variations on a trench coat: ocean blue (& WWHPD?)

For some reason, this outfit makes me think of that song about the Titanic we used to sing in summer school...

Oh, they built the ship Titanic to sail the ocean blue,
And they thought they had a ship that the water wouldn't leak through.
It was on her maiden trip that an iceberg hit the ship.
It was sad when the great ship went down.

Oh, it was sad (so sad), oh it was sad (so sad).
It was sad when the great ship went down to the bottom of the
Husbands and wives, little bitty children lost their lives.
It was sad when the great ship went down.

It was off the coast of England and far from any shore,
Where the rich refused to associate with the poor,
So they put the poor below where they were the first to go.
It was sad when the great ship went down.

Oh it was sad (so sad), oh it was sad (so sad).
It was sad when the great ship went down to the bottom of the
Uncles and aunts, little bitty children wet their pants.
It was sad when the great ship went down.

Must be the nautical shorts. Luckily, I forgot the rest of the lyrics. Nonetheless, this is another trench coat outfit, and I call it

Variation V: Little Bitty Children Wet Their Pants

Trench coat: FoxRun, mother's. Sweatshirt: Target. Necklace: garage sale garden key + DIY finish + craft store chain. Shorts: alloy + DIY button swap. Tights: H&M. Saddle shoes: Payless.

Saturday.

For that baby-handful of people who actually read the things I post, I wrote this when I was 18. It was performed. I don't think I let the story be as long as it needed to be for any characterization to be solid, but writing this definitely felt like a huge accomplishment, because I am so bad at plot that I was surprised this story came together at all.

The premise behind this was not mine to start with.

And I hope this isn't offensive, but I don't think it should be, considering how obviously it expresses my own opinions. As a heads up, this is way out of my usual genre, if you've been reading the previous scripts I posted, and quite a bit longer than anything else I've posted, so it might not be your cup of tea.

Also this is the last of my old scripts.

I write stuff after the jump.

variations on a trench coat: it is the unknown (& Here, Kitty, Kitty! or Cats!)

It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.

I am unaccustomed to having my lips this dark, but there is something glorious about being deliberately un-PYT that I have always loved. This is

Variation IV: What Would Dumbledore Do?

Trench coat: mother's, FoxRun. Sweater: thrifted. Dress: Target. Brooch: mother's. Leggings: American Apparel, gift from Christine. Rain boots: Hunter via Zappos.

It is Saturday, which means my Smashion interview is up!, and that it's time for an old script.

I wrote this when I was 17, and it is actually so bad that I suggest you don't read it. It reads like ... bad fanfiction. And not even a very serious attempt at it. Just goes to show how poor a grasp I have on plot. (And romance. What's romance? What is characterization? Why did I even feel compelled to write this?)

No, really, follow the jump at your own peril; this honestly reads like bad, fluffy fanfiction. I even named the love interest James and made him act like fanon James Potter. I think Annette is toeing Mary Sue territory.

Luckily, there is a relevant .GIF to express my trepidation:

For clarity, the above GIF is from this clip of Andrew Garfield singing "Bed Intruder," although to be totally clear, Andrew Garfield can be my bed intruder any day of the week.

In my defense, I probably needed to write something this bad before I could come up with something better that was more than ten minutes long.

[EDIT: I am rereading this right now, and OH MY GOD ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING BUT IT NEEDS TO BE OUT THERE TO SHOW THE PROGRESSION OF MY WRITING ATTEMPTS OKAY I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO JUDGE ME.]

I write stuff after the jump.

poorly coordinated (& A Danish Tragedy)

I'm tired of seeing trench coats on my front page, so here's a trenchless outfit. Parts of it are coordinated, but it looks to me like I had two outfits in mind, and both of them were still duking it out when I got dressed.

Why am I allowed to own a camera?

Hair ribbon thing: lying around. Sweater: uncle's. Fingerless gloves: Bancroft Clothing Store. Floral shorts: DIY. Tights: gift from my brother, Korea somewhere. Flats: Kork-Ease.

I may be woefully behind for Script Frenzy, but it's Saturday, so.

I wrote this when I was 16, and it was performed. I must admit, this crack!script was probably influenced by watching a cast rehearse snatches of "Dogg's Troupe Hamlet" by Tom Stoppard for a theater competition, but I never actually read it, so I can't say for sure.

...I still find parts of this hilarious, which goes to show how bad a joke-teller I am.

I write stuff after the jump.

variations on a trench coat: enlightenment (& This Is A Play)

Because I am a disagreeable person (and although I am sweating in this awkward heat wave right now), during my rainy week a few weeks ago, I was tempted to throw open my window and shake my fist toward the heavens, cursing the weather. Instead, I put on an outfit in a color scheme inappropriately light for the dark, dark sky. I called it

Variation III: Lighten Up, You Wanker

Disclaimer: My neck is slightly less paper-white IRL.

Trench coat: FoxRun, hand-me-down, mother's. Scarf: The Met Museum Store. Longsleeve: Apt 9. Tights: H&M. Plaid shoes: Keds. Rings: estate sale & hand-me-down, grandmother's.

I know it's only two days into Script Frenzy, but it's Saturday, so here's an old script.

I wrote this when I was 16, and I still like it, so if you have about eight minutes, I'd be chuffed if you read it.

(By the way, if this post shows up re-posted at a domain containing "a large space" in the url, they've been splogging my blog for a while now, and I have no idea how to get in contact with the owners of the domain. It's kind of irritating. So I hope this shows up on your splog, douchebags.)

I write stuff after the jump.

indescribable (& It Needs A Little Work/The Unfinished Play)

Spring Break Leisure Reading Progress Report:

I saved Fight Club for last, because I know it's probably going to make me angry.

Here's an outfit so nondescript that I'm glad I can attach it to something of (arguably) more substance.

Sweater: uncle's. Polo shirt you can barely see: American Eagle, brother's. Tights: generic. Boots: Steven by Steve Madden. Ring: Rapunzelsgold. Shorts: secondhand from Christine.

Since it's Saturday, a script.

I wrote this when I was 16. It was performed , and I was the director (and it looked pretty cool, if I do say so myself, even though the play dragged on and on and on and on during the actual performance).

This is really tiring to read, and I can't believe my theater group let me keep the title for this, even in the press releases.

I write stuff after the jump.

variety pack (& Blind Spot)

This post is a mixed bag.

So this happened:

And then after my midterm, THIS HAPPENED:

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk and Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, for the ideas/themes, from Barnes & Noble. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card for the story, from Barnes & Noble. All in the Timing by David Ives, for his masterful use of language, from Border's. Old School by Tobias Wolff, because I've been wanting to read it since senior year of high school, from Border's.

You guys, you guys, I am so excited that if I were a 20-year-old in a toddler's body instead of a toddler in a 20-year-old's body I would definitely have peed myself.

Also, I'm in the process of watching Terrence Malick's The Thin Red Line in, like, 20-minute installments, and judging by how The Thin Red Line is making me feel so far, I have the suspicion that The Tree of Life will also stir the same unfathomably huge emotions in me and be epic in the original sense of the word:

Suddenly overcome with so many feelings I did not know I could feel.

I don't know. I still have about an hour to go in The Thin Red Line, but it and even just the trailer for The Tree of Life make me feel the way I felt when I was six years old watching The Discovery Channel in utter awe, or the way I felt reading The Grapes of Wrath for the first time. Like witnessing something enormous and beyond the scope of my comprehension. Something not even dreamt of in my philosophy. It makes me feel so fragile and invincible, like I am crawling back into the womb, like everything is divine.

(I am not on drugs. Nor am I an English major. I just have a lot of feelings.)

Also I wore this on Chinese New Year's. The scarf tucked around my belt was obligatory for fulfilling my "something red(dish)" quota:

Ring: Rapunzelsgold on Etsy. Pants: possibly my uncle's. Scarf: The Met, full view here. Belt: brother's. Socks: gift. Boots: Steven by Steve Madden. Top: Old Navy, courtesy of M80.

And since it's Saturday, time for another script.

I think I wrote this when I was 16. This was not performed, and for good reason. As you will see if you are unfortunate enough to click through the jump, this was my first attempt at non-comedic, non-absurdity. I have no idea what the characters' actual backstory is, and I don't know exactly how their alternate reality works. Anyway, the little thing they do with the radio shows up in one of my later plays. Which is to say I ripped off myself. I guess this has a little "Sure Thing" in there too. Sort of.

I always felt like this was supposed to be bigger, but it died after a few pages, and I let it.

Actually I'm 100% sure I never gave this to anyone to beta-read. Wow, this is going to be embarrassing. I give you full permission to judge me for how bad this is, but in my defense, I think I had to get something this crappy out of me before I could get along and write something I liked.

[EDIT: Wow, I just reread this, and it reads like a really valiant but failed amateur attempt at dramatic fanfiction. Wow, this is awful. /]

I write stuff after the jump.

garner some pastries (& Finding God)

Something I wore weeks ago. The only reason I put this on is because I saw a girl with combat boots, and I was like, Hey! I have boots like that! And her jeans were cuffed over them instead of tucked into them, and I was like, WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?

So I went home and tried to be just like her.

I FELT IT. I WAS PERFECT.

Jacket: mother's, H&M. Pink thermal: Old Navy, gift. Jeans: Levi's 518. Boots: Steven by Steve Madden.

Here's another script. I think I was 16 when I wrote this. This was performed. I am dissatisfied with the overall shape of this script, but I'm happy with a lot of the back-and-forthing, so I guess that makes up for it.

This was not intended to be offensive.

I write stuff after the jump.

we're all born superstars (& Guess Who's Coming To Dinner)

I thought it'd been far too long since I wore the ring that I bought for #radicalselflove last year, so I went into my closet with birds in mind and came out with something completely unrelated:

Sweater: uncle's. Jeans: Levi's 518. Socks: SockDreams. Flats: Kork-Ease Isabel flats. Ring: Forever21.

So after the jump is the second script I ever wrote. I'll be honest: I really liked this one when I finished writing it. Now, not so much, because I think the novelty of the jokes wears off after you've had to listen to your own writing a hundred thousand times in rehearsals. (I was in charge of directing it, and it was hellish.) Plus, I think it's only funny if you went to my high school. Anyway. This is intended to be racist, sexist, moderately offensive, and Asian American, or at least one interpretation of it.

I think I was 15 when I wrote this. For the record, the first time I read "Sure Thing" had been two years prior to my writing this, and most of my scripts fall under the category "the kind of script that doesn't require a set" because we were basically a so-low-we-have-no-budget theater group. I would know; I was the production manager.

I write stuff after the jump.