When is it too much?

I’ve recently come across a very nice artist. They do commissions and receive a lot of good feedback;however, their work resembles a popular artists much too closely. They don’t seem to be receiving in flack for this, but I recognized the art they based their off of immediately. Is what they are doing really okay? Obviously, they are making money by basing their work off another more popular artist. I can’t help but wonder if this resemblance, though many changes and creative liberties have been taken, is too much or to little to be considered okay or not. Frankly, in my opinion, it looks like blatant art theft. I won’t call anyone out, but here’s the artist who’s work is being copied.

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Holiday Blues

Around every holiday some people get a case of the “Holiday Blues.” This really just means that they can’t help but feel down, or more specifically, depressed around the holidays. I can’t help but wonder, “Why is this?” I, a chronic sufferer, can tell you this odd ailment is very real. As a child I usually had pretty grandiose holidays and family events, but after a while this light in these events died out. No, it’s not at all like feeling blue before finishing another year of high school and getting older, it’s more like a feeling of being let down. I really wish I could get into the cheer and go all out for holidays. Whether it be the depression or just being a teenager, I can’t seem to find the energy.

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Ever feel like no matter what you just can’t enjoy holidays as much as other people seem to be enjoying their’s? I certainly felt this at the most recent Thanksgiving. When you can’t help but feel let down because the holidays didn’t magically disappear you worries away, the holiday blues really hit. Though, my definition is by no means official, I think knowing what others call this kind of sadness would be interesting. I hope the chronic sufferers like me can find some solace in knowing that the same thing happens to other people.

Two Stories About Regret and One Time I did it Right

Regrets

Growing up my mother never really put priorities on things that didn’t directly affect her or me. Often, I’d warn her, or tell her about something I thought was wrong around the house and needed fixing. Most of the time she would answer that she was “working on it” or  she that she wants to fix it, but we don’t have the money. The wall? The sink? The electricity? All a problem for another day in her mind. Maybe she secretly didn’t want to tell me that she didn’t have the means to fix itthat she just didn’t have the will to fix it.

Growing up I developed a complex about life. It was short, and the things you love die quickly, and you get sad. And so, I tried to protect myself. In order to not be hurt, I would just detach myself from that which I loved. It was my “sure fire plan to not be sad when things go.”

Growing up I had pets. Many, many, pets had come and gone through my house. Not many diedmost of the time we would give them to someone else. Lizards, snakes, birds, guinea pigs, rabbits, dogs, scorpions,  frogs, turtles, you name it. Rarely, had I ever experienced their passing. Only one stuck around the longest. Only one had been truly mine. Monkey. No, not Monkey as in the animal. I named her when I was two and imaginative enough to befriend a coconut. I’m guessing you can guess where this story is going now, no?

Grown up, now I realize I have many regrets. As a child I was an idiot. Pushing things away didn’t curb the sadness like I had imagined… Well, as you could have guessed Mom did what she did best, and my dog did what any dog her age would do. The vet said she could be fixed, but before I knew it she was gone. I didn’t cry. I should have, but I believed my plan worked. I never forgave that woman. Her negligence, her refusal to listen, I blame it on them. Maybe, it wouldn’t have happened this way. I never forgave myself, and never will. Maybe that’s why I’m crying now.

Friends

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I was a stupid kid, and maybe my friend is too because he listened to me. Once upon a time I had a best friend in the third grade.. Now this friend, one day, had the wildest idea to make a new friend. Of course, with this “new friend” he spent a lot of time, and that means the rest of our friend group felt a little left out.

Feeling rather left out, I took action. Action, meaning doing the only thing a dumb little kid like me could think up that grabs people’s attention. Swear. Don’t get me wrong, I was a goody-two-shoes growing up, but between friends we all get a little wild and the rules are a bit less strict… When the teachers aren’t around.

One fine day I may or may not have instructed one of my more innocent friends to say something rather vulgar to a certain friend’s face. Not, something that would hurt his feelings, but would make him pay attention to us. I love my friends and the last thing I would want is to drive them away.

Now, when I instructed my innocent friend to go up to others face he hadn’t noticed the principal walking by. I screamed. Running at top speed screaming and yelling for him to stop, I knew I messed up. The deed was done. The principal was just about to scold my innocent friend, but my friends don’t go down alone. If we burn we burn together. In a flash, I was in front of her taking the blame, going on about how it is all my fault, he shouldn’t get in trouble, I told him too,etc. In the end we both got in trouble, but at least it was together.

Granted

To say he is my friend would be nice, though, I can’t imagine he thinks so anymore. As a child I was dumb. Surely, I’ve said this a lot, but it has to be restated. Things were never in the correct order of importance to me.

I took for granted my friendship, and before I knew it he had moved. I cared a lot. Somehow I even got him to come back and visit, but even that I didn’t appreciate. The next thing I knew we’d gone back to old days. As expected, I didn’t focus on what is important. Now, he’s gone. Now, we don’t talk anymore. It’s ironic that I should feel sad because didn’t I do the same to him?

Man I Really Love my cat

Cats are pretty great. I know I’ve said this before, but I feel I must reiterate. I really love my cat, Shinx. He’s so great. He goes against cat logic. He is needy, loving, funny–really he’s the whole package of what a loving pet should be.

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Look at him. The love of my life.

On a serious note, I think that there is a reason people today are so obsessed with cats. They provide this feeling of love and affection that those who are lonely, or even in a relationship crave. Cats are always there. Depending on the personality they love in different ways much like a human. Cats are needy, opinionated, and understanding beings, and I don’t mean to put dogs down, but cats have a different temperament than dogs for the most part. I love dogs and have had many, but having a cat has been a whole new experience for me. Shinx has such a strong personality, it’s so interesting to see him go about his day. He’s somehow managed to adopt my personality. We sleep in the same positions, give my mother the same glare, and even get scared the same. I wonder if other people have had the same experience I have with my cat because Shinx is rather peculiar. Cats have quite an array of personalities.

Fake it Till You Make it

In life you have to take risks. It’s a fact. The way to get ahead of the rest is to jump into things and go for the gold. I’ve always been somewhat weary of this idea, for often times I find that I need to think my decisions through before proceeding with any sort of actions. Well, I didnt think things through this time. Last year, in my  fear of being inadequate to my peers by not taking enouhg Ap’s I decided to just jump into Ap art.

Now this idea does not seem like such a abd idea for someone like me, who’s entire life is basically based around the fact that I can draw. I’ve draw for as long as I can rememebr, and continued to improve and grow by looking at others and competing.

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First Serious Colored Pencil Drawing

Much like in Okami where Issun’s motto is to “jump first and think second” I jumped right into Ap art without thinking. Not having taken any other art classes at all, ever, I was placed in a class I felt I didn’t deserve to be in. Come to think of it, do people who jump into things without thinking and not fit the qualifications really deserve the position? That’s what I was thinking regarding my situation. I didn’t try to be in art, and I especially never made it in conventiaonally. I just asked and they let me. No protfolio submission or drawing studies needed.

The big problemI face right now is the fact that I have to draw in Mediums I’ve never even touched before. In fact, I’m so lost in this class I’ve developed the motto of  “fake it like a professional.” I don’t actually know how to use the mediums for my projcest, I just fake it and make something as aesthetically pleasing as possible. It makes me wonder if real art professionals do the same. Is evryone really just flying by the seat of their pants?  I’m both very grateful to have this class, but also somewhat bothered by the feeling that I don’t deserve to be there even if my winged art projects turn out nice. This article seems to validate my idea.

The Feeling of Accomplishment

After hours of slaving away at the sewing machine and a multitude of trips to Joanne’s I finally managed it. Not long ago, I finished what is quite possibly my largest sewing project ever.

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My friend and I posing for a picture on H

After days of stress and rushing it has been completed! I do not want to end up like I was the night before Halloween again. Now I know what you’re thinking, ” But isn’t the journey there supposed to be what’s important?” I’ve had class discussions and even blogged about the journey being more fulfilling than the end goal. While I still think the journey to the goal is fun, sometimes the end goal is just as satisfying. Halloween was my day to parade around the school and tell everyone that I made it. It was my hours of work and effort put into this to make the costume. Admittedly, I couldn’t complete it exactly as I wanted, but I still managed to pull off a decent looking Red Sea Witch Costume.

Much like how in Howl’s Moving Castle the end resolution is incredibly satisfying and relieves the main character of a terrible burden, I felt a great deal of relief when finishing the costume. The days leading up to Halloween were stressful and hectic as I spent hours upon hours trying to finish on time. The work was honestly very hard because I pushed my self to do things I’ve never even considered doing before. Have I ever made a shirt before? No. Have I ever dyed clothes before? Nope! In order to reach my goal, I had to do a bunch of things I’d never done before, and it became very stressful. It makes me wonder how many people enjoy the journey to their goals more or enjoy the end results more. It seems like just an opinion, but it would be fun to know, generally, what people think about the subject.

Want to know how I learned to sew a sailor outfit from scratch for the first time? It’s right in this helpful tutorial that acted as my bible for two days straight.

 

 

I’m sorry, Tomorrow has no Time for you

Last May, finals were coming up and teachers were cramming in all the material they hadn’t gotten to. Nobody was ready for this sudden influx of work, especially me.  My friends struggled through their work with indifference accompanied by comedic complaints about being too stressed to lighten their actual suffering. I, on the other hand, had come to a complete shutdown. Emotions, exhaustion, worriesthey had all just left my being because I couldn’t take any more work.

Four weeks before school got out, I was still pushing through the complete shutdown of humanity that had overtaken my being. Every day that week I had to work on a group project at someone’s house, and Friday the ever imminent, looming threat of test in Ngo awaited me.

It was Wednesday when it happened. I, utterly exhausted, was heading home right after school, and had to collaborate with my group for a science project. Nothing seemed out of placethe usual traffic after school, the kids getting out of Masudait was all perfectly normal. Mom was driving, and turned at Slater and Los Jardines. Cars flew past. By the time we had reached the light and began turning it had only just turned yellow. I looked up from my slouched position on my phone and screamed—“They’re not stopping!”

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The oncoming car raced through the lightvoid of any sentiment to slow down—it flew across the intersection. Colliding and spinning out with loud smash, I closed my eyes in the car. The next thing I knew my mother was opening my door. Screaming for help, she took in the image of my body slumped forward in the passenger’s seat. Everything was numb and buzzing at the same time, and all I could do was try my best to gather my thoughts. Did this really happen? First, can I move my legs? Hands? They’re okay, but I can’t breathe. I’m in shock. I need to calm down. I repeated this thought process, but it was like a broken radio; I couldn’t take anything in and each time I took a breath I choked on my own lungs. I recalled that you shouldn’t move right after you’re in an accident, so I just stared and watched as the policemen and firemen arrived and I could hardly speak through my coughing since the seat belt knocked the air out of my lungs. All I could do was gasp and cry out “am I okay” over and over again. At that moment everything about me equated to nothing more than a sobbing, pitiful mess.

The man’s car flipped over—but of course—the one in the wrong got off perfectly fine. Eventually, the ambulance took me to the hospital. I remember vividly the time I spent laying in the back of the ambulance as the man kept asking me questions.“Does it hurt?” “Yes.”“Where?” “I don’t know, but I can’t breathe.”

We made it to the hospital. I was laying in a bed in the hallway and the first thing I asked for was my phone. I simply told the nurse “I need to tell my group I can’t work on the project today.” I realized then that even in an eye opening time like this my values were never focused on my own life, but on my grade; emotions didn’t matter. What was of utmost importance was completing my work. I had a test in my hardest class on Friday and I couldn’t get to school to ask questions about it. Surely, there was no way I would miss a test in algebra two.

By the time I got home, the aching pain began crawling up my back and across my shoulder. I desperately wanted to go to school the next day. This was the first time in forever I felt truly excused from going to school, but that didn’t stop me from rigorously preparing for the next day. Doing homework was nearly impossible. Strenuously working in short bouts to complete my homework was my only option because I could hardly sit up.

I lost sight of what’s important in life by taking my everyday life for granted. It’s scary to think about how I could have had a terrible accident, but it never occurred to me that such a thing was possible in my life. I’ve never considered that fact that life is fleeting. While Stress takes over and we forget that life—at times—can get so hectic that we forget it’s true value. It’s almost comedic, how something so absolute can leave at any moment. Be not fooled by the facade of living, for Cruel reality sneers to those who do not think. “It can’t be helped, really. I’m sorry, it’s just that… Tomorrow has no time for you.”

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