#twelfth entry

[exhibitionprojectng]

Twelfth Entry

I’ve been thinking on research I have to present in documentation of my final work and how I haven’t really been doing academic research. Rather, I’ve been experimenting with materials and finding which ones I liked working with the most, which ones suited my purposes best.

It turns out those materials are acrylic and silicone putty. I’ve tried plaster and bandages and while it does look okay, if it fell down it would fall apart. The two putties on the other hand can take a bit more.

Plaster, which will unfortunately break at the slightest shake. Both regular (first image) and an attempt at home-made plaster bandages (second image) that didn’t turn out so well. It still turned out better than the first one even if still very breakable.

Modelling Plastic which was something I wanted to try out, since I didn’t even know it existed before, but it was too sticky and heavy in the end.

Acrylic Putty, which is a bit easier to deal with than Latex Putty, but it also tends to crack all on it’s own.

Latex Putty, probably my favourite, but does have weight issues, though it might just be the piece rather than the putty.

Modelling Clay, of different kinds, looks alright, but is too heavy in the end and dries too fast.

[halfminutetalesofhorror]

12. A Brother’s Love

          "No one will ever come for you."

           He said that every single night as I wrapped myself even tighter in the thin sheets. I could never block out his expression of love for me, the torturous words he replayed each night as I struggled to fall asleep. Each night. I don't know any other sick, sadistic person who finds amusement in emotionally scarring their sibling other than my brother. Apparently he found it all hilarious.

           I feel as if he's been doing it all my life, but my earliest memory is when I was three years old. When it was bedtime, my mother would pick me up and tuck me into bed. I slept in a bunk bed, in the same room as my brother. I had to sleep on the bottom.

           Mother would always kiss me on the head before whispering a soft prayer for me to have pleasant dream. She would turn off the light and leave the room, gently closing the bedroom door behind her. I would try to go to sleep, and most times I did. But no more than an hour after she left I would always hear the springs of the upper bunk squeak and groan. I would then pull the covers over my head. I knew my brother was about to begin his cruel game once again.  

          "You'll be all alone, and no one will ever be able to find you!" His shrill childlike voice would pierce through my covers and reach my ears as I shivered and tried my best to ignore him. "They can't save you when I take you to the other place. And then I'll leave you there and you'll be all alone. Wouldn't you love that?"

          "Please stop," I would whisper. I still don't know if he couldn't hear me or simply ignored my pleas.

          "I'd have to break your legs so that you'd never be able to leave. It's not nearly as much fun if you leave. Do you know how much a broken bone hurts? It's like living in agony, I hear. And that's just one bone. I plan on breaking all of them."

           And then he would go into detail of how he would detain me in this dark, unknown place where nothing awaited me but loneliness and torture brought on only by him. Tears would always fall down my cheeks, as his forms of punishment grew more and more gruesome.

           This is his game. He says he loves me. But I hate him so much.

           The only reason I slept underneath my brother was because I was too afraid to not see him. Between having my tormentor hidden below me or hovering over me while I sleep, I'd choose the latter. Sadly, I no longer have such an option.

           I don't sleep in a bunk bed anymore. In fact, there was no need for it to begin with. While I am an only child, I am a twin; my brother died before he was even born. I never really asked my parents much about him. I knew it was a very sensitive subject even when I was little, and, well, it's rarely ever spoken about in the house nowadays. When it is, you can bet the tears start flowing from both my parents' eyes.

           I sigh, grabbing the bottle of sleeping pills from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. I've been living on my own now for a couple years. I have my own little apartment now, not to mention a good job.

           And, of course, my brother.

           I swallow three pills—the third as an afterthought—with a glass of water before I tiredly walk back to my room. My brother's already standing by the bed, an evil grin on his face, as he's ready to begin his sick, loving game once again. And I hate to admit it but it really has become something of a ritual.

           One of these days I will find a way so that his words cannot reach me and I can finally get some sleep. 

[hetalia-session]

==>Italy: Don't Be An Airhead.

You then become someone that isn't an airhead.

Beijing, China 5:30 AM CST

Silence. Even the birds were not chirping at this hour and the dew was still starting to form on the leaves. A man stood in his garden, his movements fluid as he transitioned from one position to the next. As he moved, his breathing remained steady and every so often and sudden kick was delivered towards no target in particular. By this time, he had been at this for an hour already.

The man closed off standing tall and bringing his hands inward before bowing. He stretched a bit and let out a sigh of relief. "That felt good..." he muttered to himself before looking around. The garden was completely dark save for the few lights he had turned on. The sun was still not up.

"One would think it would be harder to get up at this hour at my age..." He walked towards his back door, sliding it open. Above him, a sign hung at the top of the doorframe.

The man's name is WANG YAO, or YAO WANG , but it's hard to tell which is first because his original language is CHINESE which is used by the country for he represents, aka CHINA. His chumhandle is chineseCook which refers to HIS LOVE OF FINE CUISINE. China is ONE OF THE OLDEST NATION IN THE WORLD and HAS MANY DISCIPLES AND SIBLINGS but LACKS AUTHORITY over them. He is EXTREMELY SUPERSTITIOUS and will do anything for LUCK. China is also a GREAT BUSINESSMAN, GENIUS OF STRANGE MEDICINES, and A MASTER OF ONLINE GAMING and ART. However, HIS ANIME IS A FAILURE.

After his lengthy introduction, China now entered his living room, sitting down at his low table. A tea pot and empty tea cup sat there. By now, the tea should have cooled. Looking inside, he saw the bottom littered with leaves.

"It looks like there isn't anymore," he thought aloud. "I better make some more." China stood up, taking the tea pot in his left hand and made his way to the kitchen. As he made a new batch, he wondered if he should make some dim sum for himself.

"Maybe I should make a batch that will last me the whole day. But later I may want to eat something else. Then what would I do with the rest of my food? I would hate to leave it to waste. Maybe I shouldn't make dim sum. Fish would be more suitable." China shook his head. "Ah, I'm getting indecisive in my old age."

Something suddenly caught the corner of his eye. He turned and saw several bags stacked in the corner of his kitchen. Recognizing them, China's eyes widened and he ran (more like fast walked) out of the kitchen.

Upon coming to a door in some hallway of his house, he slammed it open and looked inside. "KOREA, nī zài zhélī zuò shénme*?!?"

A blanket on the middle of the floor suddenly moved. As it was lifted up, a head popped out. With tired eyes, the representation of South Korea looked up and blinked a couple times before jumping up with excitement.

"ANIKI!" South Korea tackled the smaller man in a hug. China fell to the floor as the larger man looked at him with big eyes. "I'M STAYING OVER!"

The smaller nation groaned a bit and pushed the other off. "Aiyah... It's too early in the morning and too sudden. Did you even ask me?"

South Korea got on his knees and bit his lower lip in thought. "Aniki, can I stay over?" China let out a groan as he sat up. Korea came over, slowly helping him.

"Xièxiè**. Next time... Ask me before you come." Korea nodded insistently. "Well, let's go to the kitchen. What would you like to eat? I'm already preparing tea."

Korea shook his head. "I'm not hungry yet. It's too early in the morning."

China waved his hand around. "Nonsense! You look too thin! You need to eat!***"

Korea smiled and nodded. "Alright. I've been wanting some dim sum for a while."

"Then dim sum it is!" They started making their way to the kitchen, Korea making sure China didn't fall over.

(*What are you doing here in Chinese **Thank you in Chinese. ***Asian families will always tell you to eat)

Italy: Call you're best friend. <== | ==>

[sarahseuropeantravelblog]

Saturday 28.09.13

Started my day at 5am. I had to walk from my hostel, Clink261 to the hostel where my Topdeck tour was leaving from, Clink78. Luckily for me, they are literally 300m away from each other. So I got there, sat on my bag in reception while everyone I would be spending this trip with slowly trickled down into the same area. 

Once we were all there and accounted for, it was time to get on the bus to go to Dover. I didn't talk to anyone on the bus, except for D, the tour leader, and that was only to give her my insurance and passport details in case of an emergency. Even on the ferry over to Calais I sat alone, made the most of the wifi and the last of my solitude for the next 20 days. 

When we got into Calais, we had to wait for the actual bus that would be taking around Europe, so while we did we played 'ice breakers'. Ergh. The bus got there at some point, but europe has weird driving laws, where the driver has to stop every 2 hours for 15 minutes and half an hour every 4 hours. Or something like that. Because our driver had driven from Amsterdam that morning, he had to have a half hour break so we got to play even more ice breakers. 

Finally got to leave Calais and head to Paris. It takes about 4 hours to get there, which is a long time to spend on a bus, but not the longest I knew I would have to go through. I still didn't really talk to anyone, even after the ice break activities. Driving into Paris was a nightmare, I have a newfound respect for Scotty, our driver, and all the people driving in that city. The traffic is crazy! 

We were staying at a brand new hostel, St Christopher's, apparently this hostel was the latest for the chain. And oh man was it nice. The beds had little curtains and personal usb ports for ipods/phones. It was great. We got to chill out for a bit, have a shower, get to know the other people we were sharing rooms with. I was with some pretty nice girls, Maddy, Erin and Cat. We all headed down to dinner together, which had been organised for us in the hostels restaurant. 

We got snails! They aren't my favourite, bit too chewy for my liking. The dinner was pretty good, but straight afterwards we had to go back onto the bus so the Scotty could drive us around to all the sights, while D explained everything in so much detail I think she could talk about history underwater to be completely honest. That wasn't a bad thing though, it was really interesting and I learned so much, which is half the reason I wanted to go to Europe in the first place. 

The City Lights tour is amazing, it takes you to all the major sights in Paris and if its timed right, the Eiffel tower will light up and sparkle as you go past. It was a really magical night. 

Back at St Christopher's, the rest of the group decided to have a couple drinks. I still wasn't really comfortable with anyone, and still felt queasy at the sight of beer after Oktoberfest. So I went up to bed. I didn't get much sleep though, people from my tour - the boys mainly - were all gathered in the room next to mine and having a party. That was the first night of this tour and the first time we almost all got kicked out of a hostel. Whoops.

[3redorangehearts]

ENTRY 12: Change

                It’s funny how today you act a certain way and feel fine about it, but a certain amount of time later you look back and realize how stupid you had been at the time. For example: when I was younger, I typed and talked on Facebook in a certain way. At the time I thought I was being cool and amusing but years later, I could barely read my old posts without cringing and thinking: “What on earth is this? What on earth was I thinking? I can’t believe I was this horrible/naïve/immature!”

                I guess this reflects the ever-changing nature of our personal constructs, schemas, templates and whatever other terms the cognitive psychologists coined from their theories.