If I were to eat you, I wouldn't swallow you whole.

I would cut you in half, eating the bottom part first and the upper part last.

I would start with the legs that have once walked and danced with me. The only innocence left in your body.

Then I would move to your dick, the one that has been in multiple vaginas.

I would slice it off and throw it on the ground, smash it with my heels and leave the pieces to rot.

With my blood-thirsty appetite I would then move to your arms. The ones that held me and caressed me and dried my tears only to make me cry again.

Then to the lips, the ones that kissed others, that have kissed me and have lied and said,"I Love You."

With so much anger and hate in my hands, I'd grab my cold metal spoon and scoop out your eyes. The ones that have looked at me and then almost instantly at other women. I'll take my fist and smash the window, throw them out for the car's dirty tires to run them over.

And lastly, your heart. I'd rip it out and walk with it down the hall,open the door, and give it to a homeless person, where at least I know he will give it the treatment it deserves. That is being left out on the sidewalk, drugged in the cold. Then trampled on by the city people. Left damaged,broken and alone.

In reality, I have done nothing to you. You set yourself up to feel like this.
So I hope you're happy.

Fucking happy, my dear.

If you were inside of my head, you'd be dead.

So Stop!

Get out.

Leave me alone!

These thoughts are all mine.

Go get your own.

It was a cold night on Saturday. The wind was blowing softly whistling a relaxing tune in my ear. I was sitting at the bus stop with an older man in San Francisco. He surely didn’t smell good and looked semi homeless. His hair was white and he had a dirty beard that curled in places that dug into his skin. The man’s eyes were a light blue that gazed at you and had a story to tell. He was wearing black torn gloves on his hands and was holding what looked like a shopping bag in his left hand. He wore a green hat and a giant puffy jacket that looked extremely warm. In his jacket were two zippers on one side and a pocket on the right with an old ballpoint pen. His pants were baggy and of a dark color and his shoes were torn with his two front toes sticking out. He smelt like old fish and someone who has been through the trenches.

While we were sitting he was telling me war stories voluntarily. I got freaked out because his voice was deep but had softness to it. He was graphic with his stories explaining how the bullet went into his side and how he survived. I didn’t really want to hear, but the more he talked the more interested I became. I mean here was a man, who has lived life longer than me and has experienced life in a whole new way. He probably values the gift of life way more than any other person on this planet. When the bus finally swooshed by us, he just sat there unbothered that the bus he has finally been waiting for arrived. I tapped him on the shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t sleeping or anything. His eyes looked half closed but his heart was warm and open. The wrinkles on his face were expressionless and didn’t move when he smiled nor laughed. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t cheery at all. He had a toothpick in his mouth that kept moving up and down as he was talking. Sometimes he would take it out to explain a long sentence or just twirl it around his torn gloves. When he finally stood up. He was very slow. The way he walked was bothersome. He treaded on the ground moving one foot at a snail’s pace to get to the bus. As he was walking he searched in his pockets for change and I saw him pull out nickels, then dimes, then quarters. While he waited in the line to pay, he just jingled them in his hands pretending they were like an instrument.

It was a most peculiar night, and I decided not to get on that bus, but as he left I could still hear the jingling of the coins echo out through the night.

Snow, Cats, and an Elephant.
I’m standing in this white room alone. Voice echo around me. It makes me go crazy. I try to escape but I’m stuck. I see a light shining in a corner. Walking slowly…heart beating fast…gasping for air. I shove my head through this hole. I feel a cool breeze and the snow falls down on my face. It’s cold and wet but soft. It made me happy. But as I went to pick up a snowball, the snow picked me up and took me high in the sky. I saw the city. I saw my house. But it kept moving, faster and faster. Losing the snow it gathered up. Then DROP. I fell. Down, down, down, down, down. For miles it happened. I didn’t think it was ever going to stop. Suddenly THUMP. I hit a mattress. It smelt weird and the springs were hanging out. But it was soft. There was no blanket. I shivered and tossed and turned through the night. Then the sun came up. BLINDED AAAAAHH. My eyes started to burn. I walked and bumped into things. Then a kitty appeared. MEOW MEOW MEOW. Its little green eyes were staring at me…. I wanted to pet. But it didn’t have a collar. It could have been a stray or have rabies or something….MEOW MEOW PUURRRRR. It wouldn’t stop..HELPPPP. I’m trapped. I jumped on the mattress high high high I went. I landed on an elephant. He took me around the circus where I stayed there eating peanuts and cotton candy. Sick sick sick. I feel sick . Faint. Blackness. Darkness. Death.

Major: Media Arts and Animation

Monday:
____________

Digital Illustration 7:30a.m.-11:29a.m.

Tuesday:
_____________

Image Manipulation 12:30p.m.-4:29p.m.

Wednesday:
______________

Typography I- Traditional
12:30p.m.-4:29.p.m.

Thursday:
______________

College English 12:30p.m.-4:30p.m.

Language of Animation & FIlm
5:30p.m.-9:29p.m.