Thursday, November 13, 2014

You Give This a Title

I sighed as I mechanically lowered some nearby dishes into the soapy foam in the kitchen sink of Bobby’s Space-Bar.  God knows how many dishes I’d cleaned in my life.  The days were starting to blur together in one tedious routine; Go to work, fix the car, take food pills, sleep 3 hours, go to work, fix the car, take food pills, sleep 3 hours, an endless cycle of melancholia and countryside fantasies of having one single glorious day of quiet solitude and no daily government-given schedule to follow.
Or not follow.  It was September 6th, 2145, at like 6:45:31 a.m when I officially decided to ditch work.  After long contemplation and the persistent longing for silence and comfortable loneliness nagging me in the back of my mind, I did something most people of my generation would never dream of doing.  I pressed snooze.  As I lay in bed staring down my white ceiling, I finalized my plans.  It was time to see what happened when the world couldn’t rely on a 16-year-old janitor to hide in the kitchen and do all their dirty work for them.  
I hopped in my newly fixed car and stepped on the reverse pedal.  I was always old-fashioned because I preferred the vintage manual cars, as opposed to the standard self-driving vehicles most people drove.  Security drones whipped around me like flies as I stepped on the gas pedal till it rested on the floor.  Apartments flew past me on all sides in a blur of gray and white.  The luminescent street signs beckoned me to drive my usual route which would take me through town to Bobby’s Space-Bar where I would robotically clean dirty dishes and mop floors till midnight.
I rolled down the windows and felt a chilling, brittle wind rush against my skin.  As the buildings started thinning out, I relaxed and ignored the speed limit signs on the side of the road.  I had a couple more minutes of peace before I heard the familiar sirens and saw red white and blue lights flickering in my rear-view mirror.  It’s funny how those colors symbolize freedom until they’re flashing behind you.  I pulled over and put on my seatbelt.  
A uniformed man walked briskly over to my window clutching a clipboard.  “Is your name Peter Crofts?” he asked.
I nodded.  “Let me save you the hassle,” I said as I handed the officer my paperwork.  “Just give me the ticket and we can both part our separate ways.  I’m in a bit of a rush.”
“That’s not why I pulled you over,” the officer replied.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Step out of the vehicle,” he demanded, strain in his voice.
I nearly tripped on the door as I scrambled out of the car.  “What’s this about?” I demanded.
“You have been officially convicted with high treason and are sentenced to death,” he said.
I dropped my paperwork.
We drove in silence and soon pulled into an empty parking lot.  A tall building covered in mirrors cast a shadow over our car.  I didn’t notice the pair of armored security guards until we stopped and the officer tightened my computerized shackles telling me to “Watch myself.”
I got out of the car and was pushed through a pair of double doors.  “What’s going on here?” I spat.  “Where am I?”
“The end of the road,” the officer replied.
He led me up five different escalators and three endless hallways till we stopped outside a glass door with “Mr. Califord” painted in silver letters across the top.  
“We’re here,” he muttered as he rapped on the door.  A muffled “Come in,” sounded from the other side.
. . .
“Have you ever really considered what it really means to be alive?” Mr. Califord asked me, shuffling through a pile of neglected documents.
I sat across from the suited man in silence.  
“Is it the ability to move, breathe, and eat?” he asked.  “Or is it something deeper?”
I cleared my throat.  “Well by the looks of it I’ll never know.  Thanks for the death sentence by the way.”
Mr. Califord glared.  “You- Peter, are the first person to ditch work in a hundred years.  Do you know why?”
“No,” I replied.
Mr. Califord stood up from his desk, walked towards me and lowered himself till his eyes bore holes through mine.  “Because you thought for yourself.”
His response took me off guard.  “Well who else am I gonna think for?” I asked.
He shook his head and paced around my seat while stroking his hair.  “In all the years I’ve led this country, I’ve never allowed a single person to make a decision for themselves.  Do you know why that is?”
“No,” I replied.
“Because when people make their own decisions it leads to chaos- wars, riots, how do you think these things are started?”
My computerized shackles squeezed my wrists so hard my hands were slowly turning purple.  “I like to think that chaos is started by ignorant controlling pricks like you,” I retorted.  “It helps me sleep at night- less guilt, you know?”
“I cannot allow one of my citizens be the cause of nationwide turmoil under my jurisdiction,” Mr. Califord answered.
I closed my eyes and a wave of adrenaline surged through me.  “I’m curious,” I began.  “What’s it like for one to use their entire vocabulary in a single sentence?”
Mr. Califord smiled and the door behind me swung open.  A rush of fleeting footsteps echoed around the office and two armored guards forced out of my seat.  They grabbed my hair and forced me to my knees.  
“Make it snappy,” Mr. Califord said.  “I want a nice clean head shot- no bloodstains on my new rug.”
A sick feeling pumped through my stomach and I immediately knew Mr. Califord would have a lot more to clean up than bloodstains.
“Say goodbye,” one of the guards smiled.
“Go to hell,” I replied.
Mr. Califord turned his back as the series of bullets met my chest.  Some headshot.

Monday, November 3, 2014

A Horror Story

*A small disclaimer* 
This story was written for my creative writing class in less than two hours, so if it's not "literary enough" for you or any of that crap, don't read it.  It's meant to be a sort of nonsensical essay in the spirit of Halloween, so don't take it too seriously.

Our Jetta pulled into the empty gift shop parking lot in a series of sharp screeches and engine bursts. A nice weekend hunting trip would be just the thing to take our minds off the stress of school and work, not to mention give our family some quality time to spend hiking and hunting together.  As we came to a stop, my dad swiveled in his chair excitedly.

“Who wants souvenirs?” he asked.

Janice excitedly raised her hand and exclaimed “Me, me! Oh, pick me!”

Our dad laughed and beckoned for both of us to follow him inside. As we perused
the racks of animal skins and outdoor equipment, I settled on a long, jagged hunting knife and a leather pouch to carry it in. Janice came skipping eagerly around the corner and looked down at my knife curiously.

“What’s that?” she asked.

I revealed the blade from its pouch and displayed it to Janice. “This is a hunting knife,” I said. 
“You only use it for skinning animals.”

“What’s skinning animals?” she asked.

“Well first you take the knife and you stab it into the animal like this,” I said, motioning in the air, “and then you drag the knife across the stomach really quickly. You then can use that opening to cut all the animal’s skin off.”

“What happens to the skin?” Janice asked, her eyes wide with fascination. “You make it into pillows and put it on your couches,” I replied.

“Cool!” she exclaimed as she ran off animatedly.

We bought our souvenirs and climbed back in the car. “How much longer?” Janice asked as we pulled out of the parking lot.

“Longer,” dad replied. “We have to drive up a dirt road for a while and then we’ll be there.”

Our jetta creeped up the long winding dirt road and the engine roared in protest as we came to a lurching stop in front of an enormous cabin dwarfed only by the enormous pine trees reaching towards the starry night sky. Janice jumped out of the car and ran towards the front door.

“Slow down, Janice!” dad shouted. “The ground here’s rocky and uneven. You could fall!”

Janice turned around giggling, the moonlight casting an eerie halo around her black hair. Dad popped the car trunk open. I heaved my sleeping bag and pillow out of the trunk and dad pulled out his hunting rifle. “You girls go straight to bed,” he said. “We’re gonna have an early start tomorrow if we wanna catch those deer.”

“Are we gonna skin them?” Janice asked as she twirled and skipped around the front porch.

“I’ll take care of that,” dad replied. “Little girls shouldn’t be skinning animals at your age. You could easily lose a finger.”

A defeated look crossed Janice’s face, but soon got pushed aside. Dad unlocked the cabin’s front door and light leaked out onto the porch. “That’s weird,” dad said. “The lights are already on.”

But none of us noticed. The drive to the cabin had exhausted all of us, and Janice and I gratefully piled in the queen size bed tucked away in a roomy bedroom at the end of a dark hallway. We fell asleep to the sound of trees in the wind and branches scratching softly against our window.

When morning arrived, dad ran into our room and yanked the sheets off the bed. “Rise and shine!” he exclaimed as we hopped out of bed eagerly. “It’s hunting time.”

We walked for a few minutes and arrived at the edge of a dense forest. “Everyone have their things?” dad asked. Janice and I nodded simultaneously as I readjusted my backpack stuffed with blankets, trail mix, and my beloved hunting knife. Dad led the way as we walked through the forest on a well-worn path up hills, beside streams, and through meadows.

Janice glanced around anxiously. “Are we gonna see any bears here?” she asked.

Dad shook his head, dismissing the idea. “No honey, bears aren’t found in this part of the Wyoming.”

Janice turned towards me with desperate eyes. “Sis, are we gonna see any bears today?”

I shook my head and closed my eyes “No, we’re not. Relax Janice,” I laughed as we continued up the trail. The path began to slope and the trees started thinning out as we climbed up the trail.

“I learned a song in school last week,” Janice declared. Dad nodded. “That’s nice, honey, how does it go?”

“No bears are out tonight, daddy shot them all last night.” she sang.

“That’s not much of a song,” I retorted.

“It’s for a game,” she replied. “It’s really fun. Everyone goes and hides, and the
seeker sings that song, and then looks for them. Once they’re found, they chase the seeker back to base.”

“Mmhmm,” I muttered as we continued up the trail.

“I’m tired,” Janice sighed as she sat down on the ground decisively. We had been walking for a little over an hour, so we stopped for a short snack break. As soon as we started walking again Janice insisted on carrying my backpack for me because hers was “too heavy,” but soon after we switched bags again.

As the day came to a close, and the sun cast a red glow over the whole forest, dad rolled out our sleeping bags next to each other and proudly hung our prizes from a nearby tree; two ducks and a full-grown deer.

“Daddy can I please help skin the deer?” Janice implored.

“Absolutely not,” he replied. “A seven year old shouldn’t be handling knives. It’s extremely dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes. If dad didn’t want Janice to be in any “dangerous situations,” why’d he invite her to come along on our hunting trip in the first place? I curled up in my sleeping bag and watched as my dad skinned the deer in the distance, Janice skipping around and picking up branches.

“Alright, time for all of us to go to bed,” dad announced. The forest was a deep, rich black now, and there were no stars in the sky. Wolves cried in the distance and the constant chirp of crickets surrounded us on all sides.

“But daddy,” Janice complained.

“Now,” he said pointing to her sleeping bag. I pulled my backpack to my chest, trying to ignore the sound of the distant animals, but eventually drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I awoke with a start. I had grown used to the distant sound of animals, but the laughing and singing of what sounded like a child was a different story. The voice was far off, and if you weren’t listening for it, you may not have heard it at all. The voice was playful and high-pitched, a little too familiar for comfort.

“No bears are out tonight, daddy shot them all last night,” it sang. I shot out of my sleeping bag and knelt next to my dad’s sleeping bag. It was completely still and smelled like dead animals.

“Daddy,” I pleaded. “Did you hear that?” No answer. I shook his shoulders quickly. My heartbeat felt louder than a gunshot. “Daddy,” I whispered as I rolled him over. His eyes were glued shut, his cold hands frozen and still. “Wake up!” I exclaimed desperately.

“No bears are out tonight, daddy shot them all last night,” the voice teased, but this time, a little louder.

I swore under my breath and ran back to my sleeping bag. Janice was gone. My heart was beating a mile a minute as I ripped open my backpack searching frantically for my hunting knife. “Where is it?” I exclaimed.

“No bears are out tonight, daddy shot them all last night.”

The knife was gone.

I tossed my backpack aside and stumbled behind a tree hidden in the shadows.

My sobs were barely heard over the sound of leaves brushing against each other and the distant giggles.

“Where are you?” it exclaimed mockingly.

I covered my mouth and curled up in a ball. What happened to Janice? What would happen to my dad? What would happen to me?

I heard the sound of twigs snap in back of me and I slowly turned my head. Janice stood before me clutching my hunting knife, giggling inhumanly. “Found you,” she said.

It took dad many years to get over the death of his daughter, and although her murder was anything but natural, her death was dismissed by policemen as a casualty of the hunting in 

Wyoming, a victim to the sparsely situated grizzly bears in the area. The police officers never found Janice’s bloody hunting knife, or the broken twigs around the crime scene. They also never noticed the caucasian colored pillows sitting in Janice’s house for the many years to come. 

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

An Interesting Piece of Footwear

So my fabulous bestie, Lauren Reinecke approached me during school and asked me to paint a pair of plain converse she bought the other day.  I was so excited that I was jumping up and down for like 5 years.

Oh hello!  My face is in this picture.  I apologize in advance.

The rose on the heel is my favorite thing I've drawn so far.  It was also the hardest.

That's all I've done so far.  I've only finished one shoe, so this will probably be a two-part post.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

A 100% Accurate Summary of the Twilight Saga

. . . I don't know how this happened, but somehow in one day I have started and finished the first book in the Twilight Saga, cleverly named "Twilight."  I have hit my absolute rock-bottom, and have decided to blog about it.

A Summary and Review of Twilight

Bella Swan, literally translating to "Beautiful Swan" (good one, Meyer), moves to the rainy town of Forks, and the whining starts on page 1.  Within the first 10 pages, Bella proves herself as an ungrateful, demanding, self-pitying little jerk.  She is completely and utterly obsessed with high school, and is 0% (I rounded up) grounded to anything other than impressing her "inferior" classmates."  Speaking of classmates, Stephanie Meyer has absolutely no idea what it's like to be a new student somewhere.  Bella's classmates's reaction to her moving in can be summed up simply; "OMG A NEW STUDENT.  EVERYBODY LOOK AT HER AND BASK IN HER SUPERIORNESS!!"  She is immediately adored by everybody in the school except for the Cullens; a pale, straight-laced, immortally stuffy family, who's kids- in the midst of their powers and unlimited years of life- choose to re-live high school for over 100 years.  Bella and Edward fall in love within 30 pages, most of which is spent in Bella's puny brain, debating "Does he like me?  Does he hate me?  Do I like him?  Why does he hate me?" which goes on and ON and ON.  Oh yeah, and I also love how much of an insensitive twat Bella is to her male classmates (other than Edward) that show affection for Bella in genuinely non-creepy ways (such as breaking into Bella's house to watch her sleep).  Two-thirds of this book is spent with Bella floundering around in her pathetic emotions, and the plot shows up in the last 50 pages, when an EVIL vampire named James wants to eat Bella (he's my favorite character).

There is no redeeming quality in this book, except perhaps the fact that it sucks the reader in, forcing them to finish it in a single day *cough cough.*  Meyer writes Twilight as if the reader has a brain the size of her writing-talent, telling them every little detail of what happens inside each character's mind.  She doesn't leave any room for mystery, suspense, or intrigue.  The characters walk around like they have sticks up uncomfortable places, and have cut-out and dried personalities.  Not to mention stereotypical.  It's sad that the author obviously wanted Bella to be a strong female character, but instead, makes her totally useless.  Her "love" with Edward literally consists of them staring into each other's eyes all day arguing about who's prettier (I swear I'm not making this up).

Twilight should be rotting on some smart publisher's desk with a pile of rejection letters, instead of being compared to Harry Potter and literally gaining the title "THE GREATEST NOVEL SINCE PRIDE AND PREJUDICE."  No.  Just no.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Are We Famous Yet??

In case you didn't know, I'm in a ska band called "Phat Rabbit."  We're pretty swag, and we've uploaded our first music video to YouTube so you should watch it and press the like button.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Just An Update

Remember that painting I said I'd never finish? I finished it and framed it.

Photobooth flipped it, so just picture it the other way or something.

I'm now working on a painting of this whimsical-looking portrait thing.  I can't really describe it.  Patience young Padawan learner.  You shall see it soon.

Friday, May 9, 2014

This Post Will Suck

I searched up my blog on Google images.  I'm quite pleased with the results.

Look at all these completely normal images!  

Anyways, I was just scrolling through my blog's pictures like a sexy person, when. . .

One of these is not like the others. 




I luv your blog, Audrey  ;)

This is probably the crappiest post I've ever made.  I was gonna talk about something interesting like aliens or the zombie apocalypse, but the soul of a conceited celebrity possessed me and demanded that I google myself.

To make this post slightly more educational and over-all more socially acceptable, I'm going to rant about the most stressful things the universe has imposed on the human race.

 AP tests.

I have a human geography AP test coming up really soon, and I'm already counting the days.  As of this second, there are only 4 more days, 14 hours, 39 minutes, and 11 more seconds until my brain graphically squeezes every molecule of knowledge from itself and spits it down on a paper filled with words like demographic transition, multiple nuclei model, urbanization, and agglomeration.  

Literally everything I've learned this year has lead up to this single test.  If I bomb it, every particle of hope I struggled to build up over this year will be crushed to smithereens like a fat 6-year-old kid in his 12 year old sister's leggings.

Even though like all of 1st quarter I either sat at my chair like. . .

(click on the gif if it doesn't work)

. . . I actually learned a crap ton of things from that class and I will be seriously pissed if I don't pass the test.

Long story short, I've read the AP textbook like two times, reviewed all my tests and free response questions nightly, researched problems in Afghanistan and other places on YouTube, invested in another AP textbook, done practice tests, memorized all the vocabulary, and I still feel like I'm not ready.  Basically what I'm saying is no matter how long I study, an ominous feeling of "I'm screwed" will always be in the back of my mind.

I think I should go back to studying.

Monday, May 5, 2014

20 Interesting Childhood Confessions

#1:  I was part of the "Boys Only" club in 2nd grade.

#2:  At summer camp I snuck out of my tent at 5:30 in the morning and jumped into a frozen-over lake because I was bored.

#3:  I had a reading competition with an illiterate kid to see who could finish the Harry Potter series first.  For what it's worth, I won.

#4:  There was a boy in my 1st grade class named Boomer.  I stole every piece of art he ever made.  I still have them.

#5:  There was this boy in my 1st grade class named Shaun.  I punched him in the nose because his face really bugged me.

#6:  I wore a clear "My Little Pony" backpack to school every day in first grade day just to show off my toy pony collection.

#7:  I used to climb on top of our neighbor's roof and pretend I was a secret agent.

#8:  I got falsely accused for cheating on a test in 4th grade and didn't even try to defend myself because I thought it was funny when the teacher was mad at me.

#9:  I told a kid to strangle Sara Williams, and he did.  He put her in a headlock.  I think she has problems breathing now.

#10:  On my 11th birthday, when I didn't get my Hogwarts Acceptance Letter, I cried.

#11:  I can actually understand lots of Korean.

#12:  I was bored in the middle of the night, so I snuck out of bed and covered my cousin in shaving cream while he was asleep.

#13:  I stuck gum in my mom's hair because I had an impulse to do so.

#14:  My old orchestra teacher used to hold meetings after school to discuss how he could keep my friends and I under control.

#15:  I used to have a Bob The Builder shrine in my closet.

#16:  One time I fainted because someone hugged me.

#17:  Actually, I fainted because I went on a candy-eating-rampage, and devoured everything within reach.  After I ate all the candy, I started spooning sugar into my mouth because I was hungry.  Then I hugged someone, and that's just when I happened to faint.

#18:  I hiccup like a dying mountain-man.

#19:  Sometimes I call my friends the names of fictional characters.  (Sorry Damaris)

#20:  Because I never got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts, I proceeded to learn all the classes myself.  I can now read Ancient Runes, know how to brew a Draught of Living Death, and know practically every spell in existence. I'm really proud of that fact.

Friday, May 2, 2014

Things That Annoy Me

This post is heavily inspired by this girl, so before I get arrested and thrown in a torture chamber for violating a bunch of copyright crap, visit her link.

Anyways, here are the things everyone does that annoy me to the point of no return.

1.  When teachers don't erase the board completely.

2.  When people have the literary ability of a toddler, and volunteer to read aloud in class.

3.  When I open a DVD case and a different movie is in there.



5.  When you ask someone a simple, trivial question, and they ramble on and on about everything BUT what you asked them about.

6.  When people say "What's up?"  (I never know what to say back to them.)

Me on the outside

Me on the inside

7.  When I have an itch on the bottom of my foot, but can't itch it because I have a shoe on.

8.  Couples that say, "We're pregnant."  No, sir.  You don't have a uterus.  Your wife does.

9.  People who don't clear the microwave numbers after they're done.

Credit for photos:

Oh!  And on a completely unrelated note, I saw Spiderman 2 today, and it was seriously mind-blowing and amazing on so many levels.  I highly suggest you go see it and we can become best friends for ever!!

Monday, April 28, 2014

So Apparently You Can Earn Money From Doing Art

Recently, some pregnant lady tracked down the Kimball Art Center and asked them, "I need a pretty good painter to paint a wall in my baby's future room for me.  Can you find someone?"  So the Kimball Art Center hunted me down and told me about her request.

I was about to turn them down. . . until I found out the reward was like 300 dollars!  Considering I've never even held that much cash in my life, I was like, "HECK YES!"

I went to her house and found out that she wanted a very specific Buddhist mural on her wall, consisting of a bunch of animals piling on top of each other trying to reach a fruit tree.

So without further ado, these are the steps I took in painting the room.  No, I do not recommend this process.  To anyone.

Step 1
Buy, borrow, or steal the proper supplies.

(I got mine off the black market)

Step 2
Brainstorm Stuff (aka: derp around on the interwebs)
I don't know much about Buddhist culture, so I had to look at tons of Buddhist art to finally feel like I knew what I was doing.

Step 3
Drawing Blah Blah Blehhh
Next I just drew a crap-ton of stuff that had to do with what the customer wanted.  Eventually I came up with something decent.

Finished, but extremely creepy.

Not finished, but good enough.

Step 4
Walk freaking 2 miles to the customer's house after being beaten-the-crap-out-of at track practice.

Step 5
Tell the customer you usually don't smell like this.

Step 6
Actually start the painting!  But first, draw it on the wall!

Step 7
Psych!  You drew it too small!  Redo the whole thing!

Step 8
Cover it with paint.  It never happened.

Step 9
Redraw it...the correct size.

Step 10
Actually start painting it (while remembering to take pictures of the steps).

(I kinda forgot to take pictures of a couple steps, if you haven't noticed)

Yay! Finally freaking done!

Step 11
Collect your well earned reward.

Phase one of my mission: Take Over The World, is now in progress.

Master has given Dobby money!  Dobby does not know what this so-called-money is!  They're simply green papers!  This mysterious substance can get you objects from these things called stores?  Dobby is confused!  WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS?

Friday, April 11, 2014

My Photorealism Attempt (part 1)

I feel like I haven't been posting about art as much as I should be, so here's an "artsy" post for all you people out there who wonder what my blog's theme is even about.

I have been completely and utterly obsessed with the "photorealistic" style of art since I saw examples of it for sale last year at the Park Silly Sunday Market.  Since then I've made it my life goal to successfully complete a photorealistic drawing.

If you don't know what photorealism is, allow me to enlighten you be showing some examples.




As hard as it is to believe, those are all pencil drawings.

So yeah, that's it.  Basically, Photorealism is when you draw so well, and pay so much attention to detail that your finished drawing looks just like a freaking photograph.  Also, if you're an aspiring artist, the quickest way to completely demolish your self esteem is to look at Photorealism examples.

I had some extra time over the weekend (big surprise, right?), so I decided to attempt to draw a photorealistic picture of one of the most amazing villains of all time: Loki!

Here are the steps I took in making it:

Step 1:

Step 2:

Step 2 (still):

I really don't feel like finishing it tonight because it's freaking late and I'm having a brain fart and can't focus on anything for more than a nanosecond.  I'll finish it next week and give you an update on how it goes, because I am freaking excited to work on it.

Friday, April 4, 2014

How To Have A Completely Mediocre Day

I hereby present a 100% accurate step-by-step guide for your day.  This guide is heavily inspired by my own life, considering I follow like every step in this post daily.  I can't promise you'll have a great day using this guide, but I can promise you'll get through it.

Step 1:

Get up at an ungodly hour for school, and reason yourself out of trying to look halfway decent because you need more sleep.

Step 2:

Fall back asleep on the bus, or actually officially wake up by listening to awesome music.

Option 1

Option 2

Step 3:

Sleep during 1st period.

Step 4:

Educate yourself, you uncultured swine.

Step 5:

Avoid human interaction at all costs.

Please don't talk to me.  Please don't
talk to me. . .

Step 6:

Walk home, proceed to text, stuff your face, sleep, and listen to music all at the same time.

(Probably the most attractive picture I've ever drawn of myself)

Step 7:

Realize you have assignments due the next day, and proceed to work on them at like 11:00 pm.

(Getting nothing done because internet.  That's

Step 8:

Repeat.  Or don't.  That's cool too.  You'd probably have a better day anyways.