Bits of the Day #8.2

Assignment status:

Intro to GDES: getting there..kind of..almost..not really

Photography: Complete

Art App: Postponed

Drawing: Incomplete

Friend’s thing: Complete

Dad’s thing: Incomplete

Mom’s thing: Complete

My resume: Incomplete

Other tiny random shit: complete

I’m tired

Bits of the Day #8.1

Assignment status:

Intro to GDES: 1/3rd complete, 2/3rds pending

Photography: 1/6ths complete

Drawing: (just realised I had it) incomplete

Art Appreciation: in progress

Friend’s thing: incomplete

So I just realised I had a drawing assigment. I also realised I can postpone my Art App. reading till Saturday, which gives me a weee bit more time today to complete other random shit…like getting a cat and buying shoes that wont leave my feet in ruins.

Oh well. We shall see. I have a whole 15 hours to do all of this.

Bits of the Day #8

We went to two pet shops today. There was a kitten the size of my hand. Filled it up like I was holding a ball of fluff. Grey, blue eyes, expensive. I might buy him with my first paycheck if I dont find another by the next weekend. Beautiful little thing.

Assignment status:

photography – not done

intro to GDES – incomplete

friend’s thing – not done

art appreciation – not done

Beautiful things are worth the trouble. But I must slave away now.

Chapter 1.4

Brush in black water. Green swirls of pain transcend from her pink fingertips. She strokes the canvas again, once tenderly, once with rage like the black water she cleans with. Thick oil paint hides delicate rips in canvas. The paint is red now.

She paints dripping rain-water, waterfalls on stairways. She paints in water-washed floors, and a bright window that makes the inside glitter. Brush in black water again. She treads water.

The painting is left to dry, infront of the bright window that makes it glitter. The painting is left to fade, in the piercing sunlight. The painting it left to peel, crinkle to powder and be washed away in flowing crystals.

The rips in canvas are bare.

Abandon

his back to the air

flies

(of some Roman street)

circle the rot of his flesh

eating maggots, eating him

sun-warmed steel singeing

filth lies on the cobbled street

Out of Touch

is the new “in” thing.

As are these little blurb things. Get used to them.

Bits of the Day! Again! #7

Yes, I am alive. Just insanely busy.

I completed a photography assignment just yesterday (pictures were horrible). I have an intro to GDES assignment due the coming Saturday and its a long ass time-consuming thing. I have to practice shadowing by hatching for my basics of drawing class (trust me, hatching is shit hard) and I have to write a friend’s personal statement. I also have to ready samples of my written “work” for a person who may be able to help me publish, and for a job I’m going to apply for by (hopefully) the end of today. I just need to finalise my resume and take a deep breath. And I have an english class thats taking up a good three hours of my week (UGH!). Never before has time been so precious.

I had my first drama club meeting today and (as usual) have taken up the technical side of things. I will now be editing music and shit for the plays the club will put on. The photography club is *still* not up and running, and I completely forgot to hunt down another club’s supervisor today.

In positive news, my Geometry teacher will be absent for ten more days.

In negative news, we will have extra classes after school hours when she gets back.

In other news, we still dont have a cat.

Thats all folks!

(I know, I am abusing Bits of the Day. If its any consolation, I havent written worthwhile shit in months…not that anyone cares)

Bits of the (second/first-ish) Day (at uni) #6

So I’m sitting in English class and thinking “sombody please kill me…” and the teacher goes “yes, thats correct.” Of course, she was responding to another girl, that oh-so-cleverly stated that each paragraph in an essay needs a topic sentence. Yes, that is what made me want to die. I’m sitting in a class full of morons and being taught “english rhetoric and composition” by a complete imbecile. And this class takes up three precious hours of my week, god knows how many weeks in my first semester. In other words, three credit hours worth of excruciatingly painful, scream-inducing torture. And guess who cant bunk classes? 15% of my overall grade goes into attendance and participation. Hoorah! >_> morons.

Aside from that, the only other class that actually took place was “Introduction to graphic design”..and..we dont use computers. At all. -__- yes, we “design” by hand. A little ridiculous? A little VERY ridiculous? Meh. I am now waiting to see how my “art appreciation” teacher slaughters my enthusiasm.

*sigh*

Travel

She rolls over to the smell of wet earth and clings to foreign bedsheets like dewdrops. Waking up to rain is an unfamiliar pleasure. The phone rings. It is her wake up call (wasn’t it supposed to be earlier?). Breakfast will be served till ten which gives her an hour and a half to shower, get dressed and finish before nine.

There is no one in the elevator when she gets on and the restaurant is half-empty. The morning rush has passed and others have not woken yet. Perfect. Its like waking up at dawn.

“Table for one?”

She’s lead to the table by a sleepy-blue-eyed waitress in her teracotta-beige uniform. Loose-fitting jacket and trousers, pale yellow trim. She wouldnt mind having breakfast with her.

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee please.”

The waitress smiles her practiced everyday smile. Soft, a little too far off somewhere with just the right amount of hesitation, sincerity. She will now go smile at other customers, lead them to their tables and serve them coffee. Or tea.

~*~

“I would like a bellman sent up to my room please.

Thank you”

Theres a soft ding-ding sound. The door bell. They have doorbells for hotel rooms now. It makes sense.

“Can I help you ma’am?”

“Yes, I’m checking out. My luggage is over there.”

He loads the solitary bag onto his cart and wheels it toward the elevators. This is one of those jobs feminists arent screaming about.

The elevator ride was comfortable. The bellman made no conversation and there was no compulsion to. She could have stayed in the elevator for hours, comfortably silent. He had a name-tag on his jacket. Something long. She didnt look at it for long. Just a glance. No eye-contact. Comfortable.

“How may I help you, ma’am?”

The receptionist forced a welcoming good morning and hello, followed by a practiced smile. His eyes were sharp, harsh. She missed the waitress.

~*~