9 posts tagged “photo”
Of the Diseased
We are among the diseased, but we are not like them,
sane as honeybees caught in April mist.
We seem a harm to no one but ourselves, pollinating
fields with our yellow apathy and fables.
We spread seeds of popular culture and mass media
and complain when nothing but weeds grow.
We are among the diseased, but we are not like them,
for they know not why they fly.
We watch ourselves inject black, curling bodies into the night,
and then lament that we cannot breathe.
We send our children to their deaths to protect ourselves,
they kill themselves to save their children.
We are among them, we sit side-by-side, but
you tell me which of us is truly diseased.
I just received my latest Princeton Review practice SAT scores in an e-mail, and they are quite good (2130 all together... I went down from a 770 in reading last time, but I got an 800 in writing and a 12 on my essay, so all is good. I hope I do this well on the actual test so that I have a chance at Brown. :) I see a pattern that scores in whichever category I choose to focus on in studying the week before the test go up-- first it was math, then reading, and now writing. If I do this well next Saturday, when I take the real test, I'll be ecstatic. I'm going to try and focus on keeping my 640 in math [hopefully it won't go down] and 800 in writing and try to get my reading back up to its previous 770 glory.)
I think I've finally found a venue for my G&T project (the play I've been writing-- unsuccessfully, might I add--for months). My friend Rena works at Libby's Pharmacy & Ice Cream Shop, and she says that the owner, Rick Libby, loves putting on all sorts of artsy things (i.e. concerts and the like). THIS MEANS that I will very likely be able to secure the pharmacy for a little late-night cafe play reading! Tres excitement, for sure!
I think that's all the news for now! :)
Charline
It’s something that I often think about in the gusts of introspection and self-evaluation that come after a long night’s studying: is the fear that tomorrow may bring the grisly reality of a truck’s bumper to one’s face enough license to live frivolously? Is it even frivolous, I continue, to live one’s life by the boyhood creed of “Carpe Diem”? Is it fear of unexpected death, even, or simply the acceptance that it may come?
Perhaps others believe that the “great question of life” is one regarding one’s purpose on Earth. I am, however, a firm believer that life is what you make of it, and “purpose” is not something carved into a blackboard with a rusty pin. Teachers, especially when reading Romeo and Juliet with their classes, like to throw students an existentialist curveball: Do you believe in fate? The students plunge their thirteen-year-old bodies into insomnia with the question, worrying over whether they are destined to become lunchmeat grinders at a large industrial factory or businesspeople with a genuinely leather briefcase, genuinely leather shoes, and genuinely fantastic paycheck. Their parents tell them not to worry, that they will do amazingly well on the test tomorrow, that they will get the part in the school play, that they will not become a lunchmeat grinder, especially considering that, nowadays, machines grind meat.
Does it even matter, their little bodies slump over desks and chairs with questions, if I don’t do well on this test? When I am eighty-four and on my deathbed, will they be discussing what grade I got on a math test? Their minds twist themselves into orange peels, What if I do well on this and it amounts to nothing?
That was not something that I had even thought of until last week, to be completely honest-- that it was possible to amount to nothing after putting forth hard work and effort. We have always been told that if we try hard, if we study, we will succeed. We have all had the notion of entitlement tattooed on our palms and fingertips—that we have the magic touch, that because we are straight A students we will get into Ivy League schools and have impressive jobs with six figure salaries and attractive spouses. And what happens to those people that work hard and don’t get any of that? What have we, as a society, set them up for? But, they think to themselves as they lie awake, dreading another day of cubicles and cheap coffee, I worked so hard, did everything I could, got good grades, why didn't I get what they promised?
You can see my dilemma—perhaps will
I work hard and end up having everything I want, but perhaps I will end up
receiving nothing in return. Perhaps in sixty years, when my trembling
seventy-six-year-old hands try to grasp at photographs of a spouse-less dinner
table and an overflowing desk at work, I will realize that my effort has
amounted to nothing; I’ll have wished I had flown to Paris instead of taking
that job interview. Perhaps I will simply be so caught up in my decisions that
I will never enjoy my life. I guess this is why people think that purpose is
something determined for them—if you spend enough time thinking about what to
do, life carves itself into the blackboard for you, without waiting for your approval. After all, as
Geoffrey Chaucer said, "Time and tide wait for no man."
I got a Daily Deviation on Deviantart a couple of days ago while I was away. It was a nice surprise to come home to, I must say. I also got into National Honor Society, which would be exciting if not (basically) everyone that got nominated was accepted. I feel like I wasted time putting effort into the application.
In any case, school is going pretty well. Better, at least, than it was in the first few weeks of September. Gifted and Talented Seminar, our independent study and thesis class, is a pain, though.
But yes, enough literary criticism (I don't even know if it can be categorized as that), and onto some more exciting things. I started writing what might become the second vignette of my play (I really need to get a move on things, I have a lot of December 1st contest deadlines, and it'll be devestating if I miss them), and I hope to get everything finished by mid November, which is hopefully not too much of a stretch. I need to make a chart of deadlines, too, now that I think about it.
In any case, here's a small preview (it has nothing to do with the first vignette, which is why I might end up just leaving it out and starting something new that fits in with more of a general theme):
(ROSE and MARTHA enter the high school bathroom, both holding purses and books and continuing a conversation that began out in the hallway. The bathroom is decorated with typical blue tiles and cigarette laden sinks, complete with lipstick messages on the wall—“Joanie Rich is a prostitute,” “Alana Carter has a fat ass,” etc.)
MARTHA: She’s such a bitch, I can’t even deal with it.
ROSE: What are you going to do?
MARTHA: (hands here a purse) Here, hold my bag. (fumbles through her pockets) Shit… hold on a second. (grabs the purse and ruffles through it; pulls out a permanent marker) Ah, good.
ROSE: What? What? Let me see, what are you doing?
MARTHA: Just drawing a mural in her honor. (stands up on an upside down garbage can and scrawls something on the wall. Steps back and admires her handiwork once she’s finished.)
ROSE: (reads the writing) “Sarah Campbell was part of the Watergate Conspiracy”?
MARTHA: (beaming) Yep!
ROSE: You didn’t consider writing something more exciting?
MARTHA: Like what?
ROSE: (sarcasm) Oh, I don’t know… “Sarah Campbell caused Pearl Harbor”?
MARTHA: Rose, don’t be upset because you can’t get back at her for calling you a whore.
ROSE: That was in fifth grade, I didn’t even know what a whore was.
MARTHA: (turns to ROSE and raises her eyebrow) Bet you do now.
ROSE: (glares) Stop being such a little child.
MARTHA: Sorry, did I fail to mention that I’m sixteen?
ROSE: (scoffs) I have to pee. Hold my books. (hands MARTHA her books and goes into one of the only two stalls.)I'm not sure about where it's going yet; I was thinking Sarah Campbell could walk in and i'd split the stage up into two parts (the bathroom and the stalls). I'm just having a hard time believing I can get this all done in time to send it in to competitions and get it put on at school. Argh!
Melanie (my co-head editor on our school newspaper, The Dawg Print) and I need to get a move on the first issue of the paper-- I think that we have most of the articles in at this point. The deadline was today, so they'd better be in! I wrote my first column/opinion piece of the year about my quitting Myspace, and I still have to write the editorial by Friday.
I never even realize how crazy my schedule is until I make posts here. I'll probably tell you all about the USY Leadership Training Convention I went to last weekend tomorrow or something, I should get a move on my AP US homework.
Au revior, everyone!
Charline
And, with that, i'm gone until Monday. Bye folks! :)
Take a photo of something orange.
What if everything was in black and white except for the flowers and the trees? Would we yearn for everything to be in colour, or would we just accept the achromatic world as a necessary reality?
So, I started reading Catch-22, finally. It's not that bad so far (granted, i'm only seventeen pages in), but I anticipate that it won't be too easy a read. That's alright- I've never really enjoyed easy reads, and I probably won't start now. :)
The photograph below is for the hunt of the day, "something that takes your breath away." It's of the female half of the
Duo Tomlys at Busker Fest in Toronto. I have more photographs of the event in my flickr and deviantart accounts. Granted, their performances weren't exactly "breathtaking" themselves (I've seen much more impressive jumping in the Cirque du Soleil shows), but the thought of having to stand on another person's shoulder and jump around, or flip through a hula hoop onto concrete, is kind of mindblowing.
I think I'm going to start asking myself questions each time I post, at least for a while. I'll try and keep them related to the topics of the posts. :)
I used to take gymnastics when I was younger, I wonder what would have happened if I had continued the lessons? And not just gymanstics- what if I had stuck with horseback riding, painting, piano lessons, dancing, violin, acting, karate? What would I be like? What would I be doing? Sometimes life gets to be too much- too many possibilites and choices and what if's- it's nice to explore these things without regret.
As much as I love my nieces, they are making me go a little nuts. I didn't even realize how hard it is to take care of children, let alone two little ones simultaneously (even with two other people helping). I find it hard to imagine myself ever becoming a mother. I don't particularly want to, but I suppose I may change my mind when I get older.
In any case, I'll try and update this more often. :)
