"According to critic Northrop Frye,'Tragic heroes are so much the highest points in their human landscape that they seem the inevitable conductors of the power about them, great trees more likely to be struck by lightning than a clump of grass. Conductors may of course be instruments as well as victims of the divine lightening.' Select a novel or play in which a tragic figure functions as an instrument of the suffering of others. Then write an essay in which you explain how the suffering brought upon others by that figure contributes to the tragic vision of the work as a whole. Avoid plot summary."Be careful to respond to the prompt--that of tragic vision-- and not just the quotation. You should focus your answer not on Othello, but those effected by his actions and why they are so. What is it in their respective characters that make them part of the tragic vision? Make sure you define in your thesis statement what the tragic vision of this play entails.
In the story of "The Lion King" Mufasa is the great on who conducts the tragedy for all those who surround him. Though Lion King is not a tragic tale in its full span because of Simba's triumph in the predicable Disney ending, Mufasa creates a tragic vision when he falls for the mind game Scar lures him with. Mufasa creates tragedy for all who surround him. His Pride suffers, the land suffers and his son and wife suffer. This mirrors Iago and Othello's story. Othello has a character that is genuine and trusting and Iago knows this. Iago doesn't have to work very hard to trick Othello into thinking Desdemona is unfaithful and his actions as the mighty "conductor" take a ripple effect on the people around him. The tragic vision is complete because not only is the life of the tragic hero tainted but those closest to them will fall also. Had Othello not been tricked Cassio would have never been suspect in his jealous mind and neither would Desdemona. Iago acts as the lightening in the tragic storm much as Scar. These two villans create continuous turmoil for those they envy, and they are masters at it. Their roles in the conception of the tragic vision is essential because they play so many people at once. The hyena's, the lionesses of the pride, Simba have this unconditional trust in Scar much like Othello, Cassio, Desdemona and Roderigo have for Iago. The entire lengths of the stories you want to scream at the characters "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING! RAAAAWR! I PRITHEE THINK BEFORE YOU ARE OVERCOME WITH THIS PESTILENCE!" Ha..speaking in any sort of language they will understand. This tragic trust, These masters of deception and brain washing, The infallible effectiveness of these perfect leaders, the love for their communities, The fall of these leaders and the butterfly effect it causes: All of these things mix together to create a tragic vision.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Saturday, December 1, 2007
"Yes snickered the devil, but i have all the umpires!"
TO be born innately evil? well that would suck. I have to say from my years of baby-sitting, i am sure that some babies are born evil.
Ha.
But on a serious note, i think to define good and evil is dangerous territory. Who is to say what is good, or what is evil? God?
Whose god? What makes a Christian's God more moral or good than a pagans? Sure there are things that seem completely immoral, but if I had grown up in a radically patriarchal society, I cannot be sure that I would think that for a man to beat or rape his wife as punishment was wrong? If things are truly "evil" or immoral that that would mean that mankind was born with gages for it and therefore... born "good"? There is no way to be sure with out completely removing all outside influences. All humans are born knowing is what makes them happy, and what makes them feel pain, and from that stems morals: good and evil.I know what is "right" and what is "wrong" because of what I am taught, and it makes me passionate about it. The morality is ingrained in me, but I wasn't born that way, no one is.
Ha.
But on a serious note, i think to define good and evil is dangerous territory. Who is to say what is good, or what is evil? God?
Whose god? What makes a Christian's God more moral or good than a pagans? Sure there are things that seem completely immoral, but if I had grown up in a radically patriarchal society, I cannot be sure that I would think that for a man to beat or rape his wife as punishment was wrong? If things are truly "evil" or immoral that that would mean that mankind was born with gages for it and therefore... born "good"? There is no way to be sure with out completely removing all outside influences. All humans are born knowing is what makes them happy, and what makes them feel pain, and from that stems morals: good and evil.I know what is "right" and what is "wrong" because of what I am taught, and it makes me passionate about it. The morality is ingrained in me, but I wasn't born that way, no one is.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Why is love so complex? Gee, if only i knew. I guess the complexity of love in conceived because of all the different -for lack of a better word- kinds of love. To me it doesn't even make sense to throw all the various "loves" under one title. You have the: "Oh, Fabio, thank-you for killing that vampire for me and squeezing your firm buttox to enticingly while doing so, I love you." Then theres grandparent, 60 year old :
"I love you Mildred Heffelfinger!"
"What?"
" I SAID, I LOVE YOU"
" you have to go poo? AGAIN? Me too... "
You've got the awkward I love yous' exchanged between guy friends that are only to be stated in that one moment where you comrade has pulled you from the psycho ex-girlfriend. The head over heals, can't keep my hands off you newly-wed love. You have the "oh my gawd, don't you just love the shoes?" love. the teenage love : " I love you, lets have sex." The extremities of maternal love... I can't even begin to think of them all. What is love anyways? I guess what all these "loves" have in common, what makes them so complex is that it is one of the few things that doesn't really make sense or fit ino a clear definition. It just is what it is. One can't rationalize or try to understand it. All we can hope to do is some day feel it.
One thing I can say definently is you'll know when it hits you, and then once you define love, clearly for yourself,everything will just get more complicated.
"I love you Mildred Heffelfinger!"
"What?"
" I SAID, I LOVE YOU"
" you have to go poo? AGAIN? Me too... "
You've got the awkward I love yous' exchanged between guy friends that are only to be stated in that one moment where you comrade has pulled you from the psycho ex-girlfriend. The head over heals, can't keep my hands off you newly-wed love. You have the "oh my gawd, don't you just love the shoes?" love. the teenage love : " I love you, lets have sex." The extremities of maternal love... I can't even begin to think of them all. What is love anyways? I guess what all these "loves" have in common, what makes them so complex is that it is one of the few things that doesn't really make sense or fit ino a clear definition. It just is what it is. One can't rationalize or try to understand it. All we can hope to do is some day feel it.
One thing I can say definently is you'll know when it hits you, and then once you define love, clearly for yourself,everything will just get more complicated.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Great. this blog made me cry
It seems kind of ironic to me that this question is posed to me at this perticular time in my life. Here I go on a tirade about to validate every sixteen year old. american whiney,ungreatful, shallow, unregimnted wanna-be, boy crazy,under-educated, naive stero-type EVER but I just got to do it. My apologies to Keating.
Anywho. This is the most difficult time I've ever faced, it seems that everyone around me wants so badly for me to grow up , to be sovereign of my own life.. To do my own laundry for godsakes.
The thing is no one will let me! My best friend in the whole world just moved 572.41 unprocurable miles up the road and after he left it seemed like all the lessons to be learned were dumped on to my plate. I just want to write a letter: " Dear Reality, I don't want to sound rude but the rate at which you are sending me the albatross and responsibility is a little excessive. My UPS man has begin taking speed. I think for all of our sakes you should slow it down.. and send 30$ so support the delivery man's children."
Also I think one of the hardest lessons you have to learn as a teenager is not to be naive about what peoples intentions may be. As teenagers we are geared to believe parents, teachers, cops etc. are our enemies and our cool peers are our friends. Lately however as I am out against the world without that one best friend ( wah wah wah I know)looking around at everyone it's almost barbaric and savage the way we teenagers go after the things we want. And not even just the gratification we desire so eminently but goals that are so fickle or minor. I would dump beans all over the person in front of me in the lunch line to distract them long enough so that I could obtain the last sugar cookie. My mom would sacrifice everything for me. She's even going back to work so we can have enough money for college (even though my gpa blows). I've started to realize that no matter how ducky and affirming it can be to strut with people who will sacrifice anything to achieve what is pleasing at the end of the day my mortifying father with refried beans and ethanol crusted in his mustache really has my best interests at heart.
Anywho. This is the most difficult time I've ever faced, it seems that everyone around me wants so badly for me to grow up , to be sovereign of my own life.. To do my own laundry for godsakes.
The thing is no one will let me! My best friend in the whole world just moved 572.41 unprocurable miles up the road and after he left it seemed like all the lessons to be learned were dumped on to my plate. I just want to write a letter: " Dear Reality, I don't want to sound rude but the rate at which you are sending me the albatross and responsibility is a little excessive. My UPS man has begin taking speed. I think for all of our sakes you should slow it down.. and send 30$ so support the delivery man's children."
Also I think one of the hardest lessons you have to learn as a teenager is not to be naive about what peoples intentions may be. As teenagers we are geared to believe parents, teachers, cops etc. are our enemies and our cool peers are our friends. Lately however as I am out against the world without that one best friend ( wah wah wah I know)looking around at everyone it's almost barbaric and savage the way we teenagers go after the things we want. And not even just the gratification we desire so eminently but goals that are so fickle or minor. I would dump beans all over the person in front of me in the lunch line to distract them long enough so that I could obtain the last sugar cookie. My mom would sacrifice everything for me. She's even going back to work so we can have enough money for college (even though my gpa blows). I've started to realize that no matter how ducky and affirming it can be to strut with people who will sacrifice anything to achieve what is pleasing at the end of the day my mortifying father with refried beans and ethanol crusted in his mustache really has my best interests at heart.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Don't cha wish your family was hot like mine?Don't cha wish your family was a freak like mine?
bi·zarre /bɪˈzɑr
–adjective-markedly unusual in appearance, style, or general character and often involving incongruous or unexpected elements; outrageously or whimsically strange; odd; bizarre behavior.
Right next to that definition in the dictionary they should post a picture of my batty barmy old family. We are very small and tightly knit -not that our size takes away from the anomalous nature we crave- so the picture would surely fit. Your eyes would drift first to my dad because for some odd reason he always tries so hard to smile in pictures the strangest looks are conceived. Your eyes may wander next to my mom. She is very cute and fat. Her mouth will most likely be opened because she likes to make car noises when she's nervous, and there will be some intricate but seemingly purposeless entwined yarn creation spinning from the cold shiny blue knitting needles that never leave her hands or her heart. My Aunt Faye will be rocking in her chair with a a bowl of beans that she is snapping in her lap.Her mouth will be blury because it never stops moving. Her husband J.D. will be standing next to her grinning ear to ear with his toothless smile holding up his biggest crab catch of the summer. You won't be able to see any of this however because he thinks that the small squirrel humping the bush behind all of us is the camera.My itty bitty memaw , popop and grandma will all behuddled together trying to figure out what is going on. Memaw will me scowling at grandma because once again grandma died her hair fire engine red and this is just not how classy "chichi" southern women should be ( I think that she is secretly very envious.) Me and my brothers will be standing by our my auntie sandra. Dan will be setting the back of memaws hair on fire because due to the mass of hairspray needed to keep up her look, we both know that it won't take long for his alfa romeo watch to catch enough virginia summer sunshine to create a comfortably warm glow, which we are sure will add to the lighting of the picture. Matt and Sandra will be holding pictures of cats up that they printed from the internet and my uncle P will be standing adjacent to them pulling at his crotch with the most unpleasant look on his face because his friend Jack Daniel is snuggling in an irksome position with his best friend Johnson. When the picture has been taken he will groan loudly as he pulls out the largest bottle you have every seen from his marry poppins boxers. Aunt Faye will through her beans at him. J.d. will figure out he was standing the wrong way. Mom will cry "VROOOM" dad will steal pauls bottle gulping maniacly until Paul catches him, memaws hair will catch fire and grandma will need to call a real fire truck. Matt and Sandra will continue dicussing there remarkable talent as cat whisperers and all will be perfect.
–adjective-markedly unusual in appearance, style, or general character and often involving incongruous or unexpected elements; outrageously or whimsically strange; odd; bizarre behavior.
Right next to that definition in the dictionary they should post a picture of my batty barmy old family. We are very small and tightly knit -not that our size takes away from the anomalous nature we crave- so the picture would surely fit. Your eyes would drift first to my dad because for some odd reason he always tries so hard to smile in pictures the strangest looks are conceived. Your eyes may wander next to my mom. She is very cute and fat. Her mouth will most likely be opened because she likes to make car noises when she's nervous, and there will be some intricate but seemingly purposeless entwined yarn creation spinning from the cold shiny blue knitting needles that never leave her hands or her heart. My Aunt Faye will be rocking in her chair with a a bowl of beans that she is snapping in her lap.Her mouth will be blury because it never stops moving. Her husband J.D. will be standing next to her grinning ear to ear with his toothless smile holding up his biggest crab catch of the summer. You won't be able to see any of this however because he thinks that the small squirrel humping the bush behind all of us is the camera.My itty bitty memaw , popop and grandma will all behuddled together trying to figure out what is going on. Memaw will me scowling at grandma because once again grandma died her hair fire engine red and this is just not how classy "chichi" southern women should be ( I think that she is secretly very envious.) Me and my brothers will be standing by our my auntie sandra. Dan will be setting the back of memaws hair on fire because due to the mass of hairspray needed to keep up her look, we both know that it won't take long for his alfa romeo watch to catch enough virginia summer sunshine to create a comfortably warm glow, which we are sure will add to the lighting of the picture. Matt and Sandra will be holding pictures of cats up that they printed from the internet and my uncle P will be standing adjacent to them pulling at his crotch with the most unpleasant look on his face because his friend Jack Daniel is snuggling in an irksome position with his best friend Johnson. When the picture has been taken he will groan loudly as he pulls out the largest bottle you have every seen from his marry poppins boxers. Aunt Faye will through her beans at him. J.d. will figure out he was standing the wrong way. Mom will cry "VROOOM" dad will steal pauls bottle gulping maniacly until Paul catches him, memaws hair will catch fire and grandma will need to call a real fire truck. Matt and Sandra will continue dicussing there remarkable talent as cat whisperers and all will be perfect.
duh..
After everything we read and discussed about oedipus rex, fate, predestination, freewill,responsibility and all of that I feel like I'm walking away with more questions than knowledge. Maybe thats part of understanding?
At first I thought Oedipus gave me insight into my dads phrase " Life's hard, then you die baby." Which I suppose the story did momentarily. You can't change your fate... Running from it will create chaos and accepting fate will bring lead one to theres. Secondly, the nature of responsibility is like a security gaurd with a big old nightstick and a beer belly full of resentment. It is not slighty sympathetic, and it doesn't matter what kind of person you are. Every action will have a consequence. You are responsible for even the actions you don't mean to act... If that makes since.
Then along comes Harold crick. He spends his story attempting to change his fate and, following the pattern, the does create chaos. He accepts his fate, the chaos ceases, and he meets his destiny. But - he changed it!!
Or did he?
Was that his fate all along?
Maybe it wasn't and everyone is in control of there own destiny.
So why then does mankind feel the need to have a creator who is all empowering and divine?
Do we want to control our fate, or would we be better off in some gods' hands?
Definently not in the case of Oedipus.
Should we try do act noble, or will and ultimate fate prevail no matter what?
if the ladder is true, than should we just do whatever pleases our own soul? Do we tell ourselves that fate exists to feel better?
Are fate and freewill really incapable of coexistance?
Does any of it really matter?
At first I thought Oedipus gave me insight into my dads phrase " Life's hard, then you die baby." Which I suppose the story did momentarily. You can't change your fate... Running from it will create chaos and accepting fate will bring lead one to theres. Secondly, the nature of responsibility is like a security gaurd with a big old nightstick and a beer belly full of resentment. It is not slighty sympathetic, and it doesn't matter what kind of person you are. Every action will have a consequence. You are responsible for even the actions you don't mean to act... If that makes since.
Then along comes Harold crick. He spends his story attempting to change his fate and, following the pattern, the does create chaos. He accepts his fate, the chaos ceases, and he meets his destiny. But - he changed it!!
Or did he?
Was that his fate all along?
Maybe it wasn't and everyone is in control of there own destiny.
So why then does mankind feel the need to have a creator who is all empowering and divine?
Do we want to control our fate, or would we be better off in some gods' hands?
Definently not in the case of Oedipus.
Should we try do act noble, or will and ultimate fate prevail no matter what?
if the ladder is true, than should we just do whatever pleases our own soul? Do we tell ourselves that fate exists to feel better?
Are fate and freewill really incapable of coexistance?
Does any of it really matter?
Friday, October 12, 2007
FATE v.s. FREEWILL round 1,985,736,503,373,738,394......and the winner is?
This prompt is the most unpalatable, eminently exasperating question I think I have dealt with since my mom asked me if I had packed my " goodnites" in front of my entire 4th grade class before our overnight trip to rock eagle. Through out the entire unit all signs seems to point to fate. The only problem is, I come from a long line of porch swinging, bible thumping, PRAISE JESUS, Chesapeake boat builders and preachers. Everything in my background is pointing me to a religious type freewill.
So, here it goes... my stab in the dark.
The question seems to imply that fate and free will cannot coexist, I think that fate cannot exist without freewill, and free will would be irrelevant without an ultimate fate.It seems to me that freewill and the choices that one makes will lead each of us to our fate. It just seems like the fate that you are "given" ( theres the Chesapeake blood)- you have to come to by your own choices. Your fate is what it is:final,unchanging..lalala.. but you choose every step of it because it is tailor made for you.
maybe that doesn't make sense but ... Maybe I just want both.
But let my eat my never ending cake dangit!
So, here it goes... my stab in the dark.
The question seems to imply that fate and free will cannot coexist, I think that fate cannot exist without freewill, and free will would be irrelevant without an ultimate fate.It seems to me that freewill and the choices that one makes will lead each of us to our fate. It just seems like the fate that you are "given" ( theres the Chesapeake blood)- you have to come to by your own choices. Your fate is what it is:final,unchanging..lalala.. but you choose every step of it because it is tailor made for you.
maybe that doesn't make sense but ... Maybe I just want both.
But let my eat my never ending cake dangit!
Friday, September 21, 2007
early twenties... no way average jose.
If I were to die in my early twenties, but live famously for the next baberjillion years.. hmm... Who gives a flying fudge? Honestly, I think if I were to have my twentieth birthday party on my death bed and someone were come to my side, hold my hands, and look me in the eye for that meaningful end of the road, it's time to evalute you're days kind of conversation and say "You lead a crazy amazing life, everyone will remember you when you're six feet under for 1000 years. To bad its over huh?" I might smack them in the face with a bed pan.
I can't imagine missing out on all the less extreme check point in an average joesphina's life. As my dad always says "You're 16, what the hell do you know?"
Even though theres no way I would ever admit it to him, he is completley right. There is a reason why old people tell sit on there rockers spiting out stories constantly. Day to day it can seem like we'll never get out of high school, that we've been doing the same old thing every day for eighteen years, but its just the beginning. The possibilties are endless once we get out on our own. Even if i'm not out when i'm older running all over the world making something out of every second, I hope that I would still be content with the quiet moments; like actually enjoying my job, supporting myself, meeting that person who will eat mashed potatoes through a straw with you when your eighty, starting a family, getting a dog to blame your farts on.
I don't know, maybe i'm wrong and would be way better to actually try to enjoy yourself every moment your living but, I guess I just more of a big picture, stay home to watch flavor of love on a saturday night type of kid.
I can't imagine missing out on all the less extreme check point in an average joesphina's life. As my dad always says "You're 16, what the hell do you know?"
Even though theres no way I would ever admit it to him, he is completley right. There is a reason why old people tell sit on there rockers spiting out stories constantly. Day to day it can seem like we'll never get out of high school, that we've been doing the same old thing every day for eighteen years, but its just the beginning. The possibilties are endless once we get out on our own. Even if i'm not out when i'm older running all over the world making something out of every second, I hope that I would still be content with the quiet moments; like actually enjoying my job, supporting myself, meeting that person who will eat mashed potatoes through a straw with you when your eighty, starting a family, getting a dog to blame your farts on.
I don't know, maybe i'm wrong and would be way better to actually try to enjoy yourself every moment your living but, I guess I just more of a big picture, stay home to watch flavor of love on a saturday night type of kid.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
each shel was so different....but alike!
when I was little my favorite thing in the entire world was to read Shel Silverstein's poetry. A large part of why the obsession began had to with the fact that my big brother really liked it and I just wanted to be doing what he was doing. Eventually he lost interest however and I had to keep my feelings about the books completely incognito so that I could remain in good favor with the higher power. Unfortunetly since I was a Christina "Little sister who cries all the time" and not Christian "Totally awesome little brother to be the green poweranger" the mssion was hopeless.
ANYWAYS.
Where the sidewalk ends was the best book ever. All the poems in it were so incredibly original and out there. They made me laugh while simultaneously provoking my brain. My favorite ones were those that had pictures that illustrated an aspect of the poem you didn't expect.I would always think he was so clever and funny.They were just awesome. The weird part about looking back on them now however is a large portion of them seem sort of sarcastic. Oh well. They were magical.
I'll never forget in third grade, we had to memorize a poem and I did this one because I thought it was like the funniest crap ever and everyone would want to be my best friend.
I made a little snowball,
as perfect as could be.
I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas and a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
but first it wet the bed.
It was something like that..
ANYWAYS.
Where the sidewalk ends was the best book ever. All the poems in it were so incredibly original and out there. They made me laugh while simultaneously provoking my brain. My favorite ones were those that had pictures that illustrated an aspect of the poem you didn't expect.I would always think he was so clever and funny.They were just awesome. The weird part about looking back on them now however is a large portion of them seem sort of sarcastic. Oh well. They were magical.
I'll never forget in third grade, we had to memorize a poem and I did this one because I thought it was like the funniest crap ever and everyone would want to be my best friend.
I made a little snowball,
as perfect as could be.
I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas and a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
but first it wet the bed.
It was something like that..
Saturday, September 15, 2007
yeah yeah siddartha. you think your so meaningful.
This quote from siddhartha in my mind relates to the inevitability of life and path in life,and also that everyones paths are not so different. I think that this concept is so hard for westerners to understand ( especially Americans) because we are constantly being told that we forge our own paths and to embrace individuality but not diversity. I know that personally its very hard to think of a librarian, possessing a wild hooker who likes to paint her toe-nails red, deep inside but truly we all have these duel personalties battling with each other continuously. I just feel that westerners would like to believe that no one is alike by any means.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
my icon..Bolstering the broken hearted
http://nationalbreakupday.com
Due to recent research advances I'd like to take this time out to tip my hat to the folks at Budweiser.
Thank you Budweiser for presenting national break up day. As I find my self facing a break up I realize, it's so apparent! How could anyone argue that large amounts of beer aren't the perfect, unmarred, ideal remedy for all the desolate citizens who are feeling alone,broken, bitter, angry, sexually frustrated and emotional? If nothing else the level of entertainment value in the entire spectacle will surely sky rocket. Heres to you Bud-dy.
Due to recent research advances I'd like to take this time out to tip my hat to the folks at Budweiser.
Thank you Budweiser for presenting national break up day. As I find my self facing a break up I realize, it's so apparent! How could anyone argue that large amounts of beer aren't the perfect, unmarred, ideal remedy for all the desolate citizens who are feeling alone,broken, bitter, angry, sexually frustrated and emotional? If nothing else the level of entertainment value in the entire spectacle will surely sky rocket. Heres to you Bud-dy.
Monday, September 3, 2007
High school..highs-cool.HIGHSCHOOL!? It has got me FREAKIN' out man.
Jesus, high school. what a pain in the as*. So awkward and smelly and confusing and turned around, jaded, corrupt, perfect, perfectly devised system, perfectly horrible, hilarious, spontaneous...aaaaand fast holy shhhiizzz man we're halfway there! It's like I am halfway through a race; I think I know how everything will turn out because everyones positions are uniform and equable. Really, however, the bowlegged forrest gump looking kid in the back is going to take off in a couple yards and surprise the crap out of everyone. And to know the end is near? It's sad actually. who would've thought..?
Anyways I just felt the need to blab momentarily.
But the paradox of it all? There are so many that pop in my head... But the most frustrating of them all to me is it seems that we, the students, are expected to make adult decisions, and still are not given adult choices, options and opportunities. It seems unfair to have to put up with being told what to do, how to live and love, when to do things, what to eat, what to wear or more importantly: what not to wear, when we can pee(like we can even control it), the list never ends. The funny part to me is the all of the people molding us, "guiding" us, number one seem to be incredibly bitter, piqued,scarred,perturbed and are definitely no better off then any of us. Secondly these teachers seem to be completely shocked when we fall flat on our gluteous and they seems to hold no guilt for any of it. I'm not trying to say that we shouldn't take any of the fall for our..miscalculations or that our leaders should be expect failure.I guess what I don't understand is if we can't be free to explore all the possibilities, choose our own paths, blah, blah, blah... How can we be held accountable for where or how the bridge ends?
The whole ordeal just reminds me of a day at kindergarten thats going so great until you have to play follow the leader and the greasy kid who has a nervous gas problem,coke bottle glasses (but is still blind as a bat) is the chosen maestro. At the end of the day you'll probably end up prying crayons out of your nose.
My mom said that once after getting a flat tire on her bike a doctor she was working for told this:
" Ouuu howlt tiightee to deez days, deez ones ob yo' yout. dey are dee bessht, ouu will shee soon enought. Ou will be tinking, Zittlesberger, you are a shmaart man i shoud hab liiisenteded to you before I couldn't ride any longaa. Dr. Zittlesberger why did I forshake my yout hmm? dat ish what ou will tinking. "
p.s. my mom does a horrible zittlesberger accent.
Anyways I just felt the need to blab momentarily.
But the paradox of it all? There are so many that pop in my head... But the most frustrating of them all to me is it seems that we, the students, are expected to make adult decisions, and still are not given adult choices, options and opportunities. It seems unfair to have to put up with being told what to do, how to live and love, when to do things, what to eat, what to wear or more importantly: what not to wear, when we can pee(like we can even control it), the list never ends. The funny part to me is the all of the people molding us, "guiding" us, number one seem to be incredibly bitter, piqued,scarred,perturbed and are definitely no better off then any of us. Secondly these teachers seem to be completely shocked when we fall flat on our gluteous and they seems to hold no guilt for any of it. I'm not trying to say that we shouldn't take any of the fall for our..miscalculations or that our leaders should be expect failure.I guess what I don't understand is if we can't be free to explore all the possibilities, choose our own paths, blah, blah, blah... How can we be held accountable for where or how the bridge ends?
The whole ordeal just reminds me of a day at kindergarten thats going so great until you have to play follow the leader and the greasy kid who has a nervous gas problem,coke bottle glasses (but is still blind as a bat) is the chosen maestro. At the end of the day you'll probably end up prying crayons out of your nose.
My mom said that once after getting a flat tire on her bike a doctor she was working for told this:
" Ouuu howlt tiightee to deez days, deez ones ob yo' yout. dey are dee bessht, ouu will shee soon enought. Ou will be tinking, Zittlesberger, you are a shmaart man i shoud hab liiisenteded to you before I couldn't ride any longaa. Dr. Zittlesberger why did I forshake my yout hmm? dat ish what ou will tinking. "
p.s. my mom does a horrible zittlesberger accent.
Monday, August 27, 2007
RED, WHITE, BLUE AND BUDLIGHT PUMPING THROUGH MY VEINS !
Poker, Nascar, Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue and stadiums filled with more screaming football fans and floods of light and life pouring in then lady liberty herself could imagine. What could possibly be more american than all of this? How about a bunch of rappers sitting around calling each other just to say "wazzaaaaaaaaahh..?" or a class full of a mass mixture of cultures fighting to become legal american citizens. It could be very difficult to find an icon that could represent the american while encompasing all of this culture, but I believe I have found it in Budweiser. Last night, I decided to ask my dad his thoughts on american icons and all he had to offer was Elvis and Bud Light.
I thought about it some more and after hacking through my mom's internet blocks I reached the Bud Light web site. The stunning realization I came to find was that not only is Budweiser involved with all of the redblood white american stereo-types but it includes it self in the communities of many other cultures and minorities. The clearest representations of this are in the budlight commercials. One commercial in particular, opens with a group of immigrants are sitting in a citizenship class and learning how to ask for a budlight from Atlanta to L.A.
In my mind this is perfectly invades all aspects of american life.
Poker, Nascar, Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue and stadiums filled with more screaming football fans and floods of light and life pouring in then lady liberty herself could imagine. What could possibly be more american than all of this? How about a bunch of rappers sitting around calling each other just to say "wazzaaaaaaaaahh..?" or a class full of a mass mixture of cultures fighting to become legal american citizens. It could be very difficult to find an icon that could represent the american while encompasing all of this culture, but I believe I have found it in Budweiser. Last night, I decided to ask my dad his thoughts on american icons and all he had to offer was Elvis and Bud Light.
I thought about it some more and after hacking through my mom's internet blocks I reached the Bud Light web site. The stunning realization I came to find was that not only is Budweiser involved with all of the redblood white american stereo-types but it includes it self in the communities of many other cultures and minorities. The clearest representations of this are in the budlight commercials. One commercial in particular, opens with a group of immigrants are sitting in a citizenship class and learning how to ask for a budlight from Atlanta to L.A.
In my mind this is perfectly invades all aspects of american life.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
You can go to extremes with impossible schemes
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams
And life gets more exciting with each passing day
And love is either in your heart or on its way
Don't you know that its worth every treasure on earth
To be young at heart
For as rich as you are its much better by far
To be young at heart
-Frank Sinatra, Young At Heart.
"..and I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health. I said "there is nothing that I can do for you that you can't do
for yourself." He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would
help." So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt. He said, "I
think I'm cured. In fact, I'm sure. Thank you stranger, for your
therapeutic smile."
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone. And your eyes must
do some raining if you are ever going to grow. But when crying don't help and
you can't compose yourself. It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or a simple song of hope. That is why I'm singing... Baby don't worry cause now I
got your back. And every time you feel like crying, I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad, then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company through those days so long and black. And we'll just keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve of Love's uneven remainder, our lives are fractions of a whole. But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall. Then I think we would see the beauty then. We would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told by the fault lines and the soil. "
-Bowl of Oranges, Bright Eyes.
"The only difference between me and a madman is that I'm not mad."
-Salvidor Dali
The reason I selected the lyrics and quote above is because I believe that they, together, describe me very well. I hope to remain young at heart until the day the death grabs me by the dentures. I want to ask questions constantly about anything and everything, and earnestly care to hear the answer. I would love to become life long friends with some kid I have just met five minutes before, and then create crazy explanations for the "x" in the equation of life over a glass of apple juice. The pictures above represent this for me also in that surreal art contains some of the wacky-est, most irrational images while simultaneously holding intensely deep, complex meaning. I want to love and fight like each moment in the single most defining one in my life, and cry like a baby when I skin my knee.
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams
And life gets more exciting with each passing day
And love is either in your heart or on its way
Don't you know that its worth every treasure on earth
To be young at heart
For as rich as you are its much better by far
To be young at heart
-Frank Sinatra, Young At Heart.
"..and I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health. I said "there is nothing that I can do for you that you can't do
for yourself." He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would
help." So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt. He said, "I
think I'm cured. In fact, I'm sure. Thank you stranger, for your
therapeutic smile."
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone. And your eyes must
do some raining if you are ever going to grow. But when crying don't help and
you can't compose yourself. It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or a simple song of hope. That is why I'm singing... Baby don't worry cause now I
got your back. And every time you feel like crying, I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad, then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company through those days so long and black. And we'll just keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve of Love's uneven remainder, our lives are fractions of a whole. But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall. Then I think we would see the beauty then. We would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told by the fault lines and the soil. "
-Bowl of Oranges, Bright Eyes.
"The only difference between me and a madman is that I'm not mad."
-Salvidor Dali
The reason I selected the lyrics and quote above is because I believe that they, together, describe me very well. I hope to remain young at heart until the day the death grabs me by the dentures. I want to ask questions constantly about anything and everything, and earnestly care to hear the answer. I would love to become life long friends with some kid I have just met five minutes before, and then create crazy explanations for the "x" in the equation of life over a glass of apple juice. The pictures above represent this for me also in that surreal art contains some of the wacky-est, most irrational images while simultaneously holding intensely deep, complex meaning. I want to love and fight like each moment in the single most defining one in my life, and cry like a baby when I skin my knee.
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