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Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Daughtry - What About Now



This song moved me so much, that I watched it three times in a row and cried that many times as well. It's so inspiring and heartbreaking at once. This is a state we all try to ignore but persists till we find ourselves and our calling.

Insanely me ;)

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Because I said so...

Dedicated to my Mother.




Because I said so...

Because I neglected what I knew from the beginning... I get into this mess. It really is a mess, huh? Well. That's something to tell me Grandkids, if I ever get them.

Rambling like an old man already, eh? I wonder if he's rumbling like a loon, too. Something about our jobs are just that fucking perfect all the time. Perfection is not within human grasp though, we still fight for justice to be done for all of us. For all that would be. Now, I'm in the past, and Wright's there. Fighting.

Though, what is he fighting for now? The cop who's luck is close to non-existent? Butz? The weasel got out of my hands, not because of slick--that's Trite's job.

The rain falls out side and the cell echos with the darkness from all men once they see no light and feel aggravation. Just those and nothing more. Then, they're left there to be smothered underneathe all that as it grows exponentially with the darkeness' echoes of denial, regret, and longing. Longing for only one thing. Though, there are several ways to achieve so, one is clear as the daylight that never existed once the curtains were drawn and the bolts locked in place. This world was created. The stretched corridors are lined with various shades of gray pitching to black, never white. And, the walls are stirred from eternal smoothness with scratches, cells, and dents. Some arms lay in sight from the outside of their cells and some keep to themselves.

All cells were designed to be dismall and dank with wretchedness, but there were men that made their presence known to their quarters and kept to themselves and then the room would spill those men's auras and they weren't as dank. They were horrible to be in, as all their melancholy floods your senses. Though, nothing is out of place. All smells agreeable and the sight is ubiquitous. Nevertheless, it is unnerving to be in a room where men think.

The bars of his cell were a respite from the solitary he was sent. He had no more companion for this term of the prison. They made sure of that. Poor chap shouldn't have talked with him.

The linen of his bed was still pure white barring where he now sat. His back pressed to the wall and head leaning toward the small square of the outside world, he sat. He sat all day to-day without moving and without giving an inch. His guards were starting to worry if he had drugs inside solitary that weren't prescribed. He had them before the last day of his first term inside after all. Still no lead where he got them.

His back to the wall, he sat and thought. He sat and thought of all the things he had done inside this hell hole and what he would do when he got out. He sat and thought of all the things added do his sentence though there were none. They couldn't really tell. He made sure of that. He sat and thought of all the people he would have to come into terms with seeing without his grin and with it.

Mostly, with it. Stupid.

He sat and thought, most of all, in any room he was in--caged and unafraid--he thought and sat for hours just because of Wright and how contrite his feelings and thoughts were of the man's life and his morals and his sensibilities. He thought of why things turned out the way they did and all blame still landed on him. Though what he did was justice in his own right. His own.

Trite's justice is not flawed when you think about all his morals. Morally.

What about how he would've done? How about he did it? Never mind, scratch that thought.

There was clanking and he still thought of him. Was he inferior? Was he the victor?

"You should stop it with the drama moments, you know? Gets old around here."

"Never gets old, when I can see your ugly mug every weekend." He shifted to look past the man's head.

"I would count myself lucky, if I was you--"

"You're not."

"Says me, because there are lots of mugshots here. Lots. You earn yo--"

"I still have rights. Shut up about what's earned, you never earned anything--also, now. Look at you. You're round." He stared directly into the intruder's eyes. He should be thinking right about now. Should be getting ready.

"Didn't you hear me? I said you're lucky. That's it." The man trudged up to where he was and called for a guard to bring him a chair. This would be a long talk.

"Yeah, I heard that I was. Don't believe any of that," said the convict.

"Yeah. You wouldn't be here if luck would've had it. Now, would you? Of course, that friend of yours is slick, he'll catch on, right?" snickered the man, intruder.

"'Course, too chicken to ball up when he wants something. He'll jail me." The convict turned to where the square of freedom laid. It was snowing already? What month is it? Oh, it's--

"Hey, you listening?" asked the irritated voice.

Who was talking to him again? Oh, it was the warden. Splendid.

"No, not really. I'm not particularly interested in unintelligent dribble. You may continue to drone though. Fits the weather."

"You're a sad and twisted man, Mr Armando."

"That name doesn't exist behind bars. It exists only in name, nothing more and nothing less..." the ebony-haired man looked up to the sky for the first time he's been spaced out on the "outside." Outside.

"The world's dirty, isn't it? I, mean, we make laws to suit common men. Common. What does that mean?"

"Have you lost it? This ain't an asylum kid."

"It is." He twisted his head and looked down on the jail warden.

"It is when you're with me. I can't stand for interlopers. Gets on my nerves, you know. Old man." He finished without lifting anymore muscle than he needed. The snow looked cold.

"One of these days, I'll get you for those things."

"Yeah. Because I'm quarantined and being noticed. You'll definitely do that. Oh, warden, you might wanna zip up your fly. Nobody wants to see that. Here, I mean. No offense you your wife. You have one right?"

Banged the cell shut. He thought some more. The snow looked cold.


Insanely me ;)

Friday, December 24, 2010

This is another thing that I did not plan well for... O_O

What? What is this shit?

I turn around one minute and I have another blog? O_O /twitch

Alright, I got things straight there though, I dunno what to write here except for my entries to FF.net. T_T

I so fail right now in whatever because all I can focus my obssession powers on is math. MATH, people! Calculus loves me. Jk.

Let's try writing now,

Because I said so...

Because I neglected what I knew from the beginning... I get into this mess. It really is a mess, huh? Well. That's something to tell me Grandkids, if I ever get them.

Rambling like an old man already, eh? I wonder if he's rumbling like a loon, too. Something about our jobs are just that fucking perfect all the time. Perfection is not within human grasp though, we still fight for justice to be done for all of us. For all that would be. Now, I'm in the past, and Wright's there. Fighting.

Though, what is he fighting for now? The cop who's luck is close to non-existent? Butz? The weasel got out of my hands, not because of slick--that's Trite's job.

The rain falls out side and the cell echos with the darkness from all men once they see no light and feel aggravation. Just those and nothing more. Then, they're left there to be smothered underneathe all that as it grows exponentially with the darkeness' echoes of denial, regret, and longing. Longing for only one thing. Though, there are several ways to achieve so, one is clear as the daylight that never existed once the curtains were drawn and the bolts locked in place. This world was created. The stretched corridors are lined with various shades of gray pitching to black, never white. And, the walls are stirred from eternal smoothness with scratches, cells, and dents. Some arms lay in sight from the outside of their cells and some keep to themselves.

All cells were designed to be dismall and dank with wretchedness, but there were men that made their presence known to their quarters and kept to themselves and then the room would spill those men's auras and they weren't as dank. They were horrible to be in, as all their melancholy floods your senses. Though, nothing is our of place. All smells agreeable and the sight is ubiquitous. Nevertheless, it is unnerving to be in a room where men think.



Insanely me ;)

Friday, August 13, 2010

charice listen at rehearsal italy show





This is truly amazing. I can't stop listening to her voice. Her voice... it's addicting. Plus, I think the Italians would agree with me.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Friday, July 2, 2010

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Hey Soul Sister cover

This is my cousin. She rocks!!! Please lookie!






Insanely me :)

Saturday, June 12, 2010

My Shitty and Awesom First Week of College of Engineering

Hello, there : )

I now sport an injured PAIR of feet. Why may you ask? It's because of the perils of going to the Math Building. : |

Tuesday, my first day, I ran after a jeepney towards the Math Building. I took TOKI for it to take me there. Damn my mutherfrucking slippers. The slippers tripped me beofre I got to the jeepney, resulting in a left foot injury--thank goodness it stopped--and I LIMPED toward the building after I got off. Stupid day ended in me limping to my home some miles away.

Wednesday and the rest of my fruking week--I have a sprained right ankle. Wednesday was the day I got it when I tried to not be late for Archaeo 2 and it landed me in the predicament of limping for the rest of my life. I bandaged it Wednesday afternoon with my ninja skills... : )

The rest was all well and good and very good to the feeling. I like college. It doesn't seem to grate on my nerves too much. I have new buddies :) Yeay! And, I am closer to NCR office chapter of AFS.

I want to also add the sour note that happened yesterday.

I havr almost been in the middle of a rumble. It was scary how they acted. I called the police right after I got home. My phone was dead and my feet hurt like hell because I helped an old lady--which I am supposed to contact--to Forbs though I walked all the way to a station in Global City. Global City from Ayala is a long hard walk people. Especially with two limpy feet. Damn. I got home midnight. Though, the LORD was very good and never let me to harm. : )

REMEMBER TO ALWAYS PRAY!


Insanely me ;)

Sunday, June 6, 2010

I feel bad~~~

I feel so bad right now.

Before I go to bed, I decided to mod for APH Kink Meme. I feel so bad right now because of the trolls I was getting for being a mod and still filling a request. : |

It was an honest mistake. :(

I never meant for those people to take it so seriously.

Insanely me ;)

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

He was Handsome by Talentless Freak

He was Handsome by Talentless Freak

A Trinity Blood One-shot (Abel-centric on Tres)
Friendship to Romance

Author’s note:

I am so done with this. It took so freakin’ long! Now, it’s done! :D I don’t like me any more. :(



The frugal morality of it is—he’s a cyborg; ‘more of a machine than a man’. Leon once said that to me—told me that Tres is not human enough.

I remembered the pre-Armageddon black cat I named Estrella. I called her a star even though she looked like a monster to the regular village that I found her in. She had tuffs of fur missing from several places on her body; she had rashes in between her toes—I remedied that though; her eyes had a transparent gloss filmed over them and make her look mystical, almost fantastical. The villagers said that she was a witch in disguise of a cat. Then did they call her the monster of all evils that she was not. The villagers didn’t know what happened to her next as she was brought to my place, up the highest hill and inside the glamorous Aristarcus Mansion that resides in The Villa; she was being brought to the world of the real monster, the real threat to their lives. Before I became a monster myself, she always greeted me with much affection and graced me with her lovely greenest emeralds, better than that you’ll ever see. Her eyes would glow by the moonlight, in the shadows of the rooftops there, under the scrutiny of the hill’s grounds. Whilst, I watch from the lit room with an agape colossus window. They were preparing me for something and my body ached for rest; my mind screamed for freedom, release from stress and body, unbind from fatigue. The studies, the tutors—everything was madness. But, every afternoon and early evening, she was there to gaze up at me and purr against the railings of my room’s gargantuan hole. I gave her shelter, food, and, for sometime, love within those few but precious hours—just the two of us, just two monsters bathing in the sun’s ambiance or the moon’s borrowed beauty.


Monday, May 24, 2010

Books I want by the End of the Year

The Practical Guide to Drawing Techniques
Peter Gray
275
Format:: Trade Paperback
Publisher: Arcturus Publishing Ltd.
ISBN: 1848372779
Weight: 0.19 kg

The Art of Pixar Short Films
Amid Amidi
1500
Format:: Hardcover
Publisher: Chronicle Books
ISBN: 0811866068
Weight: 1.15 kg

The Practical Guide to Drawing Animals
Peter Gray
275
Format:: Trade Paperback
Publisher: Arcturus Publishing Ltd.
ISBN: 1848372736
Weight: 0.19 kg