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.

Unscrew the Stars

Baby, I want you to roll me, hold me in your love
No more habits, promises and jive

I'm in an oldies mood today. But then again, when am I not in an oldies mood, right? Well, strictly speaking, I'm in an awesome eighties mood. I was just listening to Heart's Love Alive. Such a beautiful song, both the music and the lyrics. If every song in the entire world were even half as well-written as this one, the subsequent surge of awesomeness would probably result in World Peace. Fo' shizzle.

I mean, wow. Just wow. Can you dig it, dear reader? Can you feel the way the sound of the guitar just flows over you? And her voice, absolutely perfect. I love the way the drums pick up about halfway through, with that awesome twangy, strummy guitar joining in. Now that is music, people. I could listen to this all day and not get tired of it.

I think if you manage to discover something new in a song or a piece of music every time you listen to it, then that's good music. Deep, you know. With layers and substance and wit.

Oh, and in totally unrelated news: I like stars. You know how certain objects or animals or whatever mean different things to different people? Stars are like that, they're special to me. Okay. So you know I'm Christian, right? If you don't, well...now you do. There's this part in the Old Testament where God and Abraham are having a heart-to-heart. It's where the Big Guy makes His famous 'generation promises', as I like to call them.

Genesis 22:17

indeed I will greatly bless you, and I will greatly multiply your seed as the stars of the heavens and as the sand which is on the seashore; and your seed shall possess the gate of their enemies.

As a Christian, I am a 'descendant' of Abraham. So basically, I am part of the 'star' generation. The Star Seed, if you will. Sounds like a clan of kick-ass comic book mutants, or an ancient tribe of superhuman warriors doesn't it?

Okay, not really what I had in mind. Moving on.

Also. Whenever I think of stars, I think of:

I am a lady from Mars,

And I can unscrew the stars.

I can be anything that I see.

I can be anything that I, anything that I see.

          - Ingrid Michaelson, Lady in Spain

Yeah. My head is a pretty haphazard place. Filled to the brim with anecdotes about stars and things of a similar epic nature--no doubt--but riddled with detours and labyrinths and winding pathways leading to Who Knows Where. Also known as The Land of the Endless Synonyms. Vocabulary Valley. Dictionary Dunes. Thesaurus Trail. Oooh, extra points for my snazzy alliteration. Oh, yes, dear reader. I just used the word snazzy in a sentence.

Okay. So that's it from me for today. Til next time, I remain etc, etc...

Optical allusions

Dear reader,



How goes things? Been a while, hasn't it? I've been so busy recently. Assignments and things, you know. I've actually been trying to write a post for a while. I'd log on, intent on composing a mind-numbingly awesome post, but in the end I just end up staring at the screen for a few minutes--at the blinking bar thingy--then give up and move on to something else because my ideas weren't flowing fast enough, and I was too impatient to wait for them.

I love haikus. Yeah, I know. I pride myself on my segues. (I had to Google search that to make sure I spelt it right, heh) I like the imagery of them. They're more than poems, they're pictures painted with words, optical allusions. So I had this project, right. We selected a randomly-generated haiku, choose five keywords, then take pictures according to those keywords in a specific venue. Kind of like defining the place through the haiku.

So anyway, I've been mildly obsessed with them lately. I've been seeing haikus in everything. I'd say or think something, then mentally count the syllables. I've discovered I usually think in statements of 5 syllables, and only very rarely in 7. It's a strange thing.

My favourite random haiku generator is this one. I don't know why, they seem a little less random than the other sites I've been to. For example...

Torrid little tale.

Another jukebox baby.

Rattlesnake rain drops.

Shoe polish lipstick.

Get lynched by the Amish folk.

Dionysus dreams.

Lost America.

Radiating blissful rain.

Low breathtaking soft.

Tattoos are for punks.

No hangover tomorrow.

Deer in the headlights.

See? It's like 17 syllables of pure, unadulterated awesomeness.

I've been so infatuated with them that I've even composed a few myself. Well, partially composed. I saw this one 7-liner in a random haiku, and it got me thinking. This is what I came up with:

Technicolour thoughts.

Steam swelling from her language.

Silent anarchist.

Try and figure that one out, dear reader. Though it's pretty straightforward for a haiku. Oh, I have another one.

Your stars are shooting.

Optical allusions, ink.

Your hearts are bleeding.

That was actually a collaboration. The story behind its creation is pretty interesting. My friend and I were sitting in the cafeteria. It was a hot, sunny, lazy afternoon. I was drawing on myself, on my wrist. Just because, you know, I thought it'd be cool to draw something on my wrist. So I drew some stars, just a mini-constellation type of thing. It looked kind of boring, so I proceeded to smudge the ink, turning my stars into meteors. My friend was doing the same thing; she has a hearts-and-flowers tattoo on her wrist, and she was inking the hearts and smudging them, making it look like they were dripping.

So she turned to me and said, in a manner-of-fact way, "Your stars are shooting."

To which I replied, "Your hearts are bleeding."

We were quiet for a while, until I said, "That could be a haiku. The first and last lines."

And there you have it. The story behind the haiku.

Speaking of optical allusions--and yes, it's supposed to be allusions, not illusions--one of my lecturers advised us to publish our work via our blogs, because it gives us a way of compiling all of our stuff, a portfolio of sorts. He asked us how many of us actually blog regularly, and I kept quiet. I mean, psshh, like I'd actually let my lecturer visit my blog. That particular lecturer, anyway. So I've been thinking, should I make a new one? One devoted solely to my designy/artsy stuff? I have the name figured out already, you see. I want to call it, yup you guessed it, 'Optical Allusions'. What do you think, dear reader? Should I, or shouldn't I?

And with that, I abruptly take my leave. Sorry to blog and run, dear reader, but if you've noticed, it's 3 a.m. as I'm typing this. I should probably squeeze in 4 hours of sleep before I have to get ready for school. See you when I see you, dear reader.




Yours,





Figgy the Haiku Nerd

Melancholy

Dear reader,


Today's music has no soul. I mean, sure, musical instruments and the musicians who play them are getting better and better each year, but it's like they focus so much on getting the song to sound cool that they've forgotten to add a little soul in it. That's why I love oldies and indie music so much. With old music, they didn't have the technology we had, so they focused on their lyrics and their voices, and the emotions their songs conveyed; they focused on the message. As for indie music, well...it's the simplicity of their songs, you know. They manage to keep it real; they create good, honest music without all the unnecessary bells and whistles (pun totally intended).

I've been feeling melancholy all day. You know the word 'melancholy' is defined as 'a feeling of thoughtful sadness'. Funny how something as prosaic and dry as a dictionary can manage to sound downright poetic. Anyway. I thought I'd spread the thoughtful sadness around, while simultaneously sharing some soulful music for a change. Oh, don't worry, dear reader. Just because I'm thoughtfully sad, it doesn't mean I'll go all emo on you. Incidentally, am I the only one who finds Simple Plan whiny? Poor me, poor me, I'm so sad and lonely cause nobody understands me or sees me for who I really am. Seriously. Switch to decaf and shut up already.

Yeah. Sorry about the rambling, I'm in a rambling kind of mood. So, let's get down to the music.

I love this song. I just go all starry-eyed and quiet when I listen to it. It just gets to me, you know? I know, I know, I know, I know, I know...

Ah, yes. My sister doesn't get why I like this song so much, she says it's boring. But I think it's quaint and innocent and heartfelt. And I'm just digging the folksy vibe, man.

Okay, so that last one is neither oldie nor indie. Indian, yeah, but not indie. I just thought I'd include it because it's so simple and so beautiful: beautifully simple, or simply beautiful. Take your pick.

So, um, yeah. That's all I got. I'm gonna go now. Okay? Okay.

Bye.

Yours,

Figgy the Thoughfully Sad

Defective

Dear reader,

There's something wrong with me. I can't seem to get anything done. And it's already the beginning of August! I have less than 3 weeks to get that stupid list done! What the hell have I been doing with my time? Seriously. If I were someone other than me, I'd be really pissed off at myself right now.

Anyway.

Actually, nope...I got nothing. I have nothing else to say. I'm feeling drained. Drained creatively, emotionally, spiritually, gastronomically, financially, and every other -ally you can think of.

I'm not even gonna bother properly signing off this post. I'm just going to say "bye, see you later".

Bye. See you later.

P/S: Ahhh, sorry for the harshness. I'm frustrated. I want need to vent.

P/P/S: It's Friendship Day today. Interesting.

Whistle while you work

Dear reader,


A grievous fact has recently come to my attention. I am lazy. Abominably, insufferably, hopelessly lazy. I'd even go so far as to say I'm slothful. That's right. Slothful. Wasn't that one of the seven deadly sins, sloth? Along with lust and gluttony and all those other things.

Yes, that's a sloth. Creepy as all hell, isn't it?

You know, these seven particular vices were never actually listed in the Bible under the category 'Seven Deadly Sins'. Not even as 'Seven Sins That Happen To Be Slightly Deadlier Than All Other Sins'. It was all the result of a man, and his very human need to rationalize, categorize and bullet-point everything into nice, neat groups for the masses. A certain Evagrius Ponticus--occupation: Roman monk, 4th century--is responsible for the original deadly sins, the 'Eight Evil Thoughts'. About 200 years later, this list was simplified by Pope Gregory I, becoming the more popular 'Seven Deadly Sins' we have today.


Anyway. Now that the brief (and uncalled for) history lesson is over, let's get back to the matter at hand: my inability to function in any productive capacity. No more, dear reader. I pledge to stop frittering countless hours away being idle, wasting my precious time accomplishing a big, fat load of nothing. I want to do stuff, make stuff. Get stuff done, like a normally functioning adult!


So, I put a little list together containing all the tasks I want to accomplish before my classes start again in August. I'll try not to put anything too idealistic or ambitious on it. I mean, the only thing that's worse than disappointing someone else is disappointing yourself.




List of stuff I want to get done/make:

1. Clean and redecorate my room.
• Con: It's a big room. With a lot of stuff in it. Dust-collecting type of stuff, with numerous nooks and crannies that just magically attract all sorts of creatures of the creepy-crawly variety.
• Pro: I won't be doing it alone. My sister and cousin share the room, so they'll help me. (I told you, it's a big room) I'll just have to clean up my part--read: the messiest part--of the room.
2. Complete at least one DIY project a week.
• Con: I have no self-discipline whatsoever.
• Pro: My inherent need for pretty and artsy things might overcome my lack of motivation. Emphasis on might. And I'll just do little things, like cards or collages or bookmarks. Nothing too fancy.
3. Complete at least one short story.
• Con: I haven't written anything in over a year, not counting blog posts, of course.
• Pro: Getting started is the hardest part for me. I just have to write something, anything, and things take off from there.
4. Sketch and draw more.
• Con: Again, lack of self-discipline.
• Pro: I need to improve. Not want, need.
5. Catch up on my reading.
• Con: I tend to get distracted and start another book before I've finished one.
• Pro: I miss reading. It'll be nice to read just for the sake of reading again.

Yup. I hope I can get everything done. Things seem so much easier and more clear cut when they're all jotted down in lists, don't they? That's why I love lists. I guess Brother Evagrius loved lists, too.

Anyway. Have you ever noticed how Disney characters manage to stay annoyingly cheerful despite being born into varying degrees of drudgery, squalor and inevitable cleaning up? They're always cleaning. Snow White, Cinderella, all their furry little friends. Even the enchanted, inanimate objects look cheerful as they're scrubbing or dusting or sweeping. How do they do that? Is it really that enjoyable to clean stuff up?

Louisa May Alcott wrote a poem about cleaning stuff up. It's in 'Little Women'. Despite reading and rereading this book as a child, the habit of enjoying making things clean hasn't taken over me quite like it took over Jo March. It'd be nice if it had, though.

A Song from the Suds

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,

While the white foam raises high,

And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,

And fasten the clothes to dry; 

Then out in the free fresh air they swing,

Under the sunny sky.

I wish we could wash from our hearts and our souls

The stains of the week away,

And let water and air by their magic make

Ourselves as pure as they; 

Then on the earth there would be indeed

A glorious washing day!

Along the path of a useful life

Will heart's-ease ever bloom; 

The busy mind has no time to think

Of sorrow, or care, or gloom; 

And anxious thoughts may be swept away

As we busily wield a broom.

I am glad a task to me is given

To labor at day by day;

For it brings me health, and strength, and hope,

And I cheerfully learn to say,

"Head, you may think; heart, you may feel;

But hand, you shall work always!"

         - Louisa May Alcott

My mother used to say something to me when I complained about having to do my chores: "do it in love" or "do it with joy" or "...and rejoice!". Or something equally annoying.  So anyway. I shall strive to work hard, metaphorically whistling as I do. I'll be bugging you with constant updates, so you'll be able to look forward to that, dear reader.


Oh, look! It's a heartsease flower!

Bet you weren't expecting that, huh? I love the name: Heart's Ease. Lovely name for a flower, don't you think? Oooh, and look at the pretty leaves and colours. I'm not really a flower person; I always get them mixed up or forget the names or whatever. And I can't take care of them. I once made a cactus die. Seriously. Just like that Demetri Martin joke. "Damn. I am less nurturing than a desert."

So I guess this is it. What an abnormally long post. I'll be seeing you later, dear reader. Til next time...





Yours,


Figgy the [Soon-to-be-Reformed] Sloth

No clouds above thee

Dear reader,




Wow. Last week was one of the most stressful weeks of my entire adult life. Considering I haven't even been an adult for very long, I can only assume that I'm going to face many more stressful weeks exactly like it in the future. Not exactly a comforting thought.

Why was it so stressful, you ask? Let me break it down. I had three assignments due that week. And an exam.


Assignment #1
Graphic Design: rushed to hand in the visual diary--basically a record of our tutorial exercises and the design process we went through for our other assignments--on time. Had to rush all over town to the printer's, just to get some coloured printing done.


Assignment #2
Design Studies: had to resubmit assignment. But I'm glad I got a second chance at it because, frankly, it was crap. Still, watching all my other classmates (besides me and my group mates) finish theirs was pretty stressful.


Assignment #3
Drawing & Illustration: ha. This one was the hardest to deal with. The deadline was moved up, from the 13th of July to the 6th. And this was one heavy-duty assignment: 12 pieces for Drawing, 12 for Illustration. Although the lecturer was merciful and reduced the minimum required number to 10 each. Still. I think this one assignment shortened my life span by about 6 months.


Exam
English: meh. It was an exam, albeit an easy one. I hate exams.


To top it all off, I lost my wallet. Let me repeat that, dear reader, to emphasize the enormous significance of that phrase. I lost my wallet. My wallet, containing my IC (Identification Card), ATM card, driver's license and some money, the exact amount of which I can't recall at the moment. I'm just glad my student ID was in my bag and not my wallet; I couldn't have sat for my exam without it. And so, I had to make a police report, apply for a new IC and cancel my ATM card. I still have no idea where it could possibly be. I don't think I'll ever find out.

And so, in summation, I don't know how I made it through last week. All I know for sure is it's finally over, and I'm still in one piece. Barely.

Going through the unfortunate series of events that was last week, I realized something. I cope with stress by sleeping. Avoiding the issue, hoping it will magically disappear on its own. I know that's not a healthy thing to do, but I can't help it. I hate confrontation. I had to call the bank to get my ATM card cancelled. On the phone. It wasn't easy. I hate that I can't talk to strangers on the phone without feeling extremely uncomfortable. Like their muffled, disembodied voices are judging me. I stared at the telephone for a full five minutes before finally dialling the stupid number. The funny thing is, I have no problem talking with people I'm familiar with; friends, family. But mostly family. I still hesitate before calling any of my friends.

Anyway. Everyone has their own way of coping with stress. Some eat their weight in Twinkies and cheesecake, some people--like me--avoid the issue entirely. Then there are some people whose coping mechanisms are actually somehow productive. They go for a jog, reorganize their CD collection, create thought-provoking, stimulating pieces of art. I wish I were one of those people.

Alas, I am not. Obviously.

I was lying in bed just now, thinking and listening to music. This song came on, and I decided I wanted to share it with you. I needed a boost in spirits after last week, and this song did it for me. I hope it has the same effect on you, dear reader. Enjoy.

If it wasn't for my pain 
Then I wouldn't know my strength
If it wasn't for my future
Won't be fightin' here today
And of course, I know my way up
'Cause I fell the same way down
What matters is what you do 
When the trouble comes around

Take a step now
Get up on your feet
Gotta be brave
No clouds above thee
Follow your heart
And then you will see
There's always a way
Hold on tight
Tomorrow will bring
Every key to every locked dream
It ain't as hard as it seems

[Chorus]
Baby, don't cry
Things are about to change
Baby, don't cry
Things are about to change
And all the hurt and the tears
Will be just history
And all the doubts and the stress
Will be just history
And all the hurt and the tears
Will be just history
And all the doubts and the stress
Will be just history

Your mind carries a heavy weight
And your knees are kinda weak
You wanna run and fly away
But you hurt, the wound's so deep
You feelin' like it's time to give up
When your soul is cryin' loud
Nothing lasts forever
You will find your way out

Take a step now
Get up on your feet
Gotta be brave
No clouds above thee
Follow your heart
And then you will see
There's always a way
Hold on tight
Tomorrow will bring
Every key to every locked dream
It ain't as hard as it seems

[Chorus]

I only wanna be a real man
I already got a real plan
I ain't gotta be rich
I ain't gotta have wealth
I just do the best I can
'Cause the life of a child
Innocent, worth more
Than a ring and your new jeans

Got love in my life
And that's all that I need
You believe and you succeed
And through the pain and the hard times
We push on with our head high
Each one reach one clothe one feed one
Do it right now, its time

Things are about to change
Oh yes, they can
Things are about to change
Yes, yes, we can
[repeat x3]
[Chorus]

I love that part, Hold on tight/Tomorrow will bring/Every key to every locked dream. The imagery of it gets to me every time. Every key to every locked dream.


There was this one line that seemed a little off to me, though. No clouds above thee. I felt like it didn't really belong there, like it was quoted from somewhere else. So I Googled it, and came across an Emily Brontë poem. I don't know if that line was really inspired from this poem, and I'm not saying that it is, but it seems likely.

The Night

THE night is darkening round me,

The wild winds coldly blow;

But a tyrant spell has bound me

And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending

Their bare boughs weighed with snow,

And the storm is fast descending

And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,

Wastes beyond wastes below;

But nothing drear can move me;

I will not, cannot go.

Emily Brontë

Clouds beyond clouds above me, Wastes beyond wastes below; But nothing drear can move me; I will not, cannot go. Can you just imagine it? That feeling, that sense of helplessness. You can see the trouble coming, but you just can't do anything to avoid it. Maybe because you know it's pointless. Maybe because you know, even if you outrun the storm now, it'll still catch up with you sooner or later. All you can do is endure it and hope it passes.

But what does it mean to have no clouds above you? No clouds means no chance of rain. It means a clear view of the sky. A clear view of all possibilities, without limitations. There's nothing to overshadow or obstruct your vision. Freedom, as limitless and expansive as the sky.


I remember how it used to feel. Back when I was young and naive and still placed implicit belief in my own potential. I hope I feel the same way again, and soon. I'm not old enough to be jaded.


And so, I'll just end here, before I bore you to death with any more of my ranting. I'll be seeing you, dear reader. Til next time.




Yours,



Figgy.