Monday

September 19, 2011

A boy clad in blue with a hat on his head sits alone. On a boat in a wave-less sea he sits.

Lightning strikes and the waves rise to towering heights. He looks up and is frightened. But above it all he sees an eagle and at the sight of the great bird, the waves are frozen in time. Everything is still.

The boat does not rock or move. It stays. The noise of the storm remains but it does not affect the boat anymore. All the same, the sight of the giant waves scares him.

Again, he looks up. Now there are vultures circling. Their eyes are red and hungry for blood. They have a look in their eyes with a daunting threat saying: you are mine; we’ve eaten a friend, a father, and a mentor.

Yet, higher still he knows, the eagle remains––its glory like the sun, its majesty like no other.

He fumbles on a red ribbon tied on his arm and unties it. He holds his hands out, firmly griping on the ribbon. And with a tear in his eye releases it–allowing it to be lost in the waves that surround him.

The ribbon slowly sinks to the bottom of the black unmoving sea. He watches as it is lost in the darkness…

There are stories everywhere...

"There are stories everywhere," he told the horses. "Everything has a story untold."

"That girl for instance," he said. "What girl you ask? That girl with the flowing gown of velvet pink. That girl with the sparkling anklet on her left ankle." He stopped talking and jumped over the small stream.

They walked on. Heavy breathing and deep panting from the three of them. The skies grew dim, the wind howled bringing a sharp piercing chill. He kept his eyes forward: on something just by the side of the stony path. Then he continued,

"That girl with the rosy cheeks and soft face.

"That girl trapped in the flower..."

(Inspired by shoepastryheart)

Spencer Spinner: The Crafty Spinner

Spencer Spinner is a crafty spinner. 

He spins his saliva better 

than all the other twisterettes in Jack's little noggin'. 

Spencer Spinner, also known as Spinny-Spence, 

wins all the knitting, sewing, and 

kneading competitions in all of Dreadlock Curve. 

He's never seen a gray day--not since the last cleansing.

Spinny-Spence married Olivia the olive bug 

and had many little suckling knitters--thirty-five to be exact. 

They bought a house at the edge of Dreadlock Curve 

and raised their buglings away from all the fuzz and buzz 

of downtown Scalp.

101 Dreams - Part 3

My Dreams. 

Fifty-one to Seventy-six

[51-76]

(Fulfilled dreams are "bold") 

 Directions to this exercise are here.

Dreams [1-25]

Dreams [26-50]

March 25, 2010

 51. Learn to surf and get a chance to surf in the best surf spots

52. Bungee Jump

53. Sky Dive

54. Hike/explore New Zealand (MIDDLE EARTH!)

55. Visit the different cities of Australia

Photo trips to:

56. Vietnam

57. Cambodia

58. Burma/Myanmar

59. Taiwan

60. Island hopping in the Mediterranean

61. Visit Hammerfest (the northern most town)

62. See the Northern Lights

Northern lights in the town of Hammerfest, Norway

63. Swim with whales and sharkes

64. Snorkel and scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef

 65. Kiss the Berlin wall

66. X3 BMW for everyday driving

67. Own an Audi

and

68. a Convertible Porsche

 69. Own a vineyard in Spain

Autumn evening on the vineyards in La Rioja, Spain. (via. Ignacio Lizarraga)

70. Get into a good acting school in New York

71. Be cast in a Burton Film

Co-star with:

72. Helena Bonham Carter

73. Johnny Depp

74. Write a successful Fantasy/Sci-Fi Novel

75. & 76. Backpack South and Central America

...to be continued [Part 4]

What it wouldn’t be, it would...

I got this from Design You Trust - Part 6. The original post is from Here.

“What captured me the most is the title of this project: "What it is, it isn’t." beside the image of awkward looking cabinet, of course. Then, I realized the text was taken from ‘Alice in Wonderland’, which is written by Lewis Carroll and this project by Ontwerpduo get its inspiration from it.

What it is, it isn’t.
‘If I had a world of my own,
everything would be nonsense.
Nothing would be what it is,
because everything would be what it isn’t.
And, contrariwise, what it is, it wouldn’t be.
And what it wouldn’t be, it would.
You see?’
- Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.


To describe the work better, these are exact text from Ontwerpduo:

‘Objects are how we perceive them to be. Our minds make things what they are and for us this is reality. Think of a branch hanging in the water. We see, with the refraction of light, the branch under the waterline in a different angle. But we know that in reality the shape of this branch is different. We learned how to see the world… read the rest and see more pictures here”

 Photo credits: "Alice in Wonderland" from here.

Far Away

I heard a story once, a truly splendid tale it was,
Of lost dreams and forgotten memories, over-grown dwarfs and mischief nymphs.

This legend, heard from the whisper of an angel, told of a castle nestled way up in the sky.
A citadel with four looming towers disappeared like the mist.

It's keeper was a peculiar little fellow dressed in purple. A single violet robe, orange sandals and a tall wizard's hat was all this petite young faun modeled.

When darkness reigned, stowed away behind the colossal diamond doors, a princess would remain...

Is there a right way in doing this?

I always wondered how people could just write about how they felt, allowing all to read. It's like writing a journal, but opening it up and showing the general public what your deepest secrets were. Wasn't a journal suppose to be personal? Something that you, and only you (and a few of your "closest" friends in grade school, or even high school), would read...

Well, here I am: blogging!

I guess this isn't really gonna be my "public journal". I have a hard time writing really long and personal stuff... but we'll see how this goes, ha ha.

Well for starters, I love fantasy stuff. I try to write my own, but, he he, you be the judge in that.

Like most other fantasy readers, I love the thought of super-humanity. The idea of being, not normal. I like adventure, deep meanings in details, and well-put plots. I like it when you look at the small picture and it's already very interesting, and you get a feeling of just wanting to stay there. But then when you zoom out to see the even bigger picture, there's more to it and you can't just stay in that small detail anymore. You thought that it was enough, but now there's even more to it than you ever dreamed of. I love good authors who can put so many little details that contribute to the main plot. A plot that has so much meaning into it.

I also love stories where the characters are so human, so ordinary and so stereotypical yet there's something about them that would make them... un-human. Usually they were born with that "something special" and it only manifested now. Or more times than not, it was bestowed on them by someone or something greater than the normal individual one would find shopping in the mall (or walking in the street, but I'm trying to be "up-to-date", you see)


I, like most people, love it when there are also those that are just so inhuman, so out-of-this-world, and they are people we can just never be. These are our typical superheroes. Superman, for example or Legolas the elf.


The problem with reading too much of this though, I end up spending a great deal of my time day-dreaming and wishing that I had that special something in me too. Dreaming that someone would knock on the front door randomly and say that they needed me for a dangerous mission that only I could do, or that I wasn't really a human, but an elf from an alternate world. Or even, that I would find out and discover that I had super powers and would use it to defeat some evil vilan. 

I also catch myself wishing that I was born in another time; a time where knights and dragons had duals. A time where kings ruled and princesses were as beautiful as ever. A time when evil step mothers dictated, and swords were the means of fighting. (This is why my blog is called "Stuck at Twelve", ha ha)

Why is this so, though? Why do we all (or maybe just me) dream of such things... things that are not normal. Hoping and wishing with all our birthday candles, coins, and shooting stars that there were something more.

I've come to the conclusion that it's what we're made of that's to be blamed... our cells, DNA, and our souls.

You didn't think that you were just an accident of evolution did you? What a useless life you would have if that were so. What's the use of defeating evil and dreaming, and accomplishing, and creating and destroying if that were the case?

It's what and who we are that gives us the craving to want more. The feeling of wanting to be great.

But who am I to be great?

Who are you to be great?

Photo 1: Water World By: ChOpaK
Photo 2: Your Savior By: Hash
Written by: Jose A Henson