Cairo Comic

Yeah, I know. Primitive. Lame. Stupid.
But I made it for a project, and hey, what's the harm of saving it?
We're learning about the Egyptians and Hebrews, by the way. (Not together--first we learned about the Egyptians, now about the Hebrews.)

And it's part of a project. :D

 

In case you're not Korean, (which most cases, you probably aren't), don't use google translate. It's terrible.
The grammar and sentence structure is different than that of English grammar and sentence structure, so it messes up the program. Use it for words--and not even then.
The title just says 'I like Pepero<3333'
Anyhow.

So I came up with this awesome idea. No. Wait.
Actually, it's not too awesome, and I didn't come up with it.
My dad did.
So you're probably disinterested now, since I said the phrase 'my dad', and that immediately makes about 78.2% of you go somewhere else. Or worse yet, 'X' the screen out and run away from the computer in fear. For the 21.8% of you who are still reading this, congratulations.
Anyhow.
It's still an okay idea, I guess.
Since I'm so mean to my brother--wait. I take that back. Since I'm rarely kind to my brother, my dad came up with this okay idea.
He made a point system.
It's called "칭찬포인트" which in English is "Compliment Point."

So if I compliment my brother kindly and truthfully, I get a 'Compliment Point'.
If I get ten points, I get a small prize.

And the prize is....
dododododododdodrumrolldodododdodododododododo...
You guessed it.
Pepero. 빼빼로! :D

And I'm eating a box right now.
:D
Aren't you proud? I complimented my brother TEN TIMES this week.
Three points so far, back from square one. Seven to go! :D
Gotta get those boxes of Pepero off that shelf into my mouth! O:


Here's an awesome picture:

Awesome. Yes. I told you.

The Adventures of Penny, PENY, and AMIE. :D

So I got bored this morning, and instead of studying for something, I made this little 'comic' (more like a (very long) useless doodle) about Theorem 5-5, for my Geometry Class. :D

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

Fish Sticks

The Fish Stick method does not work. I guarantee you. However, it is vital that you know I have tried it, which is where I come up with my theoretically valid conclusion. Although the procedure was tested on one person, I have only one person at disposal, unless I'd like to dispose someone else.
Which I didn't really have the time to.
The disposed person is me, by the way.


SO. Anyway.

Today, in order to finish homework quickly, I ate fish sticks.
There were four.
I ate 3 and 3/4.
That 1/4 left was killing me.
But I left it on the plate, with the taste of fish sticks still in my mouth (and hot sauce, because I'm so Asian), and I in fact, tried to do all of my homework and keep looking at it but not eat it, so I’d do homework quickly, and I’d sleep early (and eat the remaining 1/4 fish stick). Somehow, it made perfect sense.
Seeming that right now, it is 11:37, it has not worked.

When it got late, I decided I might want to eat it before it was too late. But per my friend’s advice, it was already too late to eat. Which was, like, ten thirty. So here I am, sulking and staring at this stale (is it possible?) fish stick. No. Stale quarter of a fish stick. Which will, theoretically, never be eaten, because it’s stale. Oh, yeah. And the little hot sauce puddle.

Can fish sticks get stale?

I guess so.

Whatever.

The only point here is,

don’t use fish sticks to lure yourself for doing homework quickly.

In my case,

I forgot about it.

D: Which wasn’t exactly supposed to happen.

But there aren't supposed to and not supposed to's in life, aren't there? Everything happens for a reason. And only one thing happens at that. No supposed to. Just. This happened.

So, this is what happened.

I slept late.

Actually, I didn't sleep, but right now it's late, so I'm going to sleep late.

“YOU SNEAKY MOM!”

“YouTube Challenge–I told my Kids I ate All their Halloween Candy

It’s really late, I know, but I don’t want to lose the link—so. yeah.'

XD

High School Confusion

So… here is the time in which all eighth graders in Holmdel who are at least a bit interested in applying for any vocational school are stuck in a very confusing, conflicting predicament.

So right now, my options are:

Communications

High Tech

Holmdel

 

And then I think about it, and I go, hey, I remember when I was in kindergarten and a kid bullied me, and now I’m thinking about what high school I’m going to?

This is scary.

Weird, too, because you’re all like ‘OOH HIGH SCHOOLERS. HIGH SCHOOL. HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL. HIGH SCHOOL LOCKERS. HIGH SCHOOL SAT. HIGH SCHOOL HOMEWORK. HIGH SCHOOL STUDYING.”

Then you start noticing things, like the students there, what they study,

and you realize they’re closer than you think.

Well, that’s what I thought, at least.

 

So, right now, I really need to get less short so that when I go to high school, they don’t think I went to the wrong school or something.

 

“Uhh… I’m sorry, but this is the bus for Holmdel/High-Tech, not Indian Hill.”

Yeah I gotta sleep. Bahbye.

Mister Sparkle's Toothpaste [Commerical]

Now this takes TIME to make, so please excuse my sort of sloppiness and enjoy the commercial.

...and yes, it's not a real one. So don't get too hyped up.

(It's the result of getting a TABLET. :DDDDD)

 

Hehehehe... I wasted many hours of my life doing this--but it's fun. :D

Oh

copyright Celine Choo and Melissa Lew 2011.

Just don't spread Mr. Sparkle too much. I like inside jokes better than outside jokes. :D

The Closest I’ve Gotten to an Adventure

So—here is an account of the closest I’ve gotten to an adventure. And it’s all thanks to me, my mom, and my anger problems.

One day, my mom and I were in a fight (wow that sounds violent)—Imean, I got mad and she got mad and we had to go into the caps lock level of hollering in each other’s faces—waitno. I didn’t exactly holler. I just sort of raised my voice a little bit, and it was right before she had to take my brother to a piano lesson.

This was on… Wednesday?

Anyhow, she was standing at the door, and she spat something mean and bullyful and make-fun-ofsful and super mean thing to me, something very un-mother like, because usually mothers don’t make fun of you or anything, they just give you a full diatribe and reprimand on how you should improve (insert flaw in personality/complexion/intelligence here). So, there I was, my mother already in the car and driving away, me, fuming, sitting on the floor and ready to burst any minute,

and I came up with an amazing idea.

Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

It was the smartest thing I had ever come up with. It was brilliant—flawless.

I would run away!

At the moment, I felt a surge of triumph and contempt toward my mother, thinking ‘Hah, you can’t stop me now!’ Because I’d leave, and she’d be devastated, and she will regret doing such horrible things to me. She would say, “Oh, I should have been nicer to _, I should have understood her more, Oh, Please, Why did I do this?” And she would be sad forever. It was the best way.

Then I stared at my jacket, which was casually flung over bottom stair (that leads to upstairs) that I had put there after school that day, thinking, “In a few minutes, I will have picked that up and it would be all the way across the street along with me.”

Then, a feeling of anxiety began to bubble up from my stomach.

I didn’t feel like I was up to it.

But then I thought, “Well, you always say you’re going to do something, and you never do it.”

So I dared my self. I triple dared myself. I double decker doctor pepper super duper dared myself to take that jacket, put it on, shove my boots on, and run out the door.

Then I thought about it, and I decided that running away was overrated, and it wasn’t ‘the thing’ anymore, and that I’d just walk around the neighborhood. And then I’d walk in just as Mom would walk in (she only drops him off and comes right back), and she’d ask what happened, and I’d say that I wanted to run away, then she’d feel bad—not the same amount of impact as running away, but still some, at least.

So in a mush of anger, triumph, confusion, and anxiety, I stomped over to the coat, snatched it up, put it on, put on my scarf, put on gloves, shoved my boots on, and then looked at the door.

Then I started observing it.

Then I sidetracked and looked out the window, peered out, and someone had just come home from work, it seemed, their car door was open and they were leaning in to get something from the back seat.

So I waited.

I can’t go out now, because then they’d spot me, and I’d run out, and they’d yell ‘WHATCHA DOING, LITTLE GIRL?’ and then I’d have nothing to say but ‘I was running away from home’, but since the person saw me in unsuccessful attempts in doing so, I’d never be able to run away, meaning that every time they see me and I see them in the morning or afternoon, they’d always remember the ‘deranged child who tried to run away at around seven o clock.’

So I waited. Then I just sort of peered out the door, looking down the sidewalk into the parking lot (we live in a townhouse), watching the person TAKE THEIR TIME in doing whatever they were doing. And when they finally left, I felt fear filling my lungs, heart, mind, everything. I looked into the parking lot that was growing ever so darker, and then I thought to myself, “I bet you’re just going to do this and waste some time and then Mom would come in and see you all dressed up at the front door and be like ‘WHAT THE CAULIFLOWERS WERE YOU DOING?” and I’d have nothing to say, and every time Mom would see me in the morning or afternoon, she’d remember the ‘deranged child who tried to run away at around seven o clock.’

So I double doctor pepper super duper dared myself to take that door, swing it open, then take the screen door, swing it open, then run outside.

So I did.

I swung the door open (not as dramatically as it may sound or as you may think), and then ran out the door (more like, creeped out the door). Down the sidewalk, run, run, run, away from home, away from home—end of sidewalk. Then I stood there, staring at the end of the sidewalk and the beginning of the parking lot.

And I saw a car coming in the parking lot, and I thought to myself ‘OHDEARLORDPLEASEFORGIVEMEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE’ and I ran in at 100 miles per hour, past the screen door and door and into the house.

Then after about three minutes, I realized that the car was not in fact, my mother’s, and I opened the door a little bit, and I realized that the person was gone.

Whew.

Then I stared at the parking lot, and then double doctor pepper super duper dared myself to step INTO THE PARKING LOT.

 

OH GEEZUS LOUISEUS I JUST DARED MYSELF DO TO SOMETHING POTENTIALLY FATAL AND DANGEROUS.

But I swung the door open (quietly, because if I did it loudly, it would arouse attention from my father who would, most likely, be half asleep and doing computer work in the basement) and ran out the door and ran to the parking lot, stared at a person who just happened to open their door to walk outside, and then sped right back into the house.

I felt like an idiot, but at the same time, felt a surge of triumph (very similar with when I came up with the idea), thinking to myself, “I did it! I did it! Now, all I have to do is walk all the way behind the house and near the woods, walk all the way around, to the play ground, then walk around and come back home. It would be an absolutely rebellious adventure! I would take my phone as light and as an emergency, in case I got kidnapped or wounded by a nearby lurking wolf, and I would go through all that darkness and then COME BACK HOME! WITH A NEW SELF AND NEW TRIUMPH AND AN ADVENTURE TO TELL!

So I took my phone (after looking for it), then marched out the door. I then realized that to my right, my neighbor was talking to whomever it was at the door for like hours, and to my left, this man was leaving his house and going to his car and going back and on and on and on.

This would require maximum stealth, because in order to get behind my house and travel that far, I’d have to pass either of them.

So I took my phone, ran to the sidewalk, and suddenly decided that I’d save this for another day, so I ran back inside, except I didn’t feel like opening the door to get back inside. It was a waste, all that time of going from house to sidewalk to house to parking lot to house to…

so I sat, right in front of the door, outside of the door, looking out onto the street. There were two bushes to the side of the door, so I could be easily concealed from my two neighbors who refused to stay inside the house.

I felt so rebellious, triumphant, and HIDDEN. I felt like I could sit here all day, because I had done something I had never done before, and next time, I might even wake up in the middle of the night and go on an adventure—maybe I’d even tell my friends to come, too—my neighbor friends, if they agreed.

Yes!

Phobia Contest

DODODODODODODODODODODODO.... drumroll, please...
CONTEST!

And it's already started. I made this contest a while ago, and I forgot about it, but thanks to Melodee, I remembered about it--
It's a contest against myself.
What? A contest against yourself? Is that a typo? How can you verse yourself in a contest?
It's a phobia contest, hence the title.
Heh. What's the contest--to see who has more phobias? YOU WIN.
Well, no. It's to memorize the most phobias.
WELL, Miss Phobia-Memorizer, then you'll get phobophobia.
Hey, I know that! It's the phobia of phobias!
Duh.
Anyhow, how's the contest going? And how do you win?
Well, since I'm going against myself, it's really a test to see how far I can go in memorizing phobias. Pretty useless thing, but according to Mr. Ferraro, "Sometimes, the best reason to do something is because there is no reason at all."
So, you're saying you're going to memorize a whole list of phobias? Just for the sake of it?
Yeah. And so far, I've memorized quite a few.
List them!
Okay. I'll list all of the phobias I know. You can choose to believe me, or you can choose not to, but I'll swear if I can swear but I can't swear so I'm not going to swear, but if I could swear, I would swear that I memorized ALL OF THE FOLLOWING:

Phobophobia- the fear of getting a phobia
Hydrophobia- the fear of water.
Chronophobia- the fear of time
Ecophobia- the fear of home
Felinophobia (not sure if I spelled it right)- the fear of cats.
Bibliophobia- the fear of books
Brontophobia- the fear of thunder
Arachnaphobia- the fear of spiders

OH NO, I forgot some! Imean, I did memorize a bit more, but I just can't remember them.
Or, maybe, I just think I memorized more, but actually I didn't.

Source: www.phobialist.com The BEST place to find the weirdest phobias! Ctrl+F or Command+F (on Macs) and type in the phobia you want!

OHHH
So I looked at the list, and I remember.
I knew what hippophobia was-- the fear of horses (pretty ironic).
And glossophobia--the fear of speaking in public (The King's SpeechCOUGH).


And some new, easy, and interesting phobias:
Graphophobia- the fear of writing or handwriting.
Euphobia- the fear of good news (those people must be really depressed).
Electrophobia- the fear of electricity (Darklings have electrophobia).
Dromophobia- the fear of crossing streets ("Why did the chicken cross the road?" "Because it was finally relieved of dromophobia and wanted to try it out for once." "!?")
Cynophobia- the fear of dogs or rabies (A relative of mine has cynophobia).
Disposophobia- the fear of throwing things out. Hoarding. (I might have slight disposophobia.)
Demophobia- the fear of crowds. D:
Clinophobia- the fear of going to bed. (Little kids have clinophobia. XD)


:DDD Phobia contest FTW!

Raid for Information

Oh. My. Godsh.
I just remembered--the human can only learn a lot until they're twenty years old. It's true. After you're twenty, you can't learn anything too new. Maybe you might learn small facts, but you won't be able to quickly develop some skill after you're twenty. From 0 yrs to 20 yrs is when your brain develops the most.
I am going crazy. I need to eat up all the information possible--in seven years! SEVEN YEARS TO GET ALL OF THE WORLD'S INFORMATION IN MY BRAIN. I need to start.
NOW.
So, I must go to the library and get books on psychology, then get some books on physics, some textbooks in geometry, Calculus, and Algebra II, then get some books on the Theory of Evolution, the science of somethings, this and that fact, learn about architecture and software design and engineering, learn how to do html coding, learn five other languages, study product designing, master the translation of Korean, do this, that, that, that, that,that,that,THATTHATHATHATHATHATHAT.
...Hey, that looks like I wrote "HAT" rather than "THAT." Hmph.
Whatever.

But I'm really freaking out scared.
I need to know LOTS OF THINGS before I lose my ability to learn quickly. O:
After all, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. O:


...WAIT! That means I can't learn all that new technology made after I turn twenty--I'll be like those old people who can't find the start button! D:
(Not trying to insult old people--old people are awesome.)

Sorry, buddy. You can't get an awesome job.

Now, I must wake up early--I must--it has become a mandatory something now. Every day--I have to wake up at six--by myself.
Oh, the horrors--
no human alarm to shake me awake and scream in my face to WAKE UP ALREADY, YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS.
(Those are the most efficient types of alarms--they're also known as grumpy frustrated mothers.)

Because today, I missed the bus (previous post), and my mother is thoroughly frustrated and mad. She says she will not take me to school if I miss the bus. Meaning, I'll have to skip school--which is awesome.
But there's more. (There's always more.) (No, sometimes, there actually isn't any more, because at one point, you'll have to stop. But in this case, there's more.)
Anyhow,
the 'more' is...

She won't call the school, either. For an excused absence.

And apparently, if you miss school with an unexcused absence, then you get suspended or something (which is what my mother says, but then again, she's not the school rulebook--I'll have to look that up).
Meaning, that'll stay on my criminal record for the REST OF MY LIFE.
Which is pretty scary, if I'm, say, applying for this really awesome job (which is scary, because I haven't thought that far into the future yet--I can't even imagine what job I'm applying for), and they look at my experience--decent; school/college--decent; blah blah--decent; criminal record--OH NO SHE GOT SUSPENDED FOR SKIPPING SCHOOL! WHAT IF SHE SKIPS A DAY OF JOB/WORK!?
And I won't get a job, and I'll become bankrupt, and I'll live on the str--

Actually, I'll just have to apply for a little less awesome job, but it's missing the chance to get into the awesome job. Anyhow, it's always more exciting to exaggerate a little bit and let others have more sympathy towards you.

Anyhow, even if I do miss the bus, and I can't go to school, what am I going to tell the principal/teachers? "Well, my mother refused to take me to school." What a REASON.
Even if it's true.
I bet the teachers would TOTALLY understand and say, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Celine, you have such a lazy misunderstanding mother, she didn't take you to school... Well, we'll let this one go, but if you SKIP SCHOOL NEXT TIME YOU'RE GOING TO GET SUSPENDED AND IT'LL STAY ON YOUR CRIMINAL RECORD THE REST OF YOUR LIFE AND YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GET AN AWESOME JOB."

Oh, joy.
I'm going to be so scared every morning--to miss the bus.
One day, I might just burst and finally crack and start screaming and hollering and running out of the house without my backpack or something.
Maybe not.
But anyhow,
I'll always have to wake up without that oh-so-efficient human alarm. D:

At least I'll be prepared for college--no human alarms there.

Today I missed the bus.

Every day, I wake up late.
Because every night, I sleep late. Almost to the extent that I can say every morning, I sleep late.
But sleeping late results to waking up late, which results to many things.

Like missing the bus.

Every other day, I have to go to band--riding the high school bus (oOOH HIGH SCHOOLERS). I'd drag myself to the bus stop, half awake, then drag myself onto the bus, search wearily for an empty two seater (unless my friend is there, in which case, I must find a three seater---and it's always me who has to find the seat because I get on the bus first), and if I do (which, most of the time, I do), I sit there.
And to tell other people that they are NOT going to sit next to me, I put my backpack there. Or I sit in the MIDDLE of the two seater, so only two half-people can technically sit next to me, and nobody there is a half-person.
Most of the time, that works.
Except for this one time I forgot to do that, and this high schooler (girl) suddenly almost sat on my lap, so I couldn't help moving over, and I looked at her--she was smiling at me.
I was thinking 'do I know you?' But of course, I kept quiet, because what do you know--high schoolers might do anything sudden, such as yell at you or suddenly start reciting a stream of profanity.
Anyhow, besides that one time, the two-seater thing worked.

So I went to the bus stop, and my friend wasn't there, so I thought, 'Oh, well, I have to find a two seater today, then.'
And I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And the bus came, and it PASSED RIGHT BY ME and I put my hands up like 'WHAT THE FLOWERS! GEEZUS LOUISEUS HELLO I'M RIGHT HERE!'
But it passed by, and as it did, I caught a glimpse of the bus driver--a scrawny looking man, instead of the usual chubby old lady who would slump in her seat and grunt 'good morning' the moment you laid a foot on the bus.
So it wasn't my bus. It was another school's bus, because I knew that three buses came to our neighborhood--that bus, our Holmdel High School bus, and the short bus. I'm sure there are others, but that's the only ones that come during the time the Holmdel bus comes.
The bus that passed by me today and totally ignored me usually came AFTER the Holmdel bus, in which case, told me that I'd missed the bus today.
And the short bus comes before the Holmdel bus comes, and it stops right in our court. I've never seen anyone get on, but I assume it's for people with disabilities--the short buses usually give that purpose.
Anyhow, I saw the bus driver, and it hit me--I'd missed the bus.
But, unlike any normal eighth grader would have done, I waited a bit more, in desperate hopes.
And...
the bus didn't come.

So I dragged myself back home, which, in the state of the situation, I was a bit alarmed, so I was three fourths awake (very awake, compared to the usual ratio of awake/asleep-ness). And I walked inside the house, imagining the possibilities, the reactions my mother would make--
Too late, I had already opened the door--no time anymore to prepare myself for her reaction.
"MOM I MISSED THE BUS!"
I waited, very patiently, for footsteps stomping down the stairs.
But no.
This is my mother--
from her bed, "YOU GOTTA LEARN A LESSON--I'M NOT TAKING YOU TO BAND."
And what choice do I have? Walk to school? Drive to school?
or...
Wait for the Satz bus to come.
I had no choice but to wait.

Now that I think about it, I think my mother said that 'I have to learn a lesson' because she just didn't feel like getting out of her bed at the time. Maybe... :D
So, as I was waiting for fifty minutes, I wrote this post--and finished it when I came home--which is now. :D

SO, that's what happened today.

NO SCHOOL

NO SCHOOL
Thursday:
-Piano lesson in the morning
-Translate for the whole day (a book and a half, two essays) (because of my procrastination)
-Practice bassoon
Friday:
-Go to a place and review translations with fellow procrastinating translator buddies
-Practice bassoon.
-And piano. D:
Saturday:
-Translation competition (SO READY.)
-Practice some more bassoon--waitno i come home late. D:
Sunday:
-Church
-Come home, do some homework
-Practice bassoon
-Practice piano


Oh, the wonders of weekends--so much FREE TIME, I can't WAIT FOR IT. D:

i am not going to live life vertically challenged

The title.
Is pretty self explanatory.

So i will not:
log onto gmail unless i HAVE to
log onto ANYTHING unless I have to
distract myself
start wandering off somewhere else
forget that I'm doing homework
come up with a story idea and then get trailed off and write for an hour or two
doodle on the corner of every paper for nearly thirty minutes
stare at the wall
dilly dally for like two hours after school
say I will start it 'tomorrow' (every day)

So I will:
try to be quick in everything
do as much homework in school as possible
come home and do homework as soon as I come home
try to somehow fit in jump-roping into my schedule so that I do not, the title, live life vertically challenged
AND
I will still maintain a life.

Whew this is going to be hard because:

I am super slow
I am super duper slow.
I am super duper mooper cooper pooper slow.
AND
I don't like fast,
unless you get a prize.
:D prize!

If I do this for a week, I will earn a piece of candy.



HAHA! My plan is flawless now! It is perfect, foolproof, THE way to get yourself to do homework before eleven!

I will make it a contract.
See?

THIS IS ALL ADMITTED BY:

Celine Choo

Dangit, there's no script font in blogger. D:




...I just realized. Making this post is breaking all of the rules.
D:


...Tomorrow.

Idea

So I have an idea--it's that I can write fanfiction--only not fanfiction, just sort of LIKE fanfiction.
...
You know how fanfiction is like a story made up by a fan that is based mostly on the story but they made it the way they wanted it to be (adding characters, changing plot 'slightly', etc.)? Well, my version is when you take something that really happened to you, then change it a little (not adding characters, just the plot), so that you feel better, and it ends up (in the 'story') that you end up happier than you actually did in real life.
It's a way of escaping reality AND making you feel better. :D
And I'm calling it Truthfiction. :D Ironic, eh?

The Compliment-Insult Cycle

When your friend becomes all negative and starts insulting themself, saying they’re bad at _______:

You:

Deny it, even if you doubt it a bit yourself, too, and start complimenting them massively.

 

When your friend is still all negative and is still insulting him/herself, now coming up with better reasons to why they’re stupid than your random claims to why they’re smart:

You:

Suddenly switch to the subject of your flaws and insecurities, and start insulting yourself.

 

And here, the Compliment-Insult Cycle begins.

BUT.

When your best friend becomes all negative and starts insulting him/herself, saying they’re bad at _____, you:

Agree.

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

I was reciting this to myself because I wasn't thinking, and it was sort of stuck in my head all of a sudden,
and I was saying it all dramatic, youknow, scary-like, when I realized how good the poem was.
Imean, before, having to memorize all what, 18 or something stanzas and all, it seemed so dreadfully boring and interminable, but I realized, just now, how good it is.
not as in the bad vs. good sort of good, but well written sort of good.
The descriptions give you that eerie feeling, the tone, and GAHHH, just it is good.
And for those of you who are wondering what the raven is, or who this Edgar Allan Poe is, then you really need to know some poetry and stories and famous authors/poets/depressedpeople.

So here's the poem, because it is not anymore against the copyright rules to post Edgar Allan Poe's works, and anyhow, he's so famous, he doesn't really need a bibliography. (He's dead, by the way. A while back.)

The Raven
By Edgar Allan Poe

(Yes, it's pretty long.)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."


Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.


And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."


Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.


Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.


Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."


Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.


Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."


But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."


Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."


But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
                                       Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!


Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!


Yes. Creepy.
Edgar Allan Poe was not an ordinary chubby man who drinks his coffee while reading the daily newspaper every morning, he didn't walk around cheerfully whistling a song of his own.
He was a sad sort of guy.
Imean, what do you expect, one death after another?
Who knows how he died anyway.
But he did die in this way--he died with honour from the literary world.

Poetry Mix Collection #3`

These are what I made in school. But some of them are pretty good, so might as well share it.

Untitled
If you were just some ten yards tall, you’d need no ride to school.

Your teardrop splashing on the ground would make a swimming pool.
Your crumb of cake would be our feast,
And last us seven days at least,
Though you yourself would seem a beast,
If you were ten yards tall.

If you were really ten yards tall, you’d never fit a door,
And it would be impossible to go down to the store.
Our bed too small to be your bed,
Your strand of hair some yards of thread,
If we were stepped on we’d be dead
If you were ten yards tall.

A roaring blast would seem as just a little faint sound hum,
You couldn’t hug your mom ‘cause you’d just squeeze her ‘till she’s numb.
And writing would just be a fright,
The ink splattered ‘cause held too tight,
(So you should never try rewrite--
this poem’s just way too long).



Original poem “One inch tall” by Shel Silverstein

If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.

You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).




(GAHH COPY PASTING DOESN'T WORK. sorry, for now it's only one poem. stay tuned for the next batch of fresh home-made poems!)
;D

Poetry Mix (Collection) #2

So today, I wrote some poems.

I don't like poems that have those exact rhythms and the iambic pentameter or whatever.

because honestly, those sound so cheesy and simple.

I like free forming, poems that are just how they are. No rhythm. Just meaning.

So here goes.


For the first two poems, I made them all into one paragraph, as you can see...

Poem 1:
Life is like a roller coaster. Get on the ride, with ups and downs and side to side, soaring low and soaring high, reach into the sky... a quick ride, and when you get off, you're not sure if it's time to leave, when the ride has already ended.

Poem 2:
Look at the flowers sparkling in the sun. Look at the flowers swaying in the sun. Look at the petals swirling in the sun. Look at the fresh smell in the air. Look at the flowers smiling in the sun. Then look at the flowers,, burrowed under, hidden under, the snow.

Poem 3:
Life is a trap you can't escape.
But don't try to, you'll never escape.

Poem 4:
Believe
Believe in the sky.
Believe in the sun.
Believe in magic.
Believe in love.
Believe in hope.
Believe in hugs.
Believe in poetry.
Believe in music.
Believe in learning.
But never believe in hatred.

Poem 5:
Take a petal of a flower.
See its beauty.
Understand its beauty.
Take a part of a sunset.
See it's beauty.
Understand its beauty.
Take a child's mind, her soul.
See its beauty.
Understand it, too.

Peom 6:
Believe in colors.
Believe in gifts.
Believe in laughs.
Believe in love.
Believe in happiness,
believe in doves,
believe in flowers.
Believe in luck.
Believe in hugs,
believe ind reams,
believe in safety,
believe in promises,
believe in People.

Poem 7:
This poem explains the horror of war and the hope in children to fix it, which is always burned into ash.

Bombs fill the air.
Smoke fills the lungs.
hatred fills the mind.
Fear fills the children.
What has this world become?

Born to live,
born to prosper,
born to succeed,
born to kill.
What has this world become?

Shouts fill the air.
Suffocation fills the lungs.
Death fills the mind.
Hope fills the children.

Huddled in a corner,
just a little seed of hope.
A little ointment,
and a bandaid,
and a want to heal.
In every child's hope,
future,
peace,
innocence.

Ruined.

Poem 8:
From now on, the poems, I played with the spacing and the placing. I don't know if it'll show up right on the computer, but spaced it and placed it differently in my notebook.

In a field of flowers, of thorn hatred roses,
is a little flower seed.
Who knows what kind?
It grows to a bud.
green amongst the bloodred, the bloodred with thorns, old,
    yet emitting eerie beauty.
But this bud,
  with simple,
          innocent,
                    beauty.
It sits.
It shuns the roses, with its simplicity.
The way it is more free,
the way it has hope,
it might grow into
         a daisy, a
              tulip, a
                  crysanthemum.
But once it does grow into whatever it is,
its beauty dies,
it loses simplicity,
the beauty,
it gets shunned by the roses,
until it withers
     to the ground,
            regretting,
                   dying,,,...
                         gone.

Poem 9:

(hmm, don't try this at home   [;        )
Peer into the deep abyss,
mind void of hope,
of love.
Mind full of hatred,
of scorn.
Cuts and bruises
in the mind.
Loneliness
in the mind.

Peer into the deep abyss,
peer into the dark,
    red,
         evil eyes of
               Death.
Whisper words of hopelessness.
And fall into
      the peering,
              dark,
                    red,
                         evil eyes of
                               Death.

Poem 10:
Every mind sunken into a deep pool of Reality.
When first born, the mind bobs at the shore,
     taking gasps of
           imagination
                 and magic and
                         hope.
But as the mind gets older,
     it gets heavier,
           it gets less simple,
                it loses imagination
                         and magic and
                                  hope as it
                                           sinks
                                                    down
                                                                          down
                                                                                                down.

Poem 11:
Choking underwater
    suffocating
          losing the air,
               sinking . . .
                     down  .  .  .
                                down
                                          down
                                                  under the sea level of
                                                           individuality.
                sinking . . .
                      down  .  .  .

                                down

                                          down 

                                                   under influence.

Poem 12:

Grab that life saver,

     the little tube

           bobbing,

               floating.

Before you sink.

     underwater.

          suffocate.

               Die.

Some of them are slightly violent, as the reality of it goes, some of them are thoughtful.

As my favorite line goes, "Don't worry, be happy!"

oh and my other one is "Failure isn't failure; it's the path to succeed." but that's beside the point.

Poetry Mix #1

Okay, here goes.
I decided to make a new type of label thing.
You know,
how ITTY is "Inside Tips To You", and the "Amazity of the Day" and HLD (Hilarious Laugh of the Day), and IceCreamScoop (bits of my life), and Various Viewpoints... so added to that list is Poetry Mix.

Pretty self explanatory as when it comes to what it actually does.
Mix of poetry.

how itriguing.

So the description of this blog is already a poem:
There's no recipe to life. So just go with the flow, do what you know, stay away from staying low, and find the happiness below.
Here's the poem:
Life's a roller coaster. It's a crazy ride, has its ups and downs and side-to-side, the roller coaster just this wide, going to places with nothing to hide, and you soaring there, up high, having the fun of your life. That's life. Live it like a roller coaster. Nevous getting on, reluctant to get off at the end.

EDIT:

Okay, I know this font color will 'stand out' and all, but I'd just like to add for my own self:
These sort of poems were inspired from a book called "The Orange Houses" by Paul Griffin.

HLD-- Duck Song/Scene

I don't know why I like this, I don't know how I like this, and I'm not sure whether I even like it or not.
The song's just catchy.
It's called the Duck Song, and it is likely you have heard it before because to what I see it has gazillions of views. Who knows?

Anyhow, here it is:

And it's kind of creepy and... it has a Duck Song II and Duck Song III, I think. (pretty sure about the Duck Song II, but I'm not sure about the Duck Song III. You should try finding out.)

I was singing it all day on Sunday.
"And he said to the man, running the stand. Bom bom bom bom bom, Got any graapppeess?"

...
I'll leave you there for today.

oh. And. I must share a funny short clip with you.
Only it's in your imagination. Meaning you have to imagine and make the scene inside your head.
Here's the script:

There is a German Coast Guard. He is a grim faced, lonely Coast Guard who is guarding __(whatever he's guarding)___. The German Coast Guard is currently extremely bored. His eyes are halfway drooping, and he's nearly bored out of his mind. No, let me fix that. He is bored out of his mind. So there he's standing, with his gun and all, walkie talkie, belt, stuff (I think stuff covers all the material, don't you think?).
Extreme silence is spread from miles beyond, as he's starting to wish something to happen.
He is boredly kicking a rock nearby.
Cricket... cricket... Crickets chirrup in the background to show the extreme silence and the irony and boredom of this German Coast Guard during war.
Suddenly, his walkie talkie buzzes on. And through static, he can hear shooting and cannons and screaming in the background. It's a very small noise, because the walkie-talkie isn't the number one best type.

And... jump cut.
The scene jumps to a loud, rambunctious (I have to look up that word...) scene in which an American Naval General is on his vessel, which is starting to sink because of the endless attacks from the enemy, and the cannons and gun sounds are deafening. And the screaming and shouting adds to the noise, chaos, and horror. Water is filling up to the general's knees now, and the vessel is rocking. He's holding his walkie-talkie, screaming into it, at the top of his lungs, shouting "MAYDAY! MAYDAY! WE'RE SINKING! WE'RE SINKING! WE'RE SINKING!"

And... jump cut.
The scene jumps back to the German Coast Guard. So what you should hear is Loud Yelling and Chaos, then all a sudden, cut off.
Cricket... Cricket...
The German Coast Guard is staring at his walkie-talkie, which is squealing "mayday! mayday! we're sinking! we're sinking! we're sinking!" in a small-ish sort of voice. Really really small compared to the reality of it.
And so the German Coast Guard stares at it, and thinks for a moment.
He picks his walkie-talkie up off his belt, and stops.
Cricket... Cricket...
"Vat are you sinking avout?"