So I recently discovered something adorable.
I don’t really want to explain it. Just go look at it.
And if you have someone worth writing about, go for it.
So I recently discovered something adorable.
I don’t really want to explain it. Just go look at it.
And if you have someone worth writing about, go for it.
I just realized I haven’t shown you any new art in a while, so I have some for you now.
I would say that I hope you all like it, but honestly I don’t really care.
Acrylic (i know, it looks kind of like oil. so weird. but let’s chalk that up to talent, eh?)
So yeah, that’s that.
This week I have all of my midterms and finals, so naturally I’m doing everything but studying. So here’s a prompt piece for ya!
Today’s prompt issss: Describe a real made-up dream or nightmare
Here we go!
Well, one time I had this dream where I was like sitting on a beach, but the sand was purple. And me, I’m not personally one for purple sand, I’m just not really one for that kind of thing. So I got up in search of a beach with more pink sand (it’s really just more pleasant). So as I got up, I realized that there was a rope tied around my wrist, and that my anatomy teacher was trying to haul me up into a hot air balloon! I promptly started freaking out, thrashing around, screaming about how my project on rehabilitation of the Scapholunate ligament sprain was actually very good and that I put a lot of effort into those diagrams thanks very much, but it was to no avail. I was soon stuck in a hot air balloon with the one teacher on whose bad side you really NEVER EVER EVER want to be. So I was all like whaaaaaaat this is totally cray and I got really scared and uncomfortable and started trying to chat her up about the dorsiflexors, but she was totally having NONE of it and meanwhile I was over there trying to figure my way out of a hot air balloon that miles up into the air without dying!
Sorry this one was kind of short, to be honest I’m really only using this as a means for procrastination and I really have no interest in telling you my dreams. Maybe I will continue later. But here is an illustration of said made-up dream:
Oh hey guys! Two posts from me in the same month y’all should feel special!!
So right now I’m taking a women’s literature class, which, as a feminist, I thought would be fun but it’s really decidedly not that fun because all the literature we read is kinda sad and our discussions are stilted and miserable. This week we’ve been working on our “Mother Profiles”, some nice five page paper about the child-bearing females in our lives through a series of alternating narrative and vignette style pieces. Now, I’m as into school as much as the next girl, (no really, I have a 3.95. UNWEIGHTED.) But for some reason this paper’s realllllly not jiving with me. So when I was given two separate days in class to work on this paper, here’s what I came up with:
Gaahh this paper is so stupid why do I have to write it I don’t care about motherhood really no effs are given over here please god just make this stupid project go away and then I can go about doing something productive with my life like actually creating things that will serve some purpose not idiotic papers that will leave all parties involved feeling awkwardly empty and useless. I mean, seriously? This class is too feelingy. Some of us don’t like feelings. Some of us would be just as happy living out the remainder of our lives just sitting there with about as much personal expression as a rock. Some of us just wanted to read some empowering literature. But no, we got depressing literature and an abundance of femaley feelings that weigh down the class and make everyone miserable. Five pages of emotions and crap dear CALGON TAKE ME AWAY.
Why did I take this class oh why oh why oh why it hurts my very soul I mean yeah sure I’m a feminist but I’m also not into like, depth. Like let’s just live out our lives staying as shallow as possible. Nope, no depth or emotional maturity over here. Thanks for playing. That would just be such a relief then nobody would feel super awkward if someone decided to vent their entire life feelings on top of them. NNnnnnnnnghhhrrrrr lets all just sit here and be miserable while we all pretend that we have nearly enough information to write this paper it’s like newsflash I’m not my mother I don’t even know anything about her but that’s okay I mean I like a little mystery in my life who doesn’t this is some good stuff right here Imma keep talking in run on sentences ahhhh why did I ever take a women’s lit class honestly why wasn’t I expecting this (well I thought it was going to be decidedly less miserable silly me)
I’m going to continue this little rant today because I really have no interest in writing this paper, and I really feel like I can’t do it when I don’t have my mother here to ask questions as they come to me…like, how am I supposed to think of all of the possible questions I’m going to need to ask in order to know enough to even think of doing a good job on this vignette? Nanananananan Batmaaaaaan batman just came up on Pandora it’s a good day today raise yo hands in the air holla Hans Zimmer is the man he’s my man no he’s mine leave him alone. This music is my jam. Jam and toast! Jk nobody actually eats that. It’s like lol we’re not colonists anymore stop drinking tea and eating crumpets you silly gooses we’re ‘Muricans now so let’s drink some beer and call it a day. Sunflower seeds om nom nom nom nom Worddddd Sherlock music this shenanigans is so swag but personally I think that Robert Downey Jr. was just as good of a Sherlock as Benedict, I might even go so far as to say better. Plus I like Irene waaayyyyyy better in the movie. In the show she’s like old and it’s like eew gross put some clothes on being a dominatrix isn’t even a real job otherwise I’d be employed already. Screw you college, Imma get me some whips! And this is the point at which I should REALLY start writing my paper but who wants to do that? That’s like, stupid. I should really tone the backs of my thighs more so that I can keep stripping open as an option for a career if the FBI doesn’t want me. You know what was a pretty solid movie? Braveheart. Braveheart was a pretty solid movie. It was just like 16 hours long and so I got all fidgety and like really wanted to comb all of the characters’ hair and stuff Also I feel like the soundtrack to the Hobbit should have been ten times more similar to that of LOTR like why didn’t they use the same composer, they were written by the same author! Oh awks apparently they did use the same composer Also, I bet you didn’t know that if something is both a spelling and a poorly worded fragment, Word will highlight under it both green and red. Yknow I watched with weird ass movie once about like a ton of people that had this contagious blindness and were like shunned and had to form their own society and all turned against each other and there wasn’t enough food and now I’m like if I ever go blind I’m leaving society and living a as hermit UghSTREAMOFCONSCIOUSNESSSTREAMOFCONSCIOUSNESS
Phew my teacher just walked by but luckily I was able to scroll to like half a paragraph of real writing so that I look super into this paper it’s not my fault I might have like major ADD and can’t focus in class. Aww the Narnia lion is so cute also word just capitalized Narnia because it is a PROPER FRIGGIN NOUN YEAH IT IS WHOOOOOOT HOLLA C S LEWIS YOUR WORK IS INSPIRATIONAL. No but seriously the death of Aslan is modeled after the crucifixion story and the events that took place afterward fun fact. Who even is tori spelling oh wow thanks for snapchatting me a 36 second long story of pictures of your dog because I really care thanks so much wow I will screenshot these and treasure them forever no honestly I’m serious I need this in my life
and now you know what real teenage angst is.
Also, I feel I should clarify that I’m not actually this much of a downer of a person, nor am I usually possessing of such a short attention span, I just struggle with doing work in class, so I tend to do things like this where I ramble in writing so I don’t distract anyone else.
Happy 2014 dPosse!
I hope you all passed a better 2013 than I did, and I hope the start of 2014 finds you all in good health and moving on to better bloggers who actually post things. Because I know that I need to post SOMETHING and I’m a sucker for cliches, here are my New Year’s Resolutions:
1. Read for pleasure at least 15 minutes per day
Over the past few months I’ve really been neglecting one of my favorite pastimes: reading. Because I recently acquired an abundance of books and I kinda just wanna, oh, I don’t know, READ THEM ALL, I really have to find time for myself to read every day, even if it’s only a little. My current explorations right now include Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain.
2. Introduce myself to new music
If anyone has any awesome artists that they think I should hear, comment ‘em up!
3. Don’t go off the deep end again
That was silly of me. I am in control of my life now, so no more being self-destructive and stupid.
4. Get my orange belt!
OH yeah folks. Lellie’s a martial artist! I am currently a yellow belt who practices mainly jujitsu, Kyushu jujitsu, and ninjitsu.
I showed you mine, now you show me yours ;)
It sure has been a while, huh? Yeahhhh. heh heh. Sorry.
(Spoiler Alert: Not actually sorry!)
But anyway, I realize not only have I abandoned you, but my last posts have also been complete crap, and for that I apologize greatly. You don’t deserve that. So, I’ve decided to work super hard on another post for you guys that I’m actually going to put some effort into. The only problem is, that might take a while. So, the moral of the story here is, I’m not dead, I’m working on something for you, and it will be super de duper awesome.
For my Shakespeare final this year, I had to write a piece compiling characters from several Shakespeare plays and place them in a situation where they’d be forced to interact.
Naturally, I stuck ‘em all in an elevator. Here is said piece.
Friar Lawrence plodded slowly over to the elevator, a gigantic weight seated firmly on his shoulders. The friar had always tried to maintain a positive spirit, but on this particular day he was having a bit of difficulty, as just a few days earlier two young people to whom the Friar had been very close had tragically done themselves in. It was awful, really. Still, Friar Lawrence knew he must continue with his life as he paused in front of the shiny metal doors. A young man was already loitering in front, so the Friar politely greeted him as he reached across to push the button. The young man made no coherent response, though he did mutter something along the lines of “uncle…incestuous, wrathful rule…vengeance”. This prompted Friar Lawrence to want to take a closer look at this unfortunate individual, but as soon as he gathered the nerve to speak to him again, the elevator doors slid open to reveal a space already stuffed with people.
“Dear me,” wondered the Friar aloud. “There wouldn’t happen to be room to squeeze in two more, would there?” The elevator patrons grunted and shuffled around, reluctantly making room for the newcomers. The Friar and the young man stepped in, and the Friar immediately noticed the elderly woman standing to his right. He smiled at her, and she responded with a sneer so terrible that Friar Lawrence took a step back. Or he would have, if there’d been any room in the elevator.
What the Friar hadn’t known was that the rather frightening elderly woman was actually Queen Margaret, the banished old Queen who never really did anything, but always seemed to be around when you needed her least. That particular day she’d taken to riding around in the elevators and upsetting all those who happened to look at her the wrong way. So when Margaret saw the Friar in his ridiculous little outfit and his shaggy, morose and uncouth companion, she’d felt it was her duty to look upon him with as much obvious contempt as she could muster. Meanwhile, completely oblivious to the entire matter, mainly due to the fact that his face was smashed up against the wall, Benedick prayed silently that the elevator would reach his floor soon, preferably before his nose became permanently flattened to his forehead. He sighed with much dejection.
“Oh, dear, Benedick, what on Earth is the matter?” Asked his least favorite female, Beatrice. “Did you happen to catch a glimpse of your own reflection again?” Benedick found it difficult to respond with his face allowed so little range of movement, but he managed to utter “No, Beatrice, I caught a glimpse of yours.” The Friar, who had been listening, stifled a laugh at this.
All of the sudden, the elevator thudded loudly with the sounds of screeching cables and sparks flying punctuating the deep resounding boom as it slammed to a halt. The lights powered down and the small space was lit only by an emergency bulb and the cell phones many held in their hands. When the mechanical noises ceased, they were replaced immediately with a cacophony of voices rising in panic.
“What on earth happened?? I can’t see anything!”
“Shut up, Gloucester, you can never see anything! You have no eyes, for Pete’s sake!”
“It’s my uncle! He did this! And soon he’ll take over Denmark in its entirety! Oh, what a piece of work is man! (II, ii, 294).
“Insolent little crows, squawking and yammering. If I were but still queen I’d have you all banished!” Finally, a louder, stronger voice broke through the din.
“Everybody hush! We’ll all be fine, we just need to figure out how to get someone’s attention and let them know that they’re in here, and then they can get help.” The bluish light from the closest cell phone revealed the speaker to be an older, bearded man with strong shoulders and heavyset brow. There was a murmur of agreement in the dark room once he finished speaking, and right away the people began opening cell phones and holding them up, trying to get enough service to call for help. When all methods seemed to be useless, other means of getting attention were brought up. The young scruffy man spoke first, and after introducing himself as Hamlet, he called to attention a small knife at his belt.
“Well, I do have my dagger here. Perhaps we could use this to pry the doors open…or perhaps not. No, definitely not. That wouldn’t be safe. But what even IS safe, anyway? What does it mean to be safe? I think we’d all be better off dead….but I don’t want to kill myself….though the sweet release would be most dear…” Hamlet trailed off as he realized everyone else in the elevator was looking at him with much confusion.
“That will never work,” Beatrice piped up. “Perhaps one of us could somehow get up and open the service panel to the elevator. That would at least help us figure out where we are.” Gloucester and the Friar nodded readily at that, but Benedick was of an alternative opinion.
“Oh really? Oh yes, so clever, especially when you go right over the edge and fall to your death! Tell me Beatrice, why don’t you try saying something intelligent and shock us all!”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you, Benedick! I do believe that’s the first time a real thought has crossed your mind. Must’ve been a long and lonely journey!”
“Quiet,” The bearded gentleman interrupted smoothly. “Now is not the time for arguing. I learned Morse code in the Navy; perhaps I can contact someone outside by banging out a message for help on this wall.” He then proceeded to tap out a series of rhythms on the wall of the elevator, listening intently every few to try and hear a response. And for a few minutes, all was quiet aside from the tapping and the ever-present offensive mumblings of Queen Margaret off to the side.
“I don’t really know if this is going to work,” began the Friar. “But I think a good way to get some attention would be to pretend we’re dead, like the elevator has crashed or something. I mean, if that won’t get someone’s attention, nothing will!” The others stared at him in disbelief, except Hamlet who looked to be contemplating the idea with honest consideration.
“Haven’t you tried this before, Friar?” Asked Gloucester.
“Why, yes I have.”
“Now, tell me. How did that work out for you, hmm?” Gloucester maintained a straight face while the Friar looked annoyed, then rather crestfallen. “Point made.” He responded dejectedly.
All of the sudden, the bearded man stopped tapping, as a scraping and banging sound could be heard from the outside of the elevator, as well as voices speaking of rescue.
“Wow, you actually managed to get us out!” Exclaimed Beatrice. “Thank you so much, good gentleman! Now, why don’t you tell us your name, so we can thank you our savior properly?” The bearded man slowly turned to look at Beatrice in the dim light, his eyes glinting slightly.
“The name’s Swain. Boatswain.”
Because Boatswain should have been the hero of every play.
See ya, bros.
As promised from a few posts ago, I’ve got some work from my Shakespeare class for you! For this project I had to write a sonnet cycle, and I chose colors! Yay! Because I’m extremely sane and well-adjusted like that. So, just to draw out the inevitable pain that you guys will experience reading them, I’ll post ‘em only two at a time. Here’s the first two!
Red likes to think he is the best of all
With his fire, vibrance, and passion he thinks
All others, like yellow, rather small.
He shows off, proud in all bright-colored things:
He colors the skin and flesh of fresh fruit
And dances with fire and sleeps with the coal.
Calm green thinks he’s rather a showy brute,
But purple relates to his upset soul.
You see him all the time, for he stands out:
He never hides; he’s always out in front.
Unlike some, he not whispers but shouts
And things he says are always rather blunt.
Full of passion, spite, and fiery delight,
He shines in both the day and in the night.
While yellow is well-known for being glad
At times she can warn of danger or harm,
Or even a sign that someone’s mad
Or all else that causes much alarm,
But still she is known for sunshine and light.
Perky forever, she sits in the sun
Her big bright eyes observing with delight.
And though she is alone, she needs no one,
For she’s forever happy just to sit
Lighting up the sky for all to behold.
And back and forth in the fields does she flit
Turning all wildlife her fabulous gold.
Still or in motion, she sparkles with life;
Her childlike image erases all strife.
There you go brotatos! Thanks for reading!