a few steps down the walk way, a group of students sit on the steps in an obscure area, almost close to the road side but not really. they hold pencils and drawing blocks and try to conjure evening life on paper. the heads bob up and down in syncrony, first the front row looks up and looks pack down to paint. just as they look down, the back row scans their target, almost like a dance.

to hell with all the expectations, look at whats in front, its beautiful

Poverty stole your golden shoes
It didn’t steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
But I knew it wasn’t ever after

We’ll fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what’s right
‘Cause where there’s a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing

In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters

We are God’s eyes
God’s hands

there are many people out there who want it badly cause they know they can make a difference, they put their lives on the line, they go the distance. but does that really matter? as much as i think it matters because they are worldly staandards of greatness, something tells me otherwise. i have been so meshed up with your ideals and expectations, how one ought to be. you dont have to rally people with your voice, you dont have to create or sign a famous declaration to make it work. speed and aggression and hunger and authoritativeness doesnt make you a greater man. humility and meekness and gentleness doesnt make you lesser. on the contray, i think they are courageous. for that i dont identify and for that i leave.

i see in myself the things i dislike therefore i am disillusioned. save me from myself.

haha im taking a few different media mods this sem, one of which is a cinematic module which involves translating cinematographics to culture, reading the meaning behind long shots, mise sen, montage, sound, lighting etc etc. we watched a silent film today and silence is indeed golden haha

thank you too

so beautiful an umbrella of venom wooohoo, how wonderfully deadly it would be to take shelter under the dome, surrounded by the shawl of transparent jello tentacles to keep me warm. oots!