beautiful coincidences

i was his from the moment we first met

say what you say or just sail away

your lipstick stains

let me sail, let me sail

elope with me, miss private, and we’ll sail around the world

you're so good to me baby, baby

i'm through with standing in line

all who are weak, all who are weary

the beat goes on, the beat goes on

wake up, bloodshot eyes

i wanna be the minority

a heart that's full up like a landfill

i've been meaning to tell you

she took away all my money

baptised with a perfect name

let's start at the very beginning

jesus, jesus, jesus

while everybody else is getting out of bed

so if you're lonely

i can tell, i can tell how much you hate this

tell me how i'm supposed to breathe with no air

beautiful girls

remember all the things we wanted?

the night will come

So. What do you think, dear reader? Have I finally gone insane?


Do you know what ready-made art is? It is an "everyday object selected and designated as art; the name was coined by the French artist Marcel Duchamp." The term is also used to describe "art created from the undisguised, but often modified, use of objects that are not normally considered art, often because they already have a non-art function." 


What's that, dear reader? You don't care? Ah, but you should care. You see, the pathetic attempt at poetry you see above is my slightly skewed version of ready-made art. Out of sheer boredom and my inevitable tendencies towards procrastination, I decided to experiment. Here's what I did (look, it's a list!)...






The 'How to Procrastinate Like a Professional' List:

1. Have an assignment due, the sooner the better. Preferably within a two-day time period. You could try three days, but it wouldn't have the same impact.
2. Waste time on Internet. 
3. First attempt at getting some work done.
4. Waste some more time on Internet.
5. Give up on trying to get work done.
6. Go to Music folder.
7. Select all.
8. Press play. Shuffle.
9. Write first line of each song.
10. Compile into meaningless, beautiful nonsense.
11. Compose blog post focused entirely on said meaningless, beautiful nonsense.
12. Proofread til satisfied.

There you go. Figgy's patented procrastination formula. My favourite nonsense-poems are the 'standing in line' one and the last one. And what's with the sailing theme in the first and second stanzas? I didn't skip or rearrange any songs, I swear. I just wrote them down in the same order that they came up. Creepy. But in a good way. It's awesome when seemingly random and unrelated things come together to form something so perfect. Beautiful coincidences. Or ordinary miracles.

So, dear reader. Can you guess the songs these first verses belong to? I bet you can't. Well, some are more obvious than others. I enjoyed this little experiment. Expect more nonsense poetry in the future. Til then, I remain...










Yours,






Figgy.

If only, if only

Dear reader,






I just think I should let you know, I'm using you. Yes, you're nothing but a tool. A procrastination and dilly-dallying tool. I'm sorry, but I'm just being brutally honest here. I have this thing--two things actually--that I have to get done. By tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest. And, me being me, I'll probably leave it to the last possible minute second.


If only I wasn't such an incorrigible feet-dragger. If only I was obnoxiously motivated and organized, and had a schedule book detailing my life to the most precise second. If only I was a preppy, socially-competent, valedictorian-type girl who submits every assignment on time and does all the right things and never says anything stupid.


If only I had a real camera, with a lens the size and breadth of my effing arm. That came with a wicked cool camera strap with a pink skull-and-crossbones pattern on it. If only I knew how to use said fictional camera.


If only I had more awesome dresses to wear, cause--despite being a jeans and T-shirt girl most of the time--I love wearing dresses for no reason other than "I just felt like it". If only I were chic.


If only all the pain, tragedies and atrocities in the world could just disappear, leaving only love, peace and an undeniable understanding of every human's equality behind. If only I weren't such an idealist. Or if only more people I knew were idealists...we could form a club or something. With our own buttons. With witty slogans printed on them.


If only I had a pair of Mary-Jane's. Seriously, those shoes are the epitome of awesome-ness. I could settle for a pair of ankle boots, though. Hmmm...if only I weren't so obsessed with shoes? Nah.

If only everyone was a better person than they currently are...or if only they at least actively strive to make themselves better. Myself included. Myself especially. 

If only, if only.


Speaking of 'better people'...did you know I love India.Arie? No, I am not abruptly changing the subject, dear reader. I am referring to a song of her's, called 'Better People'. It's a great song, and coincidentally really relevant to my life right now. Like, extremely so. Profoundly so. It's almost creepy, in fact. I'm not telling you why, though. What? I like to pretend I'm mysterious. Don't shatter my deluded ramblings, kind reader. Just let me go through life in a haze of ignorant bliss.








Lyrics:

I wish there was a video game
To teach you your ancestor's name
I wish there was a phone number
Like 1-800-Save-Your-Brother
I'm thankful for the radio station
Not afraid to put the truth in rotation
There is certain information
That you can only get in conversation with


[Chorus]
Young people, talk to
Old people, it would make us a
Better people, all around
(Yes it would)
And if old people, would talk to
Young people, it would make us a
Better people, all around
(Yes it would)

We went from radio to TV
Now we're going from LP to CD
Don't be afraid to try something new
I can help you with the brand new technology
You can help me with the age old philosophy
Together there's so much we can do, when...

[Chorus]

They say that every generation gets worse
They call it a generational curse
But these problems don't just drop out o' the sky
Listen to Mahatma Ghandi's words
Be the change you wanna see in the world
Start with yourself and healing will multiply
That's what happens when...

Young people, talk to
Old people, it would make us a
Better people, all around...
(Yes it would)
If Old People would talk to
Young people...
Better people, all around

If black people would talk to white people
It would make us a
Better people, all around

If Republican people would
Talk to Democratic people
It would make us diplomatic people, all around






I just love the lyrics. Music, to me, is an experience. It's about the sound, the beat, the voice, and especially the lyrics. Do not expect me to listen to a song with crappy lyrics. Just because you can rhyme 'girl' with 'world' or 'life' with 'wife', doesn't make you a songwriter. Yes, hip-hoppers and wannabe-gangsta-rappers, I'm talking to you. Having said that, it's not like I despise rap or anything. I like Eminem. Sometimes. And Jay-Z is a legend in my mind, the Rap Grandmaster. I absolutely adore Mike Shinoda, and by extension Fort Minor. Jason Mraz, technically, is a rapper. Well he used to rap more before he got old and mellow. Not that I don't like his newer songs, I just find it frustrating that people who never liked him before suddenly jumped on the 'I'm Yours' bandwagon. I liked him way before he was considered cool...or mainstream, rather. And I liked the original version of 'I'm Yours' better.

Wow, this turned out to be a longer post than I had intended it to be. I should probably go now. It's already past midnight. Better get cracking. Yup. No more procrastinating. Gotta get a move on. Sigh. Alright, alright...I'm going. See ya round the bend, dear reader.




Yours,


Figgy the Incorrigible

Mary, Mary, quite contrary

Dear Reader,

Don't you think humans are the most contrary beings to ever walk the Earth? I know I am, anyway. I know I've told you time and time again about my tendency to dilly-dally and fritter away countless hours in frivolous idleness--countless hours that could have been better spent in pursuing more productive activities. I've told you, dear reader, that I will lollygag when faced with a deadline, even when it's for something I would have enjoyed doing had there been no time limit enforced on its completion. But I don't think I've ever told you about the regret I feel, oftentimes as I'm procrastinating or being scandalously idle.

For example, on the topic of waking up early. I am not a morning person. The latest I have ever gone to bed was--if I remember correctly--around ten or eleven o'clock...in the morning, the next day. And so, due to my erratic sleep patterns, I spend most of the day in a deep, lazy slumber. The Earth makes yet another rotation round its axis, and the Sun makes its daily sojourn across the sky--and all the while, this lethargic blogger is, in a manner of speaking, dead to the world. And when I [finally] arise, it is usually with a profound feeling of regret and loss at what I've missed. And yet I do it again the next day, and the next, and the next, the next, and so on.

Or, rather, I used to do it. I have--recently--repented of my wicked and slothful ways, dear reader. I am happy to announce that I have been going to bed and waking up early this past week. I have kept to my self-imposed curfew of ten thirty; quite faithfully, if I may say so. And I woke up at eight yesterday. Sometimes I even wake up at a quarter past seven! However, I woke up at ten o'clock this morning. I hope this isn't a bad omen.

Not to go off on a tangent or anything, but did you know, my venerable reader, that Katy Perry wrote 'I Do Not Hook Up'? Yes, I am fully aware that it was Kelly Clarkson, and not Katy Perry, who sang 'I Do Not Hook Up', but Ms Perry did in fact write the song. If that isn't contrary and contradictory, then I don't know what is. I mean, who would expect the same girl who said "I kissed a girl, and I liked it" to say "I do not hook up, I go slow"? Although, I suppose that just shows what a versatile songwriter she is.

For the record, I do not like 'I Kissed A Girl'; not only is it disturbing and slightly repulsive, it is just so darn catchy! If you've never had a song that you absolutely abhor stuck in your head for a whole day, dear reader, then you don't know what true pain is. They should implement it in schools as a form of corporal punishment, instead of caning or paddling. Or perhaps not. I can't imagine what kind of damage a song like 'I Kissed A Girl' might inflict on the children's poor, tender psyches.

On the other hand, I really, really like 'I Do Not Hook Up'. Curious, isn't it? That two totally different songs that have two totally different characters with totally different priorities were created by the same individual. I think I like this song because I totally agree with it. I, myself, am not a 'hook up' kind of girl. I 'go slow' and 'fall deep'--or, at least, I suppose I will someday.

And on a totally unrelated note, I have some saddening news, dear reader. I am not--I repeat, am not--going to attend this year's Rainforest World Music Festival. Ah, crushing disappointment and reluctant resignation abound. My Dad said it was too expensive for all of us to go together, and if my sister isn't going, then I'm not allowed to go; safety in numbers and all that. It's a vicious cycle. *cue melodramatic sigh* Oh, well. Perhaps next year.

There you have it. Even the flyer looks exciting! Like it contains some delightful and momentous secret; and the only way to satisfy your insatiable curiosity is to go there and find out for yourself just what that secret is. I sincerely hope it's overrated. Because I couldn't bear to think of what I might be missing out on.

Life goes on. Time waits for no man...or girl. Isn't it funny how I still consider myself a girl, dear reader? I've never noticed that before. Well, it's not that strange, you know. In the Bible, a man was not considered a fully mature adult until he reached 30.

As you can see, I will probably bounce back from this crushing blow inflicted on my plans of attending the RWMF reasonably soon. I suppose I possess a buoyant personality. Or a busy mind, at least. A busy mind is a blessing in times of disappointment and tribulation. And with that, I take my leave. Adieu, dear reader. Til next time, I remain

Yours,

Figgy the Contrary

Relapse

Dear Reader,

I'm afraid I have some bad news. Brace yourself; make sure you are securely seated in your computer chair--although if it's a swivel-type chair, then perhaps you'd be better off standing up. Alright. I'll just come right out and say it. It's not like I enjoy playing with your tender feelings, my sensitive reader. The suspense is probably too much for you to bear.

On a side note, I just ate some lovely fried chicken for dinner. And then I had a hotdog sandwich, positively dripping with mustard and smothered with onions. And I...

Oh, right. Ahem.

I have suffered...cue dramatic music...a relapse. Yes, a relapse. I have officially fallen off the wagon. Instead of kicking the habit, the habit has turned around and kicked me. In the proverbial rear. With extensive force, I might add.

"What on earth is she babbling on about?" you direct your chilly, miffed expression towards the computer screen, impatiently scrolling down the page.

Well, dear reader, if you insist on taking that tone with me...

Your icy glare pierces me to my marrow, sending chills right through your computer screen, straight across cyberspace, and down my spine.

Without further ado, I say, I have relapsed...into my old habit of procrastination. My most recent submission for DA was dated 2nd June. I kid you not. I am absolutely mortified at myself. I am scandalised, in fact, that I could actually be so negligent and careless. And yet...here I am, blogging about it instead of taking any steps to rectify my callous oversight.

It doesn't make any sense, I know. Welcome to my contrary world. Although, in my defense, I am in fact working on something right now. This something is a bit harder than anything I've done before, because it has a background! For once in my life, I'm drawing a proper background.

So, don't judge me too harshly, my impulsive reader. I shall try harder than ever to stop procrastinating, once and for all. I think that's it from me. Til next time, my dear reader. *skips off to watch TV--er, I mean to draw...draw like she's never drawn before*

Yours,

Figgy the Feet Dragger