THOUGHTsTHoughTSthoughtsTHOUGHTSthOUGHtsthoughtS

Think THINKthinKthink

knowKNOW

EVERYTHING

Pictures, Words,

Pink, Yellow, BluePenny or DimeEverything

I cannot read youAnymore than I read me

I cannot think you

any more than I think ME

Regret, Regret, Regret.

Okay, now it won’t happen again.

OOPS!

Regret, Regret, Regret, Regret.

This time I’ll be more careful.

Wait, NO!

REgret reGRET regret REGRET regrET

I can learn from my mistakes, it won’t happen again.

Help, I did it again!

REGRET regret reGRET regretreGRET RegreT

What’s wrong with me? Why do I keep doing this? I have to stop doing this, I will.

No, nO, NO!

REGRET REGRET REGRET REGRET REGRET REGRET REGRET

I regret my mistakes, I regret my life, I regret regretting. I can’t wallow around in this anymore. I can change my-self. I can become a better person.

Or maybe I can’t.

regretregretregretregretregretregretregretregret

i give up

A map of the universe can look like anything, from a big sphere to a large cube. However, the most com-monly used map is actually two-dimensional, called The Life Tree. One line represents the timeline of one dimension; the ‘branches’ that form show the timelines of dimensions created from the first dimension. One thing that Omnimetry (measurements of the universe) has revealed is that, while there may be multiple ‘bases’ for different dimensions, we all come from the same root. As endless as the universe appears to us, it’s all still part of the same tree.

Mapping the universe is all about finding connections. Once you realize that the dimension you’re in is a branch to a bigger dimension, you can connect it, and have the branches line up on a map. Some Omnigra-phists (scientists that study the universe) will only make five or six connections in their lifetime, if they’re lucky. Connecting dimensions is difficult, because what creates a dimension is an act or freewill- and freewill is hard enough to define on its own. But when a person makes a choice, a real, true choice, then the alter-nate worlds are created; one with one choice made, one with the second choice, and others depending on how many options there were. A dimension could be born before your very eyes, and you wouldn’t even notice.

Blueburt was a funny-looking little man, mostly because he was blue. He had big blue eyes and a big blue nose, and tiny, tiny, tiny ears that you could barely see. His blue eyes had blue bags because he was so tired, and even his wiry blue hair looked tired. Blueburt was a very funny-looking man, so he would travel all over the tree to get away from people. He was also very lonely, so he would stop here and there to visit people he liked.Blueburt didn’t have many friends. He could count them all on one hand- two, if you counted the imaginary ones. One of his friends was Bluebell. She wasn’t too blue or too not blue, and she was as lovely as he was lonely. Because she was so little, she lived in Orange Town, a littler village with other littlers like her. She was just down the street, on Rainbow Road corner.

Blueburt liked Bluebell a bit more than friends were supposed to like friends. He never said any-thing, because she liked Redrutter, the leader of Orange Town. Redrutter didn’t like Blueburt very much, but that wasn’t because of Bluebell. Most people in Orange Town didn’t like Blueburt, be-cause he was strange and funny-looking and blue. If Blueburt stayed in Orange Town too long, they’d chase him away with sticks and butter knives. Redrutter had a special butter knife that he chased Blueburt with, and he always called him ‘Bluenose’, as if it were a bad thing to say.But Blueburt always went back to Orange Town, because he didn’t have many friends, and Bluebell was one of them. He always walked down Rainbow Road, up to Bluebell’s house, and he would say Hi, how are you? And she’d say Oh, I’m alright. And then he’d walk away, because Blueburt didn’t like saying goodbye.

Lucy had become a black woman. Well, just her hands. More a silvery-black. Charcoal was weird that way, making her hands look shiny.

Lucy didn’t like how the narrator used the word ‘Shiny’, and she didn’t like how she was a spontaneous char-acter that was brought up for the sake of a quick-write. Lucy just so happened to be blonde. She was becoming a demanding character, she wanted a last name, a face, a history. All the author had given her so far was A) Blonde hair, B) Charcoal hands, and C) an attitude problem. At least, the author felt it was an attitude problem. Lucy didn’t see it.

But were these Lucy’s needs or the author’s needs? Were these her thoughts, or the writer’s thoughts?

Lucy had brown eyes, because too many blondes had blue or green eyes. Lucy knew everything the author knew, and they both remembered the eyecolor choice of past characters together.

What are a character’s thoughts? A reflection or shadow of the author? Did Lucy have her own thoughts? Was Lucy just a vessel for the author? Or was the author a vessel for Lucy?

Lucy had a pink shirt and green flipflops. She was growing.

The author moreso.

I dun wanna Grow Up.

Why do I have to Grow Up?

What if I want to Stay The Same?

What if I like Me?

But if I Grow Up, I won’t be Me anymore. I’ll be Someone Else.

But I don’t want Money or Girls. What if I change in a BAD way? What if I be-come Mean and Nasty, what if I become a Workaholic and never have FUN?

but what if it is

Too bad.

Because you can’t stay the same.

Too bad.

I like you too, but you’ll still have to grow up.

That’s not a bad thing. You’ll get stronger and smart-er, and you’ll get money and girls.

If you grow up, it’ll still be you, so you can’t change that bad.

Too bad.

My painting is like a black hole. That’s not what I intended. I thought I had this subject down, I thought I knew what I was doing. Now I have a dark blue blob sitting next to me, babbling about change as he stains my favorite jacket. At least Kenna is playing. I like Kenna.

I wish my blue blob was more blue. Like the corners. I liked the whole painting better when it was just a blue background. I shouldn’t have tried to change it. I love blue. Red is my favorite, but I still love blue. Wouldn’t change that.

Thank god for freestyle. It’s the only school where you can get away with painting a blue blobby mess, fol-lowed by writing a diary entry while listening to Kenna.

My fingers are blue. Need to change that.

Need to change everything.

What compells us to act is nothing and everything. Well, more like everything. God I’m nauseous.

Stupid Class-teach-thing, making me all nervous and nauseous. I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to write and I don’t want to teach.

What’s compelling me is fear and my stomach ascids. But I’m still sitting here, writing as fast as I can until my wrist explodes and I finally throw up. Ow, my wrist.

All of my fears are eating me up, so why am I sitting here? I’m not very disciplined and I could care less about my grades. I’m just stubbornly sticking to my shceduel in life, despite all my feelings that I shouldn’t be here.

Blah.

What compells us is everything, but now nothing is compelling me, except me.

Nothing and everything. I get it now.

At first I tried to take the prompts seriously. That’s probably why my responses to prompts 2-4 are my best responses. I found a way to relate to the subject and apply it to my writing and my art. After a while, though, the prompts got tougher and I ran out of endurance for them. I actualy did the first prompt, Thoughts, last, because I was absent the first day, and that prompt is definitely my worst one.

The visuals influenced a lot of my writing, by starting me off and then help-ing me when I got stuck. For example, with my favorite prompt, Isolation Vs. Solitude, I wrote about a lonely guy named Blueburt. Blueburt was a character I doodled all over my homework, so when I needed to express Isolation Vs. Soli-tude, I picked him out as my model. When I needed a name for a town or street, I looked at the art and named them after what I saw, like Orange Town and Rainbow Road. The art also kept me on subject, and Blueburt’s story became a lonesome one. My favorite materials were the crayons and water color, too, because even though it was difficult to use them they were also fun. Then again that was when I drew the picture of Blueburt, so there might be some bias there.

I took risks with the acrylic and canvas, and that risk turned out to be a fail. I wanted to have different shades of blue spinning from the middle and out, and have a spiral of different blue shades to express “I change myself, I change the world.” This didn’t work because I used too much black paint, and too much paint overall, and I just got stuck with a blue blob. I was still able to use this in the blink book as a texture for the fifth prompt, but I was still really stuck with a blue blob.

Another risk I took was with the content of my writing prompt in Moral Cul-pability Vs. Freewill, the third prompt. I had drawn something based off of a philosophy about the universe (involving a tree metaphor) that I had developed for my characters in a fan fiction I was writing. I was nervous about using it, because of where the idea had come from, and I thought it might be too off topic from the subject. But I went with it, and this risk turned out good, because I manged to combine the tree metaphor to the Blueburt story in my English writ-ing story, and that turned out into the best thing I’ve ever written.

One thing that I do consistently is I use the entire page. I also have a habit of dividing the picture in half or crossways, sort of splitting my art in two parts. I also edit my photos and my art so that the colors are much brighter and that the contrast is very high, which is a style I really like.

As for mood, my style is consistently... off. Like the colors are just a little too bright, or there’s just something weird going on, in all of my art.

1. Loneliness2. Beauty Vs. Uglyness3. Freewill & Destiny4. Relationships/Loyalty5. Change6. Exploration7. Risk Vs. Benefits8. Understanding The Universe9. Senseless Bigotry10. Overwhelming Influences