as the bluest ocean or as dark as the darkest night in Antarctica. The Gods and Goddesses could have personally weaved every single strand of hair on your head. Cupid pierced their heart and you were in their line of sight. Wrong time. You were just a victim of wrong timing. 

Yes. Think that way because, you are an amazing person and don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

To be honest, this confidence boost of a blog is partially aimed at myself. I hate people who stare. It is rude.

I am only defending people who stare right now because, my mother does it with no shame. She has no shame. At times, she is embarrassing and at times she is hilarious:

"Hey, Mom, did you-....Mom? Mom? Mom?"

"......Huh, what Yan? Did you see that?"

If only I can record my mother whenever she is shocked by something. I love my mother.

Patiently Waiting ~An Original Story by me, myself and I~

Celestial diamonds sparked over her eyes that dawn and every single dawn that came before it. Even when she departs from the dark room the stars still remain in her eyes. Even when my light appears and she disappears those stars shine brightly in my memory. The nights where I can see her eyes are my favorite. Eyes can express emotion and seeing her live makes me content for the time being. Her eyes are black as the darkest depths of the oceans that I can see into. Not to toot my own horn, but I can see pretty deep into the ocean. I can see those fishes with lights. They are called angler fish if my memory serves me right.

Yes, those nights are the best because, everything else I see is how should I say, boring? Not that I am insulting the back of her head, her right shoulder, left foot, right elbow, knee or her right ear. No, I have no desire to offend her,

However, it is all I can see every day until our perfect day arrives. I can only see them one at a time too. How should I say, um...it sucks.

I shouldn't ever complain and yet, I can't help myself. I learned it a while ago and now it is incorporated into my personality. I should be thankful I see her at all since there are days where I can't. Those are the worst days of my life. 

 The only thing I am able to conclude by looking at these specific body parts is that her skin is perfect. They also appear as an off desaturated porcelain color in my eyes, but oddly up close she has a nice tan. It is very light, but still healthy looking. It pleases me to know that she remains stable and is eating her vegetables, even though she told me she hates mushrooms. I still remember the time I saw her. It took me a while to notice that it was her since her skin color looked different. Shocking, right? I was pretty shocked myself the first time I saw her. 

The first time we met, which was the first best day of my creation, we did not speak nor did we really interact. We just stared at each other intensely for six hours.  That may sound unappealing let alone monotonous, but I loved every minute I spent with her that day. After we were done registering each other in our minds we sat down next to each other and looked at the ball before us together. 

We did that same exact thing for a really long time, but I didn't mind. We were happy to see another face other than the faceless and lifeless ball at that time. It is so hilarious how we both still call it "The ball." 

Some things just don't change. 

Back then we were so naive to the highest degree. The last time we talked together she agreed with me when I said that and we both laughed it off. Well, we were young and the young has the privilege to be pure, innocent and untainted as much as they want. And now that we are older, stronger, knowledgable and more experienced about the world we can converse and laugh. It took us a while, but we had so much time to learn it when the little ones started using it.

Just thinking about her repeatedly over and over and over again makes me sad. Whether is it the memory of her eyes, her form and her illuminating glory that takes in all the good and bad that happens before her, it is all that I have. She is all that I have that keeps me sane in this crazy place I watch filled with death and violence. 

Of course, I know that it isn't all death and violence in existence. Peace and love exists as well.

I wonder if I am all that she has that keeps her sane as well. 

I wonder how she is doing in Alaska. Wait, I think she said she was heading for Canada. I will have to ask her where she her new chosen place to wander the next time I see her. 

I hope it is soon. I pray that it is soon. Please, whoever you are, please. My memory of her is all that I have until that time arrives and the waits always hurt me. I wish my pleading worked more efficiently. 

Everyday I plead. I plea that the only time I can see her short silky black hair, her hands that reach out for mine and the little freckles that scatter across her face to arrive. Please and when it arrives I will talk to her and learn more about her again since a day isn't enough time every...I don't know anymore. I can't predict when it happens anymore. The wait is too long for me. That wonderful day just appears unexpectedly. So I can't count down to a certain day it just arrives. One should never get lost in an endless repetitive cycle. Yet, I still am within one and I can't escape it. Nor do I want to since I love being me. I am content with my existence together with her and so is she, even though our lives are immensely repetitive. 

Wake up.

Wander. 

Sleep.

That is our schedule. Lovely, isn't it? I have come to embrace it though since my reward always arrives that wonderful day.

I do have a social life. My schedule sounded bad didn't it? Yes, yes it did and I did not have any intention of making myself sound as exciting as fried couch stuffing. During work, I talk sometimes. Nah, actually I am pretty obnoxious and full of myself. I quoted that from her. So, I retorted that she was a conservative little cupcake. She got so mad at the cupcake part. 

I cannot wait to call her a cupcake again.

I want to see her.

I want to see her. 

I want to see her now. 

Please.

"Hey, sunshine, can you put these books back in there respective places? Thanks, you're a doll." More books were place on the cart I was pushing and my best friend Rob patted my back. 

"I know I am one sexy doll, Rob, don't be jealous there, huh." We had a tendency to talk to each other like we are those nice friendly diner waitresses in the morning that serve eggs with a "hun." 

"Ah, hush there, Platinum I am not jealous of a boy like you." We also had the tendency to insult each other randomly. He also loves to point out that I am a natural platinum blond. 

"No you didn't just go there little boy," was my come back as I snapped my fingers once in the air. Sassy angry chick was also a part of our gig. "I am going to hurt you."

"You are just all talk. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk." Rob burst out laughing as he ran off to get more scattered books in the library. 

Pushing the cart into the elevator I was taken up to the fourth floor. It was the dead quiet zone area, so I always have to die down my awesomeness up there. I like my job here in Virginia. I work at this University campus library and it is one big library. Those Virginia Commonwealth University students are lucky. They even have a Starbucks with all the green tea frappuccinos my immortal body can handle. I love the forth floor since it is so quiet. It would be a cool place to sit down and listen to my ipod, but sadly they don't allow ipod usage here nor cellphones. Well, it is understandable since little ones have to get to work in order to pass their required education. I wish those people who I see studying here in the library luck. One has to be completely academic on the fourth floor, so no cellphones and no ipods. 

Muttering to myself I say, "It gets kind of boring having no music while I work up here though..." 

"Shhhh."

"S-sorry!" My nervous laughter emerges from the back of my throat and I turn to leave the little one alone to their work. That wasn't the first time someone told me to hush up here. Oh, well, no harm feelings. Fixing my white dress shirt, I bent down and placed the last book I had where in belonged. I did not noticed the being that crept up behind me and place headphones on my ears.

Cobra Starship's song, "My moves are white (White Hot, That is)" invaded my ears. 

The intense base and techo-alternative beat took me by surprise. Jumping up to my feet I spun around with wide eyes as I gazed down at the short five foot four inches woman before me. Such a mischievous grin this beautiful woman had. 

"Ah, my fair lady of the night," I pulled the red Skullcandy headphones off and bowed swinging my arm over my midsection, "I am graced by your presence once again. How long I have waited for this day."

"So immortal those days were and yet, my radiant prince, my heart is once again lifted by having you near me." She curtsied towards me and took back the headphones when I returned them. A dark purple messenger bag was slung over her shoulder and I watched in amusement as she struggled to throw her headphones in it and turn off her ipod.

"Having some trouble there?" 

"You shush, I am still not used to these human gadgets."

"They were out for a while now you know there cupcake."

Her constellation eyes glared at me, but it died off fast. Her voice lowered and her face got red, "Um...I am really happy to see you again, Sun. I missed you."

I covered my mouth the tried not to burst out laughing as she stubbornly pouted. She will always be such a stubborn woman and I love her for being her. One day...one day I will confess to her that I love her. It has only been our four and a half billionth time we saw each other and rushing is not something I plan to do. Nope. I don't want to scare her or something by randomly saying, "Hey, I love you." 

I want to wait. I want to wait for the perfect moment to come. Maybe during the next solar eclipse...or maybe the next lunar eclipse I will tell her. The moment will come.

"I missed you too, Moon."

"Hey, why are we being so formal again?" Her giggle can be the one thing I would love to listen to over and over, but they are gifts given to me as a rewards for waiting. She continued speaking while rubbing the side of her freckled face, "And I am the one who started it too."

"This is a recurring problem and as of right now I will change it. I missed you too, Luna."

"Sonny, I missed you."

I will wait.

The End.

Inspiration...

What inspires you as an artist?

I find this a difficult question. Most people around me have a specific artist in mind while, I do not. I do have a few people though, but they are not art...art artists. They are not the charcoal, pencil on paper artists, but they are artists. Alfred Hitchcock, Hayao Miyazaki, Corinne Bailey Rae, Amy Winehouse, Frank Sinatra, The Who, Queen, Three Dog Night, Panic at the Disco, My Chemical Romance...I have a wide variety of things that inspire me. And they are just a hand full of things that make me want to create. However, most of them are not the drawing-type of artist.

They all inspire me and I shall go in depth with why they do soon, but for now I will just name some. This is all about the feeling of Inspiration and can get inspired by the most random things. I know I do. When someone does something out of the ordinary to help someone, I feel really happy. When people are laughing and enjoying themselves in class, I feel happy that they are happy. My little baby nephews who are so adorable make me happy, so whenever I pick them up or watch over them I feel somewhat rejuvenated. I am inspired by things like that...

I do look at other art art artists and become motivated to do my best and yet, music and movies mainly get me going. I sing whenever I am working and dancing whenever I feel the need to. I also make sure I am alone when I dance. (My dancing is like...interpretive dance.) When I can I play a movie while I am working and I watch those intense scenes in awe. Russell Crowe gently walks in the wheat field  touching them and I get teary every time. "Gladiator" for those who do not know the movie.

I get inspired by them.

Broken controls (Words and only words)

"...Hey, wake up, hey, hey."
"...Hmmm...five more minutes mom."
"You farsighted fool, get up now."
"....."
"Hey."
"Cold! Why'd you take away my warmth? It's bright...the sun, SUN!"
"I'll give you your jacket back when you open your eyes and witness the damage to your headquarters."

"...Oh. My. God."
"...Guess everyone enjoyed themselves including us. My head kind of hurts."
"My house is trashed..."
"Indeed."
"Where is everyone?"
"I don't know. I just woke up in the middle of your living room floor and I found you curled up here."
"Of all the places I could have slept...the kitchen. Ugh, my head...and neck."
"Shall we survey the damage?"
"I suggest you wash your face first though. Someone drew stars on your cheeks and a shark on your forehead."
"Good lord..."

"No way...just no way."
"That sucks."
"No....no.."
"We have to stay calm."
"No way...just no freakin' way, man, no way."
"Are you even listening to me, Andrew?"
"No, no, no, no, no...why?"
"Andrew..."
"Shhh shh shhhh, don't cry...I know it hurts."
"Would you stop mumbling sweet nothings to an inanimate object and listen to-"
"Why did it have to be you my friend, my lover, my-Ow, the hell was that for?"
"I said to keep your composure, you bloody idiot."
"...That didn't call for a slap to the face to someone who wakes up to see their beautiful car damaged!"
"I know...you love your car and this situation is devastating so-"
"Devastating? You think I'm devastated?"
"..."
"I am NOT devastated you British-blabbering buffoon."
"Wow alliteration."
"Shut up! My car!"
"Well, I got your attention didn't I?"
"My car!"
"So, I think this British-blabbering baffoon reacted perfectly to the situation at hand."
"Blah blah blah, you talk too much. My car!"
"Is there anyway of saving it?"
"Yea, but it is going to take a chunk out of my pay check..."
"..."
"..."
"Your...uh...bumper fell off."
"A bigger chunk out of my pay check...oh, God. Oh, God my parents..."
"Stay calm."
"I need to find out who did this and fast and make them pay!"
"Andrew."
"Dearly..."
"Andrew,"
"And when I do...oh ho, and when I do...I will so fu-Ow! Godda-Ow! Arthur!"
"I won't have cursing in my presence."

"Don't act like you don't drop the occasional fuuu or shiii! Anyway, back to my babies being killed. I bet it was Ivan. Ivannnn..."

"Ivan?"

"What makes you think it was him?"
"Are you really defending, Ivan?"
"No, it's just that everyone was probably drunk, so you can't accuse him."
"Okay one, he is evil."
"Go on."
"Two, he is creepy."
"Uh-huh..."
"And three, he is out to get me."
"Those are not valid-"
"I have never seen him drunk too. He drinks, but I have never ever witnessed it."
"Maybe because, you go to sleep before you ca-"
"Shut it. I bet he was just smiling with his stupid smile and silently laughing at us all in our drunken stupor."
"Well...it is Ivan we are talking about."
"Where the hell is Ivan, now?"
"Hm. Besides the girl hugging your lamp post and the shirtless man sleeping on your drive way wearing a shiny masquerade mask, no one is outside. You know we shouldn't automatically accuse him."
"Look for his car! Help me look!"
"Okay okay..."

"And here is perfectly intact. Well, its bonnet is a little bent."
"Yea Ivan's car hood is dented, so it was him!"
"But it was already like that when he arrived remember?"
"Da-..Darn it."
"You know...I remember one of our friends trying to get you to stop the car."
"What? When?"
"I think you were trying to back up out of the driveway last night."
"Now that you mention it...that tree across the street is broken."
"..."
"Did we...have a storm or something?"
"No."
"So then did I?"
"I think you did."
"...I am so stupid."
"And a wanker for blaming innocent people without any evidence."
"Shut up, I am not a wanker."
"Let's go find everyone."
"......okay, Arthur."

"Heh heh, that's what you get."

"Hey Ivan!"

"Ah, Andrew, good morning!"

I don't know....I really, don't know. I had fun writing this though. Don't drink and drive.

Well worth the effort.

I have yet to sleep in the Studio. And I hope to keep it that way. There are many horror stories of artist sacrificing sleep in order to complete a project and the after effects is the worst part. There was this boy in my class who finished all of his art assignments, but ended up staying awake all night to morning in the studio. He was able to move with enough efficiency to clean up, eat, change and run back. I felt so bad for him as he snored in our class and our teacher didn't know about him pulling an all-nighter. He call him out mentioning that he missed half of the video example we were watching. My teacher didn't know and we couldn't say anything because, we all know that we have to suck it up.

(I was able to finish...it was difficult.)

We have to suck it up and fight through the first year by doing our best in whatever we create. Eventually, we would all do the same thing and sacrifice a lot in order to meet deadlines. Whether is be working for 8am to 8pm, to running back and forth from the remote Bowe Studio countless of times or sleeping in the studio...we will all face it and succeed.

Determination: I keep on telling myself that I will fight, fight, fight. I am going to be positive.

Positivity: It is important in everything, not only art. One has to be positive and accept the good and bad in art...and life as well. However, it all depends on the situation. Sometimes a person has to listen (like during a critique) and something a person has to fight.

Acceptance or Reluctance? That is the question...

As an ending note, I will do my best in everything that is thrown at me and if I mess up, I will smile and overcome the situation.

There I go again...telling myself to be confident. (I like giving myself a boost every now and then. hehe. :D)

Man I love his voice

Franklin D. Roosevelt, I mean. It could be just the way people talked back then (due to trying to be clear enough for those listening on radio probably), but his voice is just so interesting to listen to. Whenever I hear his voice, I can feel the strength, power and sadly his frustration with the situation at hand. With all the weight of America on his shoulders and everyones' attention turned towards him, his speech becomes enhanced. I can picture all the Americans huddling around their radios listening intently to his voice.

"Yesterday," and then he says the date slowly, but clearly, "December 7th...1941...A date which will live...in infamy. The United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by Navel and Air forces of the Empire of Japan." I get shivers at the ending part: Japan. The dot is placed hard at the end of that sentence.

I cannot imagine, if I were him, how I would have reacted when I was told of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. As President one would have to appear collected. They would have to dull their inner turmoil and horror in order to appear and sound strong yet calm, cool and collected. Appearance and sound is key. That is what I think. A shaky voice isn't going to intimidate the enemy or address the nation. Let alone address anyone. No one would want to listen to a frightened herbivore on a microphone or a frightened piece of prey on stage. 

The audience attention is another key thing. People in general, a crowd, the nation, will probably not listen to anyone who is boring. A hooking first sentences, word, or action, anything that draws us in and keeps our mouths shut. 

It's easier to point out the things that make a speech amazing and yet, it is hard to speak for certain people. Of course though, with the situation at hand in WWII, the President was fueled by the attack on The United States of America. (and he is after all the President, voted into office by the people of this land and so, he obviously had a pleasing persona)

I am happy right now...since I found it on Youtube. Here is Franklin D. Roosevelt's speech. FDR Speech

Another speech I love is Gregory Peck in the movie "To Kill A Mockingbird." It's a movie, I know, but his voice just grabs ears and lures those nearby closer. Might I say his voice is appealing. (If I were a man, I would want his voice, but I'm not so...I don't want a manly voice.)

That is the scene too. It is the scene where he defends...-Oh, watch the movie I don't like spoilers or giving them out.

Cellphone check..oh crap is it there?!

My hand kept on flying to my pocket over and over again. The thoughts echo in my mind, "Oh crap, I lost it, lost it, lost it, lost it," with the 'lost it' repeating as I pat myself, searching like I am some criminal getting arrested. I fly into a mini panic every time I leave a certain area on campus. 


The cafeteria, cellphone, lost?! 
Classroom, cellphone, lost?! 
Studio, cellphone, lost?!


LOST.


But no, my cellphone is not lost. Throughout the whole day I had to remember that I put it in the inner pocket of my backpack. When I do remember, I debate whether I should check because, I doubt my memory. I start doubting that the memory of it being in my pocket was recent. It could have been last week and then I have to double check if it is there. It is. In its 'off' state.


From the way I kept on checking if my phone was where it was the whole day, it is logical to say I rely on it...a lot. Cellphone numbers, home numbers, family, friends...the time, the list goes on. One of my biggest fears is losing my cellphone. I feel oddly bare and exposed without using my cellphone ever since I started college five hours away from home. I don't want to lose it, because, it is an essential...an important essential. 


Indeed, I am addicted to it. It is a convenience. Back in the day, they had to carry those huge phones bigger than bananas and they were the "cellphones." Even further back in the day, people were chained to the phone by cords only.


Since technology advanced to the degree that a compact, portable and functional communications device can be held at all times..who would say no? We had to memorize cellphone numbers before, but now people can just facebook:


"Cellphone fell in toilet, need numbers."


"Cellphone broke, need numbers."


"Curb-stomped crappy cell, need numbers." I spot an alliteration!


Then they'll get flooded with numbers.


Yea, since technology is making it easy for us, we take advantage of it because, it is there and makes our lives easier.

No such thing as solitude in a University

I had such a hard time trying to find a nice place to relax and watch a movie. My friend Kiah mentioned the movie "The Nightmare Before Christmas" and I suggested the idea that we watch it. We rented it and went off on a journey to find a cool place to settle and watch. However, we ended up not viewing the film. We walked around for hours...and ended up settling in Barnes & Noble reading. The random reading wasn't so bad though because, I found a Psychology magazine and an Arts Magazine.

The Psychology magazine was the one that intrigued me first. Well, to be honest, I was attracted by the cover. The cover was of a girl with long dark brown hair completely covering her face.

My thoughts were, "Whoa, how can she walk like that?"

I read the biggest title on the magazine. (Keep in mind that I did not see the title of the magazine yet.) The title for the picture was, "Revenge of the Introverts" or something along those lines. I was curious. I turned to the page and read. I paused and said aloud, "Wow, I really like this article it's like a Psychology book, I wonder what the title is-...oh, Psychology Magazine."

One of my moments in action.

The article basically stated how the world is full of introverts and extroverts...and those in between who hold both introvert and extrovert traits. The statement I liked in the article was that introverts are not social outcasts. Introverts are people who prefer living within their mind and thoughts. (The girl on the cover was now chilling in a bubble) They are the people who are content with going to a party and leaving after an hour.

I was amused at the last statement because, I am like that.

It said a lot of interesting things like how people over estimate the amount of extroverts in the world. Everyone has their own introvert and extrovert...qualities (if that is the correct word to say for this) within their own personality. The extroverts are those people who like to socialize, but even those who are seen as extroverts still can be introverts. That sentence doesn't really makes sense...I think.

How can I explain this better, huh? The article mentioned a woman who is the Dean of Sciences somewhere who scores as an introvert. It seems that people who are leaders (stereotyped as outgoing and energetic) can be introverts. I bet this woman is the calm and collected type leader.

(That made me want to take the legit test of finding out if one is a introvert/extrovert. I wonder want I would be...)

Currently, I consider myself an introvert, but I can still talk with people and socialize. I can be open and be very quiet at times. I bet everyone gets like this. During parties filled with unfamiliar face, I am quiet and the desire to remove myself from the situation increases. I also shake when I am put on the spot and know before hand (stage fright). Yet, I am an outgoing person and can express myself when I feel the need to.

I can be an obnoxious woman if I want to be.

(hehe) Just joking.

When I am feeling alright, I can grin, chuckle and my movements are not stiff and twitchy. Amongst a crowd that is intelligent, friendly, unified and open, I feel better and can crack a joke here and there. One feels better in a comfortable environment.

Back to the whole Introvert an Extrovert business, does anyone ever feel as if they are different in front of different people? Do you consider the yourself fake if you are quiet one moment and loud the next?

 On an end note I shall say: Nothing is only black and white...good and evil...introvert and extrovert.

Matte...Xacto-knife, whatever, cutting 50 small sheets of paper is hard

Yesterday was the first time I used a Matte Knife. Maybe using it to cut one sheet of paper...one time wouldn't be so hard, but 50 pieces, each 4 by 5 inches, was kind of difficult. It is for my first Surface Research Project. I tried really hard, really I did, some pieces are a skew but I attempted to straighten them out the best that I can. For a first time, I am quite proud of myself. It took longer than expected (three hours), but I am satisfied with my work.

At my high school, my art teacher had a huge Xacto cutting board and whenever I needed a piece of paper to be cut I just go:

"Can you cut this paper for me?"
"Sure."

No work for me and no need for me to go near sharp objects. However, here I am on my own with this. The original size of the paper I cut was 14 by 17 inches. The limited cutting surface in my dorm room and me messing up a lot contributed to my struggles.

It's not good to get used to certain things sometimes. Comforts, I mean. They can go away. Not everything is permanent. In this case, I graduated from my high school, thus leaving my art teacher who had an huge Xacto cutting board. My tendency to rely on him to cut my paper or stretch canvas cannot be done now. I have to leave the nest. I have to leave my own pride. I have to break away from the herd.

In a less dramatic statement, I have to be responsible now.

Relying on yourself is an important skill. I admire people who are independent:

Like Bruce Lee who came to America at a young age...or my own mother went to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia by herself and remained by herself for 4 years.

I am off on my own in a foreign place. It is hard being away from home. I know that I am not the only one feeling this way though. There are those who live further than me and are here. The international students probably have it the hardest. I hope they are adjusting well.

If Bruce Lee can do it, so can I. (This is me giving myself a boost of confidence)

Ever since Sailor Moon...

It all started with Sailor Moon, that ancient japanese anime cartoon that used to play all the time on TV, that put me on the path towards the arts. I was three, wandering the Toys R Us when I saw the VHS tapes of the said show. Getting one VHS triggered me to get a few more. I was addicted to anime like I was addicted to Barney.

I wanted to dress like them, look like them...

and

I wanted to be a magical girl!

In order to do that I turned to drawing. Drawing myself as a magical girl made it possible for me to be who I wanted to be. I could be anything. Anime, Disney, Barney...I was in love with them all. Now picture this: A little girl dragging around a big, red Hello Kitty bag filled with pens, pencils, crayons and bundles of paper everywhere she goes. That's me.

From experience, I did go to space, I was a mermaid, I danced with the seven dwarfs, I was a "Sailor Scout," I did save the world from aliens a few times, I did capture Pokemon and I was a Pokemon.

My goal was to protect the freakin' world from the evil. 

Keep in mind, that I was young and that these aren't really my goals anymore.

Kinda...

I do want to save the world.

Inspire it.

Change it. 

My parents love telling me stories. My father once told me that he could leave or forget to close the door to our house and nothing bad would happen. He told me that he knew everyone in his neighborhood back then. My mother told me she used to play in the creek by herself. She also mentioned how she used to run around in her undergarments when it rained, along with her friends, to cool off. 

Nowadays, one can't leave their door open or wander off all alone.

Most neighborhoods are not close-knit. 

People can't run around in their undergarments in the rain.

This made me want a world where the number of people who hold doors open for each other is larger than those who don't. The same goes for the number of people who press the open button on closing elevators for people and help pick up posessions of those who trip and....oh, you know what I mean. The list goes on. My childhood fantasies matured to the desire to inspire a movement that will create a new world.

A better world where people will be a little bit more...nicer.

I guess you can say, I wish for peaceful times like the times I hear from my parents. A perfect representation of those times would be"The Little Rascals" or that beautiful movie (and book I might add) "To Kill A Mockingbird." (Gregory Peck, I love you.)

All of this may sound cheesy, but I accept it.

So here I am in the Art Foundation of Virginia Commonwealth University. I am one step closer to changing the world.

It is easy to say to you, Ken Steele, that I am a scholar. A scholar who is interested in pursing a higher form of education to polish her passion for art and change the world for the better.

I am not here by force or using college as a means to escape reality. (Being five/six hours away from my hometown, reality has slapped me quite hard in the face already) Nor am I here solely because, I want a job. I do want to live life off my art, but I want something more than a job.

My resolve is firm.

What I want to do before I die

Such a morbid title, but it is true. I would love to do all of these things before I die. I am still so young and my whole life is out there to fill with whatever I desire. And so, I sigh, thinking...pondering on what I might do in the future.

One of the main things I would love to do is travel around the world. I would love to see Mt. Fuji, walk the busy streets of Shibuya, gaze down from atop the Eiffel tower, explore the Louvre art museum, go to the leather shopping districts in Italy and so much more. I have been living in New Jersey for my entire life and getting out of the play officially only happen now.

I am already one step close to my desire to fulfill this since I already went to Japan. However, I only went to the Kyushu island of southern Japan.

To be honest, I would like to try eating a cricket. Chocolate covered crickets to be exact. It is apparently a delicacy because, one of my friends tried it in her Spanish class. She told me it was good, but I don't know where to get...fresh....legit...clean....crickets to drizzle chocolate over. Sure, I could get crickets, but they are "wild" crickets. (Just thinking about it...where did my friend's Spanish teacher get her crickets?! Note to self: look into this, maybe they have dried or frozen crickets somewhere.

I would like to go to a 70s disco. I have been to a disco in the Philippines (and got everyone dancing), but I want it to be in the 70s theme. I wonder if they have 70s themed discos in our day and age. I would love to dance to the Bee Gees/Travolta.

Learning Tagalog and Cebuano is a major wish for me. Tagalog and Cebuano are two of the countless dialects in the Philippines. They are the main two that my family speaks. I really enjoy all of my cousins who speak English fluently and then they are fluent in both. It hurts me. My parents have been "teaching" me, but their teaching is more like:

Here. See this? This is silya. This is a chair.

So, I just have to keep on hounding them on that matter.

Before I die, I would also like to go to church more. I have went through CCD which is a program from where I came from that concentrates on educating the youth on religious upbringing. I am happy that there is a church within walking distance here on campus. It is also a cathedral which makes it cooler since I love look at religious art and icons.

Driving. Driving is an essential here in America. That I know. I have a permit however the thought of driving freaks me out. I still have to take the practical driving exam which also scares me. I have postponed it several times, but I have one year to do it before my permit expires. I know I can make it.

I would love to create my own career within the art world. Illustration and Graphic design is the major I desire to go into. The art world is so big though. There is so many possibilities for me. Making it into the art program is the first step I have taken, so good luck to me.

I am also into Japanese anime. I would love the meet the mysterious creator of Hetalia. He only goes by Hidekaz Himaruya which is a pen name so no one knows who he is.

I would also love to meet Hikaru Utada. She is a beautiful singer and she speaks fluent english...and is a must need for conversation.

I have watched The Godfather several times and I would have wanted to meet Marlon Brando, but he died. Ever since I see him in "A Street Car named Desire" I was fascinated with him. I would be happy to meet Al Pacino and Robert De Niro instead.

Lady Gaga. I love her. I saw her perform in Atlantic City, but I was so far way. We had seats, but I would like to see her face up close. I shall try to get floor tickets one day.

I also want to be famous before I die. I always hear that from people who know of my art. They laugh saying I will be famous when I die. That's not nice right? So yea, my goal is to fight, fight, fight for my education in the arts.

My cute nephew has down syndrome and I have been designing his yearly Buddy Walk T-shirts for down syndrome kids. I would love to see him play basketball and ride a bike etc. I can only pray for me right now.

My two good friends from high school...oh, how I wish they were here with me. One of my goals is to figure out how they can come over here. I have guest passes for food at Shafer, so here go. Sooner or later.

I want to have a Dog. However, my mom doesn't want it to scratched the floor. I don't know what to do about that. I could always give my dog socks. I think that won't happen though. In the mean, I'll just have to get fish since they are allowed in the dorms.

There also is this Asian mall in Canada that sells a bunch of nice imported goods. I haven't been there, but we saw it when we went to visit friends in Toronto. Sooner or later, they promised to bring us there when we visit again. I just have to wait.

I love sushi. My aunt has taught me a few techniques, but I haven't mastered/ tried making it on my own. When I find free time...I shall make a boat of sushi. You know those special boat sushi platters they have in restaurants? Yea, those.

I want to learn how to speak and write Japanese. I have taken lessons before, but they were only basics. My teacher also have to move so that put an end to my lessons. I just have to find a way to learn Japanese on my own. I could get rosetta stone or something.

Health wise, I would like to eat better. I was a big baby...10.2 pounds. I want to be fit and healthy. I plan to go to the Gym here on campus.

Unagi. I can't find it. Raw eel I mean. I would like to know how to cook an eel. It's just hard to get.

My mother makes siopao (steam buns). I can't make it, but she promised to teach me. I have to learn. She promised me again, but she is always busy. It's understandable though, she has work.

I never owned a pair of stiletto heels. I went to Nordstrom and they have a lot of them. I have to save up for them. One of these days....neon red. Just joking.

Under the arts, I am also considering fashion design, so sowing is a need to know thing. I don't know how to sow. A friend of mine knows and she will teach me.

A house on stilts near the sea. Ever since I was a kid I was obsessed with elevated houses.

Horse back riding too. I am on a roll on these things to do before I die. My father owned a farm in the Philippines, but he had to sell it. He will teach me soon.

I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle, but my parents said, "Do you want to die?" I said, "No." And so a Moped in my future instead.

A tropical cruise. I have never been on a boat, with those basketball courts and pools. My mother is afraid, but she promised me we will soon. Promise, promise, promise. I'll have to go when I am older.

A gown. I love gowns, but I have never worn one. Those wedding shows always get to me and those ladies going "I don't like this one..." I go, "It's freakin' gorgeous!!!" I want it and I shall soon.

Get married. I don't want to end my family line here. I want to have a family of my own. I am on a look out boys.

Watch out.

HA!

I want to skydive. Feel the wind on my face. I love hanging in high (safe) places just to feel the wind. My senior class went, but I was a chicken. Ha...ha...sooner or later.

Corinne Bailey Rae

I am dedicating this entry to her, Corinne Bailey Rae, whose music has touched my heart. 

The first time I heard her music was on VH1. She was riding a bicycle and singing with other cyclists following her. The song she was singing during this particular music video was, "Put Your Records On." I loved the airy quality of the song and how calming her voice is. Singing as smoothly and delicately is very hard. Since I took singing classes, I know how hard it is to maintain a tone without overdoing it or forcing it out. I enjoyed the way she sang. 

Then is got over played. My attention span for listening to the song was gone. For a while I wouldn't listen to her "Put Your Records On," song and then my friend reintroduced me to her music. This time it wasn't only that one song that played all the time on TV early in the morning before school. I heard all of her songs. Someone was nice enough to bring the entire CD to my AP Studio Art class. I feel in love with all of her music. Her music was the perfect music to draw to.

It is hard finding just the right music to play in the background while one works on art. It is very difficult. Either the song is too hectic and noisy to do anything or the song is too addicting and one ends up singing to it (singing is not drawing). Her songs were the best to just sit back and listen to. People could sing along too because, her music is not distracting. It's soothing and provides a very comfortable feeling while one is messing with charcoal or painting with acrylics. 

Sadly, I only heard her first CD and so I will talk about the songs on that CD. 

The song "Enchantment" is my favorite song. This is the song I enjoy the most to sing along to. Everything about the song is just perfect to me. It is hauntingly beautiful especially when her voice rises in the ups and downs during the chorus.

"Tell me I'm forgiven. He calls, don't know how I fell under his spell. Lately I've been driven. He smiles, an enchantment."

The ending chorus is the part I love the most. When she says "and I give in," and it echos, that part deeply expresses how much she has fallen for the man with the alluring persona.

Corinne Bailey Rae. I recommend listening to her while drawing, relaxing, sleeping, dancing...any situation that requires a tranquil atmosphere.