#plus i’m leaving for uni this saturday soooo

[blvdheart]

sometimes i’m like wow i wonder why i suck at communication and then it’s like oh yeah because my mom always ignores me for days on end LMAOO

[elvcs-blog]

*sing song vc* this is soooo lateeee! wow, amazing, spectacular. if i keep going at this rhythm, i’ll be late to my own funeral gosh. anyways, ‘ello lovelies. i’m summer but pls call me sums ( bc i love sums of money amirite? ) so if you didn’t notice, i’m the worst person and don’t come ‘n tell me that i didn’t warn you guys. so below this little line here is gonna be a battlefield aka elias’ life. so i hope you enjoy this total chaos.

elias ceryl rahal was born in the cold winter of ‘94. in the small town of platsburg, near the border the canadian border, elias took his first steps. he lived in a house where soup was a regular meal and naps were an often occurence, to sleep the hunger away. his father, ahmad rahal, worked at night, in those big trucks, digging the snow off the streets while his mother, sara, was a cleaning lady for the houstons. for young eli, home smelt like ajax and cigarettes. at the mere age of five, elias knew the trip from his grandma’s to home by heart, in which he walked alone everyday. his mother dearest was working during the day, while his father slept, so he had to spend his summer months at jida’s house. she thought him everything he knows. from baking to reading. for the few hours his grandpa was awake, he’d tell stories about the indo-pakistani war. with hungry eyes, the raven boy would listen, until the elder couldn’t speak anymore. at six pm, the boy would take his small spongebob backpack and head home. his life was a endless cycle. 

at age six, elias made it to school. it was small and local. people often doubted the teachers and their lessons. but eli liked it. he didn’t have to stay home where the smoke clogged his lungs nor where the toxic products tickled his nose. but it wasn’t quite the paradise at school. kids would pick him because of his weird food. while they had white bread sandwiches, elias ate his smelly keema. no matter how many times the boy told his momma he wanted red sauce spaghetti, he still had to eat samosas. but he didn’t let the mean classmates get to him. he’d continue his way and absorb everything mrs. teacher had to tell. and when he went back home. he’d take his time doing homework, since he didn’t have a lot of pages to colour or letters to trace. he didn’t like when his dad had to leave, he always said a bad word while doing so. often directed towards mama. but what elias hated more than everything was his saturdays. his dad was home all day, which meant violent movies and his friends coming over. they weren’t nice either. they asked eli to stay in his room. 

as he grew up the mean words started to hurt a little more. and when momma tried to get away, his grip left little nail marks on her skin. when she put elias to sleep, the eight year old would notice and kiss the little bubus knowing it would make it better. after all, momma told him that his kiss was magic. but one night papa slaped momma. in front of him! elias didn’t know how to react, he only saw those types of gestures on tv. his heart stopped for a while and tears brimmed his eyes. it was like the three of them were on pause. nobody moved they just looked at each other. but it was okay because papa apologized and the next day took eli to see one of his big trucks. they were enormous! they scared him a little but he was curious and wanted to know how they worked. 

elias was fourteen when he started running. not only he was on the track team but a girl had kissed him! she had stolen his magic kiss! it was easy to say that the teen got mad and slapped the girl, just like papa did to momma sometimes. he got sent to the principal, they told him it wasn’t right. but he didn’t understand, papa did it too! although, he didn’t tell them about that and just nodded. when his mom picked him up she was furious. so so mad! she started crying because she was enraged. she told him that she didn’t want to see that again. never. everytime he wanted to slap a girl, he imagined his momma and didn’t do it. he’d never hurt her. 

the situation at home just got worse. as he opened the door to his house, grey smoke surrounded him. but it didn’t smell like cleaning products anymore. just like alcohol and not the rubbing kind. but one night, elias will forever remember, he was sixteen and a half. he was up late doing chemistry homework when his father came back home. he started screaming about he lost his job and that it was their fault, that if he didn’t have a wife or a child, he’d have much more money. he’d slapped sara, again and again and again. elias didn’t hear it, he had headphones on, bohemian rhapsody playing while he wrote endless formulas. he didn’t notice anything until someone slammed his door open. he jumped on his wooden chair and looked towards his father. it was the first time he had seen such hunger, hunger for destruction. his knuckles were bruised and his eyes were wild. he pounced on elias. but the boy was quick, he got away. with his wallet on his back pocket he ran out of the house. not before seeing momma’s body on the floor. sleeping. or that’s what he thought. his legs lead him to the pizza delivery place. where he was a driver. the keys to the car were attached to his pants. without a second thought, he jumped on the vehicle and drove. he drove until his hands were sore and the gas ran out. 

that’s how he became a felon. he had stole his first of countless cars. from then on, he’d hang around the garage. it was his cousin’s. well distant cousin. he lived a few miles away from the big apple. elias made the other swear secrecy on his whereabouts. he know his father was looking for him. but the boy barely spoke and was discreet. he worked at the garage by day and dragged raced at night. winning money for himself. soon enough, he’d know how to fix a car like you know the alphabet. he knew how to drive a bus, a motorcycle. anything that came in and out of the garage. the boy also read books, about everything. and it looked like he knew just as much. racing became an addiction, running away from the cops was second nature and scheming plans for auto theft was like one plus one. 

for a while, elias worked for a gang. they weren’t small but they weren’t big. nothing compared to encantado. but he did learnt how to fly. planes and helicopters. it wasn’t too hard when all you had to do was to sneak into uni classes and read endless books about it. he loved to leave. sometimes he’d disappear for days and comeback with more money that when he left. he raced until he got to new york. where he committed his first and last error. he ran so fast, into a car. adriana verissimo’s car. next thing he knew. he was in debt towards the woman and was recruited into the organized crime association. 

THIS IS SO LONG JESUS CHRIST! IF YOU READ THIS IM NOT EVEN FUCKING KIDDING GO TREAT YOURSELF. PLEASE. JUST GO. ITS ON ME. ANYWAYS. IDK IF THAT WAS TOO DEEP OR NOT ENOUGH BUT PLS LOVE MY BABY AND I DOWN!!

[isaacathom]

i think im gonna go ahead and do my art project in copics. there is one BIG issue though - the background. its honestly just a huge mass of dark green, and not only do i not have a green dark enough, i dont want to Kill my copics. i might ask my teacher if its cool to not include the background and simply have the acetone print fill in. i think that would look kinda cool, anyway! so i can start working on that with sketches and stuff b4 thursday. can even get direct feedback on which looks better since i have copic v pencil samples. yeehaw.

then. ok. so i do need to start on my lang report soon since its due in.... 3 and a half weeks. the 24th clusterfuck is sorta mentally blocking me from wanting to touch it since i feel like i should have stuff finished first, but since the design thing is basically done, we MIGHT be good? sort of... the report of process still needs to be done and its gonna be uh ~fun~ right. yeah.

1989... i think tonight and tomorrow morning (b4 i leave for uni 1pm or so) im gonna work on getting the prelims for the curatorial, like picking a venue and finding a few more artists than just the two i have so far. tomorrow evening ill start working on the lang assignment. wednesday evening i can start on the sketch, maybe? or should i swap those? maybe tues+wed are sketch time (i mean it shouldnt take THAT long right) and then thursday and friday can be spent starting on lang w/ the intent to get further into it laaater. the weekends open but i plan to spend at least saturday finishing my part of the design stuff thats due on the 12th, right. hhhh god theres so Much.

god and then theres the sticker. assuming the bitch finally accepts my designs (im. Begging) i need to get those printed in time for NEXT wednesday (theee 15th) because thats when I’m putting them up. and i plan to use illustrator to make them bc its way more designed for that sort of thing, but that means i need to use the school comps. i dont wanna spend too long at school is the issue. like next monday would make sense (yknow, go to lecture @ 11, class at 12, go to the library at 2) but idk how long it will take and i dont wanna be home late, right? plus like..... ill have been at uni since like 10:20. that sucks. that blows. it might be the best one tho. cause tuesdays at awful for that (i only have the hour b/w lecture and class to work with) and wednesday is, yknow, the Day??? this thursday (9) isnt good either bc my friend is probably gonna be there this week and we usually chat after class soooo :/ i could go on friday or on the weekend, and if i do that i could print it out AND put it up on that day. that basically maths, yknow? going sunday would certainly uh Justify not going to mothers day lunch w/ my family (sorry nana :( ) but id also Rather Not go to uni... on a sunday. I’ve been to uni on my day off once before and at least that was a friday. hmm. probably friday. ah well.