27 December 2008

Emerald City Personas

Whizzing by the conurbation existence of Seattle shows the congested streets in which technologically advanced Homo sapiens carry out their jaded daily routines. It is December 13th (a Friday, to be precise) and like all other Friday lunchtimes of the week, the cage releases, freeing the rapt people from their official duties. The sky consists of a cloudy filter plastered on the organic ceiling. Rain will be scheduled to release its baggage onto the already damp sidewalks at approximately one o’ clock this afternoon. From an aerial shot, one can see numerous patterned circles, twirling about, covering their occupants from the nearly fallen rain. The tone of this cultural city is one of grungy excellence combined with the pungent smell of fish lingering in the streets, for the fish market is having a special on all their finest sea food. Depersonalizing this city, it resembles a washed up ant farm, exposing millions of tired workers separating briefly for the one promising moment of relaxation and replenishment: lunch.
One particular corner of downtown Seattle presents a quaint enclave housing a multitude of recreational places; one stands out in particular, the heart of Friday evenings, the escape from reality, the Emerald City Theatre. Its crafty architectural design and opulent appearance accents the boldness this city so consumedly possesses, thus it is finally an appropriate time to venture into the diverse characters that inhabit this particular corner.
The Salesman sits in his rightly booth outside, near the entrance of the Theatre. Each day he sits, selling tickets to the public, advertising the upcoming shows and being ordered to do so especially within the hours of twelve to two pm, for obvious reasons. In his backless stool chair, he is forced to sit upright, stretching out the rolls of his stomach which long for their comfortable position of lying on top of each other when he slouches in his recliner at home. He sports an exasperated look on his face as if the derivative of vegetables contains more excitement than his job. Why is he so miserable, you ask? That’s easy; it’s so apparent on his face. Growing up this young lad practiced a healthy amount of dedication to the art of sculpting. Throughout his tender life, his father influenced him to form objects of art and enlighten the world with the compositional beauty in which this young lad acquired. However, living in a city with such prestige in the department of art, the Salesman found it difficult to sell his work. Already the streets were occupied with too many starving artists, so he gave up, abandoning his true passion and settling for the lackluster occupation he engulfed himself in every day. To this day, he waits for his guardian angel to cast a fortunate spell on him, sending success his way. Of course, he will never let anyone know of this overly spiritual thinking. It may change the way people perceive him, especially the Newsstand Woman, of whom he desperately craves the attention.
The Newsstand Woman plants contentedly near the west side of the Theatre, stationing herself in the sidewalk so people are obligated to bring themselves to a halt and browse. Such a busybody this woman is, with her pinchy nose fashioning tiny little specs that do no great cause. Her hair is worn in a tired bun, locks flying out randomly. A dress resembling an airline attendant’s raiment lays snuggly on her busty figure and plentiful hips. She is by no means obese, only slightly more horizontal than those of the young female lawyers that pass her. Some say she resembles a dumpling and others say she’s a modest oinker. Well an oinker she may very well be for snacks always litter the newsstand counter, along with the magazines and gum and drugstore items at one’s convenience. One distinct trait of this woman is that she feeds off gossip. From her customers she learns the social lives of the citizens of Seattle, extracting all the juicy goods she can possibly attain. However, as much time as she spends focusing on other people’s lives, convinced that she is at the phase of her life where middle age strips her from all possible love interest, she is oblivious to the man in the ticket booth, selling tickets for the Theatre just directly to her southwest. Will he ever have the courage to speak to her? Will she ever stop discussing other people’s lives and focus on her own?
The Paralegal is a regular at the newsstand. Each day during lunch, this young woman walks with such swiftness in her step as she buys the morning paper and purchases a honey bun. Like most people of this city, she follows this routine each week day; one glitch and her day is off (it may be as petty as a honey bun.) Working for the main law office of Seattle, her job entices wrinkles on her forehead adding a weathered layer on her young face. A handsome woman she is; her small mouth and defined jaw line give her an androgynous appearance, alas her flowing brown hair balances out her look quite complimentary. Wearing a stiff suit and moving only when necessary, she extends her arms, receiving the paper from Newsstand Woman. Secretly, she despises the pudgy woman and her endless questions over all the rage cases, however it is in her nature to accept people and their ignorance, and work to settle cases. This woman carries with her an immense history one most likely could not guess upon first judgment. Even I cannot fully tell an accurate representation of what hardships this young woman has endured. So I’ll leave it at that.
Perhaps the most endearing regular on this quaint Seattle corner is the Street Performer. Every day this strapping young man sits along the Theatre brick wall, strumming his guitar and serenading the passing ants. Often his pets accompany him, luring in children and their parents, forcing them to undergo compulsion to applaud his natural talent for music. His attire consists of fingerless gloves, flannel, and corduroy pants, along with the facial hair of a mountain man. His voice is like sand paper rubbing against wood; the grain in his singing voice adds a sense of realistic reverberation to it, almost seizing the idea of beauty subsisting in ugly things. He gives to the world and asks for nothing in return. Refusing money when tossed his way, he simply makes a profit from the applause of his audience. A true altruist he is.
And, this, my friends, is the city of Seattle. Yes, only a portion was highlighted, but this leaves enough room for your imagination to assume what the other sections of Seattle have to bring.

20 December 2008

good vs. evil

Evil: a moral disturbance in the pattern in which the instincts of humanity follow. The motives behind such acts of facetiousness dwell on the question that impends us all: how much harm can possibly be inflicted on the fragile human soul? Is there a limit to what power a person holds over another (keeping in mind the truth that the physical microcosm of evil cannot compare to the intangible roots of the human mind)? Mental strength overrides physical capacity simply because in this world, the subtlety of slyness acquires more power of doing inner harm than a bodily brute.

With the saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” it seems as though as only half of that statement is true and the other portion contains a fallacy. Words do in fact have more power than what necessarily may meet the naked eye, it’s just a matter of how one lets it show its affect that is the tender essence unknown to us.

Exploring the human psyche in hopes of grasping the primary statement above, it is essential in this brutal society that if one desires survival, one must always be on their guard when surrounding themselves within the eccentric personalities of mankind. It is a plain fact of the natural law: people are selfish. In the end, nobody looks out for any being superior to themselves than themselves alone, thus posing a glitch in a time of crisis. Humans can be divided into two categories: the altruistic type and the type with the ego; as simple as black and white. This plays a vital role in the development of each person’s mentality. The potential the human mind possesses of mutating into pure evil is so immense in regards to the entire human race. Some distinguishable factors in which contribute to this bitter transformation include deprivation as a child, when fear morphs into relentless defense, and a grasp of human morale at an early age.

Often charisma can be mistaken for cunningness with good reason. There usually lurks something beneath the surface in every action performed by this strange species that engulfs one everyday. Take in consideration a hypothetical situation: who holds more power; a heavyset grizzly bear capable of easily taking a human life, or a meek human capable of tapping into one’s credit card account and sending someone into debt? When first looked upon, one normal person would select the bear, though think more into the situation. Debt can drive a person mad as well as any financial matter, thus burrowing insanity deep within the roots of the brain. Often the most harmful injuries are not physical, but mental. A person can only take so much before they crack and that is the case with every human alive. There is no way around it. Now entertain the previous question once more and it is obvious that death is an easier way out than the endless drilling one person can inflict on themselves or another. As Charlotte Perkins Gilman states, “Death? Why this fuss about death. Use your imagination, try to visualize a world without death! ... Death is the essential condition of life, not an evil,” death is not the worst enemy; in fact it acts almost as a relief.

All of mankind possesses the potential savage within the depths of their frame; it’s what brings out the beast in each individual that remains unpredictable every time. In William Golding’s The Lord of the Flies, many contrasting personalities reveal the indirect conflict with which burdens the entire human race with the hunger for power. Perhaps the most sadistic attribute is the subtlety of its existence and the two polar parts that inhabit a person. Jack, the leader of the choir, the self driven lad with endless spunk, poses himself as the perfect example of this imbalance and lack of stability of character persona, in regards to the majority of humanity.

Early into the novel, the trapped boys establish Ralph as their chief and Jack as lead hunter. From the moment of their first meeting, Ralph felt a strange attraction towards Jack—not in any matter of the heart—but the internal connection that would foreshadow their everso deep rooted relationship, perhaps for the worst. Jack single handedly remains as to possess the most ignorant personality, because it is specifically stated through his dialogue that the British aren’t savages and that they need rules. Throughout many instances of the novel, Jack receives the blame for the boys’ failed attempts of rescue. Ralph uses his frustration against Jack’s well-being when Jack lets the fire out. Being the desperate chief he is, Ralph needs to put the blame on someone and since Jack is ultimately responsible for the fire, Jack will receive the lecture. Again, the incident with the weak huts; Jack does not help in the creation of the shelters, so Ralph channels his lack of hope and surplus of anger through Jack, telling him that his botched hunting voyages do no good for the remainder of the boys.

In retrospect, what exactly is the make-up of a human’s personality? Though obviously each human body and soul is so completely different, it seems as though every person has the possibility of their deep rooted ugliness to surface. This is in which the second responsibility of a character is directed. Jack is Ralph’s scapegoat for every failure, but Jack, in addition, exemplifies the epitome of what lengths character study can expose. One can learn so much of the instincts of the human race just by clearly seeing Jack’s outlook on life through his actions. It is so simple to ditch rationality and the idea of ‘for the good of the people’ when the dream of absolute power morphs into a reality (due to lack of adult supervision and set ground regulations.) Jack is juxtaposition: he is the weakest character by succumbing to the horrible principle of tyranny; on the contrary, he stands for what he feels is just, towards the end of the novel. It’s as if his soft spot for humanity and mercy exists no more.

So what conclusion could one make about the majority of people through Jack’s character? It’s simple: we all have the capability of being savages. Greed and selfishness remains in all of mankind; there is no denying that. Thankfully, Jack seizes the perfect disposition as far as warning what can happen to a person’s morale. His complex two part character development serves its purpose of giving life lessons to its audience.

This is what I think. I repeated myself a lot, I know, but who cares. Atleast it shows consistency.

09 December 2008


so i'm sitting here, enjoying a moment to rest. it's eight thirty eight pm that i've started this. we'll see how long i sit here, stumped as to what to write about. i just had a cheese sandwich with a diet coke. i'm going to list every song that plays whilst my itunes is up on shuffle. it's always on in the background
--rose rouge - st. germaine--
anyway, it was very windy today. and the air was substantially thick thus i'm assuming it is to rain tomorrow. YAY. i hope i'm not disappointed. tonight, i am knowledgeable i have a plethora of things to do, mostly stuff that i did not do yesterday: finish filming, write my english essay(s), read hamlet, study for my calculus test, glance at the music for orchestra, retrieve some fabric to make another bag in apparel, fill out my transcript request forms, fill up my car, pick up prints from a random disposable camera i found in my room (i'm excited about that)
--the melting moon - vhs or beta--
and etc. so why i am doing this? because i like stalling. anyway, there should be an appropriate paragraph break here, but i'm just going to string everything together. at this exact moment as i'm thinking of everything to do, i'm trying to recollect some remembrances
--slow emotion replay - the the--
of this time last year. and i can't remember much. christmas carol was opening and i had so many loose ends to tie before winter break. that much i know is true. you know, they say keeping a journal is lame, but i'm glad as hell i wrote in mine (at least once every few weeks), because it's more than rewarding when i read all my woes and troubles at that point in time. i truly think i have this facade that exists amongst others, because i
--burn it all down - vhs or beta (what. again?)--
honestly am not as organized as some may think. i have no idea what the fuck i'm doing! and all the while it's absolutely terrifying, it's also secretly (and now i won't admit this to myself often) somewhat refreshing knowing i truthfully don't know what i'm doing, and when i attain excellence in my life, it'll be based on being at the right place at the right time. you can't plan your future, ha that's something i've grown to accept. so, freaking out is still number one on my favorite pasttimes list, but i also think i've made a break through as far as knowing i don't have to do everything right at this very specific moment. of course, i won't agree with this probably even next week. i'm very inconsistent
--girl sailor - the shins--
when it comes to what i want to do with myself. it's the hot topic in my brain, in my entirety. wow. it's nine oh five pm and i've managed to waste thirty minutes and type barely anything. man, what i would do to go in a coma right now. just a temporary coma (that's redundant) composed of a week's worth sleeping, because gawd knows i don't sleep enough. maybe that's why i act the way i act.
--cosmic dancer - t rex--
this song reminds me of billy elliot. such a good movie about this little british boy who wants to dance. anyway, back to the sleep thing. perhaps my body is accustomed to it by now. the same goes for caffeine. stuff doesn't do shit to me, but it has been a huge chunk of my diet since i was like wee little lassie, making lattes for my parents.
--too busy thinking about my baby -marvin gaye--
i have no humor in me tonight. it's a very, very dry night. i am so eager for this school year to be over. seriously. please gawd, hurry up the process. this type of music makes me think of the movie 'it'. one of my all time faves. man, again, another staple of my childhood, watching it over and over and over again, but watching it off of taped tv, so memorizing the commercials along with the movie. yes, that's right, four hours of memorized lines of the excellent made for tv movie adaptation from stephen king's book. i've been meaning to read it, but i simply do not possess the time.
--do not stand in the shadow - billy idol--
i could listen to his rebel yell album all day errday.
--turn me off - audrye sessions--
i don't understand how so much time could be passing by, how songs just keep playing and going on, and i'm still sitting here. not doing a thing. vegetable, you say? yes. so anywho, i just downloaded this song. i don't know anything about this band, but i heard some of their stuff and thought i'd give them a shot. you know how if you sit in front of something hot for too long, the exposed area starts to itch? my arm is right in front of my portable space heater and it's itching like a mothafucker.
--shadows in the rain - the police--
sting redid this song when he went solo. it's not nearly as good. what happened to sting? he got ridiculously arrogant, and you can tell in his album straight to the heart. it's icky. alas i still listen to it. because english man in new york is just too superior to deny his talent. so let's talk about my heart. how's my heart? it's fine. it's healthy, it's pumping blood to the rest of my body, a sufficient life distributor throughout my physical existance.
--the gift - sounds from the ground--
actually, i just listened to this song, i'm clicking next.
--lex - ratatat--
who doesn't love this song? my bird has this thing called a snuggle shack where she sleeps in at night, she actually crawls in and nestles herself in there, it's too cute. anyway, she went on this hiatus without one because i'm horrible when it comes to priorities, so she slept like a normal bird; standing up. and she's been agonizingly cranky this last few weeks, because of her lack of quality sleep. she has a shack again, and slept in it all day sunday, never coming out, and she's in fact in there right now, catching up. oh gosh she's so cute. so cute. so so so so so cute. my heart is so large to my animalz.
--don't panic - coldplay--
i'm not terribly in love with coldplay, i mean, they're alright, i barely have any songs from them (although yellow is a tremendous song) but man, i absolutely adore this one. as with all of the other songs on the garden state soundtrack. i listened to that cd a shit ton my freshman year. i am such a sap when it comes to nostalgia.
--just died in your arms - cutting crew--
haha what a song. i was infatuated with 80s music in eighth grade, because b-92 was the most bitchin (i never use that word) radio station ever, playing the best. i also read lois duncan suspense novels like, religiously. don't get me wrong, i still love new wave music, it was just at its pinnacle when i was thirteen. ha, thirteen. boy oh boy do i love senses or what. i can't pinpoint which one brings out the most sentimental assessment.
--sweet hitchhiker - creedence clearwater revival--
oh sweet jesus, i'm wasting so much time writing this.
--how will i know - whitney houston--
i realized that i barely go to the bathroom. i don't know why i'm talking about my restroom behaviors, but seriously, i pee like once a day. i'm just saying this because i've consumed many liquids today and still haven't gone. you know, it's not weird to talk about that sorta thing, i mean everyone does it! it's just that people have made it seem uncomfortable. the same way with nudity. there's absolutely nothing wrong with it, but people have convinced themselves it's more harsh of a concept than it is. it's actually like the most primal, natural thing. god damn let's see how many times i can type the word like. that's so annoying.
--rock me baby - george mccrae--
woman, take me in your arms, rock me baby, there's nothing to it, just say you wanna do it, open up your heart (arms?) and let the lovin staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaart. the cup o' coffee has been sitting on my desk for quite some time now. it had a lid on it. and i'm afraid to look in it.
--ashes to ashes - david bowie--
oh god, totally makes me think of one time i went to the newport aquarium and listened to this multiple times. also makes me think of my sister's room in my old house (not the one in the basement, but on the middle level.) i miss that house. i miss the concept of basements, because there are absolutely zero here. it's so mindboggling how much i loved my childhood, but i'd never want to relive it again. i didn't think it was possible to be so happy and so miserable at the same time. if only you knew me as a kid. my sister thought there was something 'wrong' with me (mentally, as in i was a some disturbed kid). that's so nice to hear. i wasn't crazy or anything, but i definitely had some interior issues with myself. and it's strange because most people get those when they're older. but yea, i don't know if i want my kid to have the lifestyle i had, because at times i thought things
--where i end and you begin the sky is falling in - radiohead--
couldn't get worse, but i'm thankful because it's helped me become wise among my years. so all in all, i'm glad i experienced what i did. it's sad that my father doesn't know who i am. he knows me on a two dimensional plane, the x and y axis, but not the z axis (reference to pre calculus!) and it's not his fault, it's just in his nature. he loves me sure and i love him, but i don't feel like we're father and daughter. my mommy and i, on the other hand, are very close.
--posse in effect - beastie boys--
now i really am typing the first thing that comes to mind. i apologize if it's sticky to read. did you know iggy pop's real name is james newell osterberg jr.? heh heh.
--acceptable in the 80s - calvin harris--
it's a tuesday night! what a dead day. actually, no that's a lie. today was quite productive. ugh but it's not over, and i have so much still to finish. fucking lame. okay, i'm going to resist the temptation of writing about how much i have to do, because who cares? jeez. my sister and i have always wanted to make a skirt out of ties, but for some reason it has never happened. now that i know how to sew, though, i'll probably do just that...when i get around to it. wow, i really like this song. i've often neglected it. wow, i really really like this song. ow. my hair hurts because i've had it bobby pins all day. i either want to bleach it again. or dye it black. i've always wanted to dye it black, but i don't wanna look like a fucking middle eastern chick (not that there's anything wrong with that). -
-otherside - akira yamoaka--
i got paint on my shirt today. i was mad at first, but now i'm over it.
--pennyroyal tea - nirvana--
i like the acoustic version of this better. next song!
--advice for the young at heart - tears for fears--
oh, my theme song, damn. just kidding. i just changed shirts for no reason. i do that so often, just randomly change my clothes. and i'm a+ at changing in public areas without exposing too much of myself. it's definitely a strong point. to go back to my hair, it looks like a bunch of tree vines right now. quite nifty. i wouldn't trade my hair's composition for anythaang. just the color and maybe style. but that's just because i get bored wiff it. enough about my hair, sheesh. sheesh. i think i'm the only person that still says that word. nobody else does! i hate the kids at my school. they suck. what's new though. this song makes me think of tearing off the wallpaper in my parents turned sisters turned my room in my last house. now
--tammie - the do--
is playing. she's got a neat voice. but it kind of sounds like everyone elses. so i take that back. it's still nice, though. i have a tanline from my mom's wedding rings i wear. i hate it when people try to be funny and ask me 'oh are you married? hahaha...' that's just dumb. i'm not even wearing them on my ring finger.
--circle of friends - better than ezra--
i love a good soundtrack. anyway, i always give them my pity laugh 'oh haha, you know it!' or 'oh haha, no, marriage is not for me' and then they give me that blank, appalled face because the 5/6 people get married. i don't know if that's true, i just made it up. i have to turn this heater off for a while. i'm all itchy all ova. that's another lie, just my left arm. i have a doctor's appt. tomorrow so i won't be going to first and second period. it's sad that that's like the most i have to look forward to tomorrow. no, fuck that, that's something to look forward to.
--church of the poison mind - boy george and the culture club--
words cannot express how much i love boy george. i'm tired of this. bye bye.