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Life is just like a Boat

And no, I don't mean the song. I mean literally: this is Phillip updatin' from a cruise ship in the Baltic Sea, currently on my way to Stockholm! WEWT.

If you didn't know, this week was (well, [i]is[/i], to be exact)my senior year trip. Thus, we got plane tickets and got to spend a week in Helsinki, Tallin and Stockholm, in this order. Only the last one left. ^O^ It has been loads of fun so far, have taken loads of pictures... ah well. I'll talk to ye all again on Saturday most likely. So yeah, just a petite update because I simply have nothing to do and couldn't just sit idly about. XD;

Major crisis, though. I forgot my notebook at home. ;; In other words, I haven't been able to write at all, and to make it worse, my imagination has been running wild these past days (I blame the medieval-ish setting of Tallin). I hope I can get my hands on one soon...

Ciao everyone. Next update: Saturday. With bonus pictures, too!

Bittersweet SPICE!

I was dared to make lyrics to this song. I don't back down on challenges. Needless to say, content is highly controversial.

Read them at your own discretion...Collapse )

GIVE A CLEAR SHOUT!!

HOLIDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYS!!!

Well, technically, they've started since last Friday, but who's counting anyways? =P And I technically still have exams next week, but... I digress. HOLIDAYS. FINALLY. PRAISE EVERY LIVING BEING ON THIS UNIVERSE AND ALL OF THOSE PARALLEL TO IT.

Yes, pretty much a pointless post. But, alas, May was a very busy month and I needed an excuse to post something. Tee-hee.


.:| The Loser Has to Fall |:.

A direct response to A Tal Rapariga. Please note that both that blog and my response are in Portuguese - so don't get shocked too much. XD;

--

 

Por vezes, estando deitado, descalço, com a minha cabeça sobre as minhas almofadas de um padrão algo antiquado que alterna entre um azul murcho e um cinzento que no passado havia deslumbrado com a sua brancura, ponho-me a pensar. Apesar de os meus olhos mirarem o tecto, não admiram o branco que este em tempos tivera - encontram-se longe, assim como a minha mente, em assuntos que não deviam ser tocados. Segredos do passado que me atormentam, inseguranças do futuro que se aproxima. Não sou de chorar, nunca o fui. Não porque chorar não é masculino, porque não tenho quaisquer pretensões em relação a isso, mas simplesmente porque não sou capaz. Há quem jorre torrentes de lágrimas quando está infeliz, quando a vida lhes vira as costas;  eu mantenho-me pelo vago silêncio nos meu recanto, escondido do resto do mundo enquanto tento esquecer. Esquecer a dor, o sofrimento, a realidade dura e fria que me espera cada vez que abro os olhos. Um infindável número de questões passam pela minha cabeça. Porquê? Porquê eu? Que fiz eu para merecer isto? Fui educado correctamente, aprendi a ser cortês, agradável, simpático, a ser um ombro amigo, um pilar de força, mas pergunto-me de que serve quando não fui ensinado a desconfiar? Dizem-me que fui dotado com inteligência e esperteza à nascença, mas questiono-me onde estão estas habilidades, se o Homem me engana com as suas façanhas, perdoem-me o inglês, time and time again?

The winner takes it all
. Creio que é disto que se trata. Invejo a tua frialdade, a maneira como me descartaste, como uma carta desnecessária para ganhar o jogo; como uma peça de xadrez pouco importante... como um peão, que só serve de maneira a que as peças de real importância alcancem o objectivo. Talvez tenhas razão: não possuo nenhum atributo especial. Sou feio, de uma estatura demasiado rotunda e com fisionomia ruim. Não possuo a habilidade de seduzir nem fisicamente nem com palavras. Não sou avantajado economicamente de modo a comprar a jóia mais cara e rematar a dizer que és mais preciosa que esta. Não sou de gostos particularmente habituais, sendo fanático pela cultura japonesa e tudo o que se relaciona com esta e ter uma mente presa à fantasia. Talvez aí estejas certa, eu não sou um bom parceiro, uma boa cara-metade: faltam-me todas estas características para te fazer feliz; talvez tenha eu toda a culpa, por ser incapaz de ser melhor, de ser perfeito como tu desejas. Se eu fosse capaz, estar-me-iam a escorregar, cristalinas e puras, pequenas lágrimas de estes olhos pouco interessantes. As lágrimas de um perdedor. E eu bem sei... the loser has to fall.

Apesar de triste, é simples, é factual. Porque é que devia eu protestar, afirmar que não pode ser assim? Devia calar-me, cingir-me ao silêncio costumeiro, ao desespero da minha dor e solidão. E apesar de me lamuriar, por não ser aquele jovem fisicamente apelativo que aparece nas capas de revistas após inúmeras plásticas, ou aquele novo-rico que pode comprar uma mansão nas Caraíbas mas não o amor de quem realmente importa, ou mesmo aquele falso amante que fala muito mas diz pouco, não há nada que possa fazer. Não vale a pena amaldiçoar os céus por quem sou, pois os dados já foram lançados, e há quem fique simplesmente a perder nesta vida. Devia simplesmente acenar que sim, aceitar que há quem tenha mais sorte, que, com um sorriso amarelo que é capaz de deslumbrar os demais, consegue vencer este jogo que todos jogamos; aceitar que há simplesmente pessoas que como eu, foram criadas para perder.

...Mas não sou capaz. Pois antes de perdedor, eu sou um ser humano.

Levanto-me bruscamente da cama nesses momentos, calço as meias que havia usado umas horas antes e os meus sapatos favoritos, de uma combinação de castanho claro e escuro bem delineados entre si, agarro no meu porta-chaves e saio porta fora, recomeçar de novo. Não, não sou o modelo, o rico ou o romântico. Eu sou simplesmente eu, com todos os meus defeitos e qualidades, e não devias pedir mais de mim. Sim, não sou o perfeito que queres, mas, citando as palavras de um amigo meu, sou perfeito na minha imperfeição; tu é que não reparaste, envolta nesse teu véu de futilidade e ignorância. Posso não ser fisicamente esbelto nem ter nenhum atributo invejável, mas sei que tenho muito para dar. Posso não ser capaz de seduzir e fazer comentários pouco civilizados em relação à tua pessoa, mas pelo menos digo-te quanto te amo de uma maneira honesta e simples. Posso não te dar a jóia mais cara, mas sou capaz de te dar a lua, se tu o desejares. Posso não ter os gostos mais habituais, mas por ti era capaz de ouvir ou ler o que quisesses, desde que o partilhássemos juntos. Tu é que falhaste em ver que o peão, apesar de o mais simples e sem interesse, pode-se transformar numa torre, num bispo, numa rainha, e dar a volta ao jogo que parece estar sem solução.

O nosso romance acabou, e apesar de ainda me doer muito, sei que é passado. Já dissemos tudo o que havia a dizer, já jogámos todas as cartas. Pergunto-me só. Quem falhou neste amor?

Bem sei que the winner takes it all... mas quem é realmente o vencedor?

.:| Venom |:.

I sense there's something in the wind, a tragic omen befalling upon myself. I can already feel it; my flesh, my own soul already trembles at the mere thought of it. I try to escape impeding disaster, yet my legs simply don't obey: my muscles are tense and dare not budge, as I stand paralyzed, frozen by this force I cannot comprehend. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out of it. Only silence, nothingness awaits me as this venom seeps through the corners of my mind, the essence of my soul. My cheeks lose their usual paleness to a more tainted, reddish hue; my body becomes numb and my mind starts going blank. A fever rushes through my spine sending me shivers in every limb, yet, surprisingly, my temperature does not raise; my heartbeats become inaccurate, irregular, beating in a frantic motion, yet, surprisingly, the expected death never comes. Confusion, horror, pure terror - for we humans fear what we cannot grasp. And, as to mock my sense of dread, this virus, disease, madness that now runs through my veins takes another step forward, torturing my own existance - a torture so painful, so inhumane that phantoms reality. A sigh parts from my lips. I can already feel it, this darkness that now exists inside me, this illness for what there is no cure, this sickness that renders all men and women insane. And suddenly, it evolves into what I most dreaded... this feeling of wanting to belong, want to be besides another, the once clear barrier between depression and happiness wavering and turning grey, ambiguous... and the frequent sheepish smile plastered on my once serious face, the hesitations and stuttering on my once clear speech, these frequent displays of bizarre behaviours that I once managed to restrain, the independence I once felt now dissolving into this dreadful dependence that I so despise. Puberty? Pheromones? Maybe all, maybe none, but I digress - I simply do not care. All that matters is that I hate feeling so powerless like this, losing my will and sanity for another soul. I hate myself now. I hate the cause of it. I hate this venom, this poison called love.

Notes:  Yeah. Phil does NOT like love. >>;

WOO!

Yeah, I know this post should have been two days ago, but I only went to sleep at a really late hour and then yesterday I was resting all afternoon to recover. (=P) But I digress...

...I FINISHED THE GAME ON TIME. Through a miracle (and me workin' like a bloody slave >>; ), I got it all done and submitted like, three hours before the deadline. Had to do some sacrifices - skipped my composing and analysis classes and only went to bed at 3 AM - but it was done! Fully done! =D

...albeit not tested. But it was the best I could do. <<

Results... will probably be announced in two weeks-to-a month's time. Now all I can do is wait and hope for the best, ne?

On another note, have two completed pieces to put here later today - one very short rant (like those emo ones before) and a more descriptive text. "Venom" and "Today? I prefer Yesterday", respectively.

Alas, am running late for a field trip! Will get a new entry upon return!

Tags:

Status Report!

Woooooooo... my life has been am complete train-wreck these last few days... oh well: status report!

- I officially started working on a game project for a contest - create a 4th Quest for the original Legend of Zelda using the Zelda Classic program. For those who don't know, Zelda Classic is a program that enables you to create quests similar to the original Zelda using a side-program called ZQuest (comes with the package) - but as it's been constantly been updated these last years, you no longer have the Zelda 1 restraints (or most of them). It also allows you to play the original game and all the quests that you create, so it's lots of fun! But, enough rant about that - you'll probably find more info about it on their website - http://www.zeldaclassic.com , or in a fansite for it (with LOADS of resources and an amazing community) - http://www.purezc.com . So yeah, I entered a contest they were hosting for an 'official 4th Quest' to be played after the original quests (and the 3rd Quest created in a past contest)... but the time restraint is hell (due on April 15th), and I still have a lot to do. Wish me luck, everyone!

- My grandfather (from my Dad's side) passed away on the 7th. I'll be making an entry solely for that later, so I won't extend myself much here.

- I finally started working on Tomodachi no Naku Koro Ni again! ;D For those who don't know, Tomodachi is basically a visual novel I'm creating that's incredibly similar to the Higurashi series (thus the title). It's completely fan-made and I don't intend to sell it - it's more of a tribute to the great franchise of the Higurashi (and Umineko) series that I so adore. If you really want to know more about it, just ask and I might make an entry about it.

- Worked a bit on the Vendetta storyline. Vendetta is a RPG group compromised of me and three other friends of mine - it was created when we joined an online game - Land of Fairytales, or Fairyland for short - and has since developed into much more. Also, speaking of Vendetta...

- ...I GOT FAIRYLAND TO WORK AGAIN. WOOO! Now I can get back to playing it... have a lot of catching up to do.

- Was in a call yesterday with a bunch of people. Idle chit-chat, then Karaoke Circle (we all sang some songs one at a time), and finally a mangaread of Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni. I played Keiichi and Tomikake-san, and as it was the first chapters, I got the most lines to do. 8DDDDD It was great fun (even if I can't sound like the characters at all. xD)

- As my family likes to be different, we got together today (the 11th of April) to celebrate Easter instead of tomorrow. TBH, didn't pay people much attention - I just ate dinner, then isolated myself in one of the rooms working on the 4th Quest project. Aunt's dog barked at me quite some times today - she must've been in a bad mood or something. oO;;

...and I guess that's all for now. Probably forgot something or the other, but that's the basic gist of it. The holidays are nearing their end... and I don't wanna go back to school already. ;;;

*sigh* And that's Phil, signing out~

.:| There's No Place Like Home |:.

Tell me. Is the blood, the purest essence of the living that runs through your veins dyed red? Or are you part of the select elite whose crimson color of their life stream is replaced by a more regal, royal aquamarine blue? When we are young, our life is filled with dreams and imagination, a world where everything is possible. Often we’d hear tales of charming, heroic princess and dazzling, strong-willed princesses who, after enduring countless trials of faith, finally achieve their ‘happily ever after’. And then we’d revel in delight whenever the story reached its grand finale, hearing the above quote time and time again – and frequently end up whining with a cute, pleading face for one more before we went to sleep. Such a wonderful experience filled with curiosity, surprise and excitement, dreaming to be who we really want to be, happiness coming from every corner. So, because of that, I just can’t understand people. Why do they change? Why do they relinquish their happiness, their privileged status of infant to seek unhappiness, depression, dark realities that before would frighten us so? I find hard to comprehend the fact that people, not unlike myself, choose to discard this paradisiacal life for the cold, harsh reality of those who deem themselves ‘adults’ – nothing more than deluded children who think everything is either white or black, and that everything must be explained with undeniable proof – that in fact is everything but undeniable.

Even in their stupidy, I guess I could accept their foolhardy decision, though. As the saying goes, ‘to each their own’… if it wasn’t for the fact that besides following love-forsaken ideals in the pursuit of a fake happiness, they force others to stray down the same path as them, oft using emotional blackmail to chain people to vehemently follow their beliefs. I wasn’t spared either, excomungated from my previous status as I came into contact with the ‘Real World’ and all the chaos and sorrow that lied within. My blood is now dyed purple, an outcast not part of either realities and striving to belong somewhere. I know where my heart is leading me, I know what kind I choose, but no matter how much I tear, I sweat, I try to return to my naïveté, it seems so distant and hard to grasp. I was born a dreamer, and nothing can ever change that. And I will forever strive to return to where I belong. For as the saying goes, ‘there’s no place like home’.


Phillip Kendrick -


Notes: This is NOT when I was depressed. I was reflecting about my worries, and this was born. Like the previous text, this prose is filled with analogies. Wonder if you can figure them all. ;D

.:| My Melody |:.

When I was a little kid, I'd often head over to a small piano keyboard my parents bought me and would have fun pressing the various keys. I wasn't well versed in the art. I knew Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, but that was probably as far as my knowledge went. But it was so much fun - I pressed a key and a pure, crystalline, unique sound would come out and tingle my ears. How mystifying it was. I recall spending hours doing what I later learned to be "playing by ear", clapping cheerfully whenever I did something right. And so, I started to study more about my instrument of choice and, through my parents' desire, I was admitted into a prestiged music school to further my studies. But, to be honest... it doesn't matter anymore. I sit in front of my keyboard and find myself sighing, my head hung low as my fingers slide down the keys in order to make music. Maybe therelein lies the problem. Nowadays, all I do is playing songs that I'm forced to learn and then show people, performing like some sort of pet or circus attraction so people can then laugh at you. To me, music has lost all its magic, all its splendor now.

In a way, I think that's just how life is. Before, in my innocence, everything seemed so colorful and bright when all I did was done by my own accord. Heh. Nowadays? That reality is far from the truth, died down as a vague memory forever lost in the corridors of time. The world too has lost its vivid palette as I'm chained down by fear of the future, present and past, chained down by countless responsibilities and realities I never asked for. And as I know more and more about the world I live in, all I feel is but sorrow as I get further disillusioned with all that surrounds me. The world too has lost its charm.

People say that I was just under a veil of naïveté at the time, that I just didn't look closely and was made a fool of. I beg to disagree: feeling so good and always having a smile upon my face, intrigued by every little thing... it could have never been a lie. As such, my mind is set, no matter what others might say, deem or force me: I won't have it anymore. I don't want to play songs made by others and for others. I want to compose my melody, for I know this way the world will become lively again.



Phillip Kendrick -



Notes: Another text I did when I was feeling down. I wasn't as depressed as in the previous one, and I think that shows as well. Also, this text is filled with analogies. Extra points if you figure them all out. ;D

.:| Let me Dream |:.

Tell me... when you look, when I look... is all we see real? Are you sure that what our eyes aprehend is really there to start with? Or... maybe it is all fake? All but a gentle dream, a ghastly nightmare? Truthfully... I'd wager it isn't real. A world so rotten and fake cannot be real. A world without trust, without friendship, people backstabbing one another to achieve sucess; a world whose motto is "to hurt or to be hurt"; a world where cruelty, horror, disgrace, jealousy, an aglomerate of human sins  take form; a world where your deepest wishes and most profound desires are all shattered and cast away as fleeting and unnecessary; a world where the fox's* teachings are forgotten, and instead you're forced to live alone, lonely, trusting none and doubting all, a world where ideals are discarded as a child's illusion and difference is treated as an icky and contagious disease that could easily spread and infect others - and as such should be quickly put down; a world where good intentions are rare and weak, where good deeds are scarce and not without some narcissistic intentions backing them up; a world that chooses misleading over sincere, bastard over gentle, selfish over caring, evil over good. I dare not believe such a world is real - it must all be but an ill-founded nightmare from which I know I'll soon wake up and, in between panting, say 'phew, it was just a bad dream'. I dare not believe such horror can be called reality, for if this truly is reality, then, please, allow me to close my eyes and slowly drift off to sleep. For if this truly is reality, then, please, let me dream forever more.


Phillip Kendrick -


Notes: Basically, a text I wrote when I was severely depressed a few days back. Its format isn't as neat and well kept as it usually is, but I think it gets the feelings across, and in this case, that was the idea. Also, by Fox's teachings, I'm refferring to Le Petit Prince, by Saint-Exhùpery.