deviantART: by:flappability

deviantART: by:flappability http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:flappability&section=today deviantART RSS for by:flappability en-us Copyright 2010, deviantART.com Fri, 01 Jan 2010 07:24:41 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png an update.... http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/28865619/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/28865619/ Thu, 10 Dec 2009 14:15:36 PST
I'm currently a freshman at Rhode Island School of Design.

I will be slowly, uploading a handful of what I feel like would be my best work created here on to deviantart in the next two weeks. I have created a massive amount of drawings, photos, and 3-dimensional work.

I have unfortunately not been writing as much as I would want to.

Thanks for visiting, and a lot of updates will come soon!

-- Jess

]]> ~flappability RISD '13 http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/24094667/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/24094667/ Mon, 06 Apr 2009 13:55:39 PDT Carnegie Mellon University
MICA
RISD.

I didn't get into the dual degree program with Brown, but...

I'M GOING TO RISD. CLASS OF 2013!

On another note, I have met a wonderful muse so I'm inspired like no other. Expect loads of art and film and everything.

Life is generally pretty fucking good right now.

ALSO: my entire portfolio and the most updated artworks of mine are on my flickr: [link]

]]> ~flappability A RETURN! http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/23207798/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/23207798/ Sun, 15 Feb 2009 00:57:45 PST After nearly a half year I have decided to return to dA, clean up my gallery, and begin posting the bulk of my portfolio, and some results from the dozen of photoshoots I have conducted in the past few months.

I have finished my regular decision applications to the following programs:

RISD (Rhode Island School of Design)
Brown University
RISD/Brown Dual Degree
MICA (Maryland Institute College of Art)
&& Carnegie Mellon University (College of Fine Arts)

My first choice, is RISD, and if I get into the RISD/Brown Dual program I'd probably do it, but the chances of that program is nearly impossible anyways.

I'm going to major in film/animation and perhaps pursue a little bit of Illustration.

On a more literary note, I'm taking a creative writing course this semester so I'm probably going to get back into writing as well, especially some serious short stories and prose. It's going to be a good second semester of senior year and I'm really excited for what will come out of it.

I am back to dA!

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 16 - The Smell of Moaning Memory http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19950062/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19950062/ Thu, 14 Aug 2008 10:06:32 PDT This is for all who went to RISD Precollege 08 and had a blast. Some of you might even see yourself in this. This is both personal and universal. So read it, feel it and believe it.

THE SMELL OF MOANING MEMORY
August 9th, 2008 Â© Jess X Chen / Flappability 08
(RISD SUMMER TWO THOUSAND AND EIGHT)

_{Summer was you, alive, independent, exhausted and soaring, with the thick muddy sweet of freedom gushing through your veins.

Summer was finger-locked palms, shared chuck taylors, orifices filled with liquid sunlight, and a thousand smiling reasons to make art every single day of your life.

Summer was the aching stench of fresh oil paint stains shimmering on every single pair of pants you own, looking up to your favorite artists, and then suddenly realizing theyÂre living in close quarters everywhere around you.

Summer was the grass blade of distance between two strangers who met online, learned eachotherÂs life stories, but could not escape the bashful barrier of awkwardness that killed the communication in real life.

Summer was midnight conversations with creative people, delving deep into birth, death, and the breathless expanse of infinity before, after and in between.

Summer was never sleeping earlier than two A. M . because every single day, there was too much to be drawn, too much to be felt, to much to be experienced, too much to be lived, too much to be missed.

Summer was the firey formation of lifelong friendships, extinguished into a melancholic blur as you watch them set sail into an unforgiving marigold sea of futuristic anonymity.

Summer was the million vermillion blisters that formed on your palms when you tried to grip on, as hard as you could to the forty two festive days spent as a student on the campus of Rhode Island School of Design.

Until the last one came.

Counting down the seconds until these moments disappear, youÂre standing on the balcony at the top level of your residence hall, letting the rich providence sunset fill your eye sockets to the rim. Buried elbow deep in your semicircle of friends, elbows bumping, fingertips barely touching, eyes slightly moistened, but glowing with the compassion that six weeks of boundless bonding etched deep into these bones.

Then you just run, as if the eastern winds and false sense of freedom could diminish the simple truth that the majority of these people may not ever cross paths with you again. You run face-painted, and barefoot, across the moonlight stained esplanade, the dirt between each cobbled stone caught stiff between your toes, arms and shoulder blades still charcoal-speckled from the topless all-night self-portrait party pulled the night before. Balancing on the railing between the bridge and the canal, with hands outstretched, unafraid to fall. You run to the artistÂs ball. Slipping through sauerkraut tangles of hipbone-crashing, young civilians, with butts wiggling in odd directions, you are suddenly enveloped in a tangle of screaming goodbyes and embraces. Each new set of tangled limbs etching ageless memories back into you. Days when there was nothing more exciting than spending eight hours a night making meticulous drawings after drawings in the company of all your friends; young aspirant jewelry designers, film makers, and sculptors they were. Waking up with charcoal cheeks from passing out on life-size self portraits spread on the kitchen floor. Days where the careless beat of you and your best friends trekking, barefoot, across the cobbled streets of Providence, with just a polaroid camera in hand Â yanked that swirling firework orchestration of hidden extroversion out of you. An unforgettable level of bonding so radiantly deep that the line between friends and family was just a thin blade of laughter, and homework-procrastination parties evolved into excursions of experimental nude photography. Peering out the windows of your dorm just to smile at the endless rows of windows filled with artists working, friends embracing, strangers changing, in that single gray building that you call home. The sleep-deprived 5 AM exaltation of adding the final slice of serrated cardboard to a thousand-layered chair final project after staying up for three days on end. Clinging on tightly to the final hours as four friends cuddle on a trundle bed, exchanging softspoken goodbyes, fingers tenderly resting on each otherÂs shoulders. And finally, witnessing the true competitive inspiration of it all as the hidden artistic creations of five hundred fifty design students are revealed in a gigantic tight-knit show.

And you know there was a howling canyon of sentiment left unexpressed, an avalanche of words aching to be said, but some feelings run so deep and dreamlike that they defy all articulation. So you just fall, hand in hand, alive and memory-drench... ]]>} ~flappability all cinematic and alive http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19703178/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19703178/ Thu, 31 Jul 2008 15:56:19 PDT
and if your dreams are nearly impossible, you better run after them still.

and if it is trully what you want to do, and you can't see yourself doing anything else, anywhere else, then go for it.

and if your life is ending, then keep on filling up days with whatever it is you love.

and if you think you are are extraordinary, then deliver yourself to the world.

what i really am trying to say is that i feel like there is a significant message, something i have to create, something i want to say, with my life that I can't express otherwise.

i can't write it.

i can't draw it.

i can't perform it.

but i can film it.

]]> ~flappability RISD (mid way through) http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19563329/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19563329/ Wed, 23 Jul 2008 21:40:07 PDT Situated right at the center of my dream program in these two amazing dream schools.

Preparing for a RISD portfolio review tomorrow.

Also, was talking to a Brown admissions officer earlier, and went to a rad-spankin' fantastic information session, and met so many awesome versatile students who were brimming with elation and satisfaction with their college experience.

Brown students have no core curriculum, and are encouraged to explore every single area of interest they can possibly fathom, while still figuring out one to three concentrations. Students may also create their own major or their own class by getting a bunch of students together and a professor who is interested.
They choose their own academic advisors by sophomore year.

How strange, yet empowering and amazing it feels.
That in less than a year I'll know if I can do this or not. There's so much uncertainty. And I'm about to apply to six colleges. Oh shit.

And the dual degree program would be absoulutely perfect for me, especially if I want to be a film maker... though there are drawbacks, and the biggest obstacle is getting into Brown, and 5 of the most amazing people from my highschool applied last year and NONE got in. Bah, I don't want to think about that. First step is to try.

But one thing's for sure. I would love to come back to RISD. I don't want to go back home and I keep on having nightmares where I get kicked out of precollege and I have to do so.

So much talent. So many amazing inspiring hard working people. Apart from precollege, most of the real RISD students I have met here are all great and intelligent, and loaded with character.
Two and a half weeks left. Just to think about all the amazing alumni who once walked through these walls, lived in these dorms, drew these nature lab animals is just amazing.

Now I have to finish one almost finished illustrations, storyboard some lachrymal sunshine for another assignment, start a photorealistic still life (shit shit shit), finish a half-done collage, and a complete 3 page art history essay.... all due within the next 4 days. (AHHH!!!!! )

BAH. I love how I can't even participate in these awesome fieldtrips and activities. I missed a simulation project runway in the MET earlier, where people were to make outfits for models out of paper in like 60 minutes.

These days will be gone in a flash and seattle will return to me soon.

]]> ~flappability RISD http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19225838/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19225838/ Sat, 05 Jul 2008 21:11:44 PDT
I am there.

And becoming a serious mean lean drawing machine. Making up for all the lack of portfolio growth in the past few months and the monstrous amounts of procrastination I have had has come to an end.

I am trully getting enough sleep and living my art.

And it is incredible. I am going to create harder than i have ever created.

]]> ~flappability RISD, in three days, needing to update http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19029553/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/19029553/ Tue, 24 Jun 2008 22:32:43 PDT
It is because though the film has opened an artistic path for me that stretches miles and miles, it has ultimately taken over almost every inch of my life; unfinished scenes dancing through a thousand layers of human skin, unused DV tape swirling up my nostrils and sewing the holes closed.

It is because this project has trapped me in an endless race of inhumane deadlines and art choking insanities, that I have forgotten to breathe. I am always so preoccupied, with the scenes that need to be shot, the rehearsals needed to be organized, that I no longer reflect on the simple things in life, and no longer give room in my days for inspiration to burrow into me. These pores have been closed.

And most importantly I don't even write poetry anymore. For me, poetry has always been the root of all things creative. Poetry has allowed me to seamlessly tie all these fleeting thoughts and emotions into mud-luscious little bows, which in turn create the imagery for little drawings and surrealistic paintings.

So in three days, begins my film break. I will pull myself through the last few days of production week strongly and cleanly, with organization and then hop into that twelve hour-long-plane ride and land at RISD. I will write a poem every single day, draw naked chicks and naked dudes, draw monstrous self portraits and portraits of others, and illustrate the deepest dreameries of the imagination. I will get back into art, painting, drawing, and writing. I will be free.

And I will come back, and have the energy to film, rekindled. I love film, I love art, but it's time to find that balance that will keep the world moving.

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 15 - lessons learned the hard way http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/18842642/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/18842642/ Sat, 14 Jun 2008 18:07:18 PDT
But if there is anything I've learned, and yes, I always learn the hard way -- it's this:

NEVER EVER give up. Even when communication fails and five of your best friends bail on you and you begin to feel so lonely with something that you sacrificed seven months and so much more for, even when you feel so stressed and the rasping sound of failure is chasing you down on your heels and you start bawling your eyes out in the middle of a hug with a great friend, even so, never ever give up. If you trully believe in something and it is your dream, always persist, always, always keep going, and never give up.

It is because you have hands, you have veins with the blood of life cascading through. It is because you have a brain, you have creativity, you have a past, you have a future, and the lush potential to run and write and draw for miles. It is because you are alive, in middleclass American suburbia, and yes, that is the only reason you'll ever need, to keep on pursuing those ridiculous dreams.

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 14 - Film - all it takes to be ok http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/18383218/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/18383218/ Sun, 18 May 2008 13:02:01 PDT Fallopiation No. 14 - Film - all it takes to be ok
_{I wish i could work my ass off on the film thesedays. But I have 2 weeks of chinese homework and bad grades to bring up. my family yells at me constantly at how irresponsible i have become and my screwed up priorities. in times like these its so hard to keep going, but i guess I have to realize that if a project doesn't work, and I tried my absoulute hardest, i'd just have to accept it.

If the film fails, and never comes together within my highschool career with the current cast, it would be a downer, a huge downer, I'll probably be depressed for a time, because i spent 7 fucking months of exorbitant stress on this project, and 2000$, but I will be okay, because I learned so much. I learned so much about indie film, the stupidities and disadvantages of working with people, my own vision and a million other priceless things that I would never be able to learn otherwise. it was an experience that destroyed me and revitalized me unlike no other.

But it will be foolish not to try my hardest to prevent that failure from actually occuring within the near future. So I will cling on to all this I have left and keep trying, keep getting people together. Of course, there is no other choice. Get together with the new assistant directors, finish recasting. Finish set design.

This project is only the beginning of my dream goal to fall into the career as a film maker. The absoulute first splash of paint. The beginning. And how many first time feature films directed by a 16 year old highschool student with a crew under the age of 20, ever make it into great indie film festivals? Like zero.

Four years from now, in my junior year at RISD (hopefully), I will look back at all of this and laugh at myself. Laugh and cry at how crazy and overly ambitious we all were, laugh at how I thought I could break through with my sixteen-year-old vision, laugh at how innocent I was, how I thought that painting a cow, and bringing NAHS back to life was the artistic equivalent to making a film.}
When the equivalent to making a film was actually 14 months of exorbitant stress, lost sleep, crazily mixed up priorities, set failures, casting failures, mess ups, tears, laughter, insanities, missed meals, panic attacks, nervous break downs, excitement, bad study habits and ultimately hope. An enormous, outrageous, passionate, inexpressable hope that you never thought could be contained within the body of a tiny adolescent human being. A hope that defied one thousand voices that screamed of failure, a hope that urged you on through the most stressful and fragile of times. An artistic hope that screams for expression, validating your vision in massive ways you never once believed you were capable of. A hope that brought you through, and will continue to escalate you in the smooth glen of future your road has left.

]]> ~flappability Good News & NAPOWRIMO 2008 http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/18124085/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/18124085/ Sat, 03 May 2008 13:55:13 PDT Junior Year / Good News
Though I have an extremely monstrous week of speed-painting, filming and 3 AP tests ahead of me, Junior year has flown by in a flash, and I overall I have evolved so much as an artist and gotten so many things done.

For the film I am co-directing/co-producing with a great friend of mine, and a cast and crew of talented students, I have completed the screenplay and begun filming. I spent some old art contest money for the purchase of my beautiful child - a Panasonic DVX100-B, for the filming of this ambitious full-length movie.

I recieved a state level award at some annual highschool art show for "Glass blown Orchestration," a prismacolor pencil piece which is my current featured deviation. It is now going to be kept at the state capital building forever.

AND RISD PRECOLLEGE

So I'll definately be in Providence, Rhode Island this summer.

National Poetry Writing Month 2008
2008. 26 poems. 30 days.

I would just call it an experiment of romantic surrealism.

A doorway back into creative writing.

A reminder that in the end, I will always be a poet.

The deviation is here [link] . Check it out if you are in need of drinking a swirl of strange sentiment.

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 13 - two years ago http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/18080262/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/18080262/ Tue, 29 Apr 2008 01:48:52 PDT I can't believe I wrote this when I was fourteen years old.

Because my mind is now incapable of writing anything like that nowadays. There was something vast that I lost within these last two years. An innate sense of hope and awareness of this existance and the world. A profound empathy for the value of human existance. It was all so new. Like everyday birthed a new set of brain pathways and my palms were always filled. I was young and my eyes saw the world with such unforgiving purity.

Perhaps the endlessly blatant race for preparing oneself for college and fulfilling the mundanely high standards of the american education system devoured all my youth.

Maybe evolution in one's write ability is experienced by us all. As far as I know, I will never be able to write with such fresh, boundless optimism and profound hope ever again.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

An endless race of property and priveldge to be won, has made humanity the tangled, uneven mess that it is. And 15 000 new lives have been born from a mother's womb since you began reading this journal entry. And death is encompassing another 15 000 lives. Right now they are realizing everything.. whether if it was all a dream, a test, a journey, a sacrifice or nothing at all, or maybe just a story.

Every lifetime is one molecule in this wobbly world.

And it will not depend on who is better, who has the best car, or house, or body, or money or fame in the end.

So I will believe in myself right now, and explore until my soul is steeped in swimming summers.

All it is is Life.

Life -- something that's so startling -- it doesn't leave time for anything else -- it's the only thing you're going to know and do and be in the past present and future. And you have a mysterious body with hands and feet and eyes and hearts and lungs and voices and ears and teeth and skin and flesh. Don't give in to it. Don't give in. Keep on flying and crawling and darting inside of it, until it naturally sets you free into the eloquence of eternity.

So stand up. Believe in yourself. Like I am doing right now.

There is nothing to be afraid of. It's just life, with all of it's heartleaves and ventricles wavering in the wind.

]]> ~flappability Film. http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/17435491/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/17435491/ Thu, 03 Apr 2008 02:00:29 PDT UPDATE 4/1/08:
NAPOWRIMO. ALRIGHT. I AM GOING TO DO IT THIS YEAR. They won't be long poems, but they will be poems. A poem a day. All month. I will do it. And submit all of the decent ones.

sleep dancing across a thousand art attacks,
until we land in a radiant splash
at the bottom of the ocean

counting through the hurricanes
as the sky rewinds our minds.

-------------------------------------

_{It took me four months to realize that one of my best friends pretty much made one of my greatest artistic ambitions come true.

I've wanted to be a film maker for two years. And it's all happening now.

Six hour painting studios, figure-drawing open studios, and all the extra time in between to set up sets, organize actors, film and screenwrite. This is the work in progress I've always wanted to be a part of.}

Lachrymal Sunshine.
A working title and a working indie student production.

edit 4/2/08

Watch this movie destroy my personal life and create crazy stress bubbles. Watch me stay up to insane hours screenwriting, and basing antagonists off of people I know. Watch me fall over and yell at everybody and wildly wonder why I would ever ridiculously devote half of my life to working on such a project, only to rise again, the morning after, with the encouragement and support of the crew to persist and keep going. Watch me torture the protagonists. Watch me become unrealistic and dream of everything that could not be. Watch me.

In the end, the only person watching me is myself.

But the product of all this hard work will be watched by you, by me, and our friends, and hopefully we for a short 70 minutes, we may all be connected.

As this is why I set out in the first place. To make a movie about love, possibility, disability, bohemia, loneliness, desperation, growth and the craze of human condition. To do what I love with the artists I love, with all the support from the people I love. To communicate a something profound and lasting to a human audience. To inspire any ordinary human being, touched by our work to pick up a camera, a pen, or a brick and create their own.

Film is what I live through now.

]]> ~flappability whatever it is i left behind. http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/17311899/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/17311899/ Thu, 13 Mar 2008 06:28:09 PDT "And in the awful air
of freeze-dried apathy,
the pilot cried until his eyes went blind,
and an empty sky of plummeting potentials
was stretched and left
behind." (the spotlessness of forgetting life 2006)

"Her heart was coiled
around his face
like a cotton scarf
of gingerbread warmth
on a freeze-dried monday morning." (Sandcastles were Blossomed 2005)

I have been reading the creative writing portfolio I created back in 2005-2006, and it surprises me how much my writing has changed. I don't think I will ever be able to write in that same style ever again, nor express the same images. The concepts and themes have evolved from careful studies of human nature to my current dreamlike romantic impressions.

I can't help but wonder what it is I lost. I find myself unable to keep up with philiosophical conversations. My curiosity and willingness to pursue new knowledge has significantly decreased. As long as I am not making art, I get significantly more exhaustingly bored with what we are being taught in school everyday. I used to receive sudden urges to write these long inspirational rants regarding ceaseless revelations of human growth, and what it means to be an artist, but now I feel as if all that spark has diminished.

There was a certain shy wonder and wide-eyed curiosity that defined me back then. Has the ceaseless race to keep up with school work, college preparations and ambitious longterm art projects destroyed that wonder?

I don't even have the time to read anymore. I don't even feel like a writer.

Or perhaps it is that I have so much of the future planned out that the element of surprise and freedom of youth has disappeared?

But one thing is for sure. All of the largescale things I ever dreamt about doing -- I am doing them right now. I'm writing and co-directing a full length movie (70 page screenplay) , I am creating a 10 foot tall installation -- both huge breakthroughs for me as a budding artist. And I know there is nothing else I'd rather dump alll these hours into. However I guess there is a certain point where you find yourself doing so much of what you love that it becomes routine.

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 12 - Death of a Moth http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/17106432/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/17106432/ Thu, 28 Feb 2008 17:07:44 PST
In AP Literature and Composition today we dissected "Death of a Moth", an essay by nature writer, Annie Dillard.

Dillard wrote about her experience to reinvigorate her inspiration to be a writer.

Alone, by candlelight, she was reading the a biography of Arthur Rimbaud, a french poet who produced his major works during his adolescence -- the same poet who was once her initial inspiration to become a writer.

A flickeing gray moth flew right into her candle flame and in time it's thorax, head, and soaking abdomen melted to ash, and all that's left of the spectacular skeleton become the wick of the candle.

"She burned for two hours without changing, without bending or leaning - only glowing within, like a building fire glimpsed through silhouetted walls, like a hollow saint, like a flame-faced virgin gone to God, while I read by her light, kindled while Rimbaud in Paris burnt out his brains in a thousand poems, while night pooled wetly at my feet."

_{This metaphor between a moth and a writer/artist struck the core of me with such immense force.

For moths are attracted to the brilliance of fire's hungry heating light -- the very thing that is so dangerous with the unforgiving power to consume it whole.

And yet the greatest writers/artists are the same.

They were willing to dive straight into the flame and let the lonesome sentimentalism of their work consume their entire lives, albeit the consequences, albeit the solitude. And years, decades and centuries later, their wick-like skeletons keep the candle light burning, releasing a grandiose reservoir of monstrous inspiration.}

Are you willing to dive into the flame? Are you willing to dive into the very thing all your pulsating limbs and bloodvessels are attracted to, yet is dangerous enough and has the pure power to consume you whole?

]]> ~flappability Art School Visit Regurgitation http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/17040585/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/17040585/ Sun, 24 Feb 2008 11:25:20 PST
I have developed an unexplainable love for the city of Providence, Rhode Island. College hill above the Providence river, where a hundred bonfires bloom. Waterfire. A hundred amazingly delicious places to eat. The charm and the quiet coziness. The tight-knit streets and colonial style architecture. The Atlantic ocean. I can't wait to spend six weeks living there this summer.

We paid a visit to my cousin in Graduate school at Yale University and ate at the enormous dining hall which was the same set used at the Great Hall in the Harry Potter films. Mmmm... cheesy spinach. It would be so affluently strange to get used to -- going to college in an enormous neo-gothical castle.

Then two days later was New York City at night. All the million people and the cities at the break of dawn. The american Beijing. Commercialism galore in the expanse of ceaseless flash of artificial lights in Times Square, lighting up a fraction of the Manhattan population with an ethereal lavender glow. Weaving in and out of america's largest museums... taking the subways in the opposite directions of our destinations, changing plans a thousand times. Heading downtown to Brooklyn. There was too much to see, it was all happening too fast, and I already miss it.

I don't think I'm going to apply to Pratt Institute and Parsons.
However, I loved RISD and MICA and wouldn't mind going to either, though if I could choose between the two, it would be RISD. I think I will also be ridiculous and attempt the near-impossibility of applying to Cooper Union as well. Scary hometest.

Now it's time to prepare... back on the... west coast.

]]> ~flappability New England Bound http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/16858856/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/16858856/ Wed, 13 Feb 2008 05:11:59 PST New York City // Baltimore // Providence // New Haven

Five Art Colleges, Three Universities, Museums, Monuments, and Parks.
_{Saturday is the time to
dive 30 thousand miles deep into the sky

and arrive
in New England
for the first time

to spend eight days figuring out my future... figuring out my life.}

Give me a week and a half, and I'll come back, and regurgitate.

]]> ~flappability a personal REVELATION http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/16699327/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/16699327/ Sun, 03 Feb 2008 00:24:26 PST if i procrastinate like this anymore i may just have to explode myself.

no, TODAY is the DAY I am going to be the person I want to be.

NOW IS THE TIME I WILL START BELIEVING IN MYSELF.

as I sit here, ferociously hitting the keys, I decided that I will sit in self-deprication and lonesome adolescent complaints no longer. A clean slate. NO more desperation. NO more forgetting about myself and finding myself unable to say no to requests of other people. A brand new slate. If I am single forever that doesn't matter, because nothing in this fucking world is going to fucking stop me from achieving my aspirations, from finishing the film, from doing what I want to do.

it is my destiny to be an artist, regardless of how cheesy that sounds.

NOW IS THE TIME. NO more foolish romantic dreams that tear my braincells into a million powdery pieces.
I AM GOING TO COLLEGE. I AM GOING TO MOVE ON I AM GOING TO ARISE, WITH A HEART ENFLAMED, FEAR OF NOTHING, BEING ME, BEING WHO I AM, CHANGING FOR NOBODY, DOING WHAT I NEED, AND achieving with no ceiling.

standing on a massive pile of sketchbooks and journals and a monument of failed relationships, I STAND AND SCREAM that I believe in myself today and I will do all that it takes to get to where I want to be.

]]> ~flappability Romantic Surrealism http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/16467916/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/16467916/ Fri, 18 Jan 2008 23:58:17 PST
Now where can I find a college program and a degree for that?

]]> ~flappability 2007 - what beastly things you did to me http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/15952086/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/15952086/ Sat, 15 Dec 2007 23:13:44 PST

TWO THOUSAND AND SEVEN.

_{Was a year of emotional extremes above all things.

I journeyed my way to Rome, Florence and Paris, heartbeats and brainstems exploding into smithereens under the Sistine Chapel, and came back with the inspiration to paint a whole fucking 8 foot by 5 foot cow sculpture and got paid for it.

I went camel-riding across the Gobi Desert and dashed through ancient chinese gardens and peered into Shi Huang Di's terricotta army, filled a weighty pile of journals and blank white sketchbook pages, screamed in chinese, reunited with my extended family, met up with mongolians, educated myself about world history and art history and witnessed a large fraction of everything I read about, and basked into the vastness of the world.

/Insert Fifteen airplane trips somewhere in between/

And then I started dating guys? And taped together whatever torn-up fragments 2006 left my body with, into a social life? I left the safe closed-up world in introversion and began collaboration?

And I began hanging out with a clan of raging left-wing creative thinkers and musicians?

And I became a transcendentalist and was yanked into the world of film and screenwriting and decided that this is where I'd like to spend the rest of my life?}

I learned to never ever judge anyone, and I suppose somewhere in there I learned forgiveness. I learned that I have a knack of suddenly falling hard for specific people and that usually means screwing things over for myself, but it has happened so many times this year, that I've gotten quite used to it, surprisingly. I guess I am a stronger person now. I learned that fifteen years of introverted living has molded me into a far more self-reliant individual. I learned to never ever regret anything, (unless I do something incredibly accidental, murderous and stupid) because every mistake builds up to experience. I learned that reality is incredibly harsh, and how good your life is depends solely on your own actions. I am not a rationalist, rather a romanticist.

TWO THOUSAND AND EIGHT should be a year of more mistakes, east-coast-travel, experimentations, screw-ups, mess-ups, maybe a little bit of love, but I should be working harder on ART and EDUCATION than I ever knew I could work in my life. Whatever. A year of growth anyways. Two Thousand and Eight, I'm ready to take you on.

_{And now I shall leave you all with these last words, quoted by a very inspirational friend of mine, Beck;}

the reasonable man conforms himself to fit the world. the unreasonable man makes the world fit him. progress is not possible without the unreasonable man.

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 11 - ALL I NEED http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/15629696/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/15629696/ Fri, 23 Nov 2007 01:57:47 PST

_{i always try my best to hold on to beautiful feelings, because all i know is that this life is one moment and changes will soon leave me empty. they will be buckled to a page, written down, made into a song, painstakingly painted, before the.... feeling .... fade..s......

i want to remember every happy memory, and carry them with me into every city i go to.

that's why i am so bad at packing. that's why i find it so difficult to throw things away.

(i think i'm going to make a project where i take a picture of all of these significant objects in my room and describe the memories that correspond to them)

today i walked. i walked into the house with the lushest and most beautiful thousand-layered song gushing into my eardrums, and suddenly the entire room was transformed into a trancelike daze. I was not walking on hardwood floors and rug-covered stairs, but a rich orchestration of modern music. The song was all that existed. The song was in my bones.

and that simple moment felt like the most meaningful moment in the world at the time.

I simply adore how amazing art can have so strong of an effect on slippery members of the clumsy audience. for a single moment, nothing else exists but the painting. nothing else exists but the song. nothing else exists but the fluid verses of the punctual poem. For a single moment on planet earth that forms a thousand ripples of thick viscous inspiration.

Ageless art is not about originality, but more about saying the right thing at the right time in the right way.

Art can be an endless reminder. A ceaseless dedication. A physical manifestation of many emotions felt through many hours that were signifcant enough to be worth the time of the artist.

Every painting, every song and every piece or permanent or time-lapse art ever created has a history.

It is directly related to our thought process and how we live our lives and the multitude of influences that penetrate it.

And when you realize that, when you really really realize that, it is a beautiful beautiful thing.

All the artists on planet earth launching their most necessary emotions onto the canvas pool of the world.

All at the same time.}
Milleniums into the past.
Milleniums into the future.

We were never alone.

_{(and the best journals are the ones where in a single second inspiration strikes, and you type and type and type, letting the results bloom and expand by themselves until the final period justifies everything. it just justifies everything. and that is all you know.)}

RADIOHEAD - IN RAINBOWS

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 10 - escape is NOW http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/15486309/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/15486309/ Mon, 12 Nov 2007 21:52:07 PST

_{advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer, but we're just afraid to believe in it.

pessimism really isn't that bad.

because you learn to accept the negativities that life hands you. you learn to accept. you learn to deal with it.

our inner optimists kick us in the face. Wasn't false hope so beautiful? Tricking every limb of your being into believing in something wonderful that fades away in the endless tsunami ride of time.

in two years, everybody here will be left behind.

in two years i will ship my life to the other side of the world.

in two years i will throw my stubborn short-winded elations on some other people.

in two years change will root me to the ground once again.

in two years, things will be different.

and we can all spend our whole lives wishing we were better, wishing we were more significant, wishing we didn't make those heart-breaking mistakes, wishing we weren't afraid.

REGRET is something that I will not believe in.

FROM THIS POINT ON.

Does every mistake and grain of adversity not stack up on top of eachother to mold you into the person that you are?

My body is a cage, and it will be forever until the day I realize it is useless to let the little things scar myself.

But oh I wish it were that easy.

But all of this -- all of life is an endless struggle. It is not just puberty. It is not just adolescence. It is LIFE.

But sometimes you cannot accept the shit that you have been served.

You will not give up until you know for sure, that you tried. That you tried everything you can. Only then will you be satisfied.

I am afraid of failure. But I am afraid even more of missing opportunities.

BUT this is the MOMENT

you realize that everything can be changed.

and YOU are the only person who can do that.

how joyous or saddening or wonderful or angry your lifetime is going to be depends solely on YOURSELF.

NOW is the time YOU are going to change. NOW is the time you are going to feel happy. NOW is the time you are going to start being the person you want to be. NOW is the time you are going to stop crying NOW is the time you are going to stop losing yourself in the endless task of making other people happy, NOW is the time you are going to embrace existance, as much as you can carry, as much as you have left.

In a blizzard of seconds, every single person on planet earth will fade away forever into the monstrous maze of earthen memories.

I am not afraid of that fate.

In fact, I find it beautifully inevitable.

I will not die kicking and screaming and regretting everything I did or did not do.

but instead,

I will die at peace.

As my veins and breaths and heartbeats entwine together with the mysterious and unforgiving cycle that is nature itself. I will be in the soil. I will decay and give birth to new soil, and new life.

and bask in the freedom of nature's laws.

smile and sigh

and go on.}

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 9 - Welcome to the 21st Century http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/15263781/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/15263781/ Sun, 28 Oct 2007 19:33:24 PDT

_{for all you folk dreaming of a creative career; you can go ahead and call me crazy, but today, craziness is the truth.

Learn the rules before you break them, but when you break them, break them with a richocheting boom of exponential creativity.

There millions of things to express, and billions of methods to express them.

In order for any art to make a lasting difference in the art scenes of the 21st century and the future centuries to come, it must be different. It must feed off of the brilliance of what has already been done, suck in the technologies of the modern day, and after a sweeping swallow -- regurgitate it all out in a flashing fire of creative genius.

Rage against the mainstream, combine mediums, and dash into the unknown, and don't just break the mold - but furiously zoom into it from a thousand different directions until it is blasted backwards into barren plane of the distant past.

There is no ceiling stopping you from creating something so unique, brilliant, astounding, and influential that it surpasses all means of categorization and leaves the audience speechless. Silence is always the best applause.

And you have the rest of your existance to learn how.

And there has never been a time with more technology and education at our fingertips. There has never been a time with more opportunity to learn and master any skill. Globalization stretches out in fathomless directions, as we must strive harder to keep up with everything. It's so easy to get lost in this age of information, but does your love for your art and your belief in the concept of exponential creativity give you enough oomph to rise above these distractions and fulfill as much creative potential as you possibly can?

And yes it requires years of dedication, collaboration, luck and talent. But above it all, the driving force is belief. Ask any artist.

So believe in yourself today.

Do not let your current level of skill, or fear of failure discourage you.

Believe in yourself today..}

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 8 - angst / apathy / amalgamation http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/14916609/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/14916609/ Thu, 04 Oct 2007 17:42:11 PDT

lately, everytime I have tried to get down my philiosophical thoughts, I end up staring at a blank white screen, feeling completely dumbfounded, trapped and useless. I HATE IT. It's time to FORCE IT OUT!

_{Think society.

How is it that after the most time-consuming creation of your life, you crumble into a sudden stand-still, storms of apathy repeating the question a thousand times, why oh why do you even try?

How is it that in all of humanity's short-winded wars, vanity is always victorious?

How is it that the same so called "technology" that brought the world the comforts of central heating, stoves and mass communication, is also the bane of man's existance, the guillotine of the gap between the rich and poor, the destroyer of the world?

How is it that so many people can accept the shit that the recent millenium of extremist history has served them, love the cesspool of conformity, vanity and capitalism that is so apparently eating humanity alive?

And how is it that a sudden explosion of apathy can ignite a rant so angsty, and one-sided, yet some how, right now I believe in it's every word?

Day by dragging day, the limitations of our own intelligence fire back at us, our oversized dreams spits us back out, and we are left inferior to ourselves, repeating the grandest historical mistakes over and over again, in each passing century.

Somewhere in this massive avalanche of distorted opinions, the excruciating scars from our haunting histories, this muddle mess of good and evil and the buckshot of everything in between, I am lost.

I am tinier than I've ever been, and I drown in the inspirational void of purposeless repetitions. The unforgiving, exponential force of TIME itself will eventually perish every trace of life on this suffering planet that our bones will soon become.

Dear God, great abandoner, architect and creator. You are the universe and we were the blister on your lower lip that exponentially bloomed, cried, sighed, and popped, creating room for more species, existances and worlds. Maybe you were always way beyond the struggle through inevitabilities that our lives represent. Like the experiments we did to the animals, for the sake of the promotion of our own species. Maybe you know something far more grandiose than the limitations of our five senses and brainsize would ever be able to comprehend.

And maybe that knowledge was ingrained in all of us all along. Maybe it was the wisdom we lost in education, the truth we threw away for information.

Or even, maybe all of this is just a sullen thought that in mere decades will fade from my mind and yours.

Atleast it was a thought that was shared.

Maybe we can start from there.

But what overrides everything and swallows my past present and future is that deafening lack of constant purpose. I just don't understand why I am here, why I am dragging my fingers across every individual key to deliver a message that clearly has no conclusion.

And I do not want to believe that this is just the phase of confusion that the pains of adolescence encompasses.

and yet, maybe it just is.

And maybe our minds are not in growth, but in decay. The freewilled exaltation and simplicity of childhood that traverses into the complexities and heightened intelligence of too much wisdom and age. Capacity and potential withers down.

Maybe LOVE, regardless of how it curses and sways -- trully is the only thing left in this world that can bring us back.}

]]> ~flappability update - protest - draw - paint - repeat http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/14818263/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/14818263/ Thu, 27 Sep 2007 18:39:58 PDT

_{Large thanks to *veggie1232 for the subscription, it's been a while.

I am not quite sure which direction my art life is going. I am enrolled in a Production Graphics Vocational class, where you basically operate a graphic business, serve customers, design, silkscreen shirts, handle film negatives for offset printing, machine-cut vinyl signs.. etc. Overall it's a very useful course as I do see myself working in that industry, for a certain fragment of my future.

The limitations of being a graphic designer haven't exactly hit me until now. And I am mostly referring to the unaesthetic suggestions the customers make when I sincerely believe that I am finished with a work. I long to start painting again, bask in that bathtub of edgeless freedom, get my fingernails dirty, make a dreamscape a reality with my very hands, get stains on all of my clothing again. I loved it when it took over my life, and all I want to do now is refuse gravity and regain that spark for traditional art...

Meanwhile, I highly reccomend all to see ACROSS THE UNIVERSE. It is a completely lifechanging film that allowed me to feel every emotion in the human spectrum. It is one of those enormous globes of inspiration that make me want to pursue a career in film making. That would just be amazing.

I hope you guys are all well. I have been sparice here for far too long. It's about time to really start updating again.

I'll write a more philiosophical uplifting and inspiring Fallopiation later!}

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 7 - vignettes from summer 07 http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/14607614/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/14607614/ Wed, 12 Sep 2007 18:04:46 PDT
Summer falls to an end.
These are the letters I wrote to the living. Let us share mythologies.

(thanks to Hilary ~Hilarycryptozoology for inspiring me to look back into my adventures, and deliver them through vignettes)

- late JUNE -
Right when you are about to fall face-forward into your racoon-eyed deathmaze of finals studying and sleepless weekends -- the supple song of a newly-sliced open summer seeps into your bones, fully memorized, welcoming you in.

And suddenly you realize you have never felt more full-bodied, in love with life, and sincerely human. Windswept and wild, it is not the amount of free time and curfew-less nights and alarm clock-free mornings that defines these endless stretches of summer lights, but rather the simple pile of euphoric moments where the purest freedom burns deep in the bones of you and all of your friends. Days where there is nothing more exciting than spending hours upon hours with long lost friends, inventing tribal dances, drawing monsters on each others arms, eating breakfast at 2 am and embracing everybody as if it were your last hour on planet Earth. Days where the careless beat of you and your best friend trekking out into that abandoned lake in the middle of a silent 3pm suburbia suddenly yanks out the craziest fireworks display of extroversion that you swore you never had. And suddenly it's naked time, in the great outdoors, without a single being in sight. Who needs clothes these days anyways? Your toes leave the side of the dock and one belly flop latter, a tremendous rush of freezing water aches your ears and stings your nose, and suddenly you are swimming and swimming and swimming without an origin or a destination. You hope to God that the fish and leeches don't bite you in the butt, and then suddenly you realize that you don't care. A first freckled kiss swathed in six feet of running lake water. A show of naked chicks for whichever birds and fish and distant humans cared to look. Two friends frolicking to the beat of supple spontaneity on an early summer afternoon. Wrapped in ravines with a sprinkle of empty houses crouching underneath.

And when the euphoric freedom reaches its zenith, you, feeling as if all the color in the world were concentrated in one place, regretfully walk home and finally accept that tomorrow you'll be on your way to the other side of the world.

- early JULY -
In an enormous house on the edge of the city of your childhood, exists a deafening silence that robs you of your ability to breathe. Not even a single sweep of traffic, or the ticking of the clock, or a single bird chirping. Just an enormous, drowning silence. Loneliness is deepened when you realize that merely a week ago, you were at your most free-spirited and most fulfilled state. And you never appreciated those short-lived bursts of seemingly endless spontaneity more than you do now. So you fill up this unforgiving hollow emptiness with the innocence of a life three-years-young, entirely untouched by the stresses of education, society and existence. You pretend you are a bunny as mansions are from couch-cushions made, and the simplest mistakes provoke a bawling fit of oceanic tears and screams. In spite of it all, the cure to deep summer loneliness was still discovered as you learn to provide the basic needs to another genetically connected human being.

Ten years later, youÂll be 25, and heÂll be thirteen, and you canÂt help but wonder what it might be like.

- late JULY -
Just when your feeble body cannot stand anymore homesickness, you fall in love with the Gobi Desert. Arching a hundred miles away from the noise and commotion of civilization, you stand on the very top of a swirling sand dune. Peering down at the endless stretch of golden waves, dappled with tiny blue oasises, little camels, lizards, and sand plants Â all forming a ring of life under the forget-me-not blue sky. This is freedom. True freedom the way the nomads and natives experienced before the bane of industrial civilization. Your shoes form a sun-burnt heap behind you, as you dash, barefooted from one sand dune to the next. Each foot vanishing and reappearing out of the grainy gold with each sweeping stride. The feathery wind sliding behind your ears. There was never a time where you will comprehended more completely, the depth of the natural beauty that human civilization is destroying. You become an environmentalist.

- early AUGUST -
To accept is to escape. You say. But what if life did lead you to honest-to-god believing, that one day, you will remember how to be okay again? The innocence lost in the unforgiving tsunami ride of time. The habits formed that cannot break. The thirst to believe in something, to find something worthwh... ]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 6 - CHINA part 1 http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/13966808/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/13966808/ Wed, 01 Aug 2007 06:33:35 PDT

~foreverer - Susan, the only other artist in my family. Definately somebody to lookout for. She's pursuing a masters in Architecture from Yale & has lived in China all her life. That's one magnificent step.

eighteen hours spent in the sky
& I'm blasted back ot the universal epiphany
of our oriental ancestries.

connected by the dullflame of a distant sisterhood
we sleep ; encradled in the willow roots
of our family tree
planted smack dab
in the center
of the outrageous country
our heart beats call our "homes."

southern china [GUANGZHOU]
There is a certain drowning quality about Guangzhou or any big city in the most populous country on planet Earth. Immediately you are swallowed under the huge heaps of enormous budding apartment complexes, enormous malls with numerous glass elevators, dirty roads, nose-stuffingly humid oxygen, subway stations and of course the sweat of crowds upon crowds of squishy people. Thousands of black eyed-black-haired heads, all marching to the beat of their own own lives, pushing and shoving through the crowds, crossing the streets without stoplights or crosswalks, sharing umbrellas in broad daylight... You get lost in the seething sameness of everyone's ethnicity as they mumble a messy mingling of mandarin and cantonese.

"all the citybuses swimming past... I'm happy just because, I found out I am really... no one." - bright eyes

Like the intense 40 degree heat, you learn to get used to crowds. You learn to get used to seeing the large chasms between the rich and poor on a daily basis. The willowy women dressed in expensive silk-ruffled frill, with a fake LV bag swinging above their clacking high heels, zipping straight past the crippled beggars with cigarettes and hunched backs.

It's a sickening reality on the other side of planet earth. This is no homeless shelter, no Amnesty International, no humble habitat for humanity. But rather a fast-paced entertainment city filled with shopping malls, parks, and city centers. The population is far too enormous to initiate any government-sponsored aid & rights for the poor. There needs to be an end to ignorance, but who is going to stand up for that here?

I talked to a distant cousin who I've never met on the phone for half an hour. Though speaking all in my terrible childish Chinese, I was immediately struck with how harmonically alike our minds think. She is two years my elder, and spent her entire life growing up in the empoverished rural country side, attending 11th grade in a small school at a nearby town. We talked longingly about how we both dreamed to one day be published novelists, unravelling our hopes, messages, and visions for the world to read even years and years after our deaths. She told me about the negatives of Chinese society, and the ridiculously high standards of academics above all things, and the lack of respect for eccentricity. She was never afraid to voice out her opinion about anything, even to adults and teachers, and she dreams of one day making an impact on the restraints of Chinese society. If she gets past the ridiculous competition tests to get into college, then I can definately envision some enormous ripple of righteous courage richocheting out of her that will surely bring about great things. Perhaps it is the people climbing out of an adverse youth who can trully make the most profound, much-needed impacts.

Which makes me think of all of the extraordinary, potential politicians, activists, and great minds that could have been if only society gave them a more decent opportunity. There are far too many people out there without an education. Envision the enormous mountain of possible nobel peace lauretes lost forever in the tsunami ride of ticking time.

"where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

Though there are many things I love about China, this is still a country where children and teenagers are bombarded with studying and taught that the most important thing is to get their grades up. Though filled with advanced calculus and many sciences, what a highschool Chinese education lacks most is; the freedom to specialize (very sparice electives), as well as the teaching of humanities on a global level. They are taught Marxism, and loads of Chinese history, but only a basic understanding of world history, and other world philosophies exist. As globalizat... ]]> ~flappability Summer 2007 http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/13506099/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/13506099/ Wed, 27 Jun 2007 00:43:06 PDT Summer OH SEVEN
So now that school's out and I'm in the process of adapting to the strange absence of homework monsters.... the possibly most amazing summer of my life is about to be experienced.

On the first of July, Canada Day, I will be stuffed into the stomach of a plane and vomitted back into the town I grew up in. And then, merely two weeks later, I'm off to China with a wondrous Aunt and an awesome 23 year old cousin who in two months will be a graduate student at YALE school of architecture.

Then the REAL adventure begins. From Southern China - Guangzhou, we will hop into a few trains, and quite possibly a few camel-rides across some sand dunes, deserts, and high humidities... until we reach Xi'an and venture through the Terricotta Army and Qin Shi Huang Di's tomb, and numerous pagodas and historical remnants.. .. then DUNHUANG. Up in central-north china, a tradingcenter for the Silk Road back during the Tang Dynasty. An oasis in the middle of vast deserts. The Caves of a Thousand Buddhas. All under the strange Chinese sky. In the cusp of Mongolia. I can't even believe it.

And right now, at 12:24 AM, updating for the first time in weeks, in a twist of forward-thinking global-mindedness, I can't even fathom how amazed I am to simply exist in this life. In this enormous world. Perhaps for much too long I have been cowering in the confines of my room, studying or emptying my imagination or whatever monstrous heartbeat inside of me. I forgot about AP world history, globalization, the hundreds of countries, the seven billion other beings existing. I forgot about everything and i could only keep up with myself. But now it's all rushing back to me in a thousand different colors while the neighbourhood snores into deepest sheep-counting sleep.
ART
the world of modern art is so enormous? When will I stand a chance?
GR! Sometimes I feel as if I haven't even begun! When the confines of highschool and organized education loosen their hold -- then I can begin. Then I can unwind. So many times the ideas come but I don't have the technical skill to express it.

I guess all I can do is keep practicing. Draw a human figure 100 times. Keep writing.
Keep creating until my hands cease to move, and keep searching for inspiration. It's a terrible terrible passion and I cannot see the day that I will ever be satisfied with whatever level I am.. because the cieling has been blasted off ages ago by the old masters. There is no cieling. I will keep typing, keep hoping and keep creating.

What about huge installations that smell and scream and belch and tower above you, radiating with enormous pathos?

Or a movie that is so powerful that it brings the muchneeded inspiration to a fading generation?

Or paint a sound! Paint the sound an eagle makes when it is freaking out and being attacked. Or the sound of diarrhea.

Or find your inner Synaesthesia.

I would have to live another lifetime to give each idea the proper sunlight and water for gorgeous growth.

"I write to taste life twice." - Anais Nin

"Art is the lie that makes you realize the truth." - Picasso

EDIT (6/29/07)
15 things I have already done over the summer

[finished a whole [shirt] painting in one sitting] [went skinny-dipping with my humor-ously connected siamese twin] [stayed up for 24 hours] [got kicked out of a community service event] [hung out with a super awesome bike-flying russian film-producer in the making] [baked pineapple/nutmeg/pumpkin cookies] [recieved sexypeel soap & a wooden lifestory mushroom from a special someone] [dressed up like a native american] [created my own tribal ritual dance with a best friend] [started a new sketchbook & journal] [peed in a lake] [laughed so hard i peed my pants] [left a spokenword story on an answering machine] [screwed up my sleep schedule] [yelled at people] [scrubbed shoes] [got 14 scars up my leg]

]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 5 - Cypress Sky http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/13196508/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/13196508/ Sun, 03 Jun 2007 01:00:16 PDT

Fallopiation No. 5 - Cypress Sky

_{ah.. film I would love to make art films which sprout from a strange idea from the deepest gymnasium of the imagination. The art of film, intellectually crafted, can potentially express any idea, any vision, any story that the human mind can possibly comprise. Pick out the music + visuality + performing arts + design + animation+ digital art + sculpture + choreography and put it all together into one time-consuming roll of moving photography. Perhaps I have been watching too much Matthew Barney.

I wish I was in college on the opposite side of the country.}

_{wild musings

A single life is a subjective glimpse -- a vivid interpretation comprised of fleeting fragments in this timeless world of uncountable dimensions.

A penny in a dreampool when all the money in the world will ultimately buy you nothing.

The influence is: time period culture setting society education chance &

the biological characteristics of both physicality & psychology.

And yet we are united by the same violence, resistance, expectation, love, misunderstanding, pride and intelligence that is our species, yet segregates us all.

I walked through suburbia, a filmstrip of two-story houses with the same green lawns and cracked doorbells, and suddenly i realized that inside these very houses -- in my neighbourhood -- people could be doing the strangest and most life-changing things. The plumber hitting his mid-life crisis, the teenage boy making a mansion from pillows, a newborn girl who would potentially discover a new branch of science, the criminal of the ages, the domestic violence, the wait, the youth, the life. Then think about the two people who die every second of every day. Bang, bang bang. six people just died and the number infinitely rises and rises as the clock reminds us. The monk kissing a stupa in vietnam setting fireworks off the gulf of mexico, salt mines in nigeria, rubber trees in congo and wrinkled ancestors with snapped-off hands, the starving ragged girl, clinging on to a one-eyed doll, banging her head on the window of an occupied taxi, the pope taking an exquisite bath with sage nutmeg soap, the icelandic immigrant stenching up the whole apartment complex with broiled puffin, the professor who took the bullets at the classroom doorway as the students scurried away from the sudden massacre, the nobel peace prize winner being born. All is happening right now. Seven billion human beings. One earth. The Museum of Natural History. The Astronomers. All under the same ringing sky. We're not that faraway.

Embrace this existance and be the change you wish to see in this world.

Your ratio to humanity is minuscule yet you can still strive to stand out adn leave a mark, if only opportunity will be grasped. Unwaste those second tries, and act now. Break the imbalance. If the power is yours, then use it for something important, and give thanks.

And maybe prolong humanity's entire downfall.

We'll be buried deep like the dinosaurs someday -- a saddening generation would have to experience that; the books will be burning, history fading, the golden age of information swirling down the drain. Fire, global warming and chemicals. And whatever creatures - how massive or how small - climb out of the neoteric fire-age, they'll find bones. Our bones. Graveyard country, the remnants are ridiculous.

Oh greater power, universe, watchmaker, divinity, God? What will You be feeling? The world of your creation, the humanity who used it for their own innovations, desires and gain, and dealt with the consequences until it no longer could sustain...

Where was the soul? Where was the message? Where was the resolution?

Under the dusk of this aimless pondering I feel more nauseous everyday with the empty truth.}
Maybe each question we ask evaporates into the sky. And one day there will be too much for the sky to hold, so the answers will be in the rain. It will be raining. And imagine you have a lover to run through it with.

inspiration

Anis Mojdani - Seattle Grand Poetry Slam 2007
[link]

_{Mystwilliam's Fingertip Kites}

_{Ceruleantown.com}

http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/12534950/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/12534950/ Tue, 10 Apr 2007 05:14:44 PDT

RAWR Update 4/23/07

Arggh I've been extremely lazy lately and really really should be studying for AP test and finishing those 7 AP concentration pieces which are due in two days (yes I've been putting it off for THIS long wheee)... and thought I would update.

I recently got all obsessed with Northeastern US art colleges and I cannot stop looking them up and obsessing over them..... ahhhhhh highschool... just two more years ... two more years until I get out of this place..... I spend far too much time dreaming about my future and I have decided now that I will stop dreaming and really get my butt off of the bed and computer chair and start living.

_{What's Up With Flappability}

_{~ariallure and I are thinking of starting a dA Global Awareness Club. I'm not sure if that is the right title for it.. but basically it focuses on the bringing awareness to the larger tragic issues concerning the world at the moment, and how anybody, can make a difference. This will involve creating posters that can be freely printed off and hung up at any bulletin board, listing ideas of what we can do to help, linking to the websites of organizations and frequent journals that bring global issues to the forefront.

_{Europium Trip}}

Our Europium Trip was amazing in every sense of the word. Basically the best ten days of my life. There is such a complex, euphoric, grandiose and declining history intertwined in the very cobbled roads our crew of 20 girls and 2 guys ventured across for those puddle-wonderful ten days. This year I took AP world history and AP art history and it was insane to see the measley little textbook thumbnails suddenly replaced with gallery upon gallery of fullsize originals and actually going INSIDE the cathedrals, churches, temples, structures and buildings.

ROME
The oldest building in Washington is 150 years old. However, in Rome, the oldest building dates back to archaically momumental Roman Empire, dating back to 500 BC. Two and a half milleniums ago. Rome was a myriad of diverse achitektural styles, from greco-roman simplicity, to gothic cathedrals, to the most ornately-decorated baroque cathedrals, to some post-modern shapeless pure-white building stuff, It was baffling to see McDonalds placed beside the Colloseum and the Roman civilians absentmindedly walking past the ruins of the imperial palace. We went to the Colloseum, the Vatican City (supposedly having one of the highst tourist crime-rates/pickpocketing in the world), St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican Museums, the Spanish Steps, the whole Pantheon/Capitoline Hill area... and much more. I have an incomplete travel diary somewhere and bus sketchings and too many photos to count.

Brief History Lesson on A Rennaissance Man
[assuming you are not all art history nuts like me]

The highlight of Rome has got to be the Sistine Chapel. I lost my eyes, my arms, my left leg and a slice of my aorta somewhere in the massive expanse of incandescent rennaissance mastery. The merciless tangle of naked bodies. Framed human constellations in a dreamscape of biblical storytelling. Indescribable pathos. I completely lost my mind and broke down and cried somewhere in there as well. I remember having to be dragged out by the chaperone as we only had fifteen minutes to take it all in. It's impossible to put into words.

Therefore I'm stealing the words of Goethe - "Without having seen the Sistine Chapel one can form no appreciable idea of what one man is capable of achieving" [regardless of where one's religious beliefs may lie]

Not only was the cieling painted by Michelangelo in the course of just four years, the walls of the structure are entirely covered with rennaissance masterpieces too. Though the rennaissance was certainly a period of intense artistic, scientific and literary enlightenment, the vast majority of the Italian population was unable to read. It was a society where visual pictures and illustrations was one of the most important methods ot tell stories. Anyways, on the opposite wall of the Chapel exists the Last Judgement. Yet another Michelangelo, where a tangled myriad of biblical figures either ascend to heaven of descend into hell. Christ is foreshortened larger, and situated behind beacons of light, at the center. What amused me most was when the tourguide revealed to us that Michelangelo painted the portraits of all the people who were kind to him on... ]]> ~flappability very very unactive jessie http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/12213133/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/12213133/ Fri, 16 Mar 2007 23:00:40 PDT

So I'm stilll alive, and I still do read comments.
I know I have been absent. I have a five foot cow sculpture to paint and i spend hours and hours each day doing art, which in turn leaves me no time for deviantart. And asian parents are angry - i keep missing school and i am way behind in all classes - so no internet for jessy. uhoh.

But gahhh.. by fourth quarter everything will be better and you'll see much more of me around.

meanwhile i am artzing like crazy.

Europe was amazing.

hmm maybe i'll run for president of our campus for peace club.. that will be fun. yay

Stay nifty all of you nifty friends/watchers artists writers whatever.

_{Mystwilliam's Fingertip Kites}

[US : theone.org] o[UK : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org] o [CA : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.ca] o [AU : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org .au]

Send a note if you need anything.

]]> ~flappability i am in ROME! http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/11856019/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/11856019/ Sat, 17 Feb 2007 14:12:19 PST

AHHHHHH!

£èé°çò I love Italian keyboards SHIT I DONT KNOW HOW TO TURN CAP LOCKS OFF

GRRR...yay i found out.

So here I am, half way around the world, it is ROME, a city of twisting tight nit streets, two thousand years of history stacked on top of each other and a myriad of architectural styles all stacked together in one AMAZING city.

and the thick italian language rushing into my eardrums and the wonderfully kind people on the trip...
I am simply having the time of my life, the world is beautiful right now.

AHHH so time is cutting off and its 11 o clock roman time.

Tomorrow is The Villa Borghese Museums & some other ruins of the Roman EMpire... then busride to Florence.. then Uffizi & Academia Museums.. the Bargello Museum... then overnight train to paris, The Louvre, and freetime.

Iàve been writing & sketching like crazy..

AH bye.

_{Mystwilliam's Fingertip Kites}

[US : theone.org] o[UK : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org] o [CA : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.ca] o [AU : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org .au]

Send a note if you need anything.

]]> ~flappability Oh MY! http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/11780565/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/11780565/ Mon, 12 Feb 2007 00:43:41 PST

_{AHHH.. thank you and who out of the kindness of their bubbly hearts bought me 3-month subscriptions recently.

Yay for informal journal entries! So let me tell you about all the art-related things that have/are/will be/been forming my absence in the past present and future.

AHH and I'm sorry I have not been able to reply anything for the past like.. two months. But I am making an AP 2D design Portfolio outside of class (yeah my counselors refuse to allow me to take the class this year so I must make the portfolio OUTSIDE of class) so I will submit some funky experimental crazy creations someday.... yes...

Hmm.. my ipod started smoking and getting very very hot so now it refuses to work. So I am going to sell some work so i can buy myself a zune that is the color of poop.

Also I'm going to go see some psychologist soon because the principal and the counselor met with my mother and talked about how my poop fetish was freaking some old teachers out & the recount I wrote about some hallucinations... etc.. that kinda stuff so now WHEE psychologist soon! I'm actually quite curious about what it would be like, and even looking forward to it.

Oh yeah and I will be painting some 5 foot by 8 foot cow sculpture because I am a finalist for the Lucerne Art of Diary Contest... themed "Cows and History"... &

and OMG I'm leaving to Paris, Florence, and Rome (for 10 days) in... what is it now...?.. in FOUR days.! Our School's art trip to Europe. I can hardly believe I am going! I will collect all the brochures and tickets and cut them into one huge collage memoir of the trip, and fill up sketchbooks... goodness.

UMM.. here's six crazy insane songs that I reccomend.

Patti Smith - Horses/Land of 1000 Dances/La Mer (De)

[Absoulutely amazing spoken-word / danceable nine-minute rocksong.]

Queen - Bicycle Race

[hmm.. who hasn't heard of this? it made me laugh my lungs into smithereens!]

I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night) - Electric Prunes

& everything from the album "Nuggets - Choice Artifacts of the First Psychedelia Era" is from the 60s and amazing.

Free Radicals - The Flaming Lips

I Am Cow - The Arrogant Worms

Triumph of a Heart - Bjork

- This incredible exotic photographer does not have the recognition he deserves. Well worth a watch.}

_{Mystwilliam's Fingertip Kites}

[US : theone.org] o[UK : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org] o [CA : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.ca] o [AU : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org .au]

http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/11630088/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/11630088/ Wed, 31 Jan 2007 00:52:01 PST

_{12:24 AM + Mountainous piles of homework during final week + Procrastination = beautiful thinking and self-discovery}

(some words extracted from one of my personal blogs)

I'm awed at the absurdity of the jumps we experience on the emotional spectrum. It seems like I've been changing, everyday.

Hysterical hyper laughter, catastrophes of introverted self-deprecation, gossamer peace-of- mind, wicked waterfalls of pure inspiration, infuriation on a global level.
Then the slate is wiped clean again by a single dive into another man's philosophical mind.

Hours tumble like dominoes into the cold gray-tiled kitchen floor. Days dissolve into an ageless blur of adolescent memories. I am decaying. I am growing. I thumb the silver blade but I know this cannot last. From the sidelines, I hear the harmonical chiming of their heartbeats. Each rush of blood splashes through their separate systems of intricate veins, cascading in a cycle, back into their hearts, with a dulcimer chime of melodious unison.

And suddenly, I feel like my life is coming back together again. I am not billowing to the rhythm of entirety, but I am getting there. I do not need to depend on the fragile permanence of faraway teenage adoration to remind myself that I am human. I do not need other people to be my praise and be my pride. I am an individual, I appreciate the young woman I am at this moment, and I love the direction I am going, and I believe in myself. It seems like it took one and a half decades for me to realize that, but I am happy that I did.

The work pressure is building up in my stuffy room. All windows are open. Perfectionism has been shoved under my bed and I refuse to let it consume my life and pride again. I do what I can. One hour of ample sleep is better than one hour of studying.

There is a lot of useless pretty things resting on each empty surface in my room. Too many bottles of hand-made paper stars, Asian crafts, gaudy sanrio pencils and Origami. I will spread them around the city. Giving jars of stars and cute little pikachu pencils to the strange little fellows who somehow changed the way I perceive the world.

And suddenly every atom waltzing through my insides feels so all right.

Willowbear, if you decided today that you'll be here, out of everywhere, please know that I apologize if I said any hurtful things in any of the past journal entries. I don't blame you for any of my mad depricating moments. I am young and I just let myself fall apart. I threw my standards too high into the sky and none of them wanted to come back to my paper cup.

_{What seemed like an impossible statement a week ago is a confident remark today;}

Three years ago, I remember a little shellfish girl shyly pressing her palms into the wrinkled navel of the cavernous future. She peered behind her back to make sure nobody was watching, and then closed her eyes and asked the future "what are you going to let me do with my life?"

The planet seemed like a cavernous foreign mystery back then.

And now I tell that shy girl, that I have tried. Through supple conversations with intellectual friends, quests to unearth the humanity in this terrestrial ancestry, benevolent reassurances, puberty, pain, experimentation, widening tolerance of different cultures, and spontaneous self-discovery, I have awakened. The complex sibilance of saddening global awareness, the contagious violence in the human heart, the innocence of nature alone, and the spatial wilderness of my own contemplating mind, have formed the foundations of my own ideology. And somehow it has made this mess of a world make sense. I accept what I have been given with a smile that I will share with the people in need. Giving back to what has been given to me, and meet all the people who are doing it.

But I feel the ache for one lasting love of romantic honesty, to grow up, to endlessly add my own two cents of love or contribution in any possible dimming way, to explore the forgotten exotic corners of this half-lit planet, and regress.

I taste my potential. I trace my progression.
Nobody said it was easy.
I know.

Theres a spindly core underneath the numberless rings of every tree. This is what they are telling me, instead of brooding about what you have not accomplished, bask yourself for what you did achieve. Welcome the future, as open and choiceless as an endless, stretching beach.

I feel fearless.

If somehow, I had no choice but to plop into an accidental death, today I would look back, and be content.

Until Then
... ]]> ~flappability '06 in Review & dA Top Tens http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/11254410/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/11254410/ Sun, 31 Dec 2006 06:37:14 PST

2006 and how it digested me

Where do I begin? The year in review? I'm growing, I'm growing, and that's a rejuvenating realization.

Good news is that I'm one year closer to graduation - one year closer to getting out of the house, one year closer to a calculus/algebra-free education.
But unfortunately this american-public-highschool must continue to push me into a rickety sea of textbooks/and stuffy lectures for another three sticky years. But then I still won't be free. Get an undergrad, get a masters. Eight more years? Education please be more interesting.

I was assured that life and love cannot run to their fullest extent with the limitations of the internet, took me long enough.

For the most part this year was an eye-opening one. History classes have basked me in social awareness and it's a raging, saddening but inevitable thing. I've met a great deal of new people, and gotten to know them on a personal basis, in both highschool, summer, and through wordy conversations. Which in turn revealed a broad range of diverse ideologies, yet muddles me up even more in this endless spiritual war for understanding. Philosophies how different they all are, how infuriating some are, and how others are so endearing they just make me want to sigh voluptuous serenity and throw fistfuls willow-leaf confetti all around the room. It's a beautiful thing.

And I've definately become less self concious. Oh experimentation! Oh excretion euphoria! Maybe run around through the art room today and whack every person with a hug. Maybe buy seventy-two packs of multicolored gum, chew them all, and stretch them on a canvas board into a landscape painting. Maybe give a presentation about world hunger to ten classes at school today. Maybe leave a happy note. Maybe poop. I lost many things that fuelled my self-esteem, and all I am focusing on now, is reclaiming them.

And sometimes things just end up going well opposite of your pessimistic expectations, and you catch yourself feeling happy, and satisfied, wobbling in that pink world halfway between peace of mind and sleepy affection, and somehow, that joy, that peace, ends up making all the difference.

Loneliness is a friend that's misunderstood. Know that no matter what, this earth is all interconnected. Amble with arms outstretched on your porous rooftiles and bask yourself in the light of stars.
_{(i wish i could take my own advice)

I wonder, when people look at the stars, if they ever realize that those minuscule little glowing dots are actually indescribably gigantic spheres of helium energy, radiating majestic sweeps of waterfallific heat / light, ovveriding darkness, making us life. And heaping l i g h t y e a r s is what it took to deliver the light of each tiny dot into this feeble terrestrial atmosphere....

It is

endless

ageless

limitless

embers

..............beyonding;}

X the TENS
_{Special thanks to the zany =zebrazebrazebra for this jumpy idea in her wacky2005 Journal

Of course these selections are only my hastily dug-up favorites out of the limited amount of art I have viewed on dA/ off dA this year. They may not be the best poems/artwork by these artists/writers in 2006 either! They are just wellcrafted snippets that inspire me and make me want to cry fly smile and bite the sky at the same time!

Thus the plunge begins...

Ten Inspiring dA Poems / Shortprose

singing: a diagram - =zebrazebrazebra

Like This Rain - =MystWilliams

The Man Who Tries Hardest - ~queenhrosie

You Can Count On The Counter Culture - =ashellessmind

Notes Toward The Fourth - *boundlessgravity

The Last Prayer - *Adeim... ]]>
~flappability

Fallopiation No. 2 - "Midday Crisis"
http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10851956/
http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10851956/
Sun, 26 Nov 2006 02:27:41 PST}

We.
We will raise.
We will raise our hidden eyes.

Because it's another day in this weary world.

_{[11.16 - 11:55 AM]

he filled her coffin with wispy sighs

hurled it into the midnight sky --

absence, aliens, tears, goodnight.}

i am missing every single person in the entire world.

_{[11.17 - 12:38 AM]

one twittering moonrisen day.

we'll pluck willowleaves

from eachothers' hair.

whistle pointless beautiful words

into eachother's ear.

trade buckets of flimsy fears

leave bodies behind

and safety-pin

companionship

for vessels and vessels

of sleepy years.}

clank buzz shove hyperventililation elbow-fuzz

we are the mundane. we are the boredom.
the earth is; a harvest of ambidextrous hippie contortionist seahorse dragonfly generosity burning brilliantly in that molecular mansion pleated with secret welcome signs
if
you
just allow
yourself
to enter.
_{[10.31 - 10:03-10:10 AM]

my body is a bubbling blister of bilingually bitten bouyancies and today oh today --

i feel like i am floating (flickering heebeejeebees) bloating braincells into

blasphemous balloons

YESYESYES

the effervescence

i can feel the effervescence

their elated elegaic effervescence

buffering blitzkereig bakeries (in and out) through endless ears

forming an aureole of globular bobble head holidays over my head my head my flubber fictional hell

and I know

that tomorrow

i will fall asleep

with roses in my hand

and never rise again.}

into the fire, into the fire, into the fire. oh. oh. oh. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Ahhhh! Ahh! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! into the fire, into the fire, into the fire... oh oh oh oh woooo.. yeah.

i want to meet humanity.

[NOW - 2:08 AM]
Hannah you are the contortionist of unclassifiable trapezing mastery.
Inspiration in the hotpink sweet.
I steal your ideas, because i know you'll let me.
We still need to climb that cherry-blossom tree.

i want to meet:

.people who see a masterpiece everytime they stare into a blank canvas (thank you , hannah)
.people who munch on green onion rolls and point at the moon wondering if it actually is a massive green-onion roll baked at some faraway cozy galaxy.
.people who have so many things to live for, to be, to see, to breathe, that they never have time to fantasize about the people they'll never trully get to meet.
.people who care more for the 50 000 people who die of world hunger every day, than poor nicole richie.
.people who see light in disaster, revolution in suffering, and determination in oppression.
.math-whiz poets who believe their tongues are growing millions of tiny trees when drinking florida natural 100% pure-squeezed orange juice.
. people who can dance, sing, write, draws, scream, express, and love to twentieth power and enjoy every second of it.
.people who ductape every single day together in their entire rickety life just for the sake of harvesting rice. spongy knee joints squealing on red soil exhaustion. hands rough from years of terrace work. sleep at sundown // rise at twilight. feeding the one billion.

.people who realize that they were born with brains and hands and feet and lungs and hearts and eyes.
.people who use the aforementioned machines to attempt something extraordinary.

_{[8.21 - 6:39 PM]

the backsides of my eyelids

are tye-dyed with

an acupunctural retraction

of invariable nothings.}

Let go.

"The endless race for property and priviledge... ]]> ~flappability Fallopiation No. 1 - "A Rush of Blood" http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10675346/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10675346/ Fri, 10 Nov 2006 02:18:51 PST

Fallopiation No. 1 _{- "A Rush of Blood to the Head"

dreaming about about diving into the royal blue-waters around the little icebergs surrounding Nunavut and cartwheeling with the krill. getting blue blood. light headed. freezing in.

twelve minutes away from midnight - the tenth of november in seattle i'm attaching piping to my brain and pushing all the water out. this is the sewage system. these are the droplets, vapors and lumps.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------}THIS LIFE _{everyone of my friends seem to have problems. i try to make them better, give them advice, make them happier, talk to them, but then i realize i have a million of problems of my own, all stacked on top of each other, and i can't even take my own advice. procrastination, procrastination, so much that it's embarassing. waste time, pace the room, think, think, think, go online, hang out, go crazy, then "10 O' CLOCK PM" comes jumping into my eyes and I swear at myself, feel pathetic, stuff loud rocksong-filled earphones to attempt awakeness, yawn loudly, do jumping jacks, eat apples, go back to essaying, and then drift to sleep without realizing it. The clock screams 3. And wake up 12 minutes before the start of school, a dent on my face from sleeping on the hardcover textbook. Then finish everything during AP world history.

this just sucks, it's too tiring and i can't go to badminton practice without feeling so dizzy like i'm going to pass out during our running warmups. i tell myself everyday i will cut this habit, this stupid procrastination away from my life, but then the whole thing repeats itself over again + random over eating. i'm not satisfied. with the way i deal with life. i can't get anything done, and i feel so stupid asking for extentions for projects that i've been given a week to do, lying about how "busy i am" to the nice teachers.

whatever. keep going, keep going, don't let body image distortion get you down, atleast you're alive, in america, educated, artistic, atleast you're an activist, part of that little oasis of activism inside a school of apathetic laze and ignorance. the world is gigantic. convince yourself that your existance matters to the creator, to this generation, and you're all set.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------}THEOLOGY _{i have been thinking about so many things lately. and honestly, i'm not even sure that i'm a christian anymore. but i believe in creationism, i believe in God, no matter how far i deviate from christianity, i'm always led back to believe in the existance of a creator. it's been two years, many rocky moments, both my parents say they're christian but never go to church, i go because i like the passion-aura in my youthgroup when the pastor speaks mostly. there are major things i dont understand, that i have been questioning more and more after finishing a quarter of AP world history and AP art history. but then again, can we ever understand? spirituality, it's much beyond human understandings, we've all made our philosophies but the truth won't ever come out? it's still important to have an opinion, because we are all human, and we are all curious. faith. i can't imagine that it's the ONLY way to get into afterlife, to be "saved." What about the agnostics, the social activists, the people of great morals who can LOVE and CARE and stand for what they believe in? i have never ever been able to believe that God wouldn't accept those great determined souls into his kingdom.. Jesus desires us to believe in him, according to the Bible, and faith is the only way, the big thing. John 3:16. No, i can't believe that. I know I cannot. It would feel like stuffing beliefs down my throat. I have been way to liberal about it all, and this spiritual war in me is getting ridiculous. I refuse to believe that God is an attention getter, that this world, this universe, and the spiritual dimension is so intolerant and cares about the little things. The general karma of a human being, doesn't that matter most? Not the sexual orientation, the religion, but the actions, the heart and intentions ,the millions of different ways and guides and religious code to follow, yet still remain a good moral? There is a mysterious beauty in anonymity. I've been praying, relatives have been dying, problems stay the same. My conversations with God are so one-ended, and end up going no where. Yes, church has changed me, given me a passion for other people, opened my eyes and what not, and as well as changed other people but this conservation in this religion is just too much for me. I... ]]>} ~flappability Fallopiation No. 0 - "Introduction" http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10653358/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10653358/ Tue, 07 Nov 2006 22:28:05 PST

Fallopiation No. 0 - _{"Introduction"}

_{Wriggle free from the wetlands of childhood and begin to climb the cliffs of reality.

I'm going to begin a set of commentary journals. They will be more universal and angsty and intense and voluptous.

Thanks to =MystWilliams for this kind of violent inspiration.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ART - I'm going to explode into experimentation, and try out new things, and actually work on some technical art skills.

LIT - I'm currently working on a lengthy story with the unofficially-made-official-poetry-collaborator - =MystWilliams - it will be experimental, eccentric, odd, masochistic, nostalgic, giddy, and hearty.

I'm not submitting very much I know, I don't feel the need anymore, but I still am endlessly creating, writing, working, reading...

Everything is now sopping with a new look.}

note me for all kinds of critiques

[US : theone.org] o[UK : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org] o [CA : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.ca] o [AU : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org .au]

]]> ~flappability Three Tangerine Dimensions http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10533258/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10533258/ Sat, 28 Oct 2006 01:01:15 PDT

Go back to Social Awareness

[author's note] - I read =MystWilliams 's Finger Tip Kites - [link] and they enlightened me and brought me back to the teenage angst and social awareness I once inhabited but kinda left behind. So then I started writing. And this is the discordant result.

_{Gahhh! Awareness, awareness, awareness, awareness, understanding, whatever.

It seems like I just don't care anymore. But I do, I know I do?

I was a cynic once.

Maybe I still am, but is just forcing all this crazy optimism up my head, into my veins, just because I want to find something to believe in. I can go on and on and on about what this world can do to stop poverty, to be less violent, to care more, to think more, to find their own role in the spiritual struggle that is inside all of us even if we don't all see it. Brains brains brains. That is what we have? But no. No matter how huge of a Martin Luther King anyone can be, does it really make a difference? Jesus, lived, Jesus died on the cross, and constantly Christians are reminded day be day, to persevere, to "be the change they want to see in this world," to have faith. And 4% of Christians, are actually "TRUE" Christians. And all the other religions, the Buddhists, the nifty monks, the Muslims, the little boys and dress-twirling little girls sent to catholic school, being taught good, being raised in healthy families. And then there are the perfect, wonderful, talented people who die too young, a frantic spinning spiraling car, wilted and crinkled, like metallic eggshells with trails of glass. Eggshells with no little yellow chicks but raw unfertilized yokes seeping into the biting cement. Death.

And at the same time, black brown white tan peach people have their ears plugged with fullblast radios as they swirl their steering wheels, past those tragedies of sharded glass and blood-dappled windows and utter a simple sigh.

Sigh.

"It's such a little thing to weep

so short a thing to Sigh --

and yet -- by Trades -- the size of these

We men and Women die!" - E. Dickinson

There you go! Now just think!

And genocide is still erupting, poverty is still existing, will humanity finally see the cyclical patterns rolling around this earth, and get smacked in the face with the aching problems and find ways to cope with them? Who knows. This generation of little babies building sandcastles and the tiny chubby midgets learning the ABCs with a mountain of empty peanut butter bottles around their feet they are going to be the generation that rules the population after we become soggy old grandparents with flamingo canes and wrinkly slippers. The childhood, the society that we set up for them, will directly influence every aspect of their life. We are the future. Regardless of how many times MR. Barcus yells that fact to the discordant mess of freshmen. We are the future. We need to constantly remind ourselves everyday. There are too many people who let it all go by, kick newspapers and current event accounts down the side of the road, and are too ignorant to care, to think. If theres ever a right time to do what you want to do, scream your opinions at the editor, spit out those innovative views, it is now. Voice. Voice. Six billions voices. Where are they?

So what is it? This life, life, life, life. We are expanding and contracting and growing and failing and surviving and dying, every single day. And then it gets all taken away? Be afraid of death? This cycle, this avalanche of contradictory beliefs, this, all of this, how beautiful it is in it's ugliness, how ugly it is in it's beauty. So I go to school, I continue, I hate myself for procrastinating, I draw portraits of people behind my pile of fat binders and history text books, and try my best to make them happy until my hands hurt and I fall asleep, it's just a way to pass the time, I guess. It's a way to feel good about yourselves, to know that you're achieving. Go, go go. Progress, endlessly. Be better, be smarter, realize.

My parents yell at me, everytime I tell them that Im going to be an artist, a teacher, or a writer. You know why?

No money. They tell me that they dont care what I do, as long as Im good at it, and it makes money.

Well, I do care. I do care about what my parents think, I was born and raised in an avalanche of Asianity, and I could do nothing but allow that big chunk of that spontaneously spla... ]]>} ~flappability STAND UP for the Campaign to end POVERTY by 2015 http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10405602/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10405602/ Sun, 15 Oct 2006 19:50:39 PDT

A Curdled Life - Daily Deviation

Thanks to all who commented, faved or read that cheese/tennis story I wrote last year. Thanks especially to `bananaprincess. Never would've guessed a ninth grade PE assignment would come this far.

Unfortunately I don't have enough time to REALLY be active on dA anymore.

But on a more serious note, here is what I've been working on for the past week...

It's a SPEECH for the STAND UP event, where thousands of people all over the world will stand up for poverty and is trying to break the Guiness world record for highest number of peopel standing up for poverty in one day. I will be delivering this to like 8 different classes on Monday, October 16th, tomorrow.

YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE TOO.

FEEL FREE to use and deliver this speech to your class at school. Just give me your EMAIL and I will attach the powerpoint presentation for you so you can use it tooo.

STAND UP for the Campaign to end POVERTY by 2015 OCTOBER 15-16

_{In the time it takes to deliver this speech, 15 000 babies will be born into the many corners of this wobbly world.

Each and every one of us entered as a single cell. An unborn fetus. You, me, the teacher of massive brains, the punkrocker, the Yao Ming, the peace activists, the stubby nose-picking giddy toddlers -- all 6.5 billion of us began as a single cell. And in a blizzard of seconds we bloomed intellectually and physically into the ever-changing, functioning human beings we currently stand as today.

And we live in America. We are educated, fed, nourished, and surviving in this sky-scraping avalanche of capitalism, homework, education, entertainment, security and material prosperity. I assure you that every heart beating in this room is among the 20% of humanity living in a developed country. While the remaining 80% of the Earths population builds their lives in developing or underdeveloped countries, half of who live on less than a dollar a day.

To give you a more meaningful global vision of this, here are a few informational, anguishing and mind-boggling facts that reflect the current state of the world.

If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a place to sleep, and roof latched above your heads, you are richer than 75% of this world. If you have money in a bank and wallet, and spare change sprinkled somewhere in your home, you are among the top 8% of the Worlds wealthy. If you woke up this morning with more health than illness, you are more blessed than the million who will not survive this week.

A massive gap is wedged between what this world is right now and what it should be. There is a crisis. A crisis that is perched in half of the worlds population and shatters all of their potentials into a million powdery pieces. A crisis that prevents the physical needs of millions from being filled and further prevents humans from enjoying even a moment of joy, freedom, or education.. A crisis that has been with us, since the very beginning of the Agricultural Revolution. A crisis that can only be countered when all able-bodied people STAND UP against the government and unleash their voice, words, and heartfelt passion to create a waterfall of impregnable revolution. A crisis that continues to grow wider and wider as wars rage on, economies explode, diseases unleash, oppression abuses, resources get eaten, greed builds, and ignorance deepens. This heart-splintering crisis is called Poverty.

So what does it mean to be poor? How does it impact the humanity as a whole? And how can we counter it?

Well, by the end of the day:

o 50 000 people will die from poverty-related causes.

o 25 000 of them will be children.

o 100 million children will be denied the chance to go to school.

o 1.1billion people will have to drink polluted water.

o And 8200 people will die due to HIV/AIDS.

That is the invisible tragedy of each and every day. Just envision how many Nobel Peace laureates, artists, achievers, and geniuses could have existed had they been given a chance to live? The shattered potentials, the dreams,... ]]>} ~flappability Semen Stains the Mountain Tops Semen Stains the Mo http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10248056/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10248056/ Sun, 01 Oct 2006 12:39:49 PDT

_{Semen Stains The Mountain Tops

Gosh goodness badness oh my goodness. I am tagging alone with a dozen girls and two guys to the SHS art history trip to Europe. But that means I will have to earn 1500 dollars or as much as I can before November 14th. Be an amateur artist, sell art to my aunt, sell art to all people who would buy art. And being broke until then.

This will be so much of an adventure. Ten days, Florence, Rome and Paris, all those cathedrals and chapels and sculptures and endless grandness lining the city streets. All of that. Swimming into our eyelids. February, MidWinterBreak. Gosh I need to thank my parents and my school for letting me do this, this is will be the most inspirational ten days of my life.

Write your way to Sanity

Oh I want to write a novel of love, hate, segregation, magic, surrealism, poetry, greed, longing, yearning, grief, death, desperation and the humanity and vibrant language of life that bundles it all together. Far flung flight. Life Life Life.

But there is so much that I don't understand, so much that I have not yet realzed, so much more left to feel, to express, to sing, to paint, to pray, to remember, to recognize, to be. I know that because of all of those hairless moments when I could not think of any reply and all i wanted was to be older, materure, smarter and closer, and when I dived in, and climbed out of that ocean of everychanging weather that is love, because I did not understand what I wanted and there was no emotion and I was confused of everything and I left. I left.

Fourteen years. What could of experience can be wedged deep into fourteen years? I don't even know what I'm writing or what I'm thinking, I just become a big fat sponge soak it all in and let it all out, and this is what happens when it comes out, this is what happens, i press my fingers against the keyboard over and over again making the clickety clacking clattering sound that falling rain must make to the ear of ants. What is the drugged epitome of artificial joy comfort and rollercoastering jubilation? What is it like down there in those indigo mine tunnels of deepset remorse, grief and rampant desperation? What is love? What are it's billowing potenttials and realies and passionas all about? What's it like up there wearing a wrinkled wise forehead, taking care of 6 wild teenagers at the same time, while simultaneously paying mortgages, visiting banks and doing the bills every day?

grow up grow up. No.

So much to know. Deep breath. Handshake. Take it Slow. Yet take it slow.

Oneday you will write you way to enlightenment.}

[US : theone.org] o[UK : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org] o [CA : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.ca] o [AU : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org .au]

]]> ~flappability Devious Journal Entry http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10082879/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/10082879/ Fri, 15 Sep 2006 17:07:50 PDT Mood: nothing.
Reading: Dead Fish Museum

Okay. I won't be online much anymore because art, school, church and the people there have left me with no more time.

Just can't wait until next semester, then I don't have to read chapters upon chapters of AP textbooks anymore.

Thanks to everybody who still drops by and leaves comment and drags their eyes across these creations. I will come on once in a while.

[US : theone.org] o[UK : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org] o [CA : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.ca] o [AU : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org .au]

]]> ~flappability I AM CRAZY AND I ATE MY BACKSPACE BUTTON! http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9748483/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9748483/ Fri, 25 Aug 2006 10:37:59 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

Mood: Jacob is a genius
Listening to: Elliott Smith - Twilight
Reading: 10 Album Sleeves!
Watching: the swirling of my toilet

_{I WILL NOT HIT THE BACKSPACE BUTTON A MILLION TIMES.

I will not, from now on!

Ah, so basically I penned a to-do list yesterday, and haven't even started. I found myself wasting my whole morning on Youtube watching random music videos.. like this one --

Triumph of a Heart - BJORK [it's ducking hilarious, and bizarre; Bjork is married to a little tabby Cat.]

Ah, and I will be going back to Washington State in twelve days, and school will start on the fifth of September, and I will be scuba-diving headfirst into the most obnoxious schedule (AP World History, AP Art History, Honors LA, Chemistry) ever, which mean I will have just about no life, for the first half year, and it's only Sophomore Year. Yarg.

The result of my crazy idea to get a job while I was here in Alberta for one month is absoulutely pathetic! So basically I spent all that time reading all those packages, heading to Orientation, memorizing the menu list, just for the sake of working for TWO DAYS. And then some Horizon Airlines plane will swallow me headfirst, and I will be lifted 30 000 feet above the ground, chewing defrosted, sticky airplane food, and be belched out once again into the US. Haha, I would like to see the look on my manager's face when I tell him that I am quitting after two days.

I have so many visual art ideas, yet so little art matierials that it's making me do figureskating backflips on my very own imaginary KRAFT cheese rink at the top of a mushroom-speckled snoring mountain in a puddle of oatmeal in Andorra.

I cannot wait until I can find the time to stay in my Highschool artroom until Six o' Clock everyday... I love that room so much ahhh, but that most likely will have to be in January.

________________________________________ ___________________________

I don't know what else to say, but I will ramble on anyways.

OH, I want to be a crazy intelligent web-designing, harp-playing, recipe-designing, bungee-jumping mad Professor of art, phychiatry, electrical engineering (just like my dad), neuro-brain sciences, medicine, psychology, and Creative Writing who speaks/writes/reads in five languages while being a DJ published novellist poet, screen writer, tourist, garbage man(thanks to the two-year-old Ethan), urimancer (thanks Kyle), and and and Social Activist of Peace, and charity donor, and red cross volunteer, who thinks that Math is beautiful, discovers cures for diseases, composing folk and rock and unclassifiable songs in her/his spare time.

I wonder how many times I can multiply my life span in order to get there.

AHAHAHA.. but nevermind, I will just do what I can for now which means edit my deviations that have been distorted (format-wise) by v5.

Oh.. oh oh oh ... I have also met soooo many crazy amazing people/friends not just on this site, but all over the place, and and.. oh oh oh ... I want to spend a year having a little boat/road trip with each and every one of them, and appreciate their indescribable personalities and soul strings and talents and flaws and collaborate art/poetry/prose with them and talk about birth and death and the soup in between until I explode expertly into huge puddles of ankle-deep joy oh my goodness the icecreamtruck CRASHED into the honeybucket. AHHHHHHH!!!

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

sososososos... so.. Um, ask me a question! I only hit backspace like ten times! That's a record!

Ask me a question, any question, and I'll answer it, in-depth.}

[US : theone.org] o[UK : MAKEpovertyHISTORY.org] o [http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9596062/ Fri, 04 Aug 2006 16:27:48 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

'city bus' by

I think I linked to this magnificent writer much to often. But this is just fantastic.

I've read a lot of prose on both deviantART and in novels, and I've come across a lot of GOOD writing. But it's quite rare that I am lucky enough to come across something Brilliant. 'city bus' by =MystWilliams is just that.

The thoughtfully rare realism, purely poetic imagery, and aurorally woven emotion, incandescently realistic love, melancholy and tragedy in this fragment-fixed piece is simply remarkable.

At some points, I found my eyes in such close proximity to the screen, that I was able to count each intricate pixel that made up each of the black characters, and at others I found myself smiling at Kyle's witty word-woven moments, and in the ending, I cried. Ha.

Do yourself a favor and seep into this time-spun emotional staircase of raw literature.

_{camping

I will be gone for the long little weekend because my family, along with the families of my Dads PHD students, are going on a camping trip. Its some random place outside of Edmonton, called Lake Dole. No nifty nests of natural landscapes have seeped into my eyes in quite a while, and I am sure the camping experience will be quite replenishing, and hopefully the Albertan scenery will plant a new skyscape of inspiration into the peeling walls of my mind. Im going to try and get a lucid watercolor landscape done, because I feel as if my art has been so technical, portraitish, proportion-potted, graphitish, colorless, and dry as of lately. I have only done one kneel-low-in-the-grass-scrutinizing-the-scenery painting in my life, and I am excited to jump shoulder-deep into the frisky medium of paint once again.

I guess Im just a bit tired of the suburban aura that has engulfed me for the majority of my existence.

There is so much to be seen in the vastness of nature. Those green, tree-tongued, water-winged, mildly-breezy, fresh places. The placidly open areas with green LIFE outstretched in all directions and the lake-like edges being munched by mountains.

I just think its so nutmegging to have a seedless swig of how the naked Earth sings like when all the gaudy buildings and dusty desires of humanity is removed. The weeping willow trees, the birdsongs, the owl nests, the crystalline lakes, the taste of star-nicked-night sky, and the scattered pebbles on the puddle floor. No flashing convenient stores, smelly stenches of junkyard pollution, pudgy parking lots, dead-ends, rugged time-bitten streets, barfing barcodes, umbrella-holding strangers, pilgrimages to pizza huts, barbed wires, and coupon-flavored shopping bags with their labeled contents being vomited on off-white floor tiles.

Just life, with its tinkered chords, moist prose petals, poignant poem trees and willow-waved leaf colors billowing freely in the aftermath of its long-legged ancestry.

________________________________________ ___

HIRED

So, I got hired, at McDonalds. Yuck, nastiness. So now after that long talk about the niftiness of nature, I have to face the consequences of being unpicky about a low-pay job. I applied to six places, and McDonalds was the only place, which accepted me. So, now its grease-factory time! And I will be paid to make people fat. Go me, the fourteen-year-old health-freak who memorized the food pyramid, and the nutrition facts of just about everything in the fridge!

Blah. Well, atleast this gives me a stronger chance of getting accepted for jobs in the future, and it gives me experience, and I only have to work for one month, and the manager seems pretty friendly.

________________________________________ ___

A Swig... ]]>} ~flappability writers block defeated http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9491173/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9491173/ Tue, 25 Jul 2006 14:47:03 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

_{I just didn't know. I just didn't know. That was all there was to it. I just simply forgot.

For the past few weeks, I haven't really been writing or doing any art, because I just began losing faith in my writing. I guess, I just got tired of my decorative adjectives, and mountain-top metaphors, and just wanted to undress from my whole style, and begin encasing myself in a style of meaningful supple simplicity.

So in the end, a lot of rough drafts were written, but I just didn't find the urge to type them up.

And yet, now after reading a comment from the fragmentastic ^adrift in a journal entry that I wrote a while back from probably one of the most passionate, motivated moments in my life -- [link] -- I realized why. It was all because I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't know where I was going, I am unable to go to a church while in Canada, and I just forgot about all the goals and ambitions that ignited so vibrantly back in those trumpet-song-showering times.

There was one point that I wanted to be a social activist. I was deeply emotionally affected by the current state of the world right now, and how ignorance, greed and violence is killing humanity. I knew for sure that I wanted to devote my lifeand whatever talent I have to offer to something like social activism. But I just didn't consider exactly how difficult, and how consistant, dilligent and endlessly passionate I'd have to be to achieve that. And really, what is it that I have to offer right now? I am fourteen, jobless, moneyless, still in highschool, and driverslicenceless. But I knew I can write, draw, speak, and is human. So I just let all that passion naturally seep into my writing and my art, and began delivering speeches about poverty and third world countries to random friends, youthgroup at church, and a handful of classrooms at school -- anything to give my own two cents to this endless chasm between the rich and poor. Because people forget. People need to be reminded. Ignorance needs to be chased away.

But as summer swam by, those random bouts of community service faded, inspiration imploded, and I just steeped my feet a few inches too deep into my own problems and dyed my eyes with the color of dead-ends. All in all; I just forgot.

And I realized that I need to be able to care about myself, and care about the people around me, my family my friends, and form a foundation, before I can care about starving strangers.

I know I can strive. I know I have willpower. And I am willing to do whatever it takes, to get into the habit of striving again. There are things that need to be done, and I am going to break the chickenwire that is pinning me to the sleeping roots between my toes, and go ahead and do them.}

]]> ~flappability wowation http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9428785/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9428785/ Wed, 19 Jul 2006 16:28:23 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

_{"Are You Sad" - Our Lady Peace --

has to be the most uplifting song I have heard in my whole entire life. Because it is simple, so simple, and so direct. Things get so uplifting that they make you want to cry, except it's a waterwinged, yellow-trench-coated, heavy-worded, too-much-sunlight-splashing-through-your-eyes kind of cry.

My last journal entry, well, I am extremely grateful for the waterfall of uplifting comments that I was greeted with. It's really much more simple. I just, tend to be a perfectionist, and I am too hard on myself.

Because adolescence does mean pain, moodswings, succulent joy, a revelation of inevitable demands and responsibilities, stagnent stress, tipsy transitions and the serrated light rays and sobbing door hinges of first love.}

Adolescence. All that it is. Every blistering bucketful of sudden subtleties, innumerable implausibilities, the disparity between what matters most and mistaken desires -- the limber love, the gritty grief that follows growing pains, the crispy realizations.

It all bottles down to one thing. A single process that makes all the difference in the World. The one thing, that adolescence, that these teenage years are trying to teach you, is just plainly; How To Deal.

I am very bad at replying my deviant/deviation comments in time, so don't think that I'm ignoring you!
I will get to you eventually!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_{Lately I have been more productive, but still not enough. I have been ridiculous, yes, but it's all good, I suppose. I applied at Five places to get a job, (I'm taking advantage of the younger legal working age in Canada) but it seems like neither of them will hire. Ah, we'll see.

I am/will be working on: 1. a website for a friend in CMU | 2. 'Lord of the Flies' Novel Study Homework | 3. a first novella about two teenagers in a Hurricane | 4. two pencil portraits of my Little Brother and Keira Knightley | 5. The Joys of Collabwriting with =MystWilliams and *ashellessmind |

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oh, I mostlikely will be seeing Our Lady Peace on Saturday, July 22, at Edfest, either alone, or with a friend. Excited.}

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~itsnotmeyousee -- has a very puddle-wonderful, meaningful poetic style, and has a gallery that must be strolled through! Highly reccomended. Go check her out if you haven't yet!

]]> ~flappability Freshman Year http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9271739/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9271739/ Wed, 05 Jul 2006 12:11:12 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

Freshman Year.
_{Finished.

Things have changed, heartvalves have been flipped open, eyes have been elevated, love has been vitrified and the wobbly world in it's whole, raw entirety has been realized.

So I will, once again, plop into the stomach of an Alberta-bound airplane on the 8th of July. Familiar faces shall flow inwards again, detachment destroyed, fingerharps connected, fiddlesticks reunited, nostalgia renewed.

But on the sixth of September, 2005, the first day of highschool, my mind was dripping with roads, woes, thoughts, and hopes, plopping out of a self-concious hose.

This is how I felt, after returning from the one and only first day of highschool --

--------------------------------------

I had no choice. Like every other teenager in this Americanized, opportunity-speckled, fresh world. We are all fresh.

Fresh men. Fresh women.

Fresh human beings of the same and opposite genders. Freshmen. That was what summer belched us all out to become.

And today, September 6th, 2005, another chunk of gooey Freshmen tiptoe into yet another new hallways of loopy lockers, another experience under the overly-large nostrils of a curly-haired, geeky-voiced, pinstriped, rationality-obsessed Math Teacher, another lunch line of scary defrosted food, another spanking-new beginning to Four pencil-peeing, heart-chewing, car-envying, educationally-elastic years. Highschool. Supposedly the best years of your life.

I greeted the periwinkle-gray double doors of S Highschool with a sneeze. Exploding smack-dab at the center of my morning-chilled hands. Tagg squawked through a couple of classes with me, and that was what made all the difference. A familiar, bubbly face amoung the toppling puddles upon puddles of unfamiliar people. And yet -- plastered behind each period of icecreamy notes and whispers with Tagg, was another one that stuttered. Classes upon classes of muted internet debates of whether or not to yank out my words or simply just cluster them inside. Battles of confidence.

A summer of clanking thoughts and realizations regarding the difference that spoken words make -- has elbowed me in the face to realize that if I pluck out my confidence, unravel my thoughts in the form of words, and get to know Highschool -- then there would be no smelly barrier wedged in between. Life would simply just be me thriving onwards to reach the future.

This is the beginning. Highschool is simply another mouthful of second chances.

I wonder how I'll take them.

[i n s e r t t e n m o n t hs h e r e]

This is how I felt, after returning from the last day of Freshman Year.

---------------------------------------
_{I felt an obligation. To try my hardest to begin making a difference, right now, as soon as possible, to begin pursuing something splendiforous. But still, I feel as if I haven't started yet. I feel as if I haven't even begun God's plan for me at all. Everything I am doing right now is a preparation. I have not started, though many doorknobs have diverged. And I guess I trusted the one with the least fingerprints on it. I have some random inkling regarding what to do with my life, but I am not sure, I'm never sure, only God is.

Freshman year was a quiet year of splendiforous eruptions. In it lies the two solstices of a normal adolescent life. Real, meaningful dimensions have nosedived into my mind and spun a spiderweb of sticky inspiration into my soul. I believe I have been asleep with my eyes open for the past thriteen years of my life. Does it matter if I stutter? Does it matter if I can't think of anything to say? Am I going to let that affect every inch of who I am? No. I have grown out of that. I have been rooted deeper into the elephantine expressions of art and poetry and music, and discovered through friendship -- that is is note needed to speak, not n... ]]>}} ~flappability Wishing http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9237049/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/9237049/ Fri, 30 Jun 2006 22:36:15 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

So I guess I have the time and urge to update again. I havent stopped writing or drawing, or painting, Ive just been dead, for a month, deviantart-wise. School has been over for one week, and my parents decided to take away my Internet connection during the day, and now only allow me to log on after they get back and we eat dinner, which is around 8:00 p.m. Therefore Ive been spending the daylight, downstairs, in my little storage-room-art-studio, stuffing the stomach of a boom box with a fistful of CDs, and painting for hours and hours, as well as typing up journal entries, and poetry before hand. I have been getting art commissions, I guess. Most of them are for getting community service hours or my youth group at BNC and one of them is for money. I guess, I have to say, that Im just really blessed, to be granted the opportunities, so early in life, to use my art techniques for other people. It could be a part-time job, and Im just really grateful to be able to find a passion so early in life, because I know that there are many teenagers out there, who have no idea at all, what they are going to do with their life.

Im also going to Canada to visit my Dad, Stepmom, and half-brother, Ethan, on July 8th. I will be getting a job (you can work when youre 14 in the niftiness of Canada), getting more community service hours, hanging out with the friends I left behind, and taking badminton lessons, and the usual.

He. Me. Us.

Us. I wasnt able to think of anything to say, last night. Which is a feeling that Ive been experiencing since the day I was born. The inability, or perhaps the fear to speak out. When I couldnt think of anything to say at a particular moment, regardless of how hard I tried, but at night, from the moment the phone was put down, to the moment I scribbled all over that journal, to right now, I thought of many many things I could have said, tumbling through the walls of my head. But I didnt say it. Why didnt I say it.

Moments like those remind me of 8th grade, when everyday, I wanted nothing more than to be able to fully speak out, and escape that hollow, deafening vacuum of me not being able to talk, not being able to stand up for myself. But somehow, as I transitioned from 8th to 9th Grade, in highschool now, I havent been striving to speak out as much as I did before. Perhaps I had begun to see, and follow the advice of Jordan, that it is not needed to speak, not needed to be sought after, not needed to be perfect, not needed to appeal to the popular sound, but just simply needed to BE.

But no matter what anybody says, speaking, still works wonders, and still I am smack-dab at the center of the long quest to be able to get myself to fully speak out, when I want and need to most. I have the thoughts, I have the thoughts, other wise I wouldnt be typing right now, I have the voice, I have the speech therapist, I have the stuttering-evasion methods, yet why cant I do it?

Its a bit more complicated than that. There just needs, to be a feeling of comfort, a complete feeling of familiarity that screams its going to be alright, that its going to be fine, and an urge. I am a shy person in reality, and confidence is something that I need to work up to. And like Kahlil Gibran would say Life is indeed darkness save when there is Urge. All urge is blind save when there is knowledge. All work is empty save when there is Love. And when you work with Love, you bind yourself to yourself, to one another, and to God.

So I guess that I could be completely comfortable through the intangible grooves of the internet, and still be nervous around them in reality.

He is really honest, and I dont think he knows how much I appreciate that. Even if there are things that I say that are hurtful. He tells me when they are hurtful. He tells me when I should be aware. He tells me. Even if it confuses me, because I am on the other side of the country, unable to see the expression on his face. Even if I cant find anything to reply him with. He cares.

And then when I recall, the things that I told him before, and stick my feet into his shoes, I understand, why those words were hurtful, and all thats left is a feeling of guilt.

He tells me that I should be able to be... ]]> ~flappability SOLILIQUY & REALIZATION http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8895684/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8895684/ Sat, 27 May 2006 19:00:50 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

soliliquy.

_{What do you want to do with your life?

What do you want to do with the undefinable expanse of days, and years and TIME that you have left to gobble down in this world of meaningless meanings and sensible senses?

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?

Parents, daughters, cousins, aunts, rivers, oceans, waterfalls, war, pain, smiles, film bottles, q-tips, cereal, courthouses, cathedrals, dimples, lakes, bibles, nerds, libraries, tragedies, ecstacy, lies, depression, self-revulsion, vanity, ecetra, excetra, ecetra,

Love.

Each one is a galloping ingredient in the bowl of cardboard soup that is your churning life.

How are you going to drink it, how are you going to stir it and mix it and swallow it?

Because you know that you cannot live like this anymore, right now, you don't know which direction you're going, you're standing up on the highest octave on the scale of voices inisde your head, and you are realizing... realizing... that you can't just force yourself to do whatever gets chucked into your eyelids.. that there are choices, that there always have been choices, and you just haven't been strong enough to take them yet. To really really stand up for yourself, and ask yourself, ask yourself -- "Why?"

Do you even know why? Fourteen duckin' years in a liquid life that has been moving back and forth between two adjacent countries, switching schools nine times, and moving and moving and moving in a million indecsive directions. Where are you going? Why are you doing this? Why are you drawing, why are you the only one in your family going to church, why do you care so much about things that are so out of reach, why is your sense of self-worth so centered around this nourishingly ugly thing called "food?"

So you walk. You walk. You walk. You walk. You lunge through the screen door of your stubby little peach-colored house, reach into your pocket, pull out ten dollars, and walk to that coffee shop and buy biscottis, and you continue walking and walking and walking around not know where to stop, asking yourself "where are you going," and "why? why? why?."

And shoelaces are whispering; "JUST BE YOURSELF OR SINK COMPLETELY INTO SOMEONE ELSE!"

And you decide that you want to do both. Yes. You will do both. And you realize that you spent 10 dollars on buying biscottis, and you regret it, because ten dollars could save a starving child for ten insane days. TEN DAYS! But you try not to think about this stuff, because it drowns you in a deep dimple of disturbing desperation, on inevitable things that happen in this inevitable world.

So still, you walk.

And you reach the center of the ravine, and look at the stones, the rickety stones, lying so stagantly smooth below the shade of the oak trees.The stones, the stones. They are stones, you count them, twenty-eight perfectly shapeless, rugged stones. Stones that have been plunging through the azure toiletbowl of time, for millions of meaningless milleniums, and yet they are smiling, they know what they are doing, and they are not complaining. And you realize how much time you are wasting, wondering why. And you also realize that you need to question yourself why, just for a reassurance that this whole life is going somewhere, that you are being led somewhere, that love and joy and faith and pain and suffering is all really really happening, and it's not a dream, no it is not a dream -- it is real. Real -- in the opera-singing-earphones-on-a-sleepless-ravenous-twilight kind of way. And you look at the bark,you feel the bark, you dig your fingernails into the bark just for the sake of feeling the rough brown spikes cut into your fingertips. Into the callouses which finally formed from a month of basic guitar lessons.The bark is rough. The bark is the skin of the tree. You immediately burrow your fist into the pocket of your artistically tattered jeans, pull out lily-smelling hand lotion, and apply it onto the bark of the tree.

And suddenly you are awake. You have plopped out of that puddle of plump se... ]]>} ~flappability There and back again http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8704818/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8704818/ Sun, 07 May 2006 20:46:27 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

Washington has the most (27%) un-religious people than any other state in the US thats very interesting.
I am going to make my journal divided into two halves. One half about my life and one about inspiration (windspiration), which is more important.

windspiration
[ 5 . 6 . 06 ] | [1:45 A.M] |
scribbled on my couch-bed in a big hotel on a bay

I was angry at myself because I left all my clothes at home and I dont have any underwear or swimming suits to change into this weekend vacation. ( It actually takes a lot for other people to make me angry, but I get angry at myself for the littlest mistakes I make.) So I yelled at myself and at my parents because I was mad and I ran. Outside. Through that white wobbly door, across the parking lot, and around the hotel, I ran. The sky was a doleful gray, and the sun was still nice and fat. And I remembered the fictional short story I wrote about that one insane old woman who was a very odd widow who began walking into the rain-puffed sea. And that was exactly what I wanted to do, and that was exactly what I did. I left footprints in the gray pepple-covered sand, and got all the way to edge of the shore. I stopped. The shore of the Pacific Ocean. The white-green waves that gushed back and forth back and forth, in proportion to that moon-force thing that causes waves. And I slipped my feet into that big fat body of freezing-cold water. I felt every molecule diffuse through the porous black fabric of my converse, my white socks, until they were bouncing between my toes. And I continued walking, until I was knee-deep and I wanted to go and dive straight in, with my clothes on, into that pacific pavement, of liquid seaweed-speckled waves. But I didnt. I just walked around, knee-deep in waves, back and forth across the shore, for one hour. The splashy songs of a billion barnacle-bitten pebbles pouncing on top of each other, below those rippling waters of waterlogged kelp. And then I looked ahead, and saw a fistful of misty, forest-green mountains in the distance, miles and miles away, sprouting on that thin thread of horizon that divided the ocean and the sky. And I realized, the moment I was born that I was always a molecule, being munched up by the beautiful, imperceptible hugeness of nature, of the pactific, of the world and all it revolved around -- Nature. Water. Sun. Those big dimensions of energy that delivered incomprehensible masses of life and death and masterpieces and destructions beyond what mortality could ever ever accomplish, no matter how hard it tried.

So I want you to do one thing for yourself, for art, for your spirit, for your body. And if you already do this constantly, then I admire you.

Go Outside. Take a break from humanity.

And look at the sky. The aspen trees. How much taller and stronger and more majestic and generous they are.
The wobbly reflection of the crystalline lakes. How they instantly take a perfect, upside-down photograph of the scenery above it. Better than what any of our chubby cameras.
The sunset leaning against the montains.
The stars globes of light perched light years away.

You are looking at the hottest, brightest, bubbliest, womb of birthing energy & light with your own very eyes. What a privelidge that is. Im talking about something that is hot enough to swallow you and burn you up in the blink of an eye if it only releases a strand of energy onto a single dab of your skin. Stars. How they make life and planets and rocks and mounds of matter revolve around them. The arrogant stars. The beautiful, bright, insane, crazy stars. Stars. STARS.

And nature. Nature. Without it, we would all be non-existant. Inane. Forgotten. Never born.

And just because it doesnt talk. Just because nature is not funny. Just because its not a popular form of entertainment. Just because it doesnt give you money, or get you high.

Well, friends, it actually does all of those things at the same time, but you just cant physically feel it.

It has to do with that keyhole-shaped slot inside of you, called SOUL.

You dont have to read everything that I am going to say next, unless you are cowated and your mind does... ]]> ~flappability Devious Journal Entry http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8565126/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8565126/ Sun, 23 Apr 2006 20:16:29 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

Deviant *flappability has 1,424 new messages ( 298D, 17H, 592M, 81C, 367J, 69P ) | Logout

Gahhhh i am sorry! no duckin' time to do anything gahdfjalkjrlel;ruladfjasld

dkfjasdfkdddddddddddddd~

dkfjaldfjla

kdajkjd

I recieve so many heart-wrenchingly beautiful and puddle-wonderful comments here... and i really wish I could reply them all, daily, but I cannot, because I have lost my middle school talent of time management, and I am eaten by Badminton.

OK I WILL BE BORN AGAIN AFTER BADMINTON ENDS -- APRIL 28TH!

but i will be submitting just about everyday now because I am in Third Period Creative Writing Class.. and I get homework, and the nifty teacher gets us to polish poems.

I AM IN LOVE WITH MY SCHEDULE!

]]> ~flappability WINDSPIRATION http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8488784/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8488784/ Sun, 16 Apr 2006 12:03:23 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

1455
_{Opinion is a flitting thing,

But Truth, outlasts the Sun --

If then we cannot own them both --

Possess the oldest one --

(c) Emily Dicinson 1879

Ok. Breathe. No more complaining, no more second guessing. Eight days of procrastination, wasted time, joy, insanity, stupidity, wasted time, anger, apathy, and laziness. Just one more day and it will be over now.

I realized that I cannot productively do anything at all, but get eaten by things when I lock myself in my house during these long long breaks.

I got eaten by too many people and things, both good and bad.

I took a long walk/sprint yesterday, walked without music or notebooks or art, walked through crisp tall grass, jumped over fences, to the highschool, the church, the soggy streets. And suddenly my runny-nosed thoughts and strummed emotions did not reach any dead ends, and somehow I realized that I need to leave my garden of self-planted limitations and pointless details.

Like E.E. cummings & Bjork are saying --

"I will wade out until my thighs are steeped in Burning Flowers.

And I will take the Sun in my Mouth and leap into the Ripe Air, Alive."

And yes. I will.

I am spending too much time in introversion, trying to understand this world, through speechless observations, and dreamy diaries, and plump poetry and art, that I have almost left behind living completely, (except for on the internet.) I need to live, not just within the virtual-wonderful walls of the internet, but in the inevitable galaxy-length halflit place we call Reality.

Because I need to feel things. And hopefully this inspiration, this ebullition, this promise will not end, and I will gain some self control and live beyond the universe that understanding delivered.

--

Anyways, I think I might have ADHD. One moment I could be talking about death and natural disasters, third-world-countries and eating/mental disorders, and the next I could be all

MY TOE IS BETTER THAN YOURS.

FAAARRRT IS THE CLOSEST DISTANCE BETWEEN TOO PEOPLE.

DALFJALKEHRIOEYROIUEJFKKFNHSAJKFHJDDDDD! I GOT MARRIED TO MYSELF IN A RAINBOOT JUST SO I COULD GET EATEN BY ART AND POETRY, BUT NOW I AM GOING TO DIVORCE MYSELF AND FART MY WAY TO THE SKY BECAUSE I AM CRAPTASTICALLY WONDERFUL AND I HATE YOU ALL AND I AM LYING.

QWERTYIUOP. ZXCVBNM,.! KLOOOOOT. i spank the keyboard.

VOOOOOOWWEL.

UNIQUE NEW YORK UNIQUE NEW YORK UNIQUE NEW YORK UNIQUE NEW YORK.

and singing songs in mandarin with the same assuring line "I am a human being" (wo shi yi ge ren) being repeated over and over again in the melodies of different national anthems.

I seriously don't need to get high. I can easily force myself to naturally get high and stay like that for a whole day if I really tried.

or maybe I am just in a good mood.

-----------

Nifty People who I Got Eaten by.

-- she is the heart-valve-lifting volcano of sonnet-flavored icecream.

-- she is the opera-singing fairy-bread toaster of moist music and lithe poetry.

-- she is the puddle-wonderful cow-flavored human being of plump philosophies

http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8454499/
Fri, 14 Apr 2006 12:15:23 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

i'm feel like my veins are stuffed with burning winters.

It's 12:12 a.m.

I just jumped on deviantart and I read the comments in my comment box, and then i started crying.

sometimes i dont feel like i am anything at all. just arms and legs and bones and fat and muscle and skin and eyesockets that take up space. just another perfectionist who have these uncontrollable urges to have expression by spending 1.5 hours to compose a single poem, or 14 hours to do a painting. It's just a way of using time. everyone has plenty of it.

and now i don't understand why i could ever be so selfish as to hate myself, and let those comments just skate across my eyelids one time and be forgotten.

i dont know why out of all the people in the world, God chose me, to give this art / poetry talent to. I dont think i deserve any of it, so i guess i'm using it. yeah, i'm using it.

the words that you guys give me are heart-melting, i feel literally as if my heart has melted, because there are long ribbons of crispy waterfalls falling through my chest, and into my knees.

ok.

i cant type anymore.

my bladder is fuckign exploding.

--------------------

thank you so much for every single folded comment typed up for me by all of you poets/ artists/ writers / human beings / friends ,

because there is such thing as love in this world.

]]>} ~flappability something like frozen fire works http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8444170/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8444170/ Wed, 12 Apr 2006 00:51:14 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

_{I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to live like this anymore.

All of the things about me that I have worked so hard to create in the past three years, I don't want them anymore. Except for the faith, the art, and the poetry. Well maybe there's more than that. Why is it that I can't seem to appreciate anything right now?

I don't even know what I'm talking about right now. I just need to type. I need to type. Keep typing keep typing. Because I know that I am going to feel better when I am finished typing. I don't know when I'm going to be finished, but I will feel better when I finish typing.

I don't like food. I don't like eating disorders. I don't like my perfectionism. I don't like self-loathing and vanity. I don't like speech problems. I don't like going around and around in circles over and over again, every single day, promising myself that I will wake up the next morning and change, and become a better person. I lie to myself everyday and I am not afraid to tell the world the truth.

I find myself giving some wise poetic advice to my friends, that I can't even manage to follow myself.

And most of all, I don't like apathy, I don't like those random depression-filled phases that encloses every inch of my body when I least expect them to, like when my youth group is watching a comedy movie. I wish I will stop worrying.

I think all of this is the result of just spending too much time enclosed in my room and my own imagination, and I know that I cannot live like this anymore.

But for some reason, I don't want any of those problems to magically dissapear. I want to slowly slowly work my own way out of them, one baby step at a time, because I know that it is possible, and I don't ever want to give up.

ahh i am going to feel better very soon. I FEEL LIKE I CAN WRITE SOMETHING I AM GOING TO WRITE SOMETHING. i am going to write something i believe in, i don't know. I KNOW I BELIEVE IN SOMETHING! because i am falling into the crevices between each kinky key in this curly keyboard, and i see reflections of stars and i see english buttons and chinese ropeladders.

I have been zipped up in a jar of a million metaphors and puffy poetry and art for too long. Self-conciousness, and speech problems have kept my mouth zipped up shut for too long. I have forced a mound of changes to munch me up for too long, and I have been too unsatisfied for too long. I don't want to implode. I don't want to implode. No, I don't think that I should feel this sad, I am already part of the small percentage of the world's population that lives in a developed nation, and I have already been blessed with the most heart-spankingly beautiful talent that I could ever wish for, and I believe that there is a purpose to this life.

________________________________________ _____________________________________

I think I have mentioned this twelve times before, in twelve different wordings, but I know that I must mention it again. Because I need to remind myself I need to remind myself. I will keep typing and typing and typing. I haven't stopped for a long time, because I need to get these thoughts out, or else I will lay on my bed and get wrapped up in apathy until I fall asleep.

It is not a chubby mountain change that is going to make me happy -- it is Love, it is faith or God whatever keyhold-shpaed Meaning that yanks a thousand star-soaked kites from your heartvalves and fills every inch of your body with loud meaningful light. Because that is where you find your fucking soul. When you just feel so happy, and so fulfilled, that you wouldn't even care if your life was chopped off right now because that feeling, that power, that auroral eloquence, that moment, is what every single stair-step of your life is spiralling and stacking on top of each other to reach. That one moment of total fulfillment. When the sunbeams of God intertwine with your heartbeats.

I want to see clock towers, I don't want to sell any art; I want to just give it all away in the end; i don't need to keep anything I make, I want to give a hug and a poem to every guy with beautiful eyes that taste like firework displays. I want to live for God. (to live is christ, to die is gain.) I... ]]>} ~flappability stormy apathy http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8343134/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8343134/ Sun, 02 Apr 2006 12:11:40 PDT

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

_{I feel unemotional, uninspired, unsatisfied, unsocial, and ashamed of feeling everything I am feeling right now.

I woke up this morning, unable to feel anything at all. All I see is the same toiletbowl of routines reptitively flushing over and over and over again, in the same city, with the same faces who I refuse to speak up to, in the same classes, the same life-lessons about the same big fat incomprehensible world where I feel like I am spending too much time in my imagination and my life is going nowhere.

It's been half a year of splashing myself with forceful changes, trying to make things better, but ending up becoming something other than what I had planned to be.

Half-year of hermit style life with a tad of classes and a bucketful of art and poetry perched in between.

It wasn't always like this. I remember last year, I had a thousand things that I looked forward to, and a thousand doorways that I felt I could hop into every morning, and I always procrastinated at procrastination, and everythign was just so purposeful and futuristically meaningful.

I need to leave the ugly indoors and TASTE SMELL FEEL and SEE something tangible and outside of this imagination. All of my close friends are people who I either never see around anymore, or people in some distant country across the internet.

I don't want to be so afraid of myself and the world anymore. I realized that if I devote my full life to art and poetry and making people happy, I end up feeling miserable. I need to speak up for myself and try anything to get away from this stormy apathy. I don't know -- I'll drink vinegar, yell this speech into a microphone in my room, spank myself, go iceskating, go hug henry, do stupid things, vomit, throw up, hop on a pogostick across the pacific ocean to China, eat durian, -- anything to make me know what it trully means to be alive.

I want to stop making up poetic situations about emotions like Love that I have never experienced, and I need to stop pushing everything into the future and begin to live for the moment.

I want to be in a relationship for the the first time and then fall really hard and explode and yell and get mad and cry, because all I'm doing right now is making a human being happy with poetry and art and pottery, and refusing to talk to him at all, so he doesn't know what to say to me either.

Or maybe I just long to feel some romantic love.

I want to go get a job and work and drive and and stop relying on my parent's money.

I either want a lot of things or I do not want anything at all.

And I do not want to win anything of the things that I want. I want to ductape together time-spun effort, determination, and unwasted second tries, and believe and live for something with every inch of my body so I will be one of the millions of bruises that fought for a change, and was fuelled by faith.}

ok. now i feel better.

if you are taking the time out of your life to read or view or comment anything that I create, I really really appreciate it & i am sorry it has taken me forever to reply these comments, but I promise I will get to it soon.

]]> ~flappability exclamationpoint ! http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8259307/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8259307/ Fri, 24 Mar 2006 20:29:56 PST

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

--------------------------------------------------------------
_{The less time I spend online, the more I realize exactly how much I cannot express myself with my voice anymore. I have switched school nine times, and once a familiarity braided together fully, it got unravelled again by this watery whirlpool of inevitable change. All the speech-therapy-filled effort I have spent last year to speak out and yank out my voice, just seems to be so insanely far away. There is absolutely nothing except for a few choppy sentences that jumps out of my mouth in three out of the four classes that I have. I need more familiarity. I need more familiarity. English class is the only time of the day when I find myself talking.

And all I do, is wade myself through school, knead the knowledge into my pores, and mold my heartbeats into paintings, pots and poems and believe in God and talk/write to people far away and try to get better at living and try to do positive things.

.........................................................................................................................................

I have been seeing Henry everyday since the beginning of the school year, and refused to try and have a single conversation with him. And I spent five hours with him on Tuesday (badminton, church, art class, ride home) and said nothing. And I wanted to say something so badly that I felt like I was on fire, but I didnt let a single drop of sound escape from my mouth.

During Interlake's Badminton tournament,ten of the players on our badminton team watched from the sidelines, and I managed to write a poem about Henry, while Henry -- himself -- sat beside me. He didn't even notice it. Hah.

And I found that amusing, because no human being in the world could hear any of my eyelid-wrapped thoughts as they rained down onto the sheet of college ruled loose-leaf paper and dribbled into puddles of poetry. And wasnt even realize it.

.........................................................................................................................................

But I thank silence, I thank depression, I thank existence, I thank the concept of "Nothing", I thank opportunity, I thank wasted second tries, I thank joy, I thank sadness, I thank powerlines, I thank atheism, I thank Christianity, I thank chocolate, I thank celery, I thank weight gain, I thank weight loss, I thank off buttons, I thank on buttons, I thank badminton rackets, I thank broken strings, I thank life, I thank death, I thank nature, I thank technology, I thank lies, I thank the truth. I thank the difference between each of them. And most of all I thank Jesus, I thank God.

Because they give me Choice. They make me realize that there is no reason to be afraid. They are all just rungs in thi spiritual/physical/emotional/ ropeladder that is in this chewy canyon between birth and death.

And they make me see that there really isnt anything that divides them -- its all just life. Intertwined together into one universal, individual, beautiful, ugly, disturbing, (insert every adjective that was ever designed here), endless, (insert every forgotten adjective here), ambitious, (insert every adjective that will be designed in the future here), at the same time.

.........................................................................................................................................

and the stuff you just read is how I am going to use logic to make me feel better today and stop thinking about everything being pointless.

Because ever since I began writing and philosophizing, and listening, and not talking or experiencing -- my logic and my beliefs and goals have always been a thousand miles ahead of my emotions.

And there is something comforting about that, but I still hope that through a pile of yucky&delicious years, the gap between them would somehow... ]]>} ~flappability A big fat Survey and Planted Opinions http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8142106/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8142106/ Sun, 12 Mar 2006 18:57:08 PST

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

^{--------------------------------------------------------------

everybody must go see this music video --

"In Our Hands" by BJORK}

she has the most beautiful velvety voice ever. Icelandic singer.

--------------------------------------------------------------
~CheekyValiance is a really nifty poet with fine-tipped brain cells and heart strings and he captures them all and braids them together into wildly-worded poetry that fills your eyes with musical coral-reef smells in a way that I have never ever seen in my whole entire life before.You guys better go give his poetry an eye-drag.
For starters, I recommend "A Rediculous Concern" -- [link] and "How I became Poet" -- [link]
KAGADAGALADOOOP!

--------------------------------------------------------------

ok. now that leads to the first survey i have ever done in two years... here you go.
Chubby Survey
_{NAME: Jessie X Chen

BIRTHDAY: January 25, 1992 (I am fourteen)

BIRTHPLACE: Calgary, AB, CANADA

CURRENT LOCATION: Solar System

EYE COLOR: as brown as poop

HAIR COLOR: black with blonde hilights

HEIGHT: 5'4"

HANDED: Rightyyy

ETHNICITY: Canadian born Chinese

SHOES YOU WORE TODAY: I wrap my feet in the oxygen.

WEAKNESS: I lie to myself everyday but I tell the world the truth. And I have no physical self-control,I am a inescapable perfectionist, it takes me hours tofind my point, and I could get too shy and stupidly self-conscious formy own good. I cant stand up formyself, yeah. Stuff like that. It changes every year.

FEARS: To completely lose my mind, soul and my hands or to lose all of the talents that have ever tumbled into who I am. As they somehow made this wobbly-messy-reoccuring-splintered-snail of a world make sense.

YOUR PERFECT PIZZA: tofu fish pineapple muenster cheese ketchup Monosodium glutamate!

GOAL TO ACHIEVE THIS YEAR: To be able to make my pencil fart out sweet-sounding music & songs & guitar strings, to make people feel temporarily touched or joyful by creating art or writing for them because there is just too much apathy and sorrow in this world, to understand that life is something that cannot be understood, and a million other sky-scraping wishes that will just multiply as I fulfill them.

MOST OVERUSED PHRASE: May the stench of a thousand armpits infest the crotch of the next guy who ruins your day and may his nose be too fat to plug. Amen.

FIRTH THOUGHTS WAKING UP: the alarmclock burps too loud and ugly

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: My toe is better than yours.

BEDTIME:too late.

YOUR MOST MISSED MEMORY: birth.

PEPSI OR COKE: either, but must be mixed with yogurt or icecream -- taste-bud explosion!

NUMBER OF MARSMALLOWS ABLE TO BE FIT IN YOUR MOUTH AT ONCE: 4 big ones

DO YOU SMOKE: Nope.

DO YOU SWEAR: Yes. Mostly when I feel mad bad sad and not a tad of glad.

DO YOU SING: I sing to my showerhead and on the way home from school and in my bed but I refuse to let it stuff the ears of any human beings other than myself.

DO YOU SHOWER DAILY: Sometimes.

HAVE Y... ]]>} ~flappability Old Soul Song (for the New World Order)" http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8023291/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/8023291/ Mon, 27 Feb 2006 22:51:04 PST

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

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^{Ok. So we were all given nine days. Nine schooless days. Nine days completely free of chubby 6:00 a.m. alarmclocks Beeping into your ears. Alarm clocks beep. Alarm Clocks swear.

And I have been giving out customized paragraphs of temporary joy, found an unignorable chubby desire to begin writing/learning music, rubbed my mousepad within the virtual gray walls of deviantart, found inspiration, cried, wrote poems, read poems, smiled, and lastly filled up ten hours of community service time by doing an acrylic painting for my Youth Group at the Neighbourhood Church over the course of three days.

Midwinter Break will be over in eight hours, and I have lost a lot of sleep. And it's now takes the alarmclocks thirty minutes to wake me up. The beeping just rings and operasings and screams for thirty chunky minutes, until I am awoken. I should get more sleep. *glares at the 12:30 on the clock on the bottom-left of screen* AHHHH.. I am going to be unable to open my eyes for first period Biology tomorrow. Yuck.

And sometime this week I will post up six pieces of traditional art. I have been staying after school until 5:00p.m. to get those things done!

And I was shaken from head to toe, and flipped inside out, and ductaped to helpless emotions after finding out what has been going on with world politics lately.}

IT IS EVERY AMERICAN'S DUTY TO GO AND SEE THIS VIDEO. ONLINE.

Loose Change < -- CLICK!

^{The best 9/11 documentary film that's out there. It's extremely well-referenced, eye-gluing, and real. Every detail, every plane, every tuft of life-dwindling smoke, every cause of every shattered potential -- in 9/11 -- is covered in pure detail, and glazed in evidence from the survivors and witnesses themselves, scientific fact, and news sources. The moment the last spiny second of this is done playing, you will find it almost impossible to believe that 9/11 was engineered not by Osama Bin Laden, but by

o u r ow n Go v er m e nt .

________________________________________ ________

And now you will hear a very angry rant about politics and our bullshit Bush Administration.

Read on, if you wish.

I am pretty sure that the majority have heard all of this ages ago.

But I have been living in a hole for the past fourteen years of my life, and I have merely just began, half a year ago, to get interested in politics and what is really happening in this wobbly world. I merely just found out, and I need to get this down or else I will feel hole-punched and unable to sleep ... until i do.

What we have is not a democratic goverment with three stubby, organized branches, and a puddle of constitutional Laws in which the Goverment bases every single decision on.

A careful examination of all the events in the past century just scream that there is a very elite clique, made up of mostly neoconservatives granted with very great wealth and power -- who basically just own the U.S and British Goverments, operating behind the scenes. And there is this organization called the "Project for a New American Century" which basically has the mission to achieve World control with the American Goverment.

And it's all centered around the world energy source. Oil. And we're using it all up. The oil prices are becoming helium balloons and being buckled to the sky. And many countries are going by any means to have control on those oil wells.

There is overwhelming evidence that September 11 was planned by this elite clique in our own... ]]>} ~flappability eye sockets filled with something fat http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/7939017/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/7939017/ Sat, 18 Feb 2006 23:53:46 PST

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

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^{I feel like I am on fire.

with the poems that i am writing.

about a certain person.

but i will keep those poems to myself

and make sure that that certain person is the first person to read those poems

when i get myself to show them to him.

but for now, I am typing them up, and stuffing them into my socks, and locking them in my drawer until close to the end of the quarter. I refuse to face awkwardness.

And through it all -- because i know that it is impossible. he's an amazing senior, he'll be leaving in four months, and i'm a freshman too shy to open my mouth.

and the truth is, that I am really not ready to fall in love or any kind of relationship right now. My emotions and my heartbeats are jumping much too high for rationality and logic to catch up with them, and I don't want to like anybody at all.

But I can't do that. I can't help myself.

So I will not waste emotion. I will cling to it, buckle it to a page, in the form of poems and art, give it to him, ask for him to take them home, and keep it, and nothing more.

that will be that.

this is just an icecreamy, heart-quivering-opera-singing feeling that gives me something to look forward to every school day, and makes my fingers tapdance across the keyboard. And these feelings will ebb away as they get splashed by the blazing water-droplets of Time.

I think I have stuck :devnamezebrazebrazebra: into my journal before.... oh well, she deserves another post.

The poetry of this girl has made me smile so big and fat and chubby lately. The wonderful word choice and syrupy syllables, and how they just bounce so bouyantly off of one another as they tie your emotions into big fat bows of deafening joy. After reading "cross-polination" -- [link] -- huge tufts of beautiful joy just began jumping around in every inch of my body, and I felt like I was going to split. So immediately after that, I had to snap open microsoft word, and stick that beautiful emotion into a poem ("feebility.")

So all of your must go give her a quick eye-drag!}

]]> ~flappability Wobbly Brain Cells http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/7878635/ http://flappability.deviantart.com/journal/7878635/ Sun, 12 Feb 2006 22:48:34 PST

[poetry] o [traditional art] o [digital art] o [prose]

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^{I'm letting changes slice into every inch of my brain and my heart, hoping that they will carve the me into a better person.

But all the spanking-new joy that results from change is always tarnished away by Time. And then I will find more changes to slice into my body, and cover more flaws, over and over and over again, until I realize that regardless of how hard I try and try and tryI still will not be satisfied.

It is not change that is going to make me happy. It is art. It is love. It is faith. Because love -- it can permanent, but honesty -- is a lie. And piles upon piles of self-centered change will never make you happy because everything has it's goods and bads.

And I've been reading through the pages of my written journal, and it is just amazing how different my emotions are from day to day. One day I start ranting on about Christianity and how ear-spankingly wonderful it can make us and how grateful I am towards the people who love me, and the next I start screaming about how everything in pointless and how I walked around in the routine-covered walls of my highschool refusing to speak to anyone. And the one after that -- I start feeling so nerve-rakingly restless so I pace around the room and dive into my own poetry and art so that I will forget that we're all dying.

And then the one after that, I finally tell myself that I am getting attached to a human being of an opposite gender for the first time this year.

And then the next, I start yelling at my parents for no reason, and my Mom locks me out of the house because I ate cereal for dinner.

And then my parents tell me a million reasons why I should get more sleep, and eat more healthy, and learn to perk up my self-control, because that is exactly what I do not have. And I start feeling like everything I've done was a failure, and that I'm stupid -- because all those months of promising that I am going to do something about my lack of self-control -- don't seem to be making any difference at all.

But then, one hour later, I go and see some friends, and I begin feeling grateful for my family, my friends, my talents, my freedom, and for my existance, all over again, and I tell myself that from now on, I will focus more on doing positive things. Even little things. Because there always has been too much sadness in this world.

And now I cannot describe what this is anymore. My emotions are just so undeniable, so definitive, so glossy and faceted when they come, but they never last. I never feel the same thing for longer than thirty minutes. And last year, I used to be so ignorant, and I never worried and wondered about the same unexplainable things over and over again. Maybe it's just that I've been wrapped up in the polyesther skin-tight blanket of Routine. Maybe I need to get out more. After all, "the world is a huge book, where those who never stir from home -- only read a page. "

Or maybe adolescence is just what it all is, and I will understand when I grow up.

But right now, I've collected the seeds of some random opinions and ideologies of others.

And I have merged them together into One to planted my own seed.

And this is what the roots are telling me ::

The meaning of an individual life is to find your own meaning -- your own place in this mystery, and LIVE for it, with your; eyes and feet and woes and toes and lips and heart and mouth and waist and kidneys and lungs and voice and emotion and passion.

The meaning of Human life is to see how far we can go until our technology deepens to a point that shatters our past, present, and future into a million powdery pieces to wipe the slate clean for whatever comes next.

The purpose of Life is N o t h i n g.

~flappability}