Monday, August 15, 2011
READ THIS
Listen, I accidently removed "City Transit, Number Eighteen" from the blog. It was a shame, but now, there is only a draft posted. Sorry if you hadn't had a chance to read it yet, its kind of gone now. Sorry. ):
City Transit, Number Eighteen
It was a rather dull morning, when Mark slithered out of bed. Whether he knew it or not, today was his big day, in more ways then one but I'm getting ahead of myself. He crawled out from beneath the bed sheets, which almost seemed to glow in the dark. The silky satin window curtains remained closed, as always. Mark didn't like the sun, but unfortunately, he had to swim in it, like every other fish in the sea.
He was sort of a funny man, he wore two different pairs of socks, always. One seemingly climbed higher on his leg than the other, but no matter, they reached pretty high because he despised ankle socks.
"I'm the best," He almost thought aloud, as he put on a tie composed of multiple colors.
It was a selfish thought indeed, for Mark was a rather self-centered person, others tended not to notice though, for he was soft-spoken everywhere but his job, because when he was there, he put on his act. Like he was the class clown, but in a manner where it was best he behave, so he was quite the jokester at work, always playing pranks on people. Such as the old water and flour gag. He worked at Television USA, a big television company.
He had been given the job opportunity years ago, and he took it. Which is ironic, because nobody seemed to pay attention to him .. at all. He never really had the chance to make a good first impression on any of his co-workers, or make the chance for anyone to really even know his name.
But thats besides the point, because today is his big day, the day he could be one of many in a chance to get that new promotion. If he got that, people would actually know him, and be more respective of him. And if he had that job, he could manipulate others, because he had that kind of power, again, as I stated, another selfish thought.
He then realized that he just panned out his day in an extended fantasy, as he stared blankly in his bathroom mirror that had at least one tiny chip or crack, he was too lazy to fix it though. He was in the middle of putting on some black work pants, and he laced up his converse shoes, which obviously didn't cooperate with the dress code at work, but he didn't really care because nobody noticed him when he made an effort to make others laugh, so he thought of wearing these "clown shoes" as an inside joke he can chuckle to himself about.
He then put on a blue polo, and a nice, jet black suit over that. He looked rather dorky, and was considering a decent looking man, at best. He then paced himself to the sink and creaked the door to the cabinet under it, open. He reached for the hair spray and gel, because he did his hair in a rather funky fashion. Standing on end in a swirl like chocolate ice cream poured into a crisp waffle cone that you can get at any buffet. He had deep brown eyes to match his hair and no facial hair, as to keep his child-like appearance. He is 31 years old.
As soon as his wacky stature matched his daily outfit, he stormed out the front door like an olympian runner, holding his hands above his head. He thought this funny, but he was shameful because the only one who laughed at his jokes was himself. He waltzed into an empty garage, for he had no cars, he blew all his money on silly little things for himself, such as the bobble-heads he has planted to his desk at work, in his cramped little cubicle.
His scooter was in the shop, all the time, and thats because Mark forgets to pick it up, so it's been living there. Little did he know its been there for years, and he owes the scooter shop a lot of money for keeping it safe. So he opened the garage door and scooted over to the street side in a sort of sing-song matter, bopping his head as he was humming along to the elevator music playing in his vacant cranium, he wasn't very smart at all, as you probably have already assumed.
He strolled the crosswalk in long strides, as to make exactly seventeen steps across, as he does every single weekday, he had weekends off. To reach the bus stop a half mile away, he stepped on all the cracks on the sidewalk on the way there, because he found it to be a rather easy way of keeping himself entertained, as to not get bored with his life, for it is rather boring. He didn't really have a purpose, so he thought working at Television USA would maybe give a slight edge to his life that came to a screeching halt since he was a child. He was always the invisible kid.
Well, not today, because today he was going to give it his all. That is, if nobody tried to trump his attempt. His only worry was that the promotion would be given to someone the boss favors, but he tried not to think about that now. He bumped into a rather large man, with broad shoulders and a shaved head. He kind of shrugged Mark off his shoulders as he pushed him aside, making him stumble a few steps.
To make sure he didn't face plant, he stuck his hand out, and as it scraped hard against the gravel,he found his torso drenched in puddle water, his suit was ruined. He quickly returned to his original position, now standing up. And shrugged it off, though he was quite furious.
"There's nothing lovely about today," He muttered under his breath, just loud enough to enjoy the sound of his own voice.
There was no time to run over to his house to grab another shirt, so he was tempted to yell the bald man's head off, but then he thought before he unclenched his jaw to open his stupid mouth. He needed to keep his composure, so he continued to grind his teeth, with the thought of failure lurking in his mind.
Its strange he didn't know this man, because he rides this bus to work every weekday. City Transit, Number Eighteen. He sat in the front, as to selfishly be the first to get off. While he was thinking of this, the bus just arrived at their feet, but he was quite dazed, so he stepped on last. As he gently strode up, he peered at the sign that proclaimed to watch his step. He always thought that was a rather comedic sign, for nobody ever trips on those stairs, well today, he did.
Rather embarrassed and flustered, he got up and moved to the back, for someone, the shaved headed man, had intended to take his seat, and purposely get off first. Today wasn't starting off well for Mark, but he remembered to keep steady and hold on. Just for today.
He arrived slowly, it seemed, to his destination, Television USA. He walked in as if he already had that promotion and complimented everyone he saw on the way in, including the pregnant lady, asking if she had lost weight, which is rather rude when put to thought. He didn't care, today was his big day. He sat down fast, and spun around in his chair, in his rather tight and cramped cubicle. He flicked the bobble heads and nodded with them in unison, for he still remained in the best of moods.
He was called to the front of the office by the secretary, and was pulled aside swiftly by the boss.
"Hey, Mark. Listen, buddy, I've got something secretive to tell you." He stated quietly, almost seeming to quiver.
"Yes, sir?"
"I've been watching you, and your work. You may not think I notice, but I do, just keep in mind, boy, that the promotion is considering you, my friend."
"Really, sir?" Marks spirits lifted, after all, he may have a chance.
"And..." He was cut off by the one of Mark's female co-workers.
She whispered something in the boss' ear. He nodded frequently.
"Excuse me, Mark." He followed the lady around the corner.
Mark peered over the side of the dry wall, to see that the boss was following the lady into the men's room. This wasn't good. Mark was going to lose his promotion to the office slut. Everyone knew it, she is the hugest whore in the whole building, Mark thought very crudely. She has slept with nearly everyone for money, everyone except Mark that is. He started to wonder if it was jealousy that made him think so rudely of her, because normally, he wouldn't mind such a woman.
He was sort of a funny man, he wore two different pairs of socks, always. One seemingly climbed higher on his leg than the other, but no matter, they reached pretty high because he despised ankle socks.
"I'm the best," He almost thought aloud, as he put on a tie composed of multiple colors.
It was a selfish thought indeed, for Mark was a rather self-centered person, others tended not to notice though, for he was soft-spoken everywhere but his job, because when he was there, he put on his act. Like he was the class clown, but in a manner where it was best he behave, so he was quite the jokester at work, always playing pranks on people. Such as the old water and flour gag. He worked at Television USA, a big television company.
He had been given the job opportunity years ago, and he took it. Which is ironic, because nobody seemed to pay attention to him .. at all. He never really had the chance to make a good first impression on any of his co-workers, or make the chance for anyone to really even know his name.
But thats besides the point, because today is his big day, the day he could be one of many in a chance to get that new promotion. If he got that, people would actually know him, and be more respective of him. And if he had that job, he could manipulate others, because he had that kind of power, again, as I stated, another selfish thought.
He then realized that he just panned out his day in an extended fantasy, as he stared blankly in his bathroom mirror that had at least one tiny chip or crack, he was too lazy to fix it though. He was in the middle of putting on some black work pants, and he laced up his converse shoes, which obviously didn't cooperate with the dress code at work, but he didn't really care because nobody noticed him when he made an effort to make others laugh, so he thought of wearing these "clown shoes" as an inside joke he can chuckle to himself about.
He then put on a blue polo, and a nice, jet black suit over that. He looked rather dorky, and was considering a decent looking man, at best. He then paced himself to the sink and creaked the door to the cabinet under it, open. He reached for the hair spray and gel, because he did his hair in a rather funky fashion. Standing on end in a swirl like chocolate ice cream poured into a crisp waffle cone that you can get at any buffet. He had deep brown eyes to match his hair and no facial hair, as to keep his child-like appearance. He is 31 years old.
As soon as his wacky stature matched his daily outfit, he stormed out the front door like an olympian runner, holding his hands above his head. He thought this funny, but he was shameful because the only one who laughed at his jokes was himself. He waltzed into an empty garage, for he had no cars, he blew all his money on silly little things for himself, such as the bobble-heads he has planted to his desk at work, in his cramped little cubicle.
His scooter was in the shop, all the time, and thats because Mark forgets to pick it up, so it's been living there. Little did he know its been there for years, and he owes the scooter shop a lot of money for keeping it safe. So he opened the garage door and scooted over to the street side in a sort of sing-song matter, bopping his head as he was humming along to the elevator music playing in his vacant cranium, he wasn't very smart at all, as you probably have already assumed.
He strolled the crosswalk in long strides, as to make exactly seventeen steps across, as he does every single weekday, he had weekends off. To reach the bus stop a half mile away, he stepped on all the cracks on the sidewalk on the way there, because he found it to be a rather easy way of keeping himself entertained, as to not get bored with his life, for it is rather boring. He didn't really have a purpose, so he thought working at Television USA would maybe give a slight edge to his life that came to a screeching halt since he was a child. He was always the invisible kid.
Well, not today, because today he was going to give it his all. That is, if nobody tried to trump his attempt. His only worry was that the promotion would be given to someone the boss favors, but he tried not to think about that now. He bumped into a rather large man, with broad shoulders and a shaved head. He kind of shrugged Mark off his shoulders as he pushed him aside, making him stumble a few steps.
To make sure he didn't face plant, he stuck his hand out, and as it scraped hard against the gravel,he found his torso drenched in puddle water, his suit was ruined. He quickly returned to his original position, now standing up. And shrugged it off, though he was quite furious.
"There's nothing lovely about today," He muttered under his breath, just loud enough to enjoy the sound of his own voice.
There was no time to run over to his house to grab another shirt, so he was tempted to yell the bald man's head off, but then he thought before he unclenched his jaw to open his stupid mouth. He needed to keep his composure, so he continued to grind his teeth, with the thought of failure lurking in his mind.
Its strange he didn't know this man, because he rides this bus to work every weekday. City Transit, Number Eighteen. He sat in the front, as to selfishly be the first to get off. While he was thinking of this, the bus just arrived at their feet, but he was quite dazed, so he stepped on last. As he gently strode up, he peered at the sign that proclaimed to watch his step. He always thought that was a rather comedic sign, for nobody ever trips on those stairs, well today, he did.
Rather embarrassed and flustered, he got up and moved to the back, for someone, the shaved headed man, had intended to take his seat, and purposely get off first. Today wasn't starting off well for Mark, but he remembered to keep steady and hold on. Just for today.
He arrived slowly, it seemed, to his destination, Television USA. He walked in as if he already had that promotion and complimented everyone he saw on the way in, including the pregnant lady, asking if she had lost weight, which is rather rude when put to thought. He didn't care, today was his big day. He sat down fast, and spun around in his chair, in his rather tight and cramped cubicle. He flicked the bobble heads and nodded with them in unison, for he still remained in the best of moods.
He was called to the front of the office by the secretary, and was pulled aside swiftly by the boss.
"Hey, Mark. Listen, buddy, I've got something secretive to tell you." He stated quietly, almost seeming to quiver.
"Yes, sir?"
"I've been watching you, and your work. You may not think I notice, but I do, just keep in mind, boy, that the promotion is considering you, my friend."
"Really, sir?" Marks spirits lifted, after all, he may have a chance.
"And..." He was cut off by the one of Mark's female co-workers.
She whispered something in the boss' ear. He nodded frequently.
"Excuse me, Mark." He followed the lady around the corner.
Mark peered over the side of the dry wall, to see that the boss was following the lady into the men's room. This wasn't good. Mark was going to lose his promotion to the office slut. Everyone knew it, she is the hugest whore in the whole building, Mark thought very crudely. She has slept with nearly everyone for money, everyone except Mark that is. He started to wonder if it was jealousy that made him think so rudely of her, because normally, he wouldn't mind such a woman.
Monday, August 8, 2011
MD MD
MD MD. The thought of it sends shivers down my spine. Is that what I really want to be? A doctor? I mean, trust me, I've had my fair share of check-ups. Awkward moments when you don't want to say anything wrong, or when you're trying to remember all the special conditions you have.
You don't realize it, but when you're a kid, things like this seem sort of silly to you. Back then, you would want to be a ninja or a pirate, or even a rock star. Sometimes, its whatever the media portrays it to be.
When you start to get a little older, things become slightly more clear than that. It is then, that you want to be a Fireman, Doctor, Policeman, Lawyer, Detective, Crime Scene Investigators. Again, that was either portrayed by the media, or it is a special interest or fantasy of yours.
Only when you explore to you come down to a few choices. In my case, Doctor or famous Musician? Let's get real here, becoming a doctor would take several more years of school and training, but it would be well worth it for the money. Or famous musician, which would consist of what i've already been doing. Singing, writing music, joining a choir. Going to concerts and open mic nights, buying and learning instruments, and becoming decent. That is a lot more of a fantasy though, because being discovered is a very difficult thing to have happen.
Or I can be a part time doctor, part time musician? I don't know. I really don't have anything figured out. Though I am quite the committed person, sometimes I find I'm only committed to the idea. I joined this high level choir this year, that I'm not sure I want to be a part of anymore, do to the difficulty.
What I'm trying to say is, at least have an idea of where you're going, so when they ask you, you can lie and tell them what you're hoping to be. Or, you can say,
"Who the hell knows?"
And everyone will have the idea planted in their skulls, that you'll be fine. No matter what happens, hold on to your dreams. I know I am.
You don't realize it, but when you're a kid, things like this seem sort of silly to you. Back then, you would want to be a ninja or a pirate, or even a rock star. Sometimes, its whatever the media portrays it to be.
When you start to get a little older, things become slightly more clear than that. It is then, that you want to be a Fireman, Doctor, Policeman, Lawyer, Detective, Crime Scene Investigators. Again, that was either portrayed by the media, or it is a special interest or fantasy of yours.
Only when you explore to you come down to a few choices. In my case, Doctor or famous Musician? Let's get real here, becoming a doctor would take several more years of school and training, but it would be well worth it for the money. Or famous musician, which would consist of what i've already been doing. Singing, writing music, joining a choir. Going to concerts and open mic nights, buying and learning instruments, and becoming decent. That is a lot more of a fantasy though, because being discovered is a very difficult thing to have happen.
Or I can be a part time doctor, part time musician? I don't know. I really don't have anything figured out. Though I am quite the committed person, sometimes I find I'm only committed to the idea. I joined this high level choir this year, that I'm not sure I want to be a part of anymore, do to the difficulty.
What I'm trying to say is, at least have an idea of where you're going, so when they ask you, you can lie and tell them what you're hoping to be. Or, you can say,
"Who the hell knows?"
And everyone will have the idea planted in their skulls, that you'll be fine. No matter what happens, hold on to your dreams. I know I am.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Preview
Preview for a new original song:
http://theofficialpapercastles.blog.com/files/2011/08/Intergalactic_Compromise.wav
Intergalactic Compromise
Preview Lyrics:
http://theofficialpapercastles.blog.com/files/2011/08/Intergalactic_Compromise.wav
Intergalactic Compromise
Preview Lyrics:
And we have lift-off
The engine bursts, and exits the face of ground
As well as gravity, and in space there’s no sound
Faces grow green with anxiety
Cause shooting for the moon is my priority
But according to me, I don’t want to be one, I’d rather be two but
According to things, you don’t want to be us, you’d rather be you
So please come down from the pedastal that’s so far from the ground
And I’ll change your mind, with this intergalactic compromise of mine
…
Please wait, the whole song will be available whenever, as well as other songs, sorry for the crappy recording, hope you liked it. I was sick the day I recorded this, so no hating. ._.
Dissolve
It’s gleaming.. No, more of a glistening, to put it rather bluntly. I push aside the blinds like they were shattered expectations, and to my dampened eyes, saw what is to be known as lightening, rather dreary and frightening. I recalled that I had gently slipped my cat out the screen door, when the thunderous boom shattered my ear drums and brought to my attention that he awaits for me, outside the window, pawing at the screen cover.
I opened it up like I would a jar of jelly, and drenched in rain water, he sulked his slinky body in like a mysterious man creeping into a crooked old house. The inner walls of the room seemed to be closing in on me and the cat, with their solemn faces growing more sickening by the moment, and their eyebrows curved at just the right angle to send shivers down your pathetic spine. And there it was upon us again, the loud boom, and unpleasant thoughts began accumulating in the closet of the very fabric of my mind.
And it was in this, that I founded the flood to make today all the more lovely, for I have never seen a sight so peculiar, unto mine eyes so perceptible, at such a graceful momentous occasion, for the occasion was that there was none at all. I was enlightened by the very idea of it. The dogs were howling in the other room, as if calling out to the moon that no longer remains existent, but is quite the contrary. It was brought to my attention that all is still well, the others I’m confided with were still in a groggy state, if not, already lost to the battle, overcome by overdue, most deserved, sleep.
We all needed it, though I rarely succumb to it. I wore my stress atop my cranium, and my heart on my sleeve, while I still bear my cat in my arms, his tongue pokes out of his soft lips, his nose dry, and his legs dangle ever so graciously, because he has lost to drowsiness as well. I set him down, without him uttering a single word, and I set my bare feet on the carpet, swinging the blankets over my head, hitting the wall my bed almost leans against.
I stepped past the couch using my brittle knees to slide past to the door, and I creaked it open, peering over the side, and escaped the cold, dry, air, which is my bedroom. I noticed the soothing sound of the water fountain caressing my very thought process, for I contemplated too much the time of day. I was invisible to the air in which I was engulfed. I became familiar with my surroundings in which were already made memorable long ago, but I do suppose it is just a nice feeling to feel renewed, a sense of rejuvenation.
I combined the like terms of consciousness and alert, in the fact that everyone else in the house was fast asleep, so as I waltzed over to the kitchen, I felt a sense of enlightenment in the fact that I was sneaky. That very same moment is when my mother exited her room, in a groggy state, unlike mine where I was more aware, which is good, because then I wouldn’t have to make the slightest effort to make myself known.
We conversed further of the stormy weather outside, which was sort of putting a dreary, yet exciting, taste to the morning. It felt rather dreamy indeed, to stand inside, and be able to hear the pitter-patter that surrounded myself. All was calm, though the dogs were wide awake and tussling on the ground, them persistently letting out small honking noises through their snouts, their rather small nozzles, for they are only five months old, approximately.
My sister comes bursting through the door, rather drenched in her black coat. She was wearing rather casual clothing and had her hair in a mess, for she was still in the process of getting ready for work. So we warmly welcomed her inside and she jumped into the conversation with us as she talked about her experience with the beginning of the rather loud thunder, explaining to us how she literally shot out of bed screaming bloody murder.
Rather comedic, if I do say so myself. Then, we took the dogs outside and we all stood out in the rain for a little bit, as for me, barefoot. If there is one moral found in this morning, it is that I truly enjoy storms …
I opened it up like I would a jar of jelly, and drenched in rain water, he sulked his slinky body in like a mysterious man creeping into a crooked old house. The inner walls of the room seemed to be closing in on me and the cat, with their solemn faces growing more sickening by the moment, and their eyebrows curved at just the right angle to send shivers down your pathetic spine. And there it was upon us again, the loud boom, and unpleasant thoughts began accumulating in the closet of the very fabric of my mind.
And it was in this, that I founded the flood to make today all the more lovely, for I have never seen a sight so peculiar, unto mine eyes so perceptible, at such a graceful momentous occasion, for the occasion was that there was none at all. I was enlightened by the very idea of it. The dogs were howling in the other room, as if calling out to the moon that no longer remains existent, but is quite the contrary. It was brought to my attention that all is still well, the others I’m confided with were still in a groggy state, if not, already lost to the battle, overcome by overdue, most deserved, sleep.
We all needed it, though I rarely succumb to it. I wore my stress atop my cranium, and my heart on my sleeve, while I still bear my cat in my arms, his tongue pokes out of his soft lips, his nose dry, and his legs dangle ever so graciously, because he has lost to drowsiness as well. I set him down, without him uttering a single word, and I set my bare feet on the carpet, swinging the blankets over my head, hitting the wall my bed almost leans against.
I stepped past the couch using my brittle knees to slide past to the door, and I creaked it open, peering over the side, and escaped the cold, dry, air, which is my bedroom. I noticed the soothing sound of the water fountain caressing my very thought process, for I contemplated too much the time of day. I was invisible to the air in which I was engulfed. I became familiar with my surroundings in which were already made memorable long ago, but I do suppose it is just a nice feeling to feel renewed, a sense of rejuvenation.
I combined the like terms of consciousness and alert, in the fact that everyone else in the house was fast asleep, so as I waltzed over to the kitchen, I felt a sense of enlightenment in the fact that I was sneaky. That very same moment is when my mother exited her room, in a groggy state, unlike mine where I was more aware, which is good, because then I wouldn’t have to make the slightest effort to make myself known.
We conversed further of the stormy weather outside, which was sort of putting a dreary, yet exciting, taste to the morning. It felt rather dreamy indeed, to stand inside, and be able to hear the pitter-patter that surrounded myself. All was calm, though the dogs were wide awake and tussling on the ground, them persistently letting out small honking noises through their snouts, their rather small nozzles, for they are only five months old, approximately.
My sister comes bursting through the door, rather drenched in her black coat. She was wearing rather casual clothing and had her hair in a mess, for she was still in the process of getting ready for work. So we warmly welcomed her inside and she jumped into the conversation with us as she talked about her experience with the beginning of the rather loud thunder, explaining to us how she literally shot out of bed screaming bloody murder.
Rather comedic, if I do say so myself. Then, we took the dogs outside and we all stood out in the rain for a little bit, as for me, barefoot. If there is one moral found in this morning, it is that I truly enjoy storms …
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