Julia used darkness as a theme in many of her pieces. This one was no different. She drew a demonic looking being with long claws and vibrant red eyes. The creature's grin was wide and sadistic, his mouth filled with yellow teeth. He wore a Roman style toga emblazoned with the United States flag. He was joined by a smaller, yet more menacing demon holding a sword and wearing the flag of Israel in the same fashion. The sword dripped with blood, and behind the demons lay nothing but desert and corpses. She made the sky red and filled it with black clouds. Satisfied with the aesthetics and the symbolism, she set it to the side and began work on another drawing.
She was glad that the art room stayed open after school. It meant that she didn't have to go home right away. She didn't live terribly far away, within biking distance anyhow. She had a nice racing bike that she had bought with her savings. She didn't care much for cars. Cars symbolized Western Culture, and in her mind, the West was what was wrong with the world. In the aftermath following the tower attacks, conspiracy theories aside, she found herself agreeing more and more that America and Israel were the ones to blame for what was wrong in the world, rather than the "terrorist" Arab countries. They only acted out because they were driven to it. The attacks on Israel were made because Israel had been being aggressive towards everyone in the area. The attacks on American troops were being made because they did not belong there. Nothing that had happened thus far had happened without a reason.
Her next drawing borrowed from a favorite faerie tale. Granted she used the Disney representation of the tale. She drew a rose encased in glass, with only a few petals left. It sat in a room that had fallen into disrepair, and the profile of a large bestial figure in the shadows. Across the top, she wrote in long scrawling letters, 'Time Is Running Out'.
She looked at the clock. It was nearing four. She still had another hour before the art room was closed. She was alone right now, which suited her fine. It gave her time to think. She wouldn't mind a little company, but then again, she wouldn't mind being left alone either. She was rather indifferent to what happened next. With a shrug, she set the drawing aside and began work on another.
Into the Abyss
Open to all
Into the Abyss
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((Continued from What's in the Past is History))
A solitary figure entered the art room, carrying a large canvas of sorts, his backpack and a sketchbook. He was dressed in an ordinary dark gray T-shirt, simple loose denims and sneakers, but from some angles, he seemed just like the room's other current occupant without the makeup. This student noticed Julia as he walked in, though he'd get to her as soon as he dropped something off.
AP Studio Art wasn't exactly Eduardo Trinidad-Villa's forte, but then again he did not extend that distinction to any of the subjects in his AP curriculum, and not because his grades had equal parts in placing him in line for an AP Scholar With Distinction Award. The strange, gray creature simply took these courses to keep himself "distracted" from his daily rigeur, which included a lot of unwarranted physical pain. Once he graduated from high school, he would cast aside whatever scholarships and "rewards" would have been bestowed upon him for struggling that much, because for him it didn't matter one bit.
Of course, he'd gotten so used to his plan (or lack thereof) for the future that he didn't think about as much. His mom was currently at the grocery store, so he'd be picked up from school late (fortunately for Eddie, his parents didn't trust the bus much either.) With no "study sessions" with Boxer scheduled, he figured he could just hang out here and vent his frustrations on paper. But first, there was the matter of getting rid of that burden held by his left arm.
He set his sketchbook and backpack on the table - oddly enough it was open while he found the "submission shelf" for his latest "masterpiece," a pastel piece depicting a demon that seemed on the verge of breaking free from what appeared to be slimy appendages that wanted to pull him past the bottom of the composition. The shelf wasn't too high, but one could tell he was exerting a lot of effort in lifting the canvas up to the required shelf. Once that was securely in place, he went and sat down beside Julia, and pulled out a pen to work on the drawing.
The drawing revealed something interesting - and something probably contrary to what the goth girl was illustrating. These were small, quickly-drawn pen toons, probably about the same quality as could be found in the opinion sections of a daily newspaper. The one that would be most visible to Julia was that of a hand viciously clutching a pine tree. The hand was attached to a wrist and arm dressed in a business suit. Of course, this would have been interpreted as yet another sketch depicting corporate exploitation of the environment were the suit's sleeve not emblazoned with a Syrian flag, the pine tree being the symbol of Lebanon.
A solitary figure entered the art room, carrying a large canvas of sorts, his backpack and a sketchbook. He was dressed in an ordinary dark gray T-shirt, simple loose denims and sneakers, but from some angles, he seemed just like the room's other current occupant without the makeup. This student noticed Julia as he walked in, though he'd get to her as soon as he dropped something off.
AP Studio Art wasn't exactly Eduardo Trinidad-Villa's forte, but then again he did not extend that distinction to any of the subjects in his AP curriculum, and not because his grades had equal parts in placing him in line for an AP Scholar With Distinction Award. The strange, gray creature simply took these courses to keep himself "distracted" from his daily rigeur, which included a lot of unwarranted physical pain. Once he graduated from high school, he would cast aside whatever scholarships and "rewards" would have been bestowed upon him for struggling that much, because for him it didn't matter one bit.
Of course, he'd gotten so used to his plan (or lack thereof) for the future that he didn't think about as much. His mom was currently at the grocery store, so he'd be picked up from school late (fortunately for Eddie, his parents didn't trust the bus much either.) With no "study sessions" with Boxer scheduled, he figured he could just hang out here and vent his frustrations on paper. But first, there was the matter of getting rid of that burden held by his left arm.
He set his sketchbook and backpack on the table - oddly enough it was open while he found the "submission shelf" for his latest "masterpiece," a pastel piece depicting a demon that seemed on the verge of breaking free from what appeared to be slimy appendages that wanted to pull him past the bottom of the composition. The shelf wasn't too high, but one could tell he was exerting a lot of effort in lifting the canvas up to the required shelf. Once that was securely in place, he went and sat down beside Julia, and pulled out a pen to work on the drawing.
The drawing revealed something interesting - and something probably contrary to what the goth girl was illustrating. These were small, quickly-drawn pen toons, probably about the same quality as could be found in the opinion sections of a daily newspaper. The one that would be most visible to Julia was that of a hand viciously clutching a pine tree. The hand was attached to a wrist and arm dressed in a business suit. Of course, this would have been interpreted as yet another sketch depicting corporate exploitation of the environment were the suit's sleeve not emblazoned with a Syrian flag, the pine tree being the symbol of Lebanon.
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She casually acknowledged the boy. She wasn't really a people person. She liked them well enough, but wouldn't go out of her way to greet them or anything. She only really liked them in certain capacities; one to three at a time, at concerts, or below six feet of earth. Since this was just the one, she decided that she could handle it. She got edgy when there were too many people around. That was one of the many reasons she avoided the mall, although not the biggest one. The biggest was that it was a disgusting display of capitalism at its pinnacle. It was like dark god with a nation of penitents. The philosophy took on a life of its own, fed by consumers, growing larger every day. She started work on another piece.
She started with a dollar bill. She had one in her pocket, so she took it out and studied it. Then she replicated it on the paper, albeit several times smaller. She continued to draw dollar bills, paying close attention to detail so that each dollar was clearly visible for what it was. Slowly, they began to take shape. They formed a leg. She started again, carefully drawing the bills, connecting and overlapping them until a second leg was formed. She glanced over at the boy and caught a glance at one of his sketches. It was interesting. She gave him a small smile before going back to her own sketch. She almost never spoke the first words in a conversation. If somebody wanted to talk, she was glad to talk with them, but she never initiated conversation. She didn't like breaking silences if they didn't need to be broken. Why fill the air with pointless chatter if everybody is fine without it?
She considered, for a moment, using a different denomination than the single for the torso, but decided against it, feeling that it would be best to continue with the ones, because they were the basis for the system. She appeased her need for variety by using the back side in areas that she felt needed to be set apart. Like the torso. She started where she left off on the first leg, connecting them and making hips for her creation, still using the face of the bill. Once she had that done, she flipped the bill over and began to study the back. She chewed her lip gently in thought for a moment before putting her pencil back to the paper and starting on the next section.
She started with a dollar bill. She had one in her pocket, so she took it out and studied it. Then she replicated it on the paper, albeit several times smaller. She continued to draw dollar bills, paying close attention to detail so that each dollar was clearly visible for what it was. Slowly, they began to take shape. They formed a leg. She started again, carefully drawing the bills, connecting and overlapping them until a second leg was formed. She glanced over at the boy and caught a glance at one of his sketches. It was interesting. She gave him a small smile before going back to her own sketch. She almost never spoke the first words in a conversation. If somebody wanted to talk, she was glad to talk with them, but she never initiated conversation. She didn't like breaking silences if they didn't need to be broken. Why fill the air with pointless chatter if everybody is fine without it?
She considered, for a moment, using a different denomination than the single for the torso, but decided against it, feeling that it would be best to continue with the ones, because they were the basis for the system. She appeased her need for variety by using the back side in areas that she felt needed to be set apart. Like the torso. She started where she left off on the first leg, connecting them and making hips for her creation, still using the face of the bill. Once she had that done, she flipped the bill over and began to study the back. She chewed her lip gently in thought for a moment before putting her pencil back to the paper and starting on the next section.
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Eduardo hated the mall as much as the goth girl did, but not so much because it was a symbol of capitalist oppression. Rather it was because it was the breeding ground for future celebrities, i.e. the shallow. Of course, that sort of hatred would be just a humorously sarcastic dismissal of pop culture had he also not believed that those of his level of educational achievement were subservient to it. Places like the art room were rest areas, places to at least catch a breather from the hamster wheel.
Speaking of breathers, Eddie put the finishing touches on his sketch..."squeezing" a struggling IDF soldier into the Syrian hand's grip before slumping back in his seat and taking a deep breath. After staring at the ceiling for a few seconds he turned to see what Julia was drawing...and it seemed to be a human being made up entirely of dollar bills. He suspected it had something to do with what she was drawing eariler. Not that he had much problem with it, it was still technically a free(r than Noriega's Panama back then) country he was living in right now.
"That eye on the pyramid would probably be at the top," Eduardo muttered as he watched her draw. He smirked as he thought of all the implications of her drawing as well as the symbolism, usually associated with Masonic-Illuminati conspiracy theories.
Speaking of breathers, Eddie put the finishing touches on his sketch..."squeezing" a struggling IDF soldier into the Syrian hand's grip before slumping back in his seat and taking a deep breath. After staring at the ceiling for a few seconds he turned to see what Julia was drawing...and it seemed to be a human being made up entirely of dollar bills. He suspected it had something to do with what she was drawing eariler. Not that he had much problem with it, it was still technically a free(r than Noriega's Panama back then) country he was living in right now.
"That eye on the pyramid would probably be at the top," Eduardo muttered as he watched her draw. He smirked as he thought of all the implications of her drawing as well as the symbolism, usually associated with Masonic-Illuminati conspiracy theories.
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She shook her head a little, continuing with what she was doing. "The designs on the dollars don't mean much to this project. The important part is the idea behind the whole collection of them," she said as she continued working on the bestial dollar-man. Once she had him done she'd finish the rest of the scene. The dollar-man was central.
"You notice how big he is? That's supposed to be a symbol for Capitalism and stuff. He's gonna be this giant dollar-man God thing. When I'm done with him I'm going to put a bunch of little people bowing down around him and holding up little dollars. So it's about how Western culture worships money and that the more things we buy, the more we feed this thing and the bigger it grows."
She continued work on it, cocking her head a bit to get a different perspective, and then smiling as she slowly filled up the dollar-man's large torso, flipping the dollar around and using the face for the remaining two limbs. She started with the right shoulder and slowly worked her way down. The whole piece would be done in greyscale, both because she didn't feel like colouring it, and to symbolize the drabness of Consumerism and Western society. Good stuff.
"You notice how big he is? That's supposed to be a symbol for Capitalism and stuff. He's gonna be this giant dollar-man God thing. When I'm done with him I'm going to put a bunch of little people bowing down around him and holding up little dollars. So it's about how Western culture worships money and that the more things we buy, the more we feed this thing and the bigger it grows."
She continued work on it, cocking her head a bit to get a different perspective, and then smiling as she slowly filled up the dollar-man's large torso, flipping the dollar around and using the face for the remaining two limbs. She started with the right shoulder and slowly worked her way down. The whole piece would be done in greyscale, both because she didn't feel like colouring it, and to symbolize the drabness of Consumerism and Western society. Good stuff.
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"Money. It makes the world go 'round," Eddie replied, his sarcasm hinting at an agreement with the goth girl. He didn't have much for conversation - probably because "conversation" never seemed to end well for him, but he didn't have anything else to do here besides that and drawing.
"It's such a double-edged sword, financing wars and weapons, and the ways to clean up after it," he added, as he watched her finish drawing her dollar deity. The detail which she put into every little bill fascinated Eddie, if only for the composition rather than the intended message. He idly wondered why she wasn't wearing more red than black. "And ironically, it's so crucial to our very existence that we probably would not be here today without it, let alone the sperm and the egg."
He withdrew just a bit to give her some working room as he watched her finish up the rest of the body. "That All-Seeing Eye would make a perfect head."
"It's such a double-edged sword, financing wars and weapons, and the ways to clean up after it," he added, as he watched her finish drawing her dollar deity. The detail which she put into every little bill fascinated Eddie, if only for the composition rather than the intended message. He idly wondered why she wasn't wearing more red than black. "And ironically, it's so crucial to our very existence that we probably would not be here today without it, let alone the sperm and the egg."
He withdrew just a bit to give her some working room as he watched her finish up the rest of the body. "That All-Seeing Eye would make a perfect head."
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She pondered the suggestion for a moment before perishing it.
"It would be good if I were going for a conspiracy vibe rather than just an incredibly shitty system. Keeping with the single bills bricking up makes it clear that the system is only still around because people keep feeding it. Including the all-seeing eye as a symbol implies that the system has power when in reality people are just stupid." She shrugged and finished up the arms before starting on the head.
"Although, that does give me an idea for something else in the same line of thinking. Maybe I'll do that after I'm done here. Or not, I dunno."
She slowly formed a head for the dollar-man, leaving the eyes and mouth hollow and making a fan design at the top. She shaded the eye and mouth areas and lifted her pencil as she looked at it. It had the vague appearance of a South American king with a crown of palm leaves. It was a nice effect. She was pleased with it. She started drawing what grew to be the inside of a shopping mall to house the dollar god. The symbolism was excellent. She was growing increasingly happy with her work, delighting in every line that she drew.
"It would be good if I were going for a conspiracy vibe rather than just an incredibly shitty system. Keeping with the single bills bricking up makes it clear that the system is only still around because people keep feeding it. Including the all-seeing eye as a symbol implies that the system has power when in reality people are just stupid." She shrugged and finished up the arms before starting on the head.
"Although, that does give me an idea for something else in the same line of thinking. Maybe I'll do that after I'm done here. Or not, I dunno."
She slowly formed a head for the dollar-man, leaving the eyes and mouth hollow and making a fan design at the top. She shaded the eye and mouth areas and lifted her pencil as she looked at it. It had the vague appearance of a South American king with a crown of palm leaves. It was a nice effect. She was pleased with it. She started drawing what grew to be the inside of a shopping mall to house the dollar god. The symbolism was excellent. She was growing increasingly happy with her work, delighting in every line that she drew.
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Eduardo chuckled bitterly at the remark about this being a "shitty system." He knew the feeling of being the one that was shat upon, that was for sure, and not just by "wetback-hating" whites.
He also took the time to take in the overall figure of the capitalist idol drawn onto Julia's sketchpad, and wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended by its South American connotations. Hispanoamérica had taken a turn toward the "passionate" left in recent years, proclaiming freedom from American imperialism and capitalism. It was something that had gained a lot of popularity with the "young liberal crowd" that had also blossomed into existence when the War in Iraq started to sour up, and Julia seemed like one of that crowd.
Of course, Eduardo's parents had come from that part of the world, and it was understandable given their stories of civil war and US-sponsored dictators like Noriega. It was also somewhat understandable that this part of the world would be more "free" now that there was no more USSR to use the continent as a front against and thus less need to sponsor fascist dictators to keep those pesky commies from taking over. It almost seemed like 1984 to Eduardo with the Patriot Act and the constant propaganda against terrorists in the Middle East...were he not a larger fan of Animal Farm. All of a sudden the new leaders of this revolution were turning out to be just like the old ones, even counting out the supposed media bias.
Freedom, Power, Liberation. Hasta la victoria siempre! Ché would be ashamed of what his vision turned out to be.
"The system has power because of the stupid. They enslave the smart to help prop themselves up and control the equally stupid masses." Eddie replied. "Money is just their tool, like a gun or a sword...or an idol. But as long as the people are fed...the system gets fed in return. Mí casa es sú casa." It sounded quite hopeless - if not very expected - coming from Eduardo.
He also took the time to take in the overall figure of the capitalist idol drawn onto Julia's sketchpad, and wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended by its South American connotations. Hispanoamérica had taken a turn toward the "passionate" left in recent years, proclaiming freedom from American imperialism and capitalism. It was something that had gained a lot of popularity with the "young liberal crowd" that had also blossomed into existence when the War in Iraq started to sour up, and Julia seemed like one of that crowd.
Of course, Eduardo's parents had come from that part of the world, and it was understandable given their stories of civil war and US-sponsored dictators like Noriega. It was also somewhat understandable that this part of the world would be more "free" now that there was no more USSR to use the continent as a front against and thus less need to sponsor fascist dictators to keep those pesky commies from taking over. It almost seemed like 1984 to Eduardo with the Patriot Act and the constant propaganda against terrorists in the Middle East...were he not a larger fan of Animal Farm. All of a sudden the new leaders of this revolution were turning out to be just like the old ones, even counting out the supposed media bias.
Freedom, Power, Liberation. Hasta la victoria siempre! Ché would be ashamed of what his vision turned out to be.
"The system has power because of the stupid. They enslave the smart to help prop themselves up and control the equally stupid masses." Eddie replied. "Money is just their tool, like a gun or a sword...or an idol. But as long as the people are fed...the system gets fed in return. Mí casa es sú casa." It sounded quite hopeless - if not very expected - coming from Eduardo.
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She paused her drawing to think about her central figure. She understood the symbolism, but she was wondering if others would.
"It's hard to do a head that conveys exactly what I want it to mean without being misinterpreted. The all-seeing eye has the Masonic connotations, and it implies inherent power in the Capitalistic system. The Mayanesque God-King gives it the feeling I want, because the God-King was revered because people didn't know any better. But most of those cultures were pretty peaceful. Granted, they sacrificed children to false gods, but they weren't belligerent. Every time they took a life, it was with reason, and consent from all parties involved. It was considered a great honor to be a sacrifice to the gods. To give your life for the good of your people. Kinda romantic isn't it?"
She smiled and continued to draw her mall-temple. She drew shop fronts with signs of stores she hated, like Hollister and American Eagle. She slipped in a few fast food signs to express her loathing of them as well. McDonald's and Taco Bell were two of the establishments that felt her wrath. In the places where cash registers could be seen, she dressed the workers in priestly looking robes, and made altars of the counters. The last thing she needed to draw was thousands of penitents, scurrying about like insects to offer their currency to the Great Dollar God.
Pathetic.
"It's hard to do a head that conveys exactly what I want it to mean without being misinterpreted. The all-seeing eye has the Masonic connotations, and it implies inherent power in the Capitalistic system. The Mayanesque God-King gives it the feeling I want, because the God-King was revered because people didn't know any better. But most of those cultures were pretty peaceful. Granted, they sacrificed children to false gods, but they weren't belligerent. Every time they took a life, it was with reason, and consent from all parties involved. It was considered a great honor to be a sacrifice to the gods. To give your life for the good of your people. Kinda romantic isn't it?"
She smiled and continued to draw her mall-temple. She drew shop fronts with signs of stores she hated, like Hollister and American Eagle. She slipped in a few fast food signs to express her loathing of them as well. McDonald's and Taco Bell were two of the establishments that felt her wrath. In the places where cash registers could be seen, she dressed the workers in priestly looking robes, and made altars of the counters. The last thing she needed to draw was thousands of penitents, scurrying about like insects to offer their currency to the Great Dollar God.
Pathetic.
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Sacrificing one's own life for their people was considered noble, let alone romantic, by a lot of people, even if the words came from someone who looked haunting to that same lot of people. Only the most pacifist would consider it a useless proposition. Yet although Eduardo was no pacifist in the traditional sense of the word, he could also have counted himself among that lot.
"Yeah...they were pretty peaceful until the Spaniards came and slaughtered them for the glory of God. Today they still mostly worship Jesús de Nazaret y gracia divina. And yet people everywhere are ready to sacrifice their lives for Him as well as His heathen opponents. Sometimes they even train the kids to fight, because what good is a sacrificed child unless his blood was "spilled by the 'enemy!'" Eduardo sarcastically accented the last few words like a Ché-ist propagandist. "So much for peaceful culture."
He sighed and looked back at his own sketch of Syria strangling Lebanon, and realized that it could also be an invitation to accusations of hypocrisy.
"It's funny though...we have people sacrificing their lives for capitalism and Christ and democracy because they don't see the alternatives of communism and Islamic fundamentalism or any of that as any better, yet we don't consider that noble or romantic at all. And when we grow up we find ourselves fighting for the same things we detested as kids. Maybe there really isn't anything fighting for when it comes right down to it." The boy seemed to stare desolately out the window as he said that.
Nihilism...the truth really can drain you sometimes...
"Yeah...they were pretty peaceful until the Spaniards came and slaughtered them for the glory of God. Today they still mostly worship Jesús de Nazaret y gracia divina. And yet people everywhere are ready to sacrifice their lives for Him as well as His heathen opponents. Sometimes they even train the kids to fight, because what good is a sacrificed child unless his blood was "spilled by the 'enemy!'" Eduardo sarcastically accented the last few words like a Ché-ist propagandist. "So much for peaceful culture."
He sighed and looked back at his own sketch of Syria strangling Lebanon, and realized that it could also be an invitation to accusations of hypocrisy.
"It's funny though...we have people sacrificing their lives for capitalism and Christ and democracy because they don't see the alternatives of communism and Islamic fundamentalism or any of that as any better, yet we don't consider that noble or romantic at all. And when we grow up we find ourselves fighting for the same things we detested as kids. Maybe there really isn't anything fighting for when it comes right down to it." The boy seemed to stare desolately out the window as he said that.
Nihilism...the truth really can drain you sometimes...
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She shook her head in disagreement.
"It's not the same people over there anymore. The Spanish set up base in most of those countries and all of the inhabitants there are descended from the missionaries, conquistadors, and what remained of any native people. It wasn't just a replacement of culture, it was a replacement of the population. The Mayans, the Aztecs, and the Incas are gone, murdered in the name of Gold. The same thing is going on today, though the Empire and the God has changed. Today it's America and Oil. Tomorrow it will be somebody else over something else. When you think about it, it's hard to fault the "terrorists" for doing what they do. Someday the sides will change and we won't be on top anymore. There will be some new power that the world will unite against, and it will go on until there is another. Nobody will ever be satisfied, and that's just life." She sighed and finished up her drawing. She was grim, but truthful. While she didn't like the idea of foreign terrorists taking lives of 'innocents', at least they were honest. The US needed to be brought down a few pegs.
She set the drawing aside, as well as her pencil. She gazed at the clock. She had half an hour. She didn't want to start on something else just then, so she just sat and thought about what she would do while she avoided going home. Shooters was sounding good. She was an excellent pool player, and was pretty well-known by the regulars. That was one of the few places that she was actually ever social. Pool, cheap drinks, and weekend tournaments did that to her.
"Only half an hour 'til the art room closes. Then we'll have to find other ways to avoid our families. So much fun," she said in a dry voice, thinking a little more about the idea of going to Shooters. Sounded better than bowling where she'd have to rent shoes, a lane, and lug a heavy ball around. Not quite her style. She tended to avoid that place like the plague, especially on league nights when there would be a bunch of creepy old men who liked to flirt with girls half their ages. She shuddered at the thought and started to pack her things away.
"It's not the same people over there anymore. The Spanish set up base in most of those countries and all of the inhabitants there are descended from the missionaries, conquistadors, and what remained of any native people. It wasn't just a replacement of culture, it was a replacement of the population. The Mayans, the Aztecs, and the Incas are gone, murdered in the name of Gold. The same thing is going on today, though the Empire and the God has changed. Today it's America and Oil. Tomorrow it will be somebody else over something else. When you think about it, it's hard to fault the "terrorists" for doing what they do. Someday the sides will change and we won't be on top anymore. There will be some new power that the world will unite against, and it will go on until there is another. Nobody will ever be satisfied, and that's just life." She sighed and finished up her drawing. She was grim, but truthful. While she didn't like the idea of foreign terrorists taking lives of 'innocents', at least they were honest. The US needed to be brought down a few pegs.
She set the drawing aside, as well as her pencil. She gazed at the clock. She had half an hour. She didn't want to start on something else just then, so she just sat and thought about what she would do while she avoided going home. Shooters was sounding good. She was an excellent pool player, and was pretty well-known by the regulars. That was one of the few places that she was actually ever social. Pool, cheap drinks, and weekend tournaments did that to her.
"Only half an hour 'til the art room closes. Then we'll have to find other ways to avoid our families. So much fun," she said in a dry voice, thinking a little more about the idea of going to Shooters. Sounded better than bowling where she'd have to rent shoes, a lane, and lug a heavy ball around. Not quite her style. She tended to avoid that place like the plague, especially on league nights when there would be a bunch of creepy old men who liked to flirt with girls half their ages. She shuddered at the thought and started to pack her things away.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Nobody'll ever be satisfied forever..." Eddie smirked, "that's actually kinda reassuring. As for terrorists...there are too many flavors of terrorists to count...Nazis and communistas, Islamists and anarchists...and they all hate America because they're doing so well for themselves when it comes right down to it, as crazy as this country can get. Otherwise we wouldn't have people still coming from all over the world to make a better living here, even if those haters only see the white."
Eduardo was about to look at the clock when his cellphone vibrated. He kept it in silent mode through his classes due to the rules. He pulled it out and looked at the text message his mom left - she'd be there not too long after the art room closed.
"But if only what were true on the scale of global geopolitics were true in the high school realm," he said as he put his cellphone away, and signed and dated his drawing. "If only the bullies didn't succeed in bringing all the people who were doing so well." He then turned to Julia and smiled despairingly. "Heh...that's life. At least I got the computer at home...but I'm getting too much into self-pity here."
Eduardo was about to look at the clock when his cellphone vibrated. He kept it in silent mode through his classes due to the rules. He pulled it out and looked at the text message his mom left - she'd be there not too long after the art room closed.
"But if only what were true on the scale of global geopolitics were true in the high school realm," he said as he put his cellphone away, and signed and dated his drawing. "If only the bullies didn't succeed in bringing all the people who were doing so well." He then turned to Julia and smiled despairingly. "Heh...that's life. At least I got the computer at home...but I'm getting too much into self-pity here."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
She laughed hollowly, deciding not to respond to his comment on America. She hated the politics of America. She agreed that it was slightly less ridiculous than a lot of other countries, but in all reality, there were places that she would much rather be. Places with better government and culture that she could live in and not feel sickened, but for the moment she was stuck there.
She slung her bag on over her shoulders and addressed the boy. "I'm gonna head out before they close up. The janitor kind of creeps me out. It was nice talking to you though." She started towards the door and cast one last look at the boy before waving.
"See ya around," she said, exiting the room and making her way through the halls of the school to the outside of the building where she had chained her bike. She inputted the combination and slipped the chain-lock into her bag. She secured her backpack on both shoulders and climbed onto her bike, taking off at top speed, heading towards the popular hang-out, ready to hustle a few of her peers.
((Continued in Fins))
She slung her bag on over her shoulders and addressed the boy. "I'm gonna head out before they close up. The janitor kind of creeps me out. It was nice talking to you though." She started towards the door and cast one last look at the boy before waving.
"See ya around," she said, exiting the room and making her way through the halls of the school to the outside of the building where she had chained her bike. She inputted the combination and slipped the chain-lock into her bag. She secured her backpack on both shoulders and climbed onto her bike, taking off at top speed, heading towards the popular hang-out, ready to hustle a few of her peers.
((Continued in Fins))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Yeah...see ya..." Eduardo replied solemnly as he watched Julia leave. His eyes seemed fixated on her as she packed up and left, but perhaps it was because she was the only real entity of interest in this room. There were other places he wanted to be right now, most importantly at home or any place he could find entertainment without being bothered by others, but until his ride came, he was pretty much stuck here.
Eddie leaned back and let the afternoon rays of the sun flow through the window of the art room. He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to think, or rather...trying not to think about thinking. Thinking about what exactly the world had gone to, Survival of the Fittest included, and what would have happened had he not been born as "smart" as people said he was. It seemed that to him, his "genius' curse" was not the genius, but rather that he found himself exposed to stupidity like a Geiger counter at Chernobyl.
He ended up falling asleep on the desk until a poke from the janitor's mop told him it was time to go.
((Continued in A Favor for a "Friend"))
Eddie leaned back and let the afternoon rays of the sun flow through the window of the art room. He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to think, or rather...trying not to think about thinking. Thinking about what exactly the world had gone to, Survival of the Fittest included, and what would have happened had he not been born as "smart" as people said he was. It seemed that to him, his "genius' curse" was not the genius, but rather that he found himself exposed to stupidity like a Geiger counter at Chernobyl.
He ended up falling asleep on the desk until a poke from the janitor's mop told him it was time to go.
((Continued in A Favor for a "Friend"))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.