Post 30 :: Sweet Sweet Lyrics :: Chapel Contemplations
I
I heard a couple of students sing this song today in chapel. I only wish I could find an mp3 of this somewhere; it's a great song.
Sweet Love Impossible
by Pono Nu'uhiwa
Do you see me when I’m walking by?
Or am I invisible?
Do you see me when you dream at night?
Or is this impossible?
You are the one I’ve been waiting for; but you never look my way;
So for now until you feel the same, you are my sweet love impossible
Sweet unforgettable.
You are the drops of starlight I could never hold.
Sweet love impossible.
Will I be lonely forevermore?
Without you right by my side
I live a lifetime of emptiness,
These feelings I cannot hide.
You are the only thing I can see, when you shine into my day.
So for now until you feel the same;
You are my sweet love impossible
Sweet unforgettable.
You are the drops of starlight I could never hold
Sweet love impossible.
You are the only thing I can see
When you shine shine into my day
So for now until, you feel the same,
You are my sweet love impossible. [Yeah yeah yeah]
Sweet unforgettable.
You are the drops of starlight I could never hold. [I could never never hold]
Sweet love impossible.
II
So eyes are the windows to the soul? Is that why eye contact is so uncomfortable for me? Because I don't want to feel "vulnerable"? Hm. While it is true that I rarely hold eye contact with other people, I can do it. It's just easier with the people I know well. With the people I trust. Does it mean I have to be vulnerable? No, I don't think so. Maybe it's an Asian thing. Maybe it's a me thing. Who knows?
PS: The quality project is dead. If time is money, then I'm flat-out broke, hon. Now ain't that a hoot. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to do this not at the end of the year, when everything comes crashing down on our shoulders. Papers, projects, AP exams, final exams... Is there no end to the madness? Now here's a rhetorical question: Why do I even bother?
Don't answer that.
x
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
you're one in a million
Post 29 :: Quintessential Somethings :: Oh, the Humanity!
I
I wonder if this is valid. My first thought (when I really think about this seriously) is a quintessential friend. So first, before we begin this little drabble of sorts, let's define the word. More for my sake than for yours, I must admit. Princeton's wordnet/whatnot defines it as "representing the perfect example of a class or quality." Although the first thing that comes to mind is that this example, a friend, does not really work, so we'll have to rethink that.
The Quintessential Paper Clip
We use these tiny metal objects so often, clipping them to loose sheets of paper, bending them into interesting shapes, and even making chains of them, linked together in an endless line of curved metal. We lose them as easy as we use them, perhaps even more easily. They're small, cheap, and simply not that valuable. Yet even though all that is true, how did something as simple as a piece of bent wire become so widely used? How can we look at that small piece of next-to-nothing and recognize it as a "paper clip"? There are three bends in a paper clip. Just enough to hold what you want. Just enough to contain itself in its pill-like shape. Just enough to make it the paper clip. Four bends is too many, making it too complex, neither as visually appealing nor as efficient. Two bends is too few, leaving too many holes, too little support. Three bends is the charm, simple, clean, and effective. Three bends makes the quintessential paper clip.
II
I shuffled through my library of old music a little while ago, and I pulled out a song I'd long since stopped listening to. It's a song in Russian, called, "Братья," or "Brothers," in English. It's a beautiful song, although it relates more to the storyline of the animation it is from than anything else. It really is an interesting show -- "Fullmetal Alchemist" -- look it up if you feel like it. It deals with the art of alchemy and how that affects life as we know it. How it affects views on humanity, as well as life and death.
Lyrics to "Brothers"
Прости меня, младший брат!
Я так пред тобой виноват.
Пытаться вернуть нельзя
Того, что взяла земля.
Кто знает закон Бытия,
Помог бы и мне найти ответ.
Жестоко ошибся я:
От смерти лекарства нет.
Милая мама! Нежная!
Мы так любили тебя.
Но все наши силы
Потрачены были зря.
Тебя соблазнил я
Прекрасной надеждой
Вернуть наш семейный очаг.
Мой брат, я во всем виноват.
Не плачь, не печалься, старший брат!
Не ты один виноват.
Дорога у нас одна,
Искупим вину до дна.
Мне не в чем тебя упрекнуть,
И я не обижен ничуть.
Тяжек, наш грех
Хотеть быть сильнее всех.
Милая мама! Нежная!
Мы так любили тебя.
Но все наши силы
Потрачены были зря.
Я сам соблазнился
Прекрасной надеждой
Вернуть наш семейный очаг.
Я сам во всем виноват.
Но что же нам делать, как быть?
Как все исправить, забыть?
Пытаться вернуть нельзя,
Того, что взяла земля.
(Prosti menya, mladshiy brat!
Ya tak pred toboy vinovat.
Pyitatsya vernut' nyelzya
Togo, chto vzyala zyemlya.
Kto znayet zakon Byitiya,
Pomog byi mne nayti otvet.
Zhestoko oshibsya ya;
Ot smerti lekarstva nyet.
Milaya mama! Nyezhnaya!
Myi tak lyubili tebya.
No vse nashi silyi
Potrachenyi byili zrya.
Tebya soblaznil ya
Prekrasnoy nadezhdoy
Vernut' nash semeynyiy ochag.
Moy brat, ya vo vsem vinovat.
Nye plach', nye pechal'sya, starshiy brat!
Nye tyi odin vinovat.
Doroga u nas odna,
Iskupim vinu do dna.
Mnye nye v chem tebya upreknut'.
I ya nye obihen nichut'.
Tyazhek, nash gryekh
Khotet' byit' silneye vsekh.
Milaya mama! Nyezhnaya!
Myi tak lyubili tebya.
No vse nashi silyi
Potrachenyi byili zrya.
Ya sam soblaznilsya
Prekprasnoy nadezhdoy
Vernut' nash semeinyiy ochag.
Ya sam vo vsem vinovat.
No chto zhe nam delat', kak byit'?
Kak vse ispravit', zyabyit'?
Pyitat'sya vernut' nyel'zhya,
Togo, chto vzyala zyemlya.)
Literal Translation:
Forgive me, little brother
How can I repay you, Brother of mine?
How can I expect you to forgive?
Clinging to the past, I shed our blood. And shattered your chance to live.
Though I knew the laws, I paid no heed. How can I return your wasted breath? What I did not know has cost you dear,
...for there is no cure for death.
Beautiful Mother, soft and sweet. Once you were gone we were not complete. Back through the years, we reached for you. Alas, twas not meant to be.
And how can I make amends... for all that I took from you?
I lead you with hopeless dreams.
My brother I was a fool.
Dont cry for the past now brother of mine. Neither you nor I are free from blame. Nothing can erase the things we did. For the path we took was the same.
Beautiful Mother, soft and sweet. Once you were gone we were not complete. Back through the years we reached for you. Alas, twas not meant to be.
My dreams made me blind and mute. I longed to return to that time. I followed without a word. My brother the fault is mine.
So where do we go from here? And how to forget and forgive?
What's gone is forever lost. Now all we can do is live.
I
I wonder if this is valid. My first thought (when I really think about this seriously) is a quintessential friend. So first, before we begin this little drabble of sorts, let's define the word. More for my sake than for yours, I must admit. Princeton's wordnet/whatnot defines it as "representing the perfect example of a class or quality." Although the first thing that comes to mind is that this example, a friend, does not really work, so we'll have to rethink that.
The Quintessential Paper Clip
We use these tiny metal objects so often, clipping them to loose sheets of paper, bending them into interesting shapes, and even making chains of them, linked together in an endless line of curved metal. We lose them as easy as we use them, perhaps even more easily. They're small, cheap, and simply not that valuable. Yet even though all that is true, how did something as simple as a piece of bent wire become so widely used? How can we look at that small piece of next-to-nothing and recognize it as a "paper clip"? There are three bends in a paper clip. Just enough to hold what you want. Just enough to contain itself in its pill-like shape. Just enough to make it the paper clip. Four bends is too many, making it too complex, neither as visually appealing nor as efficient. Two bends is too few, leaving too many holes, too little support. Three bends is the charm, simple, clean, and effective. Three bends makes the quintessential paper clip.
II
I shuffled through my library of old music a little while ago, and I pulled out a song I'd long since stopped listening to. It's a song in Russian, called, "Братья," or "Brothers," in English. It's a beautiful song, although it relates more to the storyline of the animation it is from than anything else. It really is an interesting show -- "Fullmetal Alchemist" -- look it up if you feel like it. It deals with the art of alchemy and how that affects life as we know it. How it affects views on humanity, as well as life and death.
Lyrics to "Brothers"
Прости меня, младший брат!
Я так пред тобой виноват.
Пытаться вернуть нельзя
Того, что взяла земля.
Кто знает закон Бытия,
Помог бы и мне найти ответ.
Жестоко ошибся я:
От смерти лекарства нет.
Милая мама! Нежная!
Мы так любили тебя.
Но все наши силы
Потрачены были зря.
Тебя соблазнил я
Прекрасной надеждой
Вернуть наш семейный очаг.
Мой брат, я во всем виноват.
Не плачь, не печалься, старший брат!
Не ты один виноват.
Дорога у нас одна,
Искупим вину до дна.
Мне не в чем тебя упрекнуть,
И я не обижен ничуть.
Тяжек, наш грех
Хотеть быть сильнее всех.
Милая мама! Нежная!
Мы так любили тебя.
Но все наши силы
Потрачены были зря.
Я сам соблазнился
Прекрасной надеждой
Вернуть наш семейный очаг.
Я сам во всем виноват.
Но что же нам делать, как быть?
Как все исправить, забыть?
Пытаться вернуть нельзя,
Того, что взяла земля.
(Prosti menya, mladshiy brat!
Ya tak pred toboy vinovat.
Pyitatsya vernut' nyelzya
Togo, chto vzyala zyemlya.
Kto znayet zakon Byitiya,
Pomog byi mne nayti otvet.
Zhestoko oshibsya ya;
Ot smerti lekarstva nyet.
Milaya mama! Nyezhnaya!
Myi tak lyubili tebya.
No vse nashi silyi
Potrachenyi byili zrya.
Tebya soblaznil ya
Prekrasnoy nadezhdoy
Vernut' nash semeynyiy ochag.
Moy brat, ya vo vsem vinovat.
Nye plach', nye pechal'sya, starshiy brat!
Nye tyi odin vinovat.
Doroga u nas odna,
Iskupim vinu do dna.
Mnye nye v chem tebya upreknut'.
I ya nye obihen nichut'.
Tyazhek, nash gryekh
Khotet' byit' silneye vsekh.
Milaya mama! Nyezhnaya!
Myi tak lyubili tebya.
No vse nashi silyi
Potrachenyi byili zrya.
Ya sam soblaznilsya
Prekprasnoy nadezhdoy
Vernut' nash semeinyiy ochag.
Ya sam vo vsem vinovat.
No chto zhe nam delat', kak byit'?
Kak vse ispravit', zyabyit'?
Pyitat'sya vernut' nyel'zhya,
Togo, chto vzyala zyemlya.)
Literal Translation:
Forgive me, little brother
English Version:I am so sorry before you.
It's forbidden to try to return
One taken by the earth.The one who knows the law of existence
Could help me to find the answer.
I was very mistaken
There's no cure for death.*Dear Mom, sweet Mom!
We loved you so much.
But all our efforts
Unfortunately were in vain.I tempted you
With the wonderful hope
Of returning our home.
My brother, it's all my fault.Don't cry, don't be sad, big brother.
You're not the only guilty one.
There's only one road before us,
We will purge our sins completely.I cannot blame you,
I am not hurt at all.
Well, we sinned
By wanting to be stronger than everyone else.Dear Mom, sweet Mom!
We loved you so much.
But all our efforts
Unfortunately were in vain.I was tempted
With the wonderful hope
Of returning our home.
I'm guilty for all of it.But what should we do, how should we be?
How to fix everything, to forget?
It's forbidden to try to return
One taken by the earth.*
How can I repay you, Brother of mine?
How can I expect you to forgive?
Clinging to the past, I shed our blood. And shattered your chance to live.
Though I knew the laws, I paid no heed. How can I return your wasted breath? What I did not know has cost you dear,
...for there is no cure for death.
Beautiful Mother, soft and sweet. Once you were gone we were not complete. Back through the years, we reached for you. Alas, twas not meant to be.
And how can I make amends... for all that I took from you?
I lead you with hopeless dreams.
My brother I was a fool.
Dont cry for the past now brother of mine. Neither you nor I are free from blame. Nothing can erase the things we did. For the path we took was the same.
Beautiful Mother, soft and sweet. Once you were gone we were not complete. Back through the years we reached for you. Alas, twas not meant to be.
My dreams made me blind and mute. I longed to return to that time. I followed without a word. My brother the fault is mine.
So where do we go from here? And how to forget and forgive?
What's gone is forever lost. Now all we can do is live.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
i'm so sick of love songs, so tired of tears
Post 28 :: Exodus Infinity :: On Going Out :: Of Parents and Problems :: Diarrhea of the Mouth
I
Yesterday, on Friday the thirteenth, we got together in groups of four or so and talked Exodus. We were supposed to have come to class having read the entire chapter, which was rather long, if I do say so myself. Most of our group read the chapter, I suppose, and somehow, we discovered a packet of printed Sparknotes on the floor between our books. I've never actually sat down and read any kind of Sparknotes. I saw one in the bookstore, picked it up and flipped through it, but I couldn't see myself buying it. I don't really want to confine myself to one point of view on a novel, and not be able to formulate my own opinion because I haven't read the actual text. Hah. That sounds snotty.
Anyway, as we discussed -- or rather, attempted to discuss -- the chapter, we found that no one really knew what to say. We didn't know what stood out or what was put in as a metaphor for something else. We didn't think about symbolism and motifs, or anything of that sort. Or at least, I didn't. Even though we had read Exodus, we couldn't draw anything of any sort of significance out of that literature circle. Personally, Exodus was more interesting, and I'd read part of it in advance. As a result of reading for pleasure rather than for assignment, I remembered almost nothing about these little details that loom so large in an English classroom. I did, however, enjoy reading. When I read for symbolism or detail specifically, there's nothing to enjoy. (Well, for someone like me, at least.)
Perhaps we could try out simply talking about the book. What we liked or disliked, thought was stupid or funny -- would that lead to a deeper conversation? Friday's literature circles seemed slow and not very active. No one felt the urge to share his or her ideas without being asked or prodded.
In the larger literature circle, more topics were brought up. By nature, I am quite the contrary person, and I love to argue. I don't mean any kind of personal attack or anything, but the way I speak makes it come off like that. So I tend to keep most of my opinions to myself in classroom discussion.
One topic that was brought up was the idea of Leah's beliefs while staying with the nuns. While she is there, she prays to old, black African stones as she waits for Anatole's return. One classmate mentioned it showed her religious beliefs or respect for nature. I thought her praying was kind of ironic, though. Her father, Nathan, had preached to the Congolese about their praying to false idols, which goes back to the Bel and the Serpent chapter. I'm not religious, so forgive me for saying anything that may be construed as disrespectful or offensive. Doesn't her prayer to the rock, when she says it is "One solid thing to believe in" (423) show that she has stopped believing in God? This may be a stretch, but I think it shows that she has given up on believing in something that she cannot hold. God is not solid. God is all about faith, and believing even when you cannot see. Why does Leah say "one solid thing"? She needs that solidity. Religion is no longer what she turns to when times are troubled.
II
It's not because I love my friends any less. In fact, I don't think anyone could ever imagine how much I appreciate my friends for staying with me even though I'm so difficult. No amount of money or words could ever express how strongly I feel about that. Even a smile or a wave makes my day that much brighter. Am I being ungrateful when I do things like this?
III
"I don't know why I couldn't have been born a good child, born someone who knows what they want, knows who they are, knows how to act. What to change, what to follow, what to fight."
An incredibly simple answer to this problem would be:
Just shut up and be nice.
But I just... It's not that easy for me. By my damned nature, I am argumentative, sarcastic, and cynical. Not to mention short-tempered. Unfortunately.
And I must need some kind of psychological help or something, because I just can't get myself to control it. And it's not even a "can't" anymore. I'm pretty sure I can. I just... don't. For some odd reason. Especially when I'm tired. I mean, really. You'd think I could at least be respectful towards my parents. But no. For some reason, I'm always pissing my mom off to high hell, even more so nowadays than before. I've always got some kind of attitude. I've always got some tone in my voice. I'm always doing something disrespectful or being lazy. Hell! I'm doing it again, right now! Why can't I stop?
Most of the time, I don't even realize what I'm doing and that it comes off as rude and disrespectful -- until she reprimands me for it.
There's something to be said about my character there.
How do I fix myself? It's like I've got the instruction manual and all the tools. But without the pin that holds everything together, it falls apart with the smallest nudge. How do I find that piece? It's just so frustrating! How can I be this slow?
* How do we fix ourselves?
IV
Haha.
I
Yesterday, on Friday the thirteenth, we got together in groups of four or so and talked Exodus. We were supposed to have come to class having read the entire chapter, which was rather long, if I do say so myself. Most of our group read the chapter, I suppose, and somehow, we discovered a packet of printed Sparknotes on the floor between our books. I've never actually sat down and read any kind of Sparknotes. I saw one in the bookstore, picked it up and flipped through it, but I couldn't see myself buying it. I don't really want to confine myself to one point of view on a novel, and not be able to formulate my own opinion because I haven't read the actual text. Hah. That sounds snotty.
Anyway, as we discussed -- or rather, attempted to discuss -- the chapter, we found that no one really knew what to say. We didn't know what stood out or what was put in as a metaphor for something else. We didn't think about symbolism and motifs, or anything of that sort. Or at least, I didn't. Even though we had read Exodus, we couldn't draw anything of any sort of significance out of that literature circle. Personally, Exodus was more interesting, and I'd read part of it in advance. As a result of reading for pleasure rather than for assignment, I remembered almost nothing about these little details that loom so large in an English classroom. I did, however, enjoy reading. When I read for symbolism or detail specifically, there's nothing to enjoy. (Well, for someone like me, at least.)
Perhaps we could try out simply talking about the book. What we liked or disliked, thought was stupid or funny -- would that lead to a deeper conversation? Friday's literature circles seemed slow and not very active. No one felt the urge to share his or her ideas without being asked or prodded.
In the larger literature circle, more topics were brought up. By nature, I am quite the contrary person, and I love to argue. I don't mean any kind of personal attack or anything, but the way I speak makes it come off like that. So I tend to keep most of my opinions to myself in classroom discussion.
One topic that was brought up was the idea of Leah's beliefs while staying with the nuns. While she is there, she prays to old, black African stones as she waits for Anatole's return. One classmate mentioned it showed her religious beliefs or respect for nature. I thought her praying was kind of ironic, though. Her father, Nathan, had preached to the Congolese about their praying to false idols, which goes back to the Bel and the Serpent chapter. I'm not religious, so forgive me for saying anything that may be construed as disrespectful or offensive. Doesn't her prayer to the rock, when she says it is "One solid thing to believe in" (423) show that she has stopped believing in God? This may be a stretch, but I think it shows that she has given up on believing in something that she cannot hold. God is not solid. God is all about faith, and believing even when you cannot see. Why does Leah say "one solid thing"? She needs that solidity. Religion is no longer what she turns to when times are troubled.
II
It's not because I love my friends any less. In fact, I don't think anyone could ever imagine how much I appreciate my friends for staying with me even though I'm so difficult. No amount of money or words could ever express how strongly I feel about that. Even a smile or a wave makes my day that much brighter. Am I being ungrateful when I do things like this?
III
"I don't know why I couldn't have been born a good child, born someone who knows what they want, knows who they are, knows how to act. What to change, what to follow, what to fight."
An incredibly simple answer to this problem would be:
Just shut up and be nice.
But I just... It's not that easy for me. By my damned nature, I am argumentative, sarcastic, and cynical. Not to mention short-tempered. Unfortunately.
And I must need some kind of psychological help or something, because I just can't get myself to control it. And it's not even a "can't" anymore. I'm pretty sure I can. I just... don't. For some odd reason. Especially when I'm tired. I mean, really. You'd think I could at least be respectful towards my parents. But no. For some reason, I'm always pissing my mom off to high hell, even more so nowadays than before. I've always got some kind of attitude. I've always got some tone in my voice. I'm always doing something disrespectful or being lazy. Hell! I'm doing it again, right now! Why can't I stop?
Most of the time, I don't even realize what I'm doing and that it comes off as rude and disrespectful -- until she reprimands me for it.
There's something to be said about my character there.
How do I fix myself? It's like I've got the instruction manual and all the tools. But without the pin that holds everything together, it falls apart with the smallest nudge. How do I find that piece? It's just so frustrating! How can I be this slow?
* How do we fix ourselves?
IV
Haha.
Monday, April 9, 2007
the seaweed is always greener in somebody else's lake
Post 27 :: Useless Thinking and Lyrics
five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
What do we do with each one of those minutes? Are we doing what we want to be doing? Doing what we should be doing? Doing what needs to be done? Living each one to the fullest?
five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Should past experiences affect how we continue to live our lives? Should bad experiences limit your willingness to try again? How do we rid ourselves of shame and regret? Do we carry them with us until we pass on, like permanent shackles from which we cannot free ourselves? Or should we use them to our advantage? Somehow, some way?
five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Life is long, but life is short. Which is it? Why is it? If we make the most of each and every single minute, would life become too long? Maybe we're given all the time we need to attain happiness and everything we could ever want. Maybe we're not, so the things we do attain are made more precious.
how do you measure, measure a year?
if there's a prize for rotten judgement, i guess i've already won that
When we make mistakes, what happens to them? They say the human mind is excellent at erasing painful memories, but why is it that those are the ones that come first into my mind? All I can think of is how I screwed up, how poorly I handled each situation. When does the erasing kick in? How long should I carry this mark on my slate? A week? Three months? Forever?
no man is worth the aggravation
I can see how forever would be prudent. Any bad choice should be remembered so the choice is never made again. But how long does this guilt have to sit in my heart, dropping lead into the pit of my stomach? How long will it be until people forget? How long will it be until I forget?
that's ancient history
I can't forget it ever happened. That would be an insult to everyone, myself included. Then what can I do? Learn from it? Hah. I don't want the past to repeat itself, but every time I think I want to try again, the past ambles up to me with its crooked gait, filling me with anxiety and guilt. Maybe even fear. Although... Part of that fear may be directly for myself. I don't want to get hurt. Part of it is for the others who involve themselves with me. They'll get hurt. And the rest of it is for myself, indirectly. I don't know if I could live with myself if I repeat another mistake.
been there, done that
I don't want it to happen again. I don't want it to happen again. I don't want it to happen again. I don't want another reminder of the kind of person I am. I don't want the knowledge of my cruelty, whether it was intentional or not, writ into stone once more. I don't want this shame cast across my shoulders again.
no chance, no way, i won't say it no, no
I don't see why I bother thinking through this again and again. It's not like anything's going to change. I'll lose interest and everything will be back to normal. I don't see why I feel the need to agonize over each moment of my life, over each and every little thing that happens. All this will do is give me premature wrinkles, if anything. Everyone says I think about things too much, myself included. Why can't I stop?
it's too cliche
I just can't. Or can I?
i won't say i'm in love
Maybe I just think I can't? If I think I can, will I be able to change it? Old habits die hard, right? Or were they bad habits? I don't know. I'd better go all out, then. I'll think about the things that need more thinking about -- like studying. I haven't been doing much of that lately.
i thought my heart had learned its lesson
I think I want to try again, if anyone would let me. And yet I don't want what happened before to happen again. I don't want to start something that will end, because I don't know how it would end. How can I say that? Hah. I know everything ends. Even life.
it feels so good when you start out
I couldn't do it again, could I? I don't think so, but I wouldn't know. I do know, however, that if I did, the guilt would crush me. Or... it should.
my head is screaming, "get a grip, girl"
How can I be so deluded? How can I not see things clearly until I've done what I cannot turn back time and redo? If only life were like a video game, with the reset button an arm's reach away.
unless you're dying to cry your heart out
I don't want this to hurt any more. It shouldn't even hurt me, because I was the one who hurt someone else with the very same blade. I guess this is the metaphorical double-edged sword. Though the metaphor itself is wrong, because you will never cut yourself at the same time, even if the sword is double-edged. Hm.
no chance, no way, i won't say it no, no
I guess it would be more accurately described as recoil. When you fire the gun, someone else takes the bullet. You feel the recoil, though. Right? The bigger the shot, the stronger the recoil. In my mind, the shot's recoil has magnified itself a thousand-fold. And it wasn't all that small to begin with. I can't even think about starting a new slate without it burning itself into my thoughts. I want to throw it away, to stop feeling this guilt and this shame -- this immense disgust for who I am and what I embody.
this scene won't play
I am a despicable person. I guess everyone should have the right to be happy, but somehow I can't bring myself to believe that I am part of that "everyone." I've hurt too many people, done too many things I'm ashamed of, accumulated too much regret... I just don't think someone like me could deserve to be happy. Call it self-pity if you will, because I'm sure it is. Sorry.
i won't say i'm in love
i have often dreamed of a far-off place, where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me
I want to surround myself with things that make me happy. Is that too material? I want to surround myself with people who make me smile. Is that too selfish? I want to be happy. Do I have the right?
where the crowds will cheer when they see my face
Is it wrong? Is it natural? Would it being natural make it acceptable? If I want to belong somewhere, where do I look? Is it selfish to look to another to take my flaws in stride and continue walking -- when I am too afraid, too insecure to do it myself? Is it too cowardly?
and a voice keeps saying, "this is where i'm meant to be"
If I cannot overlook things, even for the people I love, where will I end up? If I keep pushing people away, either intentionally or unintentionally, will I not end up alone? Lonely? If I swallow the pride I've thrown away long ago, can I keep those I love from leaving me? Can I lift the blinds from my heart and see what it is I love, rather than think about what I cannot bring myself to take in stride? For myself, as well as for others?
i'll be there some day
I wish I were more patient. I wish I were kinder, more generous, more attentive. I wish I were less talkative, less negative, less boring. More attractive, more than what I am. Less of a pain, less of a brat. More optimistic, less lazy, more feminine, less prone to random fits of anger, more stable... Where is the happy medium? I realize that nobody can be perfect, but isn't that just because everyone has different ideas of what constitutes perfection? You can be perfect in your own eyes, can't you? Perfect in your imperfection? So why does everyone say you cannot be perfect?
i can go the distance
Can I be perfect in my own eyes? Can I learn to accept these flaws and ridiculous mannerisms?
i will find my way
Should I accept these flaws? Where do we stop accepting and start changing? "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." What about the things we should change? Is the quote made this way to show us that there is nothing that should or should not be done? Is it a matter of wanting to or not wanting to? Is it a matter of needing to? Why do I lack the wisdom to know the difference?
if i can be strong
How can I change myself? How can I bend my mind around the fact that I hate it when people tap pencils on the table? How can I stop snapping at people who wiggle their legs and make the entire desk shake? How can I restrain my temper? How can I stop myself? I can't stand being annoyed at every little thing. It's unhealthy and mean. "Mean" is a somewhat anti-climactic word to use, but hell, that's the simplest word I can think of to describe it. I can't stand myself this way. How can I change?
i know every mile will be worth my while
Someone once said that it is in realizing that we need to change, that we begin to do so. Why am I stuck in this wretched mindset? Why can't I find a way to make people smile, instead of make them frown? Make them laugh instead of cry? If I keep pushing myself to the edge, trying to bring forth some epiphany or realization, will I finally get one? Will I finally be able to change?
when i go the distance, i'll be right where i belong
five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
What do we do with each one of those minutes? Are we doing what we want to be doing? Doing what we should be doing? Doing what needs to be done? Living each one to the fullest?
five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Should past experiences affect how we continue to live our lives? Should bad experiences limit your willingness to try again? How do we rid ourselves of shame and regret? Do we carry them with us until we pass on, like permanent shackles from which we cannot free ourselves? Or should we use them to our advantage? Somehow, some way?
five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Life is long, but life is short. Which is it? Why is it? If we make the most of each and every single minute, would life become too long? Maybe we're given all the time we need to attain happiness and everything we could ever want. Maybe we're not, so the things we do attain are made more precious.
how do you measure, measure a year?
if there's a prize for rotten judgement, i guess i've already won that
When we make mistakes, what happens to them? They say the human mind is excellent at erasing painful memories, but why is it that those are the ones that come first into my mind? All I can think of is how I screwed up, how poorly I handled each situation. When does the erasing kick in? How long should I carry this mark on my slate? A week? Three months? Forever?
no man is worth the aggravation
I can see how forever would be prudent. Any bad choice should be remembered so the choice is never made again. But how long does this guilt have to sit in my heart, dropping lead into the pit of my stomach? How long will it be until people forget? How long will it be until I forget?
that's ancient history
I can't forget it ever happened. That would be an insult to everyone, myself included. Then what can I do? Learn from it? Hah. I don't want the past to repeat itself, but every time I think I want to try again, the past ambles up to me with its crooked gait, filling me with anxiety and guilt. Maybe even fear. Although... Part of that fear may be directly for myself. I don't want to get hurt. Part of it is for the others who involve themselves with me. They'll get hurt. And the rest of it is for myself, indirectly. I don't know if I could live with myself if I repeat another mistake.
been there, done that
I don't want it to happen again. I don't want it to happen again. I don't want it to happen again. I don't want another reminder of the kind of person I am. I don't want the knowledge of my cruelty, whether it was intentional or not, writ into stone once more. I don't want this shame cast across my shoulders again.
no chance, no way, i won't say it no, no
I don't see why I bother thinking through this again and again. It's not like anything's going to change. I'll lose interest and everything will be back to normal. I don't see why I feel the need to agonize over each moment of my life, over each and every little thing that happens. All this will do is give me premature wrinkles, if anything. Everyone says I think about things too much, myself included. Why can't I stop?
it's too cliche
I just can't. Or can I?
i won't say i'm in love
Maybe I just think I can't? If I think I can, will I be able to change it? Old habits die hard, right? Or were they bad habits? I don't know. I'd better go all out, then. I'll think about the things that need more thinking about -- like studying. I haven't been doing much of that lately.
i thought my heart had learned its lesson
I think I want to try again, if anyone would let me. And yet I don't want what happened before to happen again. I don't want to start something that will end, because I don't know how it would end. How can I say that? Hah. I know everything ends. Even life.
it feels so good when you start out
I couldn't do it again, could I? I don't think so, but I wouldn't know. I do know, however, that if I did, the guilt would crush me. Or... it should.
my head is screaming, "get a grip, girl"
How can I be so deluded? How can I not see things clearly until I've done what I cannot turn back time and redo? If only life were like a video game, with the reset button an arm's reach away.
unless you're dying to cry your heart out
I don't want this to hurt any more. It shouldn't even hurt me, because I was the one who hurt someone else with the very same blade. I guess this is the metaphorical double-edged sword. Though the metaphor itself is wrong, because you will never cut yourself at the same time, even if the sword is double-edged. Hm.
no chance, no way, i won't say it no, no
I guess it would be more accurately described as recoil. When you fire the gun, someone else takes the bullet. You feel the recoil, though. Right? The bigger the shot, the stronger the recoil. In my mind, the shot's recoil has magnified itself a thousand-fold. And it wasn't all that small to begin with. I can't even think about starting a new slate without it burning itself into my thoughts. I want to throw it away, to stop feeling this guilt and this shame -- this immense disgust for who I am and what I embody.
this scene won't play
I am a despicable person. I guess everyone should have the right to be happy, but somehow I can't bring myself to believe that I am part of that "everyone." I've hurt too many people, done too many things I'm ashamed of, accumulated too much regret... I just don't think someone like me could deserve to be happy. Call it self-pity if you will, because I'm sure it is. Sorry.
i won't say i'm in love
i have often dreamed of a far-off place, where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me
I want to surround myself with things that make me happy. Is that too material? I want to surround myself with people who make me smile. Is that too selfish? I want to be happy. Do I have the right?
where the crowds will cheer when they see my face
Is it wrong? Is it natural? Would it being natural make it acceptable? If I want to belong somewhere, where do I look? Is it selfish to look to another to take my flaws in stride and continue walking -- when I am too afraid, too insecure to do it myself? Is it too cowardly?
and a voice keeps saying, "this is where i'm meant to be"
If I cannot overlook things, even for the people I love, where will I end up? If I keep pushing people away, either intentionally or unintentionally, will I not end up alone? Lonely? If I swallow the pride I've thrown away long ago, can I keep those I love from leaving me? Can I lift the blinds from my heart and see what it is I love, rather than think about what I cannot bring myself to take in stride? For myself, as well as for others?
i'll be there some day
I wish I were more patient. I wish I were kinder, more generous, more attentive. I wish I were less talkative, less negative, less boring. More attractive, more than what I am. Less of a pain, less of a brat. More optimistic, less lazy, more feminine, less prone to random fits of anger, more stable... Where is the happy medium? I realize that nobody can be perfect, but isn't that just because everyone has different ideas of what constitutes perfection? You can be perfect in your own eyes, can't you? Perfect in your imperfection? So why does everyone say you cannot be perfect?
i can go the distance
Can I be perfect in my own eyes? Can I learn to accept these flaws and ridiculous mannerisms?
i will find my way
Should I accept these flaws? Where do we stop accepting and start changing? "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." What about the things we should change? Is the quote made this way to show us that there is nothing that should or should not be done? Is it a matter of wanting to or not wanting to? Is it a matter of needing to? Why do I lack the wisdom to know the difference?
if i can be strong
How can I change myself? How can I bend my mind around the fact that I hate it when people tap pencils on the table? How can I stop snapping at people who wiggle their legs and make the entire desk shake? How can I restrain my temper? How can I stop myself? I can't stand being annoyed at every little thing. It's unhealthy and mean. "Mean" is a somewhat anti-climactic word to use, but hell, that's the simplest word I can think of to describe it. I can't stand myself this way. How can I change?
i know every mile will be worth my while
Someone once said that it is in realizing that we need to change, that we begin to do so. Why am I stuck in this wretched mindset? Why can't I find a way to make people smile, instead of make them frown? Make them laugh instead of cry? If I keep pushing myself to the edge, trying to bring forth some epiphany or realization, will I finally get one? Will I finally be able to change?
when i go the distance, i'll be right where i belong
Thursday, April 5, 2007
if there's a prize for rotten judgement, i guess i've already won that
Post 25, 26 CONSOLIDATED :: SAT essay :: Bel and the Serpent Infinity
I
Another SAT practice essay on, of all things to write about, "practical" skills.
This question is a difficult one to answer. For one, the concept of "too much" can mean different things to different people. How much is too much? People working different jobs in different fields and situations will have very different answers.
There are too many variables involved in this question. The concept of "too much," as mentioned above, is one. Another problem involves the quote. When the quote mentions "how to live a good life," whose "good life" is it talking about? For some, making a good living can constitute a good life. Having the money to live in a house and send one's kids to school can constitute a good life. This quote seems to put so clear a barrier between the ideas of a "good living" and a "good life," but there is no distinction so clear.
This can be argued, however. The emphasis on practical skills that emerges early on in our lives in the form of mandatory school attendance could be one of the reasons what constitutes our idea of "a good life" involves a good living. If we had not learned from an early age that our lives depend on money and the practical skills needed to bring in that money, would our ideas be different? Perhaps there would be a clearer distinction between a focus on making a good living and living a "good life."
Another problem with the quote lies in that same line, which speaks about living a good life. How would one teach another about how to live "a good life"? If everyone has a different idea of what constitues a good life, would not one man trying to teach many others "how to live a good life" turn into a telling of exploits and one's own experiences only? I believe you cannot teach someone how to live their life. They must learn on their own; the words of others are flimsy barriers, and what may have been a bad experience for one may be an excellent experience for another. In this case, practical skills would be the "happy medium" of sorts. In this practical world, one needs at least a few practical skills to survive. If one is taught practical skills, it serves as a foundation. They will be able to apply themselves with those skills, finding ways to live their own lives.
Going back to the idea of a "practical world," although there is the ideal, "I shouldn't have to conform to society's wishes" way of thinking, that thought is not entirely true. If one is impoverished and at the bottom of the social ladder, living in unsanitary conditions and lacking education of any kind, one will almost certainly be unhappy; however, perhaps that assumption is a direct result of my own upbringing, attending a school that teaches practical skills among other things.
In other words, an answer to this question could be: "No, because practical skills are necessary to survive in a world like ours, which is focused on money, practicality, and results." Yet, another answer could be: "Yes, because in learning and putting too much emphasis on practicality, we limit our creativity and imagination. We begin to lose the want to go farther -- the ability to reach farther than our original goal. When practical skills are overemphasized, we begin to think that getting to the finish line is enough. We no longer see a need to keep running." It simply depends on who answers the question and what the person's idea of "a good life" is.
II
"Always the Analyst"
Nathan:
In Bel and the Serpent, we see Nathan finally crack. The people of the village decide to take a vote on whether or not to keep his ideas of God, and in response, he "pointed his finger like a gun at Tata Ndu, then swung it around to accuse the whole congregation" (332). Funny that this should involve any sort of accusation at all. His outburst is (maybe) intended to sway their judgements back to the worship of God, either by guilt or by realization, but instead, he reaps the opposite; the Congolese choose to abandon their "belief" in the white God.
From here on out, I think Nathan will continue to spiral, in his crazed obsession with bringing these people, who have never once needed to be saved, to salvation. He cannot seem to compromise, and that is his downfall. He believes that what is right or "good" for him is considered salvation for everyone around him, when all it really becomes is a cage, for himself and for his family.
Orleanna:
Also in Bel in the Serpent is the final turning point of this novel, in my opinion, for Orleanna's state of mind. After the death of Ruth May, Orleanna finally seems to realize something. Either that, or something within her is also taken by the death of her youngest daughter that allows her to see what she should have done a long time ago -- leave Nathan and begin her own life. In the beginning of Exodus, it is revealed that they, the remaining four women, leave Nathan Price behind at long last. I think Orleanna should have chosen to leave a long time ago, but I suppose she never actually thought to leave until something irreversible happened.
Leah:
It seems like, in Exodus, almost all of the girls' mindsets have begun to take downhill turns. Well, perhaps Leah may be an exception, although it seems like she's taking being unbiased a little bit too far; she now seems to be more biased against whites than anything. It also seems like she has more than a little bit of resentment towards her father and towards his religion -- his "God." She also says, "The children weren't paying much mind right then to my father or his bubbling spring of eternal life" (374). Leah was always the one who believed in her father the most -- she believed his teachings were right and holy. Now, she has become more like Adah in her mindset; somehow, her words seemed a little sarcastic in that quote. (Or it could have been simply my interpretation of them.)
I think one of the major influences on her state of mind is Anatole. Ever since the events of the night of the nsongonya in Judges, she has begun to distance herself, either consciously or unconsciously, from her family. She begins to associate herself more with the Congolese than she does with the whites.
I
Another SAT practice essay on, of all things to write about, "practical" skills.
This question is a difficult one to answer. For one, the concept of "too much" can mean different things to different people. How much is too much? People working different jobs in different fields and situations will have very different answers.
There are too many variables involved in this question. The concept of "too much," as mentioned above, is one. Another problem involves the quote. When the quote mentions "how to live a good life," whose "good life" is it talking about? For some, making a good living can constitute a good life. Having the money to live in a house and send one's kids to school can constitute a good life. This quote seems to put so clear a barrier between the ideas of a "good living" and a "good life," but there is no distinction so clear.
This can be argued, however. The emphasis on practical skills that emerges early on in our lives in the form of mandatory school attendance could be one of the reasons what constitutes our idea of "a good life" involves a good living. If we had not learned from an early age that our lives depend on money and the practical skills needed to bring in that money, would our ideas be different? Perhaps there would be a clearer distinction between a focus on making a good living and living a "good life."
Another problem with the quote lies in that same line, which speaks about living a good life. How would one teach another about how to live "a good life"? If everyone has a different idea of what constitues a good life, would not one man trying to teach many others "how to live a good life" turn into a telling of exploits and one's own experiences only? I believe you cannot teach someone how to live their life. They must learn on their own; the words of others are flimsy barriers, and what may have been a bad experience for one may be an excellent experience for another. In this case, practical skills would be the "happy medium" of sorts. In this practical world, one needs at least a few practical skills to survive. If one is taught practical skills, it serves as a foundation. They will be able to apply themselves with those skills, finding ways to live their own lives.
Going back to the idea of a "practical world," although there is the ideal, "I shouldn't have to conform to society's wishes" way of thinking, that thought is not entirely true. If one is impoverished and at the bottom of the social ladder, living in unsanitary conditions and lacking education of any kind, one will almost certainly be unhappy; however, perhaps that assumption is a direct result of my own upbringing, attending a school that teaches practical skills among other things.
In other words, an answer to this question could be: "No, because practical skills are necessary to survive in a world like ours, which is focused on money, practicality, and results." Yet, another answer could be: "Yes, because in learning and putting too much emphasis on practicality, we limit our creativity and imagination. We begin to lose the want to go farther -- the ability to reach farther than our original goal. When practical skills are overemphasized, we begin to think that getting to the finish line is enough. We no longer see a need to keep running." It simply depends on who answers the question and what the person's idea of "a good life" is.
II
"Always the Analyst"
Nathan:
In Bel and the Serpent, we see Nathan finally crack. The people of the village decide to take a vote on whether or not to keep his ideas of God, and in response, he "pointed his finger like a gun at Tata Ndu, then swung it around to accuse the whole congregation" (332). Funny that this should involve any sort of accusation at all. His outburst is (maybe) intended to sway their judgements back to the worship of God, either by guilt or by realization, but instead, he reaps the opposite; the Congolese choose to abandon their "belief" in the white God.
From here on out, I think Nathan will continue to spiral, in his crazed obsession with bringing these people, who have never once needed to be saved, to salvation. He cannot seem to compromise, and that is his downfall. He believes that what is right or "good" for him is considered salvation for everyone around him, when all it really becomes is a cage, for himself and for his family.
Orleanna:
Also in Bel in the Serpent is the final turning point of this novel, in my opinion, for Orleanna's state of mind. After the death of Ruth May, Orleanna finally seems to realize something. Either that, or something within her is also taken by the death of her youngest daughter that allows her to see what she should have done a long time ago -- leave Nathan and begin her own life. In the beginning of Exodus, it is revealed that they, the remaining four women, leave Nathan Price behind at long last. I think Orleanna should have chosen to leave a long time ago, but I suppose she never actually thought to leave until something irreversible happened.
Leah:
It seems like, in Exodus, almost all of the girls' mindsets have begun to take downhill turns. Well, perhaps Leah may be an exception, although it seems like she's taking being unbiased a little bit too far; she now seems to be more biased against whites than anything. It also seems like she has more than a little bit of resentment towards her father and towards his religion -- his "God." She also says, "The children weren't paying much mind right then to my father or his bubbling spring of eternal life" (374). Leah was always the one who believed in her father the most -- she believed his teachings were right and holy. Now, she has become more like Adah in her mindset; somehow, her words seemed a little sarcastic in that quote. (Or it could have been simply my interpretation of them.)
I think one of the major influences on her state of mind is Anatole. Ever since the events of the night of the nsongonya in Judges, she has begun to distance herself, either consciously or unconsciously, from her family. She begins to associate herself more with the Congolese than she does with the whites.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
would you mind if i sat next to you and watched you smile?
Post 24 :: Fatal Attraction :: Can't See the Forest for the Trees
I
Today, I watched the DVD version of a book called The Secret. It was interesting, to say the least. It tells you about the Law of Attraction, and how the thoughts and feelings that you have contain the power to bend the universe to your will. You can achieve anything if you believe. Ask, believe, and recieve, or so they said. All through it, they told incredible stories of the workings of the human mind. I really don't want to go through the entire thing. Read it, watch it -- I think it would be an interesting experience for you, dear reader. It may change your life forever.
Though I say this, I can't help but feel that niggling doubt at the back of my mind.
STOP. Have faith and give it a go. Focusing on things that you don't want to happen will only strengthen them, bringing them about time and time again. Your thoughts emit frequencies, and those frequencies attract like frequencies. Negative to negative, positive to positive. Focus on the happiness, your gratitude -- all you have to be thankful for. Be pro-peace instead of anti-war. Think about what you want. The universe doesn't interpret want or dislike. So focus on happiness. Hold that in your sights and keep walking.
All we can do is try, right? So I'll try this. I'll begin thinking less about what I don't have and more about what I have. What I am grateful for. I will focus on the joy of achieving something I have long hoped for or wanted to do, and I will stay happy. I will have good days. I will finish all these drawings and prints for the convention -- with time to spare! I will have good hair days. I will lose those pounds I gained over spring break.
And with those thoughts, I will attain happiness.
II
Being a teenager. You, dear reader (as I have taken to calling you), may say, "Been there, done that." As simple as that, right? Am I allowed to analyze these troubled years of hormones and turmoil? Or would that be considered inappropriate or premature, as I am still smack-dab in the middle of those zit-filled years? Either way, I'm going to write this out, because I feel like I could look back on it and remember where I am and who I am. How old I am and how far I still have to walk.
Crushes
Isn't it funny how every little crush starts out small and then, out of the blue, it balloons out to impossible sizes? One moment, he's just "cute," and the next, you're noticing every little thing he does, interpreting habits that you never noticed before -- wondering: Does he have a girlfriend? Would he be interested in me? OMG What do I look like? Is there anything in my teeth? On my face? Oh man! I hope my hair looks all right! A mountain of insecurities springs up out of nowhere, like a bad zit on the day of the prom.
Why is this? Why does every movement have to have some kind of significance? Every sentence, its double, hidden meaning? Is it some hormonal imbalance that just happens to spring up every now and then? Levels of chemicals and nutrients in your blood, different parts of your brain being active... Is it chemical? Or is it something else? Something deeper and far less scientific? Are we, as teenagers, capable of "true love"? Or are we still too young, still too untried, still too inexperienced?
Are the subtle shaking of the fingers and the quickening of the pulse signs of a crush? And why is it that it's never really something you think about until you say, to yourself or to others, "I have a crush on so-and-so"? It begins with a simple thought, and your words seal the deal. So what if we never admitted anything out loud? Crushes seem so unstable. Unprovoked, unproven, not even backed by some sort logic 99% of the time. And they're short-lived, too, for the most part. They seem to take you on an emotional rollercoaster, up, down, all around, for less than that imaginary minute, only to leave you dizzy and possibly nauseated at the exit of the ride. So why do we continue "crushing" on people? Is it worth it? Is it all precious "experience," to be spoken of later in life, to your own teenagers when they begin this awkward phase?
I
Today, I watched the DVD version of a book called The Secret. It was interesting, to say the least. It tells you about the Law of Attraction, and how the thoughts and feelings that you have contain the power to bend the universe to your will. You can achieve anything if you believe. Ask, believe, and recieve, or so they said. All through it, they told incredible stories of the workings of the human mind. I really don't want to go through the entire thing. Read it, watch it -- I think it would be an interesting experience for you, dear reader. It may change your life forever.
Though I say this, I can't help but feel that niggling doubt at the back of my mind.
STOP. Have faith and give it a go. Focusing on things that you don't want to happen will only strengthen them, bringing them about time and time again. Your thoughts emit frequencies, and those frequencies attract like frequencies. Negative to negative, positive to positive. Focus on the happiness, your gratitude -- all you have to be thankful for. Be pro-peace instead of anti-war. Think about what you want. The universe doesn't interpret want or dislike. So focus on happiness. Hold that in your sights and keep walking.
All we can do is try, right? So I'll try this. I'll begin thinking less about what I don't have and more about what I have. What I am grateful for. I will focus on the joy of achieving something I have long hoped for or wanted to do, and I will stay happy. I will have good days. I will finish all these drawings and prints for the convention -- with time to spare! I will have good hair days. I will lose those pounds I gained over spring break.
And with those thoughts, I will attain happiness.
II
Being a teenager. You, dear reader (as I have taken to calling you), may say, "Been there, done that." As simple as that, right? Am I allowed to analyze these troubled years of hormones and turmoil? Or would that be considered inappropriate or premature, as I am still smack-dab in the middle of those zit-filled years? Either way, I'm going to write this out, because I feel like I could look back on it and remember where I am and who I am. How old I am and how far I still have to walk.
Crushes
Isn't it funny how every little crush starts out small and then, out of the blue, it balloons out to impossible sizes? One moment, he's just "cute," and the next, you're noticing every little thing he does, interpreting habits that you never noticed before -- wondering: Does he have a girlfriend? Would he be interested in me? OMG What do I look like? Is there anything in my teeth? On my face? Oh man! I hope my hair looks all right! A mountain of insecurities springs up out of nowhere, like a bad zit on the day of the prom.
Why is this? Why does every movement have to have some kind of significance? Every sentence, its double, hidden meaning? Is it some hormonal imbalance that just happens to spring up every now and then? Levels of chemicals and nutrients in your blood, different parts of your brain being active... Is it chemical? Or is it something else? Something deeper and far less scientific? Are we, as teenagers, capable of "true love"? Or are we still too young, still too untried, still too inexperienced?
Are the subtle shaking of the fingers and the quickening of the pulse signs of a crush? And why is it that it's never really something you think about until you say, to yourself or to others, "I have a crush on so-and-so"? It begins with a simple thought, and your words seal the deal. So what if we never admitted anything out loud? Crushes seem so unstable. Unprovoked, unproven, not even backed by some sort logic 99% of the time. And they're short-lived, too, for the most part. They seem to take you on an emotional rollercoaster, up, down, all around, for less than that imaginary minute, only to leave you dizzy and possibly nauseated at the exit of the ride. So why do we continue "crushing" on people? Is it worth it? Is it all precious "experience," to be spoken of later in life, to your own teenagers when they begin this awkward phase?
be my weekend lover, but don't be my friend
Post 23 :: Poisonwood Analyzed
I
"Father pointed his finger like a gun at Tata Ndu, then swung it around to accuse the whole congregation. 'You haven't even learned to run your own pitiful country! Your children are dying of a hundred different diseases! You don't have a pot to piss in! And you're presuming you can take or leave the benevolence of our Lord Jesus Christ!'" (332)
As Leah watches, Nathan Price clearly begins to show his desperation by lashing out at those around him. The villagers decided to take a vote on whether or not to follow Jesus, and Nathan, being the "good" preacher he is, tries to turn them back. He is, however, trying to turn them back in entirely the wrong way. Thus, "Jesus Christ lost, eleven to fifty-six" (334).
I think this quote is important for two main reasons (among others). One, it shows us what Nathan really thinks of the Congo, past all of his fatherly patience and want to bring its inhabitants to "salvation" at the hands of his "God." Two, it is almost ironic, the way his words seem to reflect their own situation and not that of the Congolese.
Elaborating on the first thought, this reason is more of a literal understanding of the quote, looking at it at face value. Obviously, dear Father Price is more than a little cracked at this point in time. He even uses the word "piss," which when he heard before, was the source of a long reprimand for his children. He said it corrupted a pure soul. How many souls is he corrupting, spouting foul words in front of an entire congregation?
Moving on quickly to the second thought, it seems like most of the venom comes from Nathan's own insecurities. They can't run their country, yes. Of course! They're in the middle of a struggle for independence. Everything is in chaos. And that is the reason the Price family is without missionary support, stranded in the middle of the Congo with nothing coming in to save them. Perhaps it reflects his bitterness at being abandoned by the mission. He calls their children sickly, their country chock full of disease. How ironic, seeing as Ruth May had so recently suffered at the claws of malaria. Whose children are dying of a hundred different diseases? And the last comment he made, about not having a pot to piss in -- I think it's a rather inane thing to say, seeing as they don't care. They never had pots to take a pee in; that was all the white man's idea. The pot and the piss could also be a metaphor for Nathan. He doesn't have a place in the Congo. There is no place for his Jesus or his preaching. There's no one to receive his blessing and no one to sing the songs of praise. He has no pot to piss in.
I think one thing that goes unspoken beneath the last line of this quote is that it's not really Jesus' benevolence they're declining. It's Nathan's. Nathan and his way of pushing things like Jesus and baptism and the ways of the white man upon them, spouting this and that about bangala and salvation; however, Nathan doesn't even think about the fact that it could be the way he's going about spreading his teachings. He doesn't realize -- or if he does, he's just being too stubborn about his white American ways.
I
"Father pointed his finger like a gun at Tata Ndu, then swung it around to accuse the whole congregation. 'You haven't even learned to run your own pitiful country! Your children are dying of a hundred different diseases! You don't have a pot to piss in! And you're presuming you can take or leave the benevolence of our Lord Jesus Christ!'" (332)
As Leah watches, Nathan Price clearly begins to show his desperation by lashing out at those around him. The villagers decided to take a vote on whether or not to follow Jesus, and Nathan, being the "good" preacher he is, tries to turn them back. He is, however, trying to turn them back in entirely the wrong way. Thus, "Jesus Christ lost, eleven to fifty-six" (334).
I think this quote is important for two main reasons (among others). One, it shows us what Nathan really thinks of the Congo, past all of his fatherly patience and want to bring its inhabitants to "salvation" at the hands of his "God." Two, it is almost ironic, the way his words seem to reflect their own situation and not that of the Congolese.
Elaborating on the first thought, this reason is more of a literal understanding of the quote, looking at it at face value. Obviously, dear Father Price is more than a little cracked at this point in time. He even uses the word "piss," which when he heard before, was the source of a long reprimand for his children. He said it corrupted a pure soul. How many souls is he corrupting, spouting foul words in front of an entire congregation?
Moving on quickly to the second thought, it seems like most of the venom comes from Nathan's own insecurities. They can't run their country, yes. Of course! They're in the middle of a struggle for independence. Everything is in chaos. And that is the reason the Price family is without missionary support, stranded in the middle of the Congo with nothing coming in to save them. Perhaps it reflects his bitterness at being abandoned by the mission. He calls their children sickly, their country chock full of disease. How ironic, seeing as Ruth May had so recently suffered at the claws of malaria. Whose children are dying of a hundred different diseases? And the last comment he made, about not having a pot to piss in -- I think it's a rather inane thing to say, seeing as they don't care. They never had pots to take a pee in; that was all the white man's idea. The pot and the piss could also be a metaphor for Nathan. He doesn't have a place in the Congo. There is no place for his Jesus or his preaching. There's no one to receive his blessing and no one to sing the songs of praise. He has no pot to piss in.
I think one thing that goes unspoken beneath the last line of this quote is that it's not really Jesus' benevolence they're declining. It's Nathan's. Nathan and his way of pushing things like Jesus and baptism and the ways of the white man upon them, spouting this and that about bangala and salvation; however, Nathan doesn't even think about the fact that it could be the way he's going about spreading his teachings. He doesn't realize -- or if he does, he's just being too stubborn about his white American ways.
one chance to touch a star
Post 22 :: Literature Circle on "The Judges" :: Of Mosquitoes and Men
I
Overall, this chapter was far more interesting to me than the others were. Perhaps it's because we've gotten farther -- past the introductions and set-up. Past the point at which we remember that all we're doing is reading an assigned book. Past the point at which we remember to turn back. Right?
This chapter, for me, represented the "beginning of the end," in a way. In this chapter, we can see that the girls are beginning more and more to question what they want and what they're willing to do to get it. Leah begins to peel away from the family, attaching herself to the Kikongo culture and Anatole. Adah is left behind by her mother on the night of the nsongonya, when Orleanna chooses to save Ruth May instead. Rachel resorts to one engagement to free herself from another, leading her to a new way of thinking and adding new possibilities to the pile. Ruth May is safe, for the moment, thanks to the discovery of 61 quinine pills glued to the wall behind the bed.
I can't really "extrapolate" anything, because I've already read past the end of Judges, Bel and the Serpent, and into Exodus. But here, in this post, I'll concentrate on being a psychological analyst. How is this working?
When I think about the events that occur within Judges, my first thought is of the saying that tells us the true natures of humans are revealed under intense strain, physical or mental; however, is this true? Does it bring out who we are? Or does it warp our personalities into something completely different? When we are forced to choose, does it reflect what is at the core of our being? Or does it reflect circumstance? The thoughts at the very surface of the pond? I think to be an efficient analyst, one needs to understand the workings of the human mind. Which I am too young to understand. Or is that simply a stereotype that should be discarded?
Back to Judges, I think the most interesting point of the chapter, psychologically speaking, was the part in which Orleanna chose to carry away Ruth May and not Adah. What was she thinking? Forced to choose between her two daughters, allowed only two arms and legs with which to carry out her decision? I could make several guesses, but I'm sure you really can't put a label on something that complex.
1. Orleanna took Ruth May because she was closer. This would be a very simplistic type of answer, but really, if you were in a life-or-death situation, and you could save one person, what would you do? If you weren't sure you could save that one person? Wouldn't you choose the one you knew you could save? Who you could reach with the least amount of risk and loss of time?
2. Orleanna simply didn't see Adah. Is this possible? Sometimes, in extreme panic, some people lose sight of things around them. One thing becomes the most important thing in the universe at that moment: Staying alive.
3. Ruth May was more dear to her. I think that anything having to do with the level of affection Orleanna had for each child is the least likely. Although it may have something to do with her choice on the subconscious level, I doubt a mother who took in and cared for a child all those years could leave one behind simply because she liked her less. Plus, in that kind of situation, who can think through which child was the "better" one? Adah's disability could have factored in, though, I must admit. If Orleanna's priority was escaping to safety, Adah could have slowed them down, to speak bluntly.
II
In English class, we were given the opportunity to see a film called "The Mosquito Coast." It closely paralleled the events in the book we are reading now (PB), so it was... interesting to see. Human emotion is so much more clear when you can see it. Of course, that could easily be argued. Anyway, the plot was nearly the same, where a family gets dragged down to some underdeveloped land, without electricity and everything they are used to on American soil. By their father. There is a difference between the two fathers, though: One is a preacher, and the other is an inventor. This springs some other differences, involving their moral systems and their goals.
One similarity between them, though, was that they both wanted the citizens of the "uncivilized" villages to change their beliefs or to what they paid attention. The inventor wanted to be idolized for his creation of a machine that could create ice without electricity. He wanted the people to sit and be in awe of his creation. (I think that's quite egotistical, for the record.) Father Price wanted people to adore God. "Tata Jesus is bangala!" (276) Neither of the two realize that what they have to offer is something that these people have lived and survived without for many, many years. Why would they change simply to idolize something brought by white men?
"Even in their aims, we see striking resemblances. Yet, in their downfalls, we see the same resemblances. And as the reader, as the viewer, we feel the same sort of resentment that boiled within their families. We see and we empathize with those hurt by a false crusade to save those who were not already lost."
-- Elise
Springing from one subject to another, the two mothers are quite similar, I think. Although, in the Poisonwood Bible, **spoiler for Bel and the Serpent** Orleanna does decide to leave Nathan behind after Ruth May's death. **end spoiler** Both women seem like they were such strong women, reduced to the stereotypical wife, expected to follow and clean up the children, if nothing else. They cannot leave their husbands, out of some sort of insecurity, or perhaps simply because the thought had never occurred to them. Personally, although I can see how it would be difficult to be strong, and that I, because I have never experienced anything of their lives, cannot judge them, I dislike their weakness. Of course, you say. I think as mothers, they should have realized the suffering of their children and done what could have saved them. From the instant the beginnings of realization began to dawn -- that their father was not truly looking out for their best interests -- something should have changed. These women seemed so powerless; was it really like that? Were they powerless? Why couldn't they stand up for themselves? In a way, I can understand, but in a way, because I have been influenced by strong-minded women in television and books who may or may not have been real and plausible as characters, I cannot.
I
Overall, this chapter was far more interesting to me than the others were. Perhaps it's because we've gotten farther -- past the introductions and set-up. Past the point at which we remember that all we're doing is reading an assigned book. Past the point at which we remember to turn back. Right?
This chapter, for me, represented the "beginning of the end," in a way. In this chapter, we can see that the girls are beginning more and more to question what they want and what they're willing to do to get it. Leah begins to peel away from the family, attaching herself to the Kikongo culture and Anatole. Adah is left behind by her mother on the night of the nsongonya, when Orleanna chooses to save Ruth May instead. Rachel resorts to one engagement to free herself from another, leading her to a new way of thinking and adding new possibilities to the pile. Ruth May is safe, for the moment, thanks to the discovery of 61 quinine pills glued to the wall behind the bed.
I can't really "extrapolate" anything, because I've already read past the end of Judges, Bel and the Serpent, and into Exodus. But here, in this post, I'll concentrate on being a psychological analyst. How is this working?
When I think about the events that occur within Judges, my first thought is of the saying that tells us the true natures of humans are revealed under intense strain, physical or mental; however, is this true? Does it bring out who we are? Or does it warp our personalities into something completely different? When we are forced to choose, does it reflect what is at the core of our being? Or does it reflect circumstance? The thoughts at the very surface of the pond? I think to be an efficient analyst, one needs to understand the workings of the human mind. Which I am too young to understand. Or is that simply a stereotype that should be discarded?
Back to Judges, I think the most interesting point of the chapter, psychologically speaking, was the part in which Orleanna chose to carry away Ruth May and not Adah. What was she thinking? Forced to choose between her two daughters, allowed only two arms and legs with which to carry out her decision? I could make several guesses, but I'm sure you really can't put a label on something that complex.
1. Orleanna took Ruth May because she was closer. This would be a very simplistic type of answer, but really, if you were in a life-or-death situation, and you could save one person, what would you do? If you weren't sure you could save that one person? Wouldn't you choose the one you knew you could save? Who you could reach with the least amount of risk and loss of time?
2. Orleanna simply didn't see Adah. Is this possible? Sometimes, in extreme panic, some people lose sight of things around them. One thing becomes the most important thing in the universe at that moment: Staying alive.
3. Ruth May was more dear to her. I think that anything having to do with the level of affection Orleanna had for each child is the least likely. Although it may have something to do with her choice on the subconscious level, I doubt a mother who took in and cared for a child all those years could leave one behind simply because she liked her less. Plus, in that kind of situation, who can think through which child was the "better" one? Adah's disability could have factored in, though, I must admit. If Orleanna's priority was escaping to safety, Adah could have slowed them down, to speak bluntly.
II
In English class, we were given the opportunity to see a film called "The Mosquito Coast." It closely paralleled the events in the book we are reading now (PB), so it was... interesting to see. Human emotion is so much more clear when you can see it. Of course, that could easily be argued. Anyway, the plot was nearly the same, where a family gets dragged down to some underdeveloped land, without electricity and everything they are used to on American soil. By their father. There is a difference between the two fathers, though: One is a preacher, and the other is an inventor. This springs some other differences, involving their moral systems and their goals.
One similarity between them, though, was that they both wanted the citizens of the "uncivilized" villages to change their beliefs or to what they paid attention. The inventor wanted to be idolized for his creation of a machine that could create ice without electricity. He wanted the people to sit and be in awe of his creation. (I think that's quite egotistical, for the record.) Father Price wanted people to adore God. "Tata Jesus is bangala!" (276) Neither of the two realize that what they have to offer is something that these people have lived and survived without for many, many years. Why would they change simply to idolize something brought by white men?
"Even in their aims, we see striking resemblances. Yet, in their downfalls, we see the same resemblances. And as the reader, as the viewer, we feel the same sort of resentment that boiled within their families. We see and we empathize with those hurt by a false crusade to save those who were not already lost."
-- Elise
Springing from one subject to another, the two mothers are quite similar, I think. Although, in the Poisonwood Bible, **spoiler for Bel and the Serpent** Orleanna does decide to leave Nathan behind after Ruth May's death. **end spoiler** Both women seem like they were such strong women, reduced to the stereotypical wife, expected to follow and clean up the children, if nothing else. They cannot leave their husbands, out of some sort of insecurity, or perhaps simply because the thought had never occurred to them. Personally, although I can see how it would be difficult to be strong, and that I, because I have never experienced anything of their lives, cannot judge them, I dislike their weakness. Of course, you say. I think as mothers, they should have realized the suffering of their children and done what could have saved them. From the instant the beginnings of realization began to dawn -- that their father was not truly looking out for their best interests -- something should have changed. These women seemed so powerless; was it really like that? Were they powerless? Why couldn't they stand up for themselves? In a way, I can understand, but in a way, because I have been influenced by strong-minded women in television and books who may or may not have been real and plausible as characters, I cannot.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
simple and clean is the way that you're makin' me feel tonight
Post 21 :: Poisonwood Infinity
I
Psychological Critic
Notes for class:
--Nathan Price
I think he would be an interesting character to look at in terms of psyche and motivation. Since the book is narrated by his four daughters and his wife, the only perspective we have on him comes through their eyes. We don't get a chance to see through his point of view, and thus, I think his motivations are definitely harder to get a hold of; however, if I were to make an assumption, I would think that a lot of his motivation comes from religion (obviously), and that he believes he is truly "saving" the Congolese people. I actually disagree, but I'll save that for later.
His motivations could be more complex, however, and because we don't actually hear his thoughts on what goes on and what he does, we will most likely never know exactly what his motivations are.
Q: What do you think his motivations are? What evidence leads you to believe so?
--Leah
She would also be interesting to look at. Although I have not finished Book Two: The Revelation yet, it is evident in the reading that Leah is changing. Whether it be her opinion of her father or the tone of voice used in the writing, there is something different about her. She's beginning to realize more and more, starting to question things she would have formerly taken for solid fact. I'm not sure why this is happening, but it could be because of the isolation; without other things to take up time, you are given more time to think and brood on whatever happens in your rather uneventful life. Also, she could simply be "smelling the coffee," so to speak. The exposure to the Congo and its people is giving her a taste of what the real world is like. Not the idealized and white world they're so used to.
--Adah
It would be quite difficult to figure out Adah's motivations. Most of what we're told throughout the book involves what is going on inside her head. There are very few lines that actually tell us about what she does or how she acts. Also, because she is the way she is, she rarely seems to feel obligated to justify herself or her actions. Her motivation for her actions are much less clear because of the way she narrates.
Q: What /are/ Adah's motivations? Toward what goal?
--Ruth May
I'm not quite sure what to think. I'm sure our group can come up with interesting ideas/speculations as to where Ruth May wants to go with her life and relationships. This may sound like it's getting a little too complicated for little innocent, naive Ruth May, but really, what are the driving forces behind her actions? Why does she act the way she does? Does she really act purely on what she is given/introduced to by her father?
I
Psychological Critic
Notes for class:
--Nathan Price
I think he would be an interesting character to look at in terms of psyche and motivation. Since the book is narrated by his four daughters and his wife, the only perspective we have on him comes through their eyes. We don't get a chance to see through his point of view, and thus, I think his motivations are definitely harder to get a hold of; however, if I were to make an assumption, I would think that a lot of his motivation comes from religion (obviously), and that he believes he is truly "saving" the Congolese people. I actually disagree, but I'll save that for later.
His motivations could be more complex, however, and because we don't actually hear his thoughts on what goes on and what he does, we will most likely never know exactly what his motivations are.
Q: What do you think his motivations are? What evidence leads you to believe so?
--Leah
She would also be interesting to look at. Although I have not finished Book Two: The Revelation yet, it is evident in the reading that Leah is changing. Whether it be her opinion of her father or the tone of voice used in the writing, there is something different about her. She's beginning to realize more and more, starting to question things she would have formerly taken for solid fact. I'm not sure why this is happening, but it could be because of the isolation; without other things to take up time, you are given more time to think and brood on whatever happens in your rather uneventful life. Also, she could simply be "smelling the coffee," so to speak. The exposure to the Congo and its people is giving her a taste of what the real world is like. Not the idealized and white world they're so used to.
--Adah
It would be quite difficult to figure out Adah's motivations. Most of what we're told throughout the book involves what is going on inside her head. There are very few lines that actually tell us about what she does or how she acts. Also, because she is the way she is, she rarely seems to feel obligated to justify herself or her actions. Her motivation for her actions are much less clear because of the way she narrates.
Q: What /are/ Adah's motivations? Toward what goal?
--Ruth May
I'm not quite sure what to think. I'm sure our group can come up with interesting ideas/speculations as to where Ruth May wants to go with her life and relationships. This may sound like it's getting a little too complicated for little innocent, naive Ruth May, but really, what are the driving forces behind her actions? Why does she act the way she does? Does she really act purely on what she is given/introduced to by her father?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
far away from the memories of the people who care if i live or die
Post 20 :: quotes :: a poisonwood walk :: who am i?
I
These are a little different than the regular quotes, but I thought them interesting all the same. I edited the punctuation of the first one from manga format to a written one. The second one probably sounds a little strange, but it was... interesting to me.
"But... the truth is... I miss him. I want to see him, spend earnest hours talking nonsense, holding each other... and kissing.
I hold on tight to my bravado, worried that if I make the first move, it will be denied. Worrying about when we'll be able to meet next. Worrying how long I should wait for him.
Isn't it a sign that it's over between two people the moment one thinks, 'I'm tired of all this'?"
~Shungiku Nakamura
"Stop doing this to me! This isn't a joke, you asshole! Haven't you done enough?! I've been a mess since the day I met you! I've become the type of person I most despise! What are you going to do about it?
I'd be such a calm, rational, normal person if I'd never met you! So why do you have to go and make me fall to pieces like this?!
--I love you."
~Shungiku Nakamura
"Now I need you, despite the fact that you've killed all my plants. And though I know I've already blown more chances than anyone should ever get... All I'm asking you is: Don't write me off just yet.
Don't write me off just yet."
~Music and Lyrics
"You are better than butter on bread. If you were a sweater, I'd wear you on my head."
~Ima Robot, Hello I Love You
(This song totally makes me smile. Give it a listen, if you can!)
"I've been looking for someone to shed some light, not somebody just to get me through the night."
~Music and Lyrics
II
On Thursday (I think) our English class did an activity in which we were required to take a walk through campus and write about it through the eyes of a character from the book. (The Poisonwood Bible) Here's a bit about our school campus, written from the viewpoint of Rachel Price.
" When we got on-board the plane out of the Congo, I thought man oh man, I would finally see my home again. Breck Special Formulated and Dial soap and everything else we'd not thought to bring. But no, law! We skipped on past sweet Georgia to come to this "Honolulu." Man oh man, it was better than the Congo, no doubt, but the sun glared at me from its high-and-mighty post in the empty sky--I could feel my temples starting to pound like drums with the beginnings of a tension headache.
I admit, it was a right lot better than the foul, rank Congo, where you could choke on the air itself. But it was different. Here, I was the one who had neither a bath nor anything that smelled what could be called "good" in a long while. Even in my best green linen suit, I felt their strange dark eyes follow me as they whispered when they thought I had gone out of hearing--if you ask me, they were the strange ones. Dark hair, dark eyes, the very antithesis of my own snow-white hair, which was so fine that the humidity here made it to frizz and tangle like the devil.
Father would never understand this campus and its classes or the students and the way they dress, speak, carry themselves. He'd name them all sinners, right down pat. The girls walking around in shirts that cover barely enough stomach to seem halfway decent, the boys with their pants falling down past their hips, exposing whatever printed undergarments they happened to want to exhibit, charming--at least they knew that a red plaid most certainly did not match a pink floral print. Jeans and trousers and color coordination--it has been forever since I have seen women who cover their breasts in public.
I rather dislike this humidity and bright sunshine and loud noises that seem to make up every moment here on this school campus. While we're on the subject, I disliked the entire stay in the Congo, where bitter quinine and tangled netting were utter necessities over fashion sense and a pink mohair twin set. But jeez oh man! Here is much better than that dank and horrid Congo.
At least here, my nose doesn't scream for those five-day deodorant pads I'd forgotten to pack when we were packed up and shipped off to the Congo. "
I tried to be "Rachel" for this activity, but... You know, it really would be lying to say I'm not like her at all, but I just couldn't seem to get into that mood. Yeah, I'm just making excuses. Yep. I just couldn't write like Kingsolver wrote her. Not at all.
-_____-|||
III
Lately, I've been so caught up in thoughts of whether or not people are mad at me that I'm losing track of what should be important; I never actually let loose. At everything I say, I stop and wonder if I've crossed an invisible line that shouldn't have been crossed. If I've done something to lower their opinions of me. I can't seem to relax and have fun, and this is spilling over into everything I do. A big, nasty oil stain on the expanse of my life. This feeling I have is visible, more than I know, and although I try to reign it in, it only becomes more clear. The people around are beginning to realize how much of a fraud I really am, and it scares me so much that all I want to do is hide with my head beneath the sheets until it's all over.
Nowadays, I realize more and more that the person I am isn't who I want to be.
But as I stop and think for more than just the initial spark, I think: Is the person I want to be the person I want to be? Or is that person someone I should be? The more I think about it, the less I understand. I know I shouldn't act according to what others think, that I should act the way I feel and less the way society dictates. I know that. I know. But why is it that if I do, I'll lose all I want to hold on to?
I know if I met myself in another form, I'd definitely hate myself. In a nutshell, I'm presumptuous, nosy, arrogant, and stupid. How should I change this? Should I change it? Yes, I should; that answer is evident. I don't know why I couldn't have been born a good child, born someone who knows what they want, knows who they are, knows how to act. What to change, what to follow, what to fight. What do I do? How can I change?
I have to try. I want so dearly to hold on to everything and everyone I hold close to my heart, but is that too selfish of me? Is that too selfish when I cannot fix the cracks in the glass panel of my window? When I don't know who I really am behind the mask quickly crumbling under the strain of years gone by? When all I can do is flounder about and hope that someone will save me, when I know no one can save me in my stead?
I
These are a little different than the regular quotes, but I thought them interesting all the same. I edited the punctuation of the first one from manga format to a written one. The second one probably sounds a little strange, but it was... interesting to me.
"But... the truth is... I miss him. I want to see him, spend earnest hours talking nonsense, holding each other... and kissing.
I hold on tight to my bravado, worried that if I make the first move, it will be denied. Worrying about when we'll be able to meet next. Worrying how long I should wait for him.
Isn't it a sign that it's over between two people the moment one thinks, 'I'm tired of all this'?"
~Shungiku Nakamura
"Stop doing this to me! This isn't a joke, you asshole! Haven't you done enough?! I've been a mess since the day I met you! I've become the type of person I most despise! What are you going to do about it?
I'd be such a calm, rational, normal person if I'd never met you! So why do you have to go and make me fall to pieces like this?!
--I love you."
~Shungiku Nakamura
"Now I need you, despite the fact that you've killed all my plants. And though I know I've already blown more chances than anyone should ever get... All I'm asking you is: Don't write me off just yet.
Don't write me off just yet."
~Music and Lyrics
"You are better than butter on bread. If you were a sweater, I'd wear you on my head."
~Ima Robot, Hello I Love You
(This song totally makes me smile. Give it a listen, if you can!)
"I've been looking for someone to shed some light, not somebody just to get me through the night."
~Music and Lyrics
II
On Thursday (I think) our English class did an activity in which we were required to take a walk through campus and write about it through the eyes of a character from the book. (The Poisonwood Bible) Here's a bit about our school campus, written from the viewpoint of Rachel Price.
" When we got on-board the plane out of the Congo, I thought man oh man, I would finally see my home again. Breck Special Formulated and Dial soap and everything else we'd not thought to bring. But no, law! We skipped on past sweet Georgia to come to this "Honolulu." Man oh man, it was better than the Congo, no doubt, but the sun glared at me from its high-and-mighty post in the empty sky--I could feel my temples starting to pound like drums with the beginnings of a tension headache.
I admit, it was a right lot better than the foul, rank Congo, where you could choke on the air itself. But it was different. Here, I was the one who had neither a bath nor anything that smelled what could be called "good" in a long while. Even in my best green linen suit, I felt their strange dark eyes follow me as they whispered when they thought I had gone out of hearing--if you ask me, they were the strange ones. Dark hair, dark eyes, the very antithesis of my own snow-white hair, which was so fine that the humidity here made it to frizz and tangle like the devil.
Father would never understand this campus and its classes or the students and the way they dress, speak, carry themselves. He'd name them all sinners, right down pat. The girls walking around in shirts that cover barely enough stomach to seem halfway decent, the boys with their pants falling down past their hips, exposing whatever printed undergarments they happened to want to exhibit, charming--at least they knew that a red plaid most certainly did not match a pink floral print. Jeans and trousers and color coordination--it has been forever since I have seen women who cover their breasts in public.
I rather dislike this humidity and bright sunshine and loud noises that seem to make up every moment here on this school campus. While we're on the subject, I disliked the entire stay in the Congo, where bitter quinine and tangled netting were utter necessities over fashion sense and a pink mohair twin set. But jeez oh man! Here is much better than that dank and horrid Congo.
At least here, my nose doesn't scream for those five-day deodorant pads I'd forgotten to pack when we were packed up and shipped off to the Congo. "
I tried to be "Rachel" for this activity, but... You know, it really would be lying to say I'm not like her at all, but I just couldn't seem to get into that mood. Yeah, I'm just making excuses. Yep. I just couldn't write like Kingsolver wrote her. Not at all.
-_____-|||
III
Lately, I've been so caught up in thoughts of whether or not people are mad at me that I'm losing track of what should be important; I never actually let loose. At everything I say, I stop and wonder if I've crossed an invisible line that shouldn't have been crossed. If I've done something to lower their opinions of me. I can't seem to relax and have fun, and this is spilling over into everything I do. A big, nasty oil stain on the expanse of my life. This feeling I have is visible, more than I know, and although I try to reign it in, it only becomes more clear. The people around are beginning to realize how much of a fraud I really am, and it scares me so much that all I want to do is hide with my head beneath the sheets until it's all over.
Nowadays, I realize more and more that the person I am isn't who I want to be.
But as I stop and think for more than just the initial spark, I think: Is the person I want to be the person I want to be? Or is that person someone I should be? The more I think about it, the less I understand. I know I shouldn't act according to what others think, that I should act the way I feel and less the way society dictates. I know that. I know. But why is it that if I do, I'll lose all I want to hold on to?
I know if I met myself in another form, I'd definitely hate myself. In a nutshell, I'm presumptuous, nosy, arrogant, and stupid. How should I change this? Should I change it? Yes, I should; that answer is evident. I don't know why I couldn't have been born a good child, born someone who knows what they want, knows who they are, knows how to act. What to change, what to follow, what to fight. What do I do? How can I change?
I have to try. I want so dearly to hold on to everything and everyone I hold close to my heart, but is that too selfish of me? Is that too selfish when I cannot fix the cracks in the glass panel of my window? When I don't know who I really am behind the mask quickly crumbling under the strain of years gone by? When all I can do is flounder about and hope that someone will save me, when I know no one can save me in my stead?
Thursday, March 8, 2007
i am not a hero
Post 19 :: Poisonwood Infinity Reflection
I
We had literature figure eights about two days ago (?), and I just thought I'd write some of these down.
On Nathan Price:
We began to talk about his intentions/motivations for going to Africa -- they were good intentions, right? I'm not sure I can agree with his intentions even if they were good; it seems to me like his little excursion is kind of like self-gratification hidden behind a veil of good intent and "salvation." Unfortunately, I'm extremely biased, as well as extremely cynical, so these thoughts probably either oversimplify or seem very... "all or nothing."
I just feel like his going to Africa to bring those people "salvation" is, in its very essence, thinking of them as inferior. That you want to save someone implies that you think they need saving. What if they don't want saving? Do they need it? Is Nathan Price "saving" these people out of the kindness of his heart? Why should they need saving? Does he have a right to change these people?
I also agreed with the idea of his having to adapt to the Congo way of life versus his old way of life. Instead of trying to recreate his own home and familiar, religious surroundings in the Congo, he needs to learn that maybe these people don't need "saving." Maybe they don't need anything at all (although this is probably not true) from him and his religion -- and his God.
Another thing that was brought up is the lack of Nathan's point of view (POV). This was interesting, because the class said that all the girls thought rather the same thing of their father, with the exception of, possibly, Adah. I agree and disagree at the same time, if you know what I mean. I think their ideas of their father are very different. It's the way we perceive these accounts and how... I don't quite know how to explain it. They have different opinions of him, but those are all linked to one image that produces such opinions. Ah -- it was interesting that we all, as a class, seemed to paint the same picture of Nathan through the girls' separate accounts.
I'm not making much sense, am I?
On Ruth May:
In class, we thought maybe her opinion was the least biased. (Or, some people thought, the most biased.) I agree with those who said she is the most biased; if you think about it, her naivety may very well screw up everything she hears. If one is not aware of the complexities of certain issues, that may lead to oversimplification. Plus, as Eddie brought up, she's young. She doesn't know any better, and she's not old enough to begin questioning what she is taught. All she does is spit out what she's heard. It's not her voice we're hearing, in a way.
And it's extremely late. Or should I say early? Good night. Morning. Whatever.
I
We had literature figure eights about two days ago (?), and I just thought I'd write some of these down.
On Nathan Price:
We began to talk about his intentions/motivations for going to Africa -- they were good intentions, right? I'm not sure I can agree with his intentions even if they were good; it seems to me like his little excursion is kind of like self-gratification hidden behind a veil of good intent and "salvation." Unfortunately, I'm extremely biased, as well as extremely cynical, so these thoughts probably either oversimplify or seem very... "all or nothing."
I just feel like his going to Africa to bring those people "salvation" is, in its very essence, thinking of them as inferior. That you want to save someone implies that you think they need saving. What if they don't want saving? Do they need it? Is Nathan Price "saving" these people out of the kindness of his heart? Why should they need saving? Does he have a right to change these people?
I also agreed with the idea of his having to adapt to the Congo way of life versus his old way of life. Instead of trying to recreate his own home and familiar, religious surroundings in the Congo, he needs to learn that maybe these people don't need "saving." Maybe they don't need anything at all (although this is probably not true) from him and his religion -- and his God.
Another thing that was brought up is the lack of Nathan's point of view (POV). This was interesting, because the class said that all the girls thought rather the same thing of their father, with the exception of, possibly, Adah. I agree and disagree at the same time, if you know what I mean. I think their ideas of their father are very different. It's the way we perceive these accounts and how... I don't quite know how to explain it. They have different opinions of him, but those are all linked to one image that produces such opinions. Ah -- it was interesting that we all, as a class, seemed to paint the same picture of Nathan through the girls' separate accounts.
I'm not making much sense, am I?
On Ruth May:
In class, we thought maybe her opinion was the least biased. (Or, some people thought, the most biased.) I agree with those who said she is the most biased; if you think about it, her naivety may very well screw up everything she hears. If one is not aware of the complexities of certain issues, that may lead to oversimplification. Plus, as Eddie brought up, she's young. She doesn't know any better, and she's not old enough to begin questioning what she is taught. All she does is spit out what she's heard. It's not her voice we're hearing, in a way.
And it's extremely late. Or should I say early? Good night. Morning. Whatever.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
darling, can't you see it's now or never
Interlude Post II
I
I really do love music. This weekend, I got my hands on an album by Josh Groban, "Awake." I highly recommend it. The vocals are gorgeous, and I just love it. His voice has this wonderful quality to it that is just... beyond words. I could honestly listen to this album for hours on end. I only wish I could find more of his songs.
Ah... And I found Il Divo performing on channel 10 tonight. Or last night, if you want to be picky about time (considering it's nin-- ten minutes past midnight). And on a random tangent, why do they call it mid"night" when it's not really night anymore at midnight -- and for that matter, it certaintly isn't the middle of the "night" if night is considered the PM hours. ANYWAY.
If you can, give these songs a listen:
- Now or Never (Josh Groban)
- Yume no Hana (The Back Horn)
- 20 Good Reasons (THIRSTY MERC)
- The Promise (Anberlin)
- (Actually, anything by Josh Groban esp. his album "Awake")
II
What can I do for you?
I
I really do love music. This weekend, I got my hands on an album by Josh Groban, "Awake." I highly recommend it. The vocals are gorgeous, and I just love it. His voice has this wonderful quality to it that is just... beyond words. I could honestly listen to this album for hours on end. I only wish I could find more of his songs.
Ah... And I found Il Divo performing on channel 10 tonight. Or last night, if you want to be picky about time (considering it's nin-- ten minutes past midnight). And on a random tangent, why do they call it mid"night" when it's not really night anymore at midnight -- and for that matter, it certaintly isn't the middle of the "night" if night is considered the PM hours. ANYWAY.
If you can, give these songs a listen:
- Now or Never (Josh Groban)
- Yume no Hana (The Back Horn)
- 20 Good Reasons (THIRSTY MERC)
- The Promise (Anberlin)
- (Actually, anything by Josh Groban esp. his album "Awake")
II
What can I do for you?
i'm just lookin' for the right words to say
Post 18 :: Poisonwood 2/2
I
And those are two extremely low quality pictures -- sorry about that. The first is supposed to be of Adah and Leah, the second of Rachel (again).
For Rachel:
I used several quotes from throughout Genesis, as well as my general idea of her drawn from the way she speaks. One quote that really helped was:
"I am the most extreme blond imaginable. I have sapphire-blue eyes, white eyelashes, and platinum blonde hair that falls to my waist. It is so fine I have to use Breck Special Formulated..." (47).
For Adah and Leah:
I didn't get much out of this chapter in terms of description. All I drew from was the idea of dark-haired twins. I also assumed their hairstyles would be more clean-cut than anything, because of their upbringing/family.
I
And those are two extremely low quality pictures -- sorry about that. The first is supposed to be of Adah and Leah, the second of Rachel (again).
For Rachel:
I used several quotes from throughout Genesis, as well as my general idea of her drawn from the way she speaks. One quote that really helped was:
"I am the most extreme blond imaginable. I have sapphire-blue eyes, white eyelashes, and platinum blonde hair that falls to my waist. It is so fine I have to use Breck Special Formulated..." (47).
For Adah and Leah:
I didn't get much out of this chapter in terms of description. All I drew from was the idea of dark-haired twins. I also assumed their hairstyles would be more clean-cut than anything, because of their upbringing/family.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
the truth about heaven
Interlude Post I
Just a quote from a comic.
Just a quote from a comic.
"When morning comes,
the daily life we led up until now will never be again-
that's why I want to take this life I've taken for granted for so long
and burn it into my memory...
sear it, carve it into myself...
so even when the morning comes-
I'll continue breathing as I've always done-
and I will not cry.
What need have I to cry?"
--Shungiku Nakamura
the daily life we led up until now will never be again-
that's why I want to take this life I've taken for granted for so long
and burn it into my memory...
sear it, carve it into myself...
so even when the morning comes-
I'll continue breathing as I've always done-
and I will not cry.
What need have I to cry?"
--Shungiku Nakamura
Friday, March 2, 2007
give me twenty good reasons
Post 17 :: Poisonwood :: Willing to Die for What?
I
Okay, well... This was originally part of the artist role that I chose for the Poisonwood Bible. You may or may not recognize it from an earlier post. I kind of screwed up with the eyelashes though. I realize that they were described as a snowy white, almost. Right? (It's kind of supposed to be Rachel.)
I do have another sketch of her, as well as one of the twins, Adah and Leah. I'll save that for my second post, though.
Rachel was probably the easiest for me to visualize because she's described as being so materialistic. I also love the idea of nearly-white hair. I think it's pretty neat; that might have been one of the reasons it was easy for me to picture a Rachel in my head. Of course, this is just how I picture her. She struck me as someone who would be pretty aloof, but pretty in a sort of cold way.
It's a little hard for me to interpret a lot with my role as an artist, which kind of makes me think I would have been better off choosing the role of the psychological analyst; however, I did have a lot more fun doing this. When one needs to draw images from text, he/she is forced to look deeper, to check for anything that could determine expressions or mannerisms. Anything that could change the way the character acts and/or the way what she does is interpreted.
II
I came across a blog post earlier that mentioned being willing to die for something giving one the extra inch needed to win the race. Is this true? Does being willing to die really bolster your confidence? Does it mean that you've accepted death, and in a way, accepted failure? Or does it mean you have so much conviction and drive that you will follow it 'til the end?
(Sleep deprivation and a late night blog entry make for little literacy. *Warning)
Somehow, I can't bring myself to agree with the idea of being willing to die for something so easily. If you're willing to die for something, you have to want it damn bad. You should have thought about it logically and with your heart, or "bravery" and such becomes recklessness and/or disregard for others in my eyes. Life is extremely short -- you only live once, and you'll only get one chance (unless you happen to believe in reincarnation). It's invaluable. I don't think anyone should be able to give that up so easily. Even if it's to save someone else. Don't blindly throw yourself in the "path of the bullet." Stop. Think. When you die, it's over. Nothing else happens -- that's it. But what about the people you leave behind?
I mean, I realize that there are some situations where there's no other choice. It's an amazing thing for someone to be willing to die for the sake of something or someone. An act of sacrifice shows an amazing conviction and loyalty; I just can't think of that as... I don't know. I'm probably just rambling at this point. But really.
Why can't we be "willing to live" instead of "willing to die"?
I
Okay, well... This was originally part of the artist role that I chose for the Poisonwood Bible. You may or may not recognize it from an earlier post. I kind of screwed up with the eyelashes though. I realize that they were described as a snowy white, almost. Right? (It's kind of supposed to be Rachel.)I do have another sketch of her, as well as one of the twins, Adah and Leah. I'll save that for my second post, though.
Rachel was probably the easiest for me to visualize because she's described as being so materialistic. I also love the idea of nearly-white hair. I think it's pretty neat; that might have been one of the reasons it was easy for me to picture a Rachel in my head. Of course, this is just how I picture her. She struck me as someone who would be pretty aloof, but pretty in a sort of cold way.
It's a little hard for me to interpret a lot with my role as an artist, which kind of makes me think I would have been better off choosing the role of the psychological analyst; however, I did have a lot more fun doing this. When one needs to draw images from text, he/she is forced to look deeper, to check for anything that could determine expressions or mannerisms. Anything that could change the way the character acts and/or the way what she does is interpreted.
II
I came across a blog post earlier that mentioned being willing to die for something giving one the extra inch needed to win the race. Is this true? Does being willing to die really bolster your confidence? Does it mean that you've accepted death, and in a way, accepted failure? Or does it mean you have so much conviction and drive that you will follow it 'til the end?
(Sleep deprivation and a late night blog entry make for little literacy. *Warning)
Somehow, I can't bring myself to agree with the idea of being willing to die for something so easily. If you're willing to die for something, you have to want it damn bad. You should have thought about it logically and with your heart, or "bravery" and such becomes recklessness and/or disregard for others in my eyes. Life is extremely short -- you only live once, and you'll only get one chance (unless you happen to believe in reincarnation). It's invaluable. I don't think anyone should be able to give that up so easily. Even if it's to save someone else. Don't blindly throw yourself in the "path of the bullet." Stop. Think. When you die, it's over. Nothing else happens -- that's it. But what about the people you leave behind?
I mean, I realize that there are some situations where there's no other choice. It's an amazing thing for someone to be willing to die for the sake of something or someone. An act of sacrifice shows an amazing conviction and loyalty; I just can't think of that as... I don't know. I'm probably just rambling at this point. But really.
Why can't we be "willing to live" instead of "willing to die"?
Thursday, March 1, 2007
been a long road to follow
Post 16.5 :: Wow
I
This really made me stop and think. In fact, I had so many thoughts running through my head that I had to make another entry!
Krysti's post was very interesting; it was right on-target, too. So much on target that it made me fidget in my chair. Quite uncomfortably, actually. I realized that I have to learn to stop and take things into perspective... I would say "sometimes," but I think maybe I'd need to do it a little more often than that. Anyway, her entry gave me quite the profound moment of realization and... well, it struck me as one of those trains of thought that could change your life (or how you think about things).
As I was reading, I came across a paragraph that really made me stop and think: "Wow. I want to be someone like her." (second paragraph?) It made me think about how I act in the face of difficulty, my own or someone else's. I realize again how clumsy I am in these kinds of situations; is there a way to practice? Does it come naturally? When were the people-skills handed out and was I in the bathroom at the time?
Changing the subject rather abruptly, I realize that my problems are quite... trivial. Especially that large stick up my butt that represents my grades/GPA. Really, it's only a number. A 4.0 isn't absolutely necessary to go on living. So why do I blow these small cowpie problems into giant heaps of stinking compost? Gods, I've done so many things I wish I could take back. So many things I regret, could have done better, should have done better... I always say I'll cut down on the complaining. I think it's high time I start for real. No empty words. I wonder how far that set of words will go before they run out of gas. Compost is actually a pretty good analogy though -- instead of letting it sit and stink up the place, use it as fertilizer. Learn from mistakes and everything that turned out and rotted.
Now I must think: How many of my friends' problems should I have treated differently? Have I treated too lightly? Or is it worth it looking back at all the mistakes I've made? How long should we study the past to learn from it? When are you learning from past mistakes? When are you brooding over them -- dredging up things that are better off put aside?
<3 It was a great entry, in my humble opinion. Thought-provoking.
I
This really made me stop and think. In fact, I had so many thoughts running through my head that I had to make another entry!
Krysti's post was very interesting; it was right on-target, too. So much on target that it made me fidget in my chair. Quite uncomfortably, actually. I realized that I have to learn to stop and take things into perspective... I would say "sometimes," but I think maybe I'd need to do it a little more often than that. Anyway, her entry gave me quite the profound moment of realization and... well, it struck me as one of those trains of thought that could change your life (or how you think about things).
As I was reading, I came across a paragraph that really made me stop and think: "Wow. I want to be someone like her." (second paragraph?) It made me think about how I act in the face of difficulty, my own or someone else's. I realize again how clumsy I am in these kinds of situations; is there a way to practice? Does it come naturally? When were the people-skills handed out and was I in the bathroom at the time?
Changing the subject rather abruptly, I realize that my problems are quite... trivial. Especially that large stick up my butt that represents my grades/GPA. Really, it's only a number. A 4.0 isn't absolutely necessary to go on living. So why do I blow these small cowpie problems into giant heaps of stinking compost? Gods, I've done so many things I wish I could take back. So many things I regret, could have done better, should have done better... I always say I'll cut down on the complaining. I think it's high time I start for real. No empty words. I wonder how far that set of words will go before they run out of gas. Compost is actually a pretty good analogy though -- instead of letting it sit and stink up the place, use it as fertilizer. Learn from mistakes and everything that turned out and rotted.
Now I must think: How many of my friends' problems should I have treated differently? Have I treated too lightly? Or is it worth it looking back at all the mistakes I've made? How long should we study the past to learn from it? When are you learning from past mistakes? When are you brooding over them -- dredging up things that are better off put aside?
<3 It was a great entry, in my humble opinion. Thought-provoking.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
maybe we're bent and broken
Post 16 :: Commonplace? :: Ah, the Irony :: Quotes
I
So. The commonplace post! I'm not sure what to talk about; everything could relate to the essential questions in one way or another, because life is life, and living in it will eventually produce an idea of what kind of world it is and how to continue living in it.
I realize that I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. I have the social skills of a doorknob, and a mouth that works like the Energizer bunny. I have come to accept the two latter items, but one thing that has continued to plague me throughout my years as a hormone-possessed teenager is my own mind. I interpret things in obscure ways and can never quite grasp the situation.
-- I WISH THE PERSON WHO KEEPS COUGHING WOULD EITHER GET OUT, STOP COUGHING, MUFFLE THE NOISE, OR SUCK ON A COUGH DROP, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! I'm pretty sure Brahms Symphony No. 1 Op. 68 did not have loud coughing written into the score, and you know, I get that sometimes it can't be helped. But GODS, man! Muffle it a little, will ya? --
/rant
Anyway, I meant to say: I hate that I can never say the right thing. Yes, the "right" thing is extremely subjective, but I know what I say is never right because it's downright wrong. I pass my whimsical and foolish judgements on others, thinking that perhaps I understand them -- that I can kind of see what's going through his/her head. I need to think a little more, try to understand just a little further.
I say I want to be of help -- to be trusted, to be there when needed. But trust and the like need to be earned. And where am I -- rather, who am I when they talk about it? I think I need to concentrate on being there, first.
II
I practiced flute nearly every day this last week. Playing the scales up and down, trying as hard as possible to stretch that one breath out over too many measures. It shouldn't have been that hard, really. But it was. I still can't play the F major section in one breath. Heck -- I can't even get the notes right!
I practiced piano more than I did for a long, long time this last week. I went through my old pieces, started working out the kinks in a more recent piece, and even tried to sightread through new pieces.
All around, it was a pretty productive week, musically.
And for some reason, I have a weird kink in my finger that the nurse called "something kind of carpal tunnel-like." Most likely caused by how I hold my flute (considering the pain is right where the flute rests). And possibly my playing of the piano after an extremely long period of not practicing. And maybe even the typing I'm doing right now.
Maybe someone's trying to tell me something? Haha...
III
"You bleed just to know you're alive."
~ Hero, Nickelback
" 'You get on their bad side and they'll destroy you!'
'No one would miss me.'
'That's not true--
--I would.' "
~ KHII
"Heaven's not enough / if when I'm there I don't remember you... And heaven does enough / you think you know it and uses you."
~ Heaven's Not Enough, Wolf's Rain
" 'Think I'll pass. My heart just wouldn't be in it, you know? Haven't got one.' "
~ KHII
" 'I'm a fool. I've spent years studying in the workings of the heart. Yet it seems I still haven't learned a thing! ... I try to wrap my mind around things my heart already knows, only to fail."
~ KHII
I
So. The commonplace post! I'm not sure what to talk about; everything could relate to the essential questions in one way or another, because life is life, and living in it will eventually produce an idea of what kind of world it is and how to continue living in it.
I realize that I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. I have the social skills of a doorknob, and a mouth that works like the Energizer bunny. I have come to accept the two latter items, but one thing that has continued to plague me throughout my years as a hormone-possessed teenager is my own mind. I interpret things in obscure ways and can never quite grasp the situation.
-- I WISH THE PERSON WHO KEEPS COUGHING WOULD EITHER GET OUT, STOP COUGHING, MUFFLE THE NOISE, OR SUCK ON A COUGH DROP, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! I'm pretty sure Brahms Symphony No. 1 Op. 68 did not have loud coughing written into the score, and you know, I get that sometimes it can't be helped. But GODS, man! Muffle it a little, will ya? --
/rant
Anyway, I meant to say: I hate that I can never say the right thing. Yes, the "right" thing is extremely subjective, but I know what I say is never right because it's downright wrong. I pass my whimsical and foolish judgements on others, thinking that perhaps I understand them -- that I can kind of see what's going through his/her head. I need to think a little more, try to understand just a little further.
I say I want to be of help -- to be trusted, to be there when needed. But trust and the like need to be earned. And where am I -- rather, who am I when they talk about it? I think I need to concentrate on being there, first.
II
I practiced flute nearly every day this last week. Playing the scales up and down, trying as hard as possible to stretch that one breath out over too many measures. It shouldn't have been that hard, really. But it was. I still can't play the F major section in one breath. Heck -- I can't even get the notes right!
I practiced piano more than I did for a long, long time this last week. I went through my old pieces, started working out the kinks in a more recent piece, and even tried to sightread through new pieces.
All around, it was a pretty productive week, musically.
And for some reason, I have a weird kink in my finger that the nurse called "something kind of carpal tunnel-like." Most likely caused by how I hold my flute (considering the pain is right where the flute rests). And possibly my playing of the piano after an extremely long period of not practicing. And maybe even the typing I'm doing right now.
Maybe someone's trying to tell me something? Haha...
III
"You bleed just to know you're alive."
~ Hero, Nickelback
" 'You get on their bad side and they'll destroy you!'
'No one would miss me.'
'That's not true--
--I would.' "
~ KHII
"Heaven's not enough / if when I'm there I don't remember you... And heaven does enough / you think you know it and uses you."
~ Heaven's Not Enough, Wolf's Rain
" 'Think I'll pass. My heart just wouldn't be in it, you know? Haven't got one.' "
~ KHII
" 'I'm a fool. I've spent years studying in the workings of the heart. Yet it seems I still haven't learned a thing! ... I try to wrap my mind around things my heart already knows, only to fail."
~ KHII
this ain't a scene
Post 15 :: SAT
I
Honestly, I'm doing this at 2:30 AM, and I all I'm hoping is that this is "good enough." I don't feel particularly literate, and I have a headache the size of Texas. I have to wake up in three hours, and I keep wondering why I put myself through this. For grades? For those say, ten extra points? Ten measly points? Really, when I put things in perspective, I realize how trivial some of these things are. And yet, I can see how many trivial things, bunched up together, can form a monster of a problem.
On to the point of the post. The SAT essay. Why is an essay included in a "STANDARDIZED" test? I don't think anything that has to do with expressing an opinion relates to something standardized. In fact, having people grade it makes it even less of a standard, in my opinion. I do understand that writing skills are important, and that the persuasive power of a piece of writing can greatly affect one's future, whether in a job application or a college essay; however, I disagree with including the essay portion in the SAT. Maybe I'm just being nitpicky about the stupidest of things, but I think if you're going to call something standard, it darn better well be standard -- not subjective. OBjective. Standard.
Also, reflecting on what was said in class, what Mr. Watson told us was the exact opposite of what my first semester English teacher told us. Everything was different -- in fact, I could say that everything my first semester teacher said to do, Mr. Watson said not to do it. For example, I was told that more examples are better; however, we just found out that all the sixes had one in-depth example versus several smaller, specific ones. Also, I was told to make a choice: Yes or no. Not somewhere inbetween. Now, I am being told otherwise.
This is another reason I have a problem with the essay portion of the SAT being called "standardized." The difference in the opinions of two people can be anywhere from a small gap to the grand canyon.
One thing Mr. Watson brought up was the aforementioned choosing a side. I think you should be able to get a six by picking a side. What's wrong with choosing a side and persuading the audience? Or showing them your opinion clearly and decisively. Yes, there are an infinite number of variables involved. Yes, the level of complexity involved in 99% of the SAT essay prompts is far beyond a simple yes or no; however, I think a point-of-view essay is what they asked for. Right? So why can't we state an opinion?
I'd like to point any readers in the direction of Elise's blog, which I'm too lazy to link to. Her views are always interesting, and her writing is clear, as well as concise. Hard-hitting, one could say.
II
"I am an arms dealer, fitting you with weapons in the form of words..."
-- This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race, Fallout Boy
"It is impossible to love and be wise."
-- Francis Bacon
" 'You shouldn't exist.'
'How can you say that? Even if it is true.' "
-- KHII
I
Honestly, I'm doing this at 2:30 AM, and I all I'm hoping is that this is "good enough." I don't feel particularly literate, and I have a headache the size of Texas. I have to wake up in three hours, and I keep wondering why I put myself through this. For grades? For those say, ten extra points? Ten measly points? Really, when I put things in perspective, I realize how trivial some of these things are. And yet, I can see how many trivial things, bunched up together, can form a monster of a problem.
On to the point of the post. The SAT essay. Why is an essay included in a "STANDARDIZED" test? I don't think anything that has to do with expressing an opinion relates to something standardized. In fact, having people grade it makes it even less of a standard, in my opinion. I do understand that writing skills are important, and that the persuasive power of a piece of writing can greatly affect one's future, whether in a job application or a college essay; however, I disagree with including the essay portion in the SAT. Maybe I'm just being nitpicky about the stupidest of things, but I think if you're going to call something standard, it darn better well be standard -- not subjective. OBjective. Standard.
Also, reflecting on what was said in class, what Mr. Watson told us was the exact opposite of what my first semester English teacher told us. Everything was different -- in fact, I could say that everything my first semester teacher said to do, Mr. Watson said not to do it. For example, I was told that more examples are better; however, we just found out that all the sixes had one in-depth example versus several smaller, specific ones. Also, I was told to make a choice: Yes or no. Not somewhere inbetween. Now, I am being told otherwise.
This is another reason I have a problem with the essay portion of the SAT being called "standardized." The difference in the opinions of two people can be anywhere from a small gap to the grand canyon.
One thing Mr. Watson brought up was the aforementioned choosing a side. I think you should be able to get a six by picking a side. What's wrong with choosing a side and persuading the audience? Or showing them your opinion clearly and decisively. Yes, there are an infinite number of variables involved. Yes, the level of complexity involved in 99% of the SAT essay prompts is far beyond a simple yes or no; however, I think a point-of-view essay is what they asked for. Right? So why can't we state an opinion?
I'd like to point any readers in the direction of Elise's blog, which I'm too lazy to link to. Her views are always interesting, and her writing is clear, as well as concise. Hard-hitting, one could say.
II
"I am an arms dealer, fitting you with weapons in the form of words..."
-- This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race, Fallout Boy
"It is impossible to love and be wise."
-- Francis Bacon
" 'You shouldn't exist.'
'How can you say that? Even if it is true.' "
-- KHII
Sunday, February 25, 2007
uncertain dreams, nineteen years old. uncertain lies, nineteen years old
Post 14 :: SAT Essay
I have a lot of trouble with SAT essays -- especially if I don't have any particular connection with the subject. I hope to improve along the course of sophomore and junior year, but... -____-;;; Ah well.
---
Today, media is all around us; technology takes bigger leaps every day, and media springs along with it. What we hear and take in from the media (our surroundings) greatly determines what and how we think of our world.
Nowadays, most people drive home with the radio on; when they get home, they turn on the television to watch the news. The television, the radio, the internet, the newspaper -- everywhere we turn, the media is feeding us news and selected articles, and although some of us would like to think that we have formulated our own interests and opinions on what is important, I think most of this shaping comes to us through the media. When we turn the television on and hear stories of murder, rape, and robbery, we begin to fear for our safety. Violence and avoidance of said violence become our priority. "If it bleeds, it sells" is what influences our thoughts. In this way, the media can change a person's thinking, and in turn, change what they think is important.
Another example of the media changing the priorities of the public lies in the blogs we created as an English class. When someone starts out with a set idea, they set about writing their blog entries based on their sense of "this is what was important." Then, others see and comment on that entry. When his/her ideas are tested, or perhaps as he/she reads the thoughts of others, a different path is revealed, and it seems more logical to head down that one. For example, I wrote an entry about an essay called "The Singer Solution to World Poverty." What stuck out the most for me was the author's high and mighty approach; it seemed like the author, though he didn't follow his own solution, deigned it appropriate for him to look down on his readers and their "cushy" lives. That was all I drew from the article.
Then, I happened across a friend's blog. As I read, I began to notice that what she drew from the essay (what she thought was important) lay on a completely different path, so to speak. She questioned her responsibilities versus simple dislike for the author. There was quite a difference in what we thought was important; however, I began to think more and more about what she thought -- what one could do as an individual and what one is responsible for -- and I began to see something new. I came away from those assignments with a completely new viewpoint, drawing from it opinions that I never would have formulated had it not been for new "media."
Media has an extremely strong say in what is important. When I was younger, I wasn't nearly as shallow as I am now. That's because when I was small, I didn't care about the fashion models strutting across the walkway in their underwear. I didn't care how skinny and beautiful they were; I changed the channel and watched Pokemon instead. But now, I watch shows like "Grey's Anatomy" and "America's Next Top Model." When I see all those beautiful people, what is important slowly changes. It wasn't voluntary, either.
Media does change the way we think and what we think about, as well as its position on our list of priorities. What we see on T.V., hear on the radio, read about in the newspaper or off blogs: All of these things determine what we think is important, even if we don't intend to let them do so.
---
-edit- a little extra doodle to the side.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
i keep trying to face the day
Post 13 :: Reflection :: Lucky Number 13 :: Too Much :: Interests :: Support + Money vs. Happiness
I
3. Reflect on all your posts up to this point. Then revisit your essential questions. Write a post in which you discuss what you now know regarding your questions. Do you need to explore further? Have your questions changed?
Frankly, I can't even remember what the essential questions were, which defeats the purpose of my making entries. Of course, I could have remembered them when I was making those posts. Oh well. The original essential questions had to do with determining what type of world this is and how to live in it, correct? If we set out to answer these questions from the get-go, it was probably assumed that we had no idea. And, if I had no idea then, why should I have an idea now? I think it's just a little pointless to spend time trying to figure out what kind of world this is -- to pin one outfit on and keep it there. Oh -- I guess I have figured something out, then. From my blog, my friends' blogs, and their entries, I mean. The world will always change. So will the people living in it, as well as their ideals and interests. Some things come together and work like clockwork. Some things fall apart. I suppose this is where another question comes up:
How far should we push before pulling back?
How far should we chase something out of a sense of familiarity? How can we determine how valuable something is without losing it first? How do we know if this feeling of needing something is based on a selfish need for a fall-back or on a sense of true comraderie?
When is it time to let go?
I got a little off-topic there, I think. But those could serve as new essential questions.
II
So... Numbered post number 13 has come about. This isn't actually the thirteenth post -- it's the fifteenth -- but I numbered them like this, so... Thirteen.
Why is it considered a bad luck number?
If believing in things makes things so, why is it so hard to stop believing that certain things will bring misfortune? Is trying hard not to believe in something the same thing as believing? Giving it attention and thought.
III
How much is too much?
How much should we take before realizing that what we think we need and what we want don't lie in the same direction? What if we've already realized this and don't do anything about it? Is this wrong? When do we cross "the line"? Is there a definite line? Why do we waver, coming and going across the line? Do we really waver, in our hearts? When logical thought is taken from the picture, do things become clearer?
When should we feel, and when should we think?
IV
I'm interested in a lot of weird things. Things people my age wouldn't really be interested in. Or... at least, not the people in my immediate surroundings. Is this wrong? I know my parents try not to think about it as much; I can see it and hear it when they don't respond or change the subject smoothly. I realize that I should do what makes me happy -- but where is the line between happiness for oneself and selfishness/refusal to change for someone else? Should we ever be required to change for someone else? I usually try not to think about these kinds of things, because it gets me nowhere, and I'm always more lost at the end of it than I was at the beginning. But really.
If one changes for someone else, compromising his/her happiness and going with the flow, is that right? Or is a refusal to accept those who don't accept his/her opinions right? Where's the happy midway point? Can you be halfway between the two without being called a hypocrite? I'm not expressing this the way I want to. It just... doesn't come out right. What would the world be like if we spoke through thought and mental images? Would we get along if we could understand? Or would those thoughts and mental images just be contorted and used against us?
I ramble too much. And each path I take leads me farther from my original thought.
Is it true that every time you sigh, you get shorter?
...
If you're still reading, stop reading.
V
Hah. It started out as kind of a joke. You know, just a "what-if."
" 'If I said I wanted to go to art school, what would you say?'
'...'
'I mean, I know I'd have to get another job or something, because it'd be hard to make a living in such an unstable field, but...'
'Well, you know, art school is okay, but...'
'But?'
'Well... It's just that you need to make a living -- support yourself... I don't know. If you didn't have the grades you have...'
'What does that mean?' "
So now that my grades are dropping, is it all right? I realize that going to art school isn't the best idea for me; my talent isn't on par with my ambition, and I'd struggle, both with money and life in general.
But I love to draw.
Or do I? When things like this roll around, I start to question what I like, what I need, what I want. Do I like to draw? Yes, it relaxes me. Yes, it's considerable stress relief. I feel like... But could I do it for a living? Will I still be interested in it ten years down the line? I don't know. I do know that I don't have the skill for it. I'm not sure I ever will. Should I stop pursuing it?
I don't know why I asked if I wasn't intending to go to art school in the first place. I mean, yes, I ... Actually, I was considering it, but now I'm not so sure. Financial security is beginning to sound really nice, and insecurity, the more it's talked about, is sounding less and less appealing. SVA would have been nice. That Art Institute up in Washington sounded neat. But I need to go to a college that will give me a "solid undergraduate," so that when I pursue what I really want, I will have something to fall back on.
How much do we have to "endure" before we can reach for what we really want? Should we have to endure things? I realize that failure is all-too real an option, and that anything in the arts business is extremely risky for someone of my mediocre-or-less skill level. And yet I want to reach for it. I wanted to go for it. But now, I don't think I will. My parents say I can try to go to something like the Art Institute after I graduate from a different college, but college is so expensive. I don't want to trouble my family out of my selfish want to follow a dream that might not come true. And I realize I'm being spoiled and whiny and EMO about it all; I don't know that I'll still want to do this a few years down the line. In fact, I don't even know if I'll still want what I do when I graduate from high school. I guess... I just wanted... I don't know what I wanted. Maybe support? Faith? Who knows?
I'll try for normal colleges, so I can fall back on a normal job. I keep saying "fall back." It's like assuming I'm going to fail at whatever I choose to reach for. I know it never hurts to be prepared, and that it's stupid to go into life without a backup plan, but... I don't know.
How high can I go? How far?
How high am I allowed to aim before faith turns into foolishness?
-edit-
Ugh. I know it's selfish. I know it's stupid. Tuition went up AGAIN this year, and I know my parents would expect something out of their fifteen grand a year. If I could be successful like my Aunt, maybe. Like that.
I just thought it was neat, y'know? That these video game designers and character artists -- their work is proof that they existed. Their work entertained people -- children, teens, maybe even adults or elderly folk. Maybe made them laugh, possibly even cry. I mean... even after they're gone. Say Nomura Tetsuya. Even after he passes on, we'll remember him. He existed.
Is that what this is all about? Proof of existence? Am I so desperate for some kind of self-validation?
... Do we need others to validate ourselves?
I
3. Reflect on all your posts up to this point. Then revisit your essential questions. Write a post in which you discuss what you now know regarding your questions. Do you need to explore further? Have your questions changed?
Frankly, I can't even remember what the essential questions were, which defeats the purpose of my making entries. Of course, I could have remembered them when I was making those posts. Oh well. The original essential questions had to do with determining what type of world this is and how to live in it, correct? If we set out to answer these questions from the get-go, it was probably assumed that we had no idea. And, if I had no idea then, why should I have an idea now? I think it's just a little pointless to spend time trying to figure out what kind of world this is -- to pin one outfit on and keep it there. Oh -- I guess I have figured something out, then. From my blog, my friends' blogs, and their entries, I mean. The world will always change. So will the people living in it, as well as their ideals and interests. Some things come together and work like clockwork. Some things fall apart. I suppose this is where another question comes up:
How far should we push before pulling back?
How far should we chase something out of a sense of familiarity? How can we determine how valuable something is without losing it first? How do we know if this feeling of needing something is based on a selfish need for a fall-back or on a sense of true comraderie?
When is it time to let go?
I got a little off-topic there, I think. But those could serve as new essential questions.
II
So... Numbered post number 13 has come about. This isn't actually the thirteenth post -- it's the fifteenth -- but I numbered them like this, so... Thirteen.
Why is it considered a bad luck number?
If believing in things makes things so, why is it so hard to stop believing that certain things will bring misfortune? Is trying hard not to believe in something the same thing as believing? Giving it attention and thought.
III
How much is too much?
How much should we take before realizing that what we think we need and what we want don't lie in the same direction? What if we've already realized this and don't do anything about it? Is this wrong? When do we cross "the line"? Is there a definite line? Why do we waver, coming and going across the line? Do we really waver, in our hearts? When logical thought is taken from the picture, do things become clearer?
When should we feel, and when should we think?
IV
I'm interested in a lot of weird things. Things people my age wouldn't really be interested in. Or... at least, not the people in my immediate surroundings. Is this wrong? I know my parents try not to think about it as much; I can see it and hear it when they don't respond or change the subject smoothly. I realize that I should do what makes me happy -- but where is the line between happiness for oneself and selfishness/refusal to change for someone else? Should we ever be required to change for someone else? I usually try not to think about these kinds of things, because it gets me nowhere, and I'm always more lost at the end of it than I was at the beginning. But really.
If one changes for someone else, compromising his/her happiness and going with the flow, is that right? Or is a refusal to accept those who don't accept his/her opinions right? Where's the happy midway point? Can you be halfway between the two without being called a hypocrite? I'm not expressing this the way I want to. It just... doesn't come out right. What would the world be like if we spoke through thought and mental images? Would we get along if we could understand? Or would those thoughts and mental images just be contorted and used against us?
I ramble too much. And each path I take leads me farther from my original thought.
Is it true that every time you sigh, you get shorter?
...
If you're still reading, stop reading.
V
Hah. It started out as kind of a joke. You know, just a "what-if."
" 'If I said I wanted to go to art school, what would you say?'
'...'
'I mean, I know I'd have to get another job or something, because it'd be hard to make a living in such an unstable field, but...'
'Well, you know, art school is okay, but...'
'But?'
'Well... It's just that you need to make a living -- support yourself... I don't know. If you didn't have the grades you have...'
'What does that mean?' "
So now that my grades are dropping, is it all right? I realize that going to art school isn't the best idea for me; my talent isn't on par with my ambition, and I'd struggle, both with money and life in general.
But I love to draw.
Or do I? When things like this roll around, I start to question what I like, what I need, what I want. Do I like to draw? Yes, it relaxes me. Yes, it's considerable stress relief. I feel like... But could I do it for a living? Will I still be interested in it ten years down the line? I don't know. I do know that I don't have the skill for it. I'm not sure I ever will. Should I stop pursuing it?
I don't know why I asked if I wasn't intending to go to art school in the first place. I mean, yes, I ... Actually, I was considering it, but now I'm not so sure. Financial security is beginning to sound really nice, and insecurity, the more it's talked about, is sounding less and less appealing. SVA would have been nice. That Art Institute up in Washington sounded neat. But I need to go to a college that will give me a "solid undergraduate," so that when I pursue what I really want, I will have something to fall back on.
How much do we have to "endure" before we can reach for what we really want? Should we have to endure things? I realize that failure is all-too real an option, and that anything in the arts business is extremely risky for someone of my mediocre-or-less skill level. And yet I want to reach for it. I wanted to go for it. But now, I don't think I will. My parents say I can try to go to something like the Art Institute after I graduate from a different college, but college is so expensive. I don't want to trouble my family out of my selfish want to follow a dream that might not come true. And I realize I'm being spoiled and whiny and EMO about it all; I don't know that I'll still want to do this a few years down the line. In fact, I don't even know if I'll still want what I do when I graduate from high school. I guess... I just wanted... I don't know what I wanted. Maybe support? Faith? Who knows?
I'll try for normal colleges, so I can fall back on a normal job. I keep saying "fall back." It's like assuming I'm going to fail at whatever I choose to reach for. I know it never hurts to be prepared, and that it's stupid to go into life without a backup plan, but... I don't know.
How high can I go? How far?
How high am I allowed to aim before faith turns into foolishness?
-edit-
Ugh. I know it's selfish. I know it's stupid. Tuition went up AGAIN this year, and I know my parents would expect something out of their fifteen grand a year. If I could be successful like my Aunt, maybe. Like that.
I just thought it was neat, y'know? That these video game designers and character artists -- their work is proof that they existed. Their work entertained people -- children, teens, maybe even adults or elderly folk. Maybe made them laugh, possibly even cry. I mean... even after they're gone. Say Nomura Tetsuya. Even after he passes on, we'll remember him. He existed.
Is that what this is all about? Proof of existence? Am I so desperate for some kind of self-validation?
... Do we need others to validate ourselves?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)