I’m still a noob, though I have to say I’m pretty happy with the result. :D

In total, this took 6 hours to complete, including dinner and toilet breaks. ;)

I can finally sleep well tonight. XD

Resized for your convenience.

It’s also the Penafrancia Festival here in Naga City, and there are sooo many strangers in the vicinity. I think mom’s going to cook a little something tomorrow. :D Golly, but I do love her Maja.

Have a great weekend!

It’ll be fun, they said.

YES. It WAS fun. But very sad at the same time.

I even almost cried while doing this very very short comic.

And though it’s not written, like, you know.

Written… It’s still something I did.

Okay. Off to it.

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3 hours spent averagely wisely. XD

I might sound bitter, and though I can relate with the story… :)

This was inspired by the lyrics of this video. (<< Click to view!)

Hahaha. The washed-out girl on the top right is still very visible. Hmm.

For this entry/challenge/homework, we were given two photos/artworks to choose to write about, and I chose an artwork by David Wyatt:

 Before I decided on my topic, I asked myself, “What do you see?” Well, there’s the obvious: jellyfish floating around, a few people by the entrance of the shipwreck, the rays of light from above and of course, the wreckage itself.

Another striking detail about this artwork is the fact that if this is really an underwater wreck, those people by the entrance should be having a hard time keeping their feet on the ground. Though an argument about its being in a cave of some sort may also be valid for a few reasons, the floating jellyfish contradict it.

But no one’s really interested in what they see. Most people long to know what is going on behind the scenes. As for this image, I wanted to cook up a story about the goings-on inside the shipwreck – if there are bodies, gold, hints of its past grandeur, and most importantly, if there are creatures who have made it their fortress. However, the story I have in mind isn’t short, and it would probably take me a week just to edit the first two chapters.

So, I just made a drawing to explain my thoughts on what lurks inside the ship.

Yes. Mermaids are so cliché. But what can you do about it? It was the first creature that popped into my head when I saw the the shipwreck, and the presence of those people by the entrance inspired her pose and placement. I’ve always thought of mermaids as confident and beautiful creatures of the sea, but this time, I wanted to contradict it somehow. How awesome would it be to know that mermaids (or “mer-people” to be less gender-biased) were actually afraid of humans?

Now that I mention fear, is it true that what we fear the most is what we actually long to learn more about? Take the mermaids for example. If it is true that they are feared by sailors, would our interest in them lessen if it was vice-versa? Would we want to know about mermaids if they were afraid of us? How about sharks? Would we really be interested in placing them on the cover of magazines (like The National Geographic) if we weren’t concerned enough about what they could do to us?

Going back to the artwork, I can think of a few more things to point out, but doing so would lead me into a longer post – and that is plainly going against my plans for this challenge. :)

Until next time, dear readers.

These past few days, I’ve been experiencing everything. Yes, everything. I didn’t know if I should cry or laugh, pity myself or get angry. I felt like every emotion a person could feel was placed upon me like a burden. Love isn’t an emotion, so no jokes there.

I got sick, both physical and emotional, and had to stay at home for my afternoon class period (which turned out to be a double bummer).

But enough of that.

I am now doing okay, if it pleases you to know, and am regaining zest for life. Aside from prayer and medicine, I managed to get myself together through drawing this:

Messy, but it speaks for the chaos my mind was going through. Not that I’ve ever done really clean art with this style, though I’ve attempted a few times.

I felt hot (not the hot hot) during my sickness, and I guess I needed to release it through her fiery hair. Even her eyes seems sickly now that I see it with a clear enough mind.

And yes, many anatomical errors here. Many areas for criticism – take your pick.

Well, I hope this post isn’t depressing for those who’re caring enough to read it. :) GTG. Lots more projects to finish.

It’s an insect.

It has wings.

(Some can fly, but others can’t.

The flying ones are the scariest.)

It’s not “good-looking” but get more screaming girls than Coco Martin on Walang Hanggan.

It cause catastrophic events such as preventing someone in particular to go to the toilet and get relief.

WHAT IS IT?

Answer: Yes, it’s a roach.

As a tribute to my “best” (ehemm) friend, Mr. Roach, here are some fascinating facts to further spark your interest (again, ehemm) on this “marvelous” insect. (Someone pass me a bucket! *pukes*)

1. Cockroaches can eat just about anything, and can survive without food for long periods of time.

2. Cockroaches like to be touched. (SERIOUSLY?! That is like, the WEIRDEST fact EVER.)

3. Cockroaches can live for weeks without their heads.

4. Cockroaches can be conditioned, just like Pavlov’s dogs. (REALLY?!)

(source: http://insects.about.com/od/roachesandmantids/a/10-Facts-About-Cockroaches.htm)

I don’t know about you guys, but no matter how awesome cockroaches are, I wouldn’t want to see them all over the place, especially in toilets, bedrooms, and kitchens. I still believe them to be dirty no matter how other sites/books explain it (no offence, Mr. Roach) and I don’t think my view about them will change. Most people aren’t afraid of it, but they are disgusted, and anything disgusting is best avoided.

So thank you, roach experts, but no thank you!

Other thoughts : If roaches can be trained or conditioned… perhaps I’ll befriend one of them and appoint him as general. Then again, I;d have to get over my fear of them first! Ugh, eww!

It’s rare for someone to forget a childhood filled with laughter, and encouragement, but when one does, where does he/she go from there? What if that person remembers the past, but only connects with the dark moments of infancy?

——————–

Memories are harder to bear than the reminder of scars left from painful experiences. A single word can trigger a train of memories carefully hidden at the back of the mind, accessible only when one chooses to evaluate his/her life.

——————–

“Furries” are the creeps. They wait until one is at his/her weakest and when the moment comes, they put their plan into action, unleashing destruction (such as messing up the floor and finding relief just outside the door) in all places possible. They force their owners to care for them, when somewhere in a different wavelength and dimension, they are laughing at the humans’ gullibility.

——————–

“Screw the rules, I have money!” ~Yu-Gi-Oh Abridged

We are at our darkest moments. Times when speaking nonsense and cursing at people for no reason is acceptable. Days when stealing from a neighbor is okay but borrowing money is something shameful. How did we come to this? Is it truly the natural evolution of man? Are we destined to become *diots even if we try not to be one?

It’s like saying, “Screw the government, I’m bored.”

(Though I much prefer this statement from the first one.)

——————–

Embrace childhood like you would a stuffed toy. Care for it like you would fragile china, but let it go as soon as your hands become too rough to touch it.

Prompt/Inspiration from here.

Read my ideas here. :D

Thanks for appreciating!

Me – pouring out my boredom through drawing during the final 30 minutes or so before lunch break. Happens every time! Do you guys get bored too, whenever you know something is about to end? Do you perhaps lose interest in listening?

Or am I the only one? *gasp*

for there summer 2010 promo… Limited Edition PINK DOLPHIN pieces available soon…

“So where are you going?”

“I need to find another wizard, one who isn’t trying to kill me. I don’t know how, really, but I thought I’d start by going to Alvin Todd’s house and poking around.”

“You don’t want to do that,” said a voice that seemed to be coming from just outside Nan’s second-story window. Both girls jumped to their feet.

The window was open slightly; a pair of hands pushed it open more, and a scruffy-looking white boy leaned forward and rested his chin on the sill.

“If I might offer my services?”

The boy, about 17 or 18, was blond and good-looking and smiling broadly at them. He had a strong jaw and blue eyes and the general look of an unshaven Hollywood heartthrob, except that his nose seemed to be partly sideways.

“Who are you?” Edie said.

“I am the mysterious hero in the dark cloak who will be rescuing you this evening.” He pushed the window open further and climbed in. He was indeed wearing a dark cloak, a rather tired-looking one, over jeans and a t-shirt and leather lace-up boots. He bowed.

Ah. Hmm.

Yeah I don’t really know what to say.

(Alvin?)

Remember yesterday when I mentioned the novel I had worked on for 5 years and then trunked? (to trunk=writertalk for “to put away and never look at again because oh god what was I thinking?”)

This is from one of the versions of that. Our hero is 15-year-old Joanna.

When Jo awoke, her bus seemed to be somewhere in Southern California, or possibly Arizona. The scenery was extremely monotonous, all sagebrush and desert and boredom. She fiddled with her cd player for a few minutes, discovered that it was out of batteries, and banished it to her backpack on the next seat. Having nothing better to do, she scrunched her jacket against the window and tried to go back to sleep.

Directly behind her, the baby who had gotten on the bus in Albequerque with its mother began crying again. The mother tried unsuccessfully to shush it. Jo heard her fiddling with bags and such, then a few seconds later something hit the back of Jo’s foot. She discovered a bottle on the floor under her. She picked it up and got to her knees on the seat, turning to hand it back.

“Thank you,” said the very flustered-looking woman behind her. She looked like she was in her early twenties, with a pleasant plumpness and tired eyes. She held the baby—maybe six or seven months old—awkwardly, as though she weren’t used to babies. When she tried to take the bottle from Jo, the baby let out a shriek and grabbed the woman’s face.

dun dun DUN!

Tune in next when—the baby grabs the woman’s BOOB!

No but seriously. I swear I write much better now. Sometimes I even change the order of verbs and nouns in my sentences! And, like, actual interesting things happen. Really.

Also, CD player? Haha oh grace how quaint.