Art (16) Aversion (16) Cognition (16) Darkness and Light (7) Family (10) Freestyle (5) Friendship (10) Guilt (9) Happiness (14) High School (3) Inner Shadows (17) Letters (21) Life (25) Lost (16) Love (40) My Quotes (6) Nature (4) Photogrophy (4) Poetry (34) Realization (8) Stories (12) Turmoil (21)

Monday, February 27, 2012

Six Point Two

Why is it like that?
Akala mo, sha na.
Pero, hindi pala.
Akala ko, mahal mo ko.
But, hindi pala.
Hindi ko na akala na, sa lahat nang tao.
Ikow pa.
Bakit ganoon?
Sa lahat nang tao na pweding sabihin yung
manga sinabi mo, ikow pa.
Ang sakit.
Pero, kahit na na oolit, oolit, mo akong sinaktan,
mahal pa rin kita.
Hindi ko ma tatangap kung mabilitahan ko na meron
ka nang ibang mahal.
Sabi mo, parang patay na ko sa iiyo.
Yung teacher ko,
sabi ninya,
"People deal with emotions differently."
Nung na basa ko, na siabi yun,
I never understood why I smiled.
It helped me understand that, in that way, that was my reaction towards fear, pain, and heartache.

Mahal pa rin kita. I don't think na hindi yun mag iiba. Even if I try to kalimotan ka, ikow pa rin. Hindi ko alam kung paano ako mag mabubuhi right now. All I know is yung mana alala natin, nasa puso ko parati.
I'm really sure na sa nayun, you hate me with all your guts.

Hindi ko alam kung bakit kita pa sinusulatan. Alam ko naman na walang qwenta sa yo ito e.
Si gee, goodbye na lang.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Realism Art

I did my best attempting to draw this picture. It is my first time drawing people together. A friend of mine request me to draw a photo of her and her lover. Of course I could not refuse.
Although the values in this drawing is quite uneven, I am still quite proud of how it turned out. It showed me what I am capable of doing. This attempted drawing is only a fraction of what I am able to do. I realize now, there is so much more that I can accomplish. I shouldn't have any doubts in my abilities.

I've always been afraid of making mistakes. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to drawing. Now that I've learned how to judge what makes a well drawn out drawing, I can now easily point out what mistakes I've done.

In someways, it has also helped me evaluate my reactions in certain times. It has taught me how to becoming a better person, and what areas in my life I need to improve.
This drawing, is not merely just a couple. It contains the mistakes, and shades of darkness and lightness in my life. The shaded, and grey tones were the moments from where I felt such confusion, but so much passion. 

The unusual darker tones on the dress and hair was when I was completely out of it and angry. As much as I regret taking it out in the drawing, it has taught me art really does contain a thousand words. I never really understood what people meant when they say the art reflects the artist. Now I do. It's so much more than just the art itself, but the strokes, lines, elusive details, everything about it reflects the artist's emotions, thoughts, feelings, hope, their life.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Manga Drawing: Dengeki Daisy


This is my latest work for right now. I hope you like it!

If you would like to see how I created this drawing, I will also provide a link below to the video.

Manga Drawing: Dengeki Daisy

Monday, December 12, 2011

A Step Towards My Dreams

I've always dreamed of creating a form of art that has never been expressed before. 
I've always dreamed of recreating art into something more exaggerated and mind blowing. 
Ambition has grown deeper as I see successful artists around the world. 
Recognizing that I have at least 1% of hope to reach the stars I've been yearning to touch, I stepped on a space shuttle and headed my way towards what seemed to be the impossible. 
I know that you start everything off slow, and it later on builds up. 
Advice from Mark Crilley, my favorite artist, recommended to build a small audience first. 
Start out small, and then later on explode like the big bang. 
Maybe it's just a dream, or maybe it's these small actions I'm taking right now that will form my life in the future. 
I'll get published. 

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Wendy's Look Book

I'd like to take this time out to share a short story that Wendy posted on her blog. It struck me right into the center of the heart. A flood of distant memories flooded back in my mind when I read it. Memories that I've forgotten. I'm sadden by the fact that I had such memories, but happy to know that I've come far from it now. This is her story:

Two weeks ago, I had the absolute pleasure of attending a fundraiser hosted by David Yurman for P.S. Arts.  Before working with incarcerated youths, I was a volunteer art/science teacher at undeserved elementary schools in the Bay Area for over 4 years.  The moment I read P.S. Arts’ mission, I knew I had to attend the charity event.  In my personal experience as a teacher, I truly believe that creative expressions and art are invaluable to early development.  Children may have difficulty expressing themselves through words, thus having an outlet such as music, drawing, painting, play writing, etc, is crucial for their early communication and cognitive development.  A few years ago, I was working with an 8-year-old boy who was identified as having behavior problems.  Instead of paying attention in class, he lived in a fantasy world.  After spending a couple of weeks with him, I noticed his drawings.  He drew superhero comic characters.  One day I asked, “is that you?”  He replied, “Yup!  I’m a superhero.”  Entertaining him, I continued, “who are you saving?”  My student answered, “my mom from the big guys.”  At that moment, I realized that he was communicating his unhealthy home environment via comic drawings.  I immediately spoke to his primary teacher and expressed my concerns of possible abuse that was happening in his home.  Working with undeserved communities, I find that children often communicate and reflect through art.  To me, art is more than a creative pastime, it is a vehicle for adults to understand children’s state of mind and emotionality.

I truly admire Wendy. She makes me want to be a happier person, an she always lightens up my day. Shes that type of person that just makes you want to smile. Not to mention, her smile is just so contagious that you'd have to be heartless to not be touched by it. I wholeheartedly respect and admire her.

Wendy's Blog
Wendy's YouTube Channel

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Burnt Fire

by Shulammite Sison

It was the forty-fourth day since our wedding when the lanterns glowed intensely. The sun procrastinated to shine over the fields of frozen grass. The ray of light flickered and grew dimmer by each countless spark of flames it shot out into the heavens. The days became unfair. Soon, the moon will have dominant control.
I gazed over the stars, pondering over the throne of the Creator. As the weight of the indigo sky pressed against my eyes, I whispered to the frigid breeze, “In due time, I will reach the altar of the rested souls.”
                The lids of my eyes grew heavy as the wax melted with the cascading shadows. It was then, when the demons seemed to have chosen me as their dinner. Unaware of the sudden change of the atmosphere, a subdued chant breathed into my ears. Hot air brushed across my face. The panting whispers stung my ears with its unbalanced pitch. Confused, and taunted by the sheer voices, I stood up in tremor.
                The grass folded beneath my feet. The sweeping sound of the grass scratched the chant’s clarity. I stood frozen, mute, keenly aware of the world, instinctive. I looked up, down, right, left, back; no one. A surge of strong presence then numbed me. With a blink of an eye, a malicious woman stood before me. She had the eyes of a serpent, burnt, and hollow. Her hair resembled hay, screamed onyx, and manifested a parched ocean.
 Lowering her jaw, she opened her mouth. A loathsome stench plastered the air. Without movement of her lips or tongue, she whispered in a staggering chant, “Your shadow is tainted. Your shadow is cursed! Your shadow is tainted. Your shadow is cursed!”
The crimson patches in her vile eyes extracted my soul. Before me, I saw my memories being torn out of my memory. Pure mists withdrew from my body. It was a smolder of gleaming stars and brilliant glitter. With pity, or mere pleasure, I was left with the memory and love for my wife. As the liquefied wax from the lantern flooded the fire, the women faded in with the obsidian twilight.
The clouds followed me in the sunrise of gloom and confusion. Pure despair delayed my regular pace. I sought my wife in our dwelling near the mountain of the olive trees. Across the stream, I saw her refilling the bucket with fresh water. With a smile, followed by a kiss, and supported by an embrace, I presented my return.  
The calves of our feet tightened, and our thighs were baked in the sun. Our simple house of stones was enough to sustain the life she dreamed of as a child. I made sure I was the husband that she has always envisioned in her lost times of reverie. Hand in hand, we made our way above the mountain leading to our home. Without expectations or possible known reason, we found three men roaming about in our house. In sudden chaos, I lost hold of her. As the son of men held her before me, I cried in my most strident voice.
Piece by piece I witnessed her lay bare before me. The sight of their hands gripping her skin to near suffocation was enough to devour my liver and skin. The shrill pain in my hollers was all that I had managed to do. Their laughter and pleasure soaked up the river of tears that she. Blood was now rushing down her legs. Our baby was dead.
The rusted nails that were pierced along my arms were now closely near the edge of my ripped flesh. The emotional pain that I felt was greater than the movement of my bones. I took the lives of the men who assaulted my love. Long after they were bits of corn shaped flesh, I proceeded to dig deeper in their soul. I bathed in the blood of the ones who murdered my wife. I did not stop till the very cell of their blood was tormented and deprived from the gift of life. My body was stained in blood, clothed with fresh fats, cursed, embodied in sin.
I kneeled in front of her. I became as fragile as glass with every sight I stole from her. She was perfect, vibrant, gifted with beautiful bone structure, luminous, a God. Her emerald eyes bursts with lands of dewy grass. Her smile is as venomous as poison. Now, I find myself engrossed by the love I should have never entered.
The back of my hands scrapped over the tattered floor as I dug my hands under her back, and lifting her up to where I cradled her. She laid there on my paper thin arms, dead.
"I'm here,” I whispered.  
The pupils of my eyes sank. Even the very tips of my hair felt the agony that follows with loss. My conscious said to cry, but the voices of my heart overpowered the voice of sin. A kiss was all I could afford, all that I owned.
 I stumbled across the path that proceeded to the olive trees. She lay lifeless on my shoulder. The dust rippled with every grievous step I took. As fire stroked through the sky that afternoon, and ashes clouded the sky, I died in most humid dessert. My tears stung like a million pierces from fangs. My flesh fell like that of a man of leprosy. It was only near nightfall when I realized I was sweating blood.
                I rocked back and forth till the last bit of flames suffocated in my misery. My vision faded, and the world became nothing but forgotten memories.
 "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”

One Way

The atmosphere ushers a reticent trance.
The gaseous envelope is agonizing.
Suppressed to divulge my weakening heart,
the subtle murmurs burn my flesh more thoroughly.
The sweat that I labored for from the soil has been repeatedly discounted.
Your brassy sentences swim lamely in the air.
I probe the treasure of life in you account
in terms of agreement to accept the apathetic love you present.
I refuse to muster the pain.
Your secluded face is evident in my visual.
I'm tapered by the silence in your part.
A sound of utterance is all I ask for.
The moon blushed in the night,
ruminating about your smile.
the moon has ignited it's latent fury,
pulling gravity away from you.
You were a solid master piece.
you glided pass the glaciers,
beyond the sky line without doubt.
No other mysteries is held out to uncover,
more over,
Each day is meant for a new discovery.
How can I do so when you've concealed yourself into the deep cleft in the earth's surface.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Mysteries of Life

There's alot of reasons to hate. I admire those who choose not to.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Tuesday Lover

I still hear your adorable voice.
It echoes through the broadest array of stars. 
Your words shimmer and glisten in my heart.
Each one completes me.
Your whispers are seducing. 
The deepness of your voice possesses a hearty,
yet dominant approach. 
The sincereness of your speech instantly captivates the listener's soul.
How much more so can your presence kill me.
Dear Jehovah God, 
Please let it stay this way eternally. 
The sentences you spoke have been playing repetitively in my head.
I imagine your mouth moving as you speak through your still pictures.
I'd give anything to see you smile, 
to see you laugh. 
It makes me jealous that others already have. 
It's those simple things that you do that have such a powerful and memorable effect on me,  
that I so desperately want to see. 
Maybe someday too, 
I'll get to hold your hand.
Someday soon. 
I think I'm selfish for wanting so much from you.
But my God,  you're just so beautiful.  
You've open gates in my heart that I didn't even know of. 
You saw my fantasies, and made them real.
You intruded through my dreams, and escape with a gift from your heart. 
Your unbelievable. 
With a thousand poems,  you'll still forever be indescribable. 
I'll stay with you through the billions sunrises and sundowns ahead. 
I'll shower you with love, and make happiness engulf you. 
What other sentences can I create to accurately tell you?
What other emotions should I feel to show you?
Do you know how much  I love you?  

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Monday Torture

It hurts,
so severe that I want to vomit.
It stings,
so relentless that I want to cry.
I'm blinking,
hoping to flicker away the tears. 
My hands clamp down against my ears.
So compressed I can explode.
The sleeves of my shirt are smothered with ash from my burnt heart. 
Understandment is in my nature.
Accepting this sands my throat. 
I'm confused by the truth you speak and the desire I seek. 
It's eating me.
Everytime I bring it up,
it falls into the cruel ends of rejection. 
I just want to talk.
I want to experiance the beauty of communicating with my Love. 
Just like the couples that pass me by everyday. 
I envy everyone. 
Dear God,
Please don't let anyone see me like this. 
I think I'm senseless for crying over something so minor.
Burning with confusion, rejection, and desires. 
The poem written,
entirely dedicated to one,
now lays flat on the floor,
left unrecited.
Love sure is a fierce mistress. 
I feel so heart broken.
So deliberately crushed.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Enchanters and Sorcerers 

My angelic lover,  
I'll forever be your Enchanter.
Your appealing in everything that's graceful. 
The air becomes alluring with your luscious essence. 
Every heart will always be captivated by your charm.
The elegance you display is seducing.
Your voice is addicting. 
You are my life.

Long way off the horizon,
around the axis,
and far from the twilight, 
no matter where I am hurled to; we will be united. 
Despite this crude world,
with us married, 
nothing can divorce us. 

With your smile, the milky way will utter jealousy. 
The wilted flowers of the land, you revive. 
The old and the weak, you make young and strong.
You have me at your feet. 
With a single touch of your fingers, 
I grow weak. 
Be kind, and gracious. 
For I cannot yield on my own. 
My angelic lover, 
You'll eternally be my Sorcerer.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

I Am So Sorry

I woke up with karma laid bare at my face. 
You got ahead of me.
Head first, 
carried by a broken heart. 
so sorry. 
I had all the intentions to confess.
Your footsteps reached the tracks before I got the chance to even tie my shoe. 
I could feel my heart shrivel, along with my arid throat. 
Vulnerable and bare. 
I'm a sinner, with a grin up in the sky. 
I'm guilty for playing with a deck of hearts. 
I've lost the absorption in you.
I could die by straying off the sidewalk.
Right foot first, left foot out. 
Shameful and ignorant. 
so sorry. 
You flourish with undeserved kindness. 
Your a burst of everything. 
I loathe your clemency. 
I'm being pelted with contrition. 
so sorry. 

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Clear Cut

I'm falling in love with someone I don't know. 
My Inbox is engrossed with your comments.
Just seeing your name makes the apple of my cheeks blossom in delight. 
That cute smirk you have on your face is drawn all over the walls of my mind. 
I could gaze at you through the entire night unaware that the sun has already reached it's way above the trees. 
I don't know what you truly stand for. 
I know your venomous.
Someone who I should never exaggerate.   
No debates on who is who. 
I'm your clone.
An imposter of the one and only.
The one who ends each sentence. 
Maybe that's why I can break your secret stories. 
Maybe that's why I can see pass the veil that blurs your heart. 
You've explored the abysmal sea full of crude torments from love. 
What you want has always been kidnapped by time and distance. 
I'm left reading our conversation. 
Dissecting your words carefully, 
to find what you left in between. 
Your underhandedly too much for me to describe.
Evidently easy to read. 
Too simple to reach.
Immensely too stiff to shake off. 

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Education - Reader's Responce

Is education a privilege, duty, or right? 
•Choose one, tell me why you it became your choice, and then explain why you didn't choose the other two.

My Response 

Education is something everyone deserves. Sometimes we're forced to be educated on a topic we don't have much interest or desire in. On the other hand, there's those who would want to take advantage of that opportunity when a chance comes to hand.

There are many types of people in the world. However, I personally think there are only two when it comes down to education. The educated, and the uneducated. If all possible, it would be marvelous if there were only one, the educated.
At first I was going to wrangle about how education is a privilege. However, I began to lean upon the right to be educated. I realized that in some countries it's customary to enroll your child to school when they reach that certain age. As for the countries that struggle to support the community, sometimes there might not even be a proper school to enroll your children to. 

Although, if there was, the family may suffer from financial issues. Or simple because the school that was built is over the mountains, across the rivers, and through the wilderness. Having a privilege to have education is like being given an infinite supply of diamonds. 

Aside from that, I feel like it's often taken advantage of. To me, having the privilege of having education is moderately like saying your lucky. It appears to be as if it's only granted to a person with special rights or immunities. 

Education is knowledge. Something that everyone in the whole world should have access to. Though we do have the duty to somewhat educated our selves, since it's an expression that portrays that we love and respect our selves. Education is also a tool that can used for survival.

The duty to educated ourselves is a topic I can brag about. Honestly, the reason that it pushed me away was the thought of being forced and pressured by that duty. I do believe that education is worth more than a dream mansion, but because a man can still live and smile without much knowledge, just made me turn my back towards defending it.

All it boils down to is, I think education is a right. Having a right to be educated gives you the opportunity to have a much bigger world, and because of that right, we are given a choice. A choice where difficult situations doesn't matter, because it will be right in front of you, always ready and waiting to be taken. Having the right to be educated also gives you the freedom of choice, whether to accept it or not. It gives you control of what path you want to take on the long journey that creates our life's diary. 

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


So maybe this year hasn't went at all as I dreamed of. As a little kid, I looked upon this year. 2011. I always believe the number 11 represents me the best. I was born on November on the day of the 11th. The only thing missing of the other 11th after that. On my 16th birthday, the date would be 11/11/11. I always felt unique and special  whenever I thought of this.

I always thought that 2011 would be the year when my life would spark, and become the center of attention. It would be the year when my life would change. If you were to ask me when I was 6 years old if I'll ever be 15 or 16, I'd most likely giggle and say I'll never grow up. I'll stay 6 forever and ever. 

Today, is August 24, 2011. Shula, guess what, your a Sophomore. Remember when you thought you'd never live up to this day? It makes me laugh in disbelieve that I'm now living on the day that seemed so far away through my innocent six year old eyes. 

Remember when you always said you'll never be an adult? Today, all the teachers said you have to become an adult now. Your no longer a child anymore. Remember in elementary school when you were scared of big kids? Whenever you saw the 6th graders at recess, you'd scream and run as fast as you can so they don't eat you. Guess what? Your a big kid now, don't run away from yourself. I won't hurt you.

There are many kinds of people inside us. Every year is a new person inside you. Without notice, they disappear, just like the people who pass you by on the side walk. Today, I realized that I hold a six year old inside me. I hold her dreams, hopes, and crystal tears. 

Sometimes, we become so clouded and our path becomes a sea of fog that we forget to take care of ourselves. There's no use dwelling on the past now, or dreaming of changing the events that weren't fortunate. Just tilt your head up in the sky and let the rain soak the memories as the rain drops make their way into the soil, carrying away with it the dreadful days.

The days of our youth are only fragments compared to the life ahead of us. Fragments so still, and frail, yet pointing to the life that leads us wondering where can it be found. 

Shula, remember when you were 5? You were the family's princess. Mom always said I was the queen, but you always denied simply because the word Princess sounded prettier. 

Things have happened this year that brought me to believe I'm not the princess anymore. It brought me to believe I have no control anymore, like the steering wheel that drove my life was stolen away from my reach.

But now I realize, that wasn't the case. It was because I somehow brought myself to believe I was alone. The steering wheel faded, it wasn't stolen, I hid it  without noticing. I forgot that there's so many people in the world, so many who knew me, and loved me. I just don't remember them, and became blind from the love that I longed for, when it was right at my face trying to get my attention. 

2011 isn't over yet. Summer is now yesterday, Today has become now, and Tomorrow is where I should go. 

Many hearts were broken so far, the death of a beloved grandfather. The forbidden love that was kept a secret, but now unfold and banished, causing the lost of trust towards my cousins. The lies continues, and still await for a day of acceptance. 

The beloved friends I've lost. The grief it caused, while they celebrated, as I cried. The secrets they kept to themselves and their bottles of alcohol broke the trust that bonded us together. The seal that held our friendship contained the promises that would forever link us together, were severely burned as they smoked weed. The disgraceful words that are now imprinted on their mouth, proves that you are no longer my friends.

The greatest lose this year was the separation of my little sister's hand that held mine. Two months went by fast. I knew there was a marked day when we would have to separate, and she'd have to return to her other family. I have never felt such pain in my life. I can still hear her echoing footsteps as she left through the doors of the Police Station. She held her hood, and made her Twinkle Toes shoes tap away that covered her growing feet. She's getting so big now.

I hope time would slow down, give some extra few minutes, and just let her enjoy a care free life a little longer. The life ahead of her won't be an easy one, it's filled with laws, and courts. Something I child should not even experience. 

2011, you've turned my dream into a nightmare. Now that I've regained the steering wheel that only I can steer, I won't let you drive me into the wrong path anymore. Four months to go, and it will be a new year, and the birth of a new me.
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