The extended Pottermore Beta period has done nothing but agitate my inexplicably strong desire be sorted, once and for all. Gryffindor or Hufflepuff? Which flipping house do I belong to? Or have my own self perceptions deceived me altogether and my true place is in the basement with those good-for-nothing Slytherins (sorry guys). I didn't get early access to Pottermore and at this point only people who did can use it.
Why am I so eager to be sorted? Although I value Jo's opinion, (which the Pottermore quiz is probably a significant representation of) I shouldn't need it. I like personality quizzes and love finding great ones on the internet to...what exactly?
Well I have a theory. Maybe the Pottermore situation is getting at me because, on some level, I crave a higher, wiser power to tell me where I belong. Sometimes, I want to be categorized by some stupid ten question quiz because it gives me sometime to go with. My obsession with self assessments has gotten to the point where I spent at least ten minutes yesterday afternoon completing a quiz of four questions on the back of a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to determine whether I am "full of sugar and spice and everything nice" or "have a big appetite for life". And the really dumb part was that I don't even like Cinnamon Toast Crunch!
But being grouped based on any trait is a lot like letting someone place a large glass dome around you five miles in every direction. You've been shown where you are, but it's nearly impossible to get where your going. Someone just gave you a free "you are here", and although the space before you appears wide and interesting, it is nothing compared to what it could be if only the walls that stand just out of view were not there.
I will take the Pottermore sorting quiz when I can. I will have fun answering the questions and will embrace my house with pride. I will not let a hat define my entire being. Really, everyone is both heroic and cowardly, kind and cruel, ignorant and intelligent, and ordinary and terrific, all at once.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Brain bleh
because sometimes I get that realization that those little moments can tip my entire world like
flooring the gas or pressing send and when will stuff begin to be right I can’t even write with
my left hand much less my right to a vitamin water for under two dollars was rudely removed
by the ladies in the cafeteria downstairs last weak knees, swoon, sigh, still the ones whom I
admire never notice little ol’ meal time, sleep time, school time, meal time, sleep time, school
time, time time, tick tock, tick clock tock time your fixed punctuality is nearly as irritating as
the prices in the cafeteria I mean honestly, haven’t ya’ll heard of a student discount every
thing you suspect from my sometimes stained sweatshirts and usually unmade hair because I
have a quiet confidence or so I’m told that there’s some really great food three blocks over and
you can get a sandwich plus a drink for $3.15 but oh. I forgot, you don’t eat, and come to think
of it I have those tests I need to study for so I should go sit in the library and pretend to do
homework while I pretend I don’t have homework to do nothing would be worse than doing
somethings wrong, but that’s a hard concept to internalize when the world has billions of
people, and twice as many eyes
flooring the gas or pressing send and when will stuff begin to be right I can’t even write with
my left hand much less my right to a vitamin water for under two dollars was rudely removed
by the ladies in the cafeteria downstairs last weak knees, swoon, sigh, still the ones whom I
admire never notice little ol’ meal time, sleep time, school time, meal time, sleep time, school
time, time time, tick tock, tick clock tock time your fixed punctuality is nearly as irritating as
the prices in the cafeteria I mean honestly, haven’t ya’ll heard of a student discount every
thing you suspect from my sometimes stained sweatshirts and usually unmade hair because I
have a quiet confidence or so I’m told that there’s some really great food three blocks over and
you can get a sandwich plus a drink for $3.15 but oh. I forgot, you don’t eat, and come to think
of it I have those tests I need to study for so I should go sit in the library and pretend to do
homework while I pretend I don’t have homework to do nothing would be worse than doing
somethings wrong, but that’s a hard concept to internalize when the world has billions of
people, and twice as many eyes
Feels good to be writing again, even if it is rambly brain bleh.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
I Should Have Known That
A poem for my AP Lit class. We were assigned to write about our high school experience and thoughts on being a senior (I know I'm a senior!), but I stretched the topic a bit. Oops. Well at any rate...
In trigonometry last year, my name was vacuum cleaner
Because I sucked
and puckered my lips in disgust like a lemon eater
We each have our mess as I should have known
Maybe then I could have been shameless in asking
For help in solving those darn inverse equations
I referred to freshmen seminar as the “unsharpened pencil in my side”
Because it was oh so dull
and thought to myself with self-righteous pride
That after watching paint dry it must be boring task No. 2
It was two years later when I finally learned
To look for the edgier corners and sides
My friends in the hallways always called me space
Because that is where I go
Or so they say, though I might never know
I hum between classes under my breath
and seem too distracted to consider the homework question
Though I swear I don’t try to be rude
I’m not sure what titles I will take and give this year
Because I am not clairvoyant
And though I would fancy the symbol and status
Of being a great prophet or wise oracle
I’m quite content to ride these bumps and bends
By the end of this year, you never know what I might know by then
Thursday, August 25, 2011
language barriers
If I spoke Spanish I would drive to the border
To warn that this country is full of pinwheel people
Spinning upside-down faster than anything with blood should
Here might not put you back in working order
And if only I was fluent in French
I could appreciate poems by the late Rimbaud
But then if I mastered German instead
I could curse out the Nazis in their native tongue
I wish I knew how to do Sign Language too
So no one would giggle when my voice cracks and squeals
But then they would mock my skin’s cracks and peels
Maybe I should stop trying so hard
Friday, August 19, 2011
Etgar 36: Aids Quilt and OKC Bombing Memorials
Oh, wow, haven't posted on here in a while. Hello friends, I've been back from a trip across America called Etgar 36 for a couple weeks now but blogging about it is such a daunting task that I've put it off. But no more! I went on adventures and I need to write about them. This particular post is about two memorials I visited, though I saw quite a few more than these. Feel free to share your thoughts in comments!
The Names Project Foundation is an organization dedicated to spreading awareness and providing education about AIDS through what is known as the AIDS quilt, a constantly growing memorial quilt to those individuals who lost their lives to the disease. Each panel is dedicated to one person, and the wonderful thing is that when I first walked into the Names Project headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia, I didn't understand why these people were stitched together at all. It was our first meeting and I was fixated on my inner monologue of "Shit I don't know anyone, no friends, friendless, must make friends...," so much so that I hadn't cared to ask anyone why we were there.
When I walked into this place, I assumed it would be something of an office building with cubicles and coffee only to find these gorgeous quilts adorning the walls, with more panels folded on shelves or flat under humming sewing machines. I looked for a trend across the colorful squares: Ethnicity no, gender no, religion no, race.... Except for the actual lines and shapes that made up the fabric, no such pattern existed. And then I figured it out: AIDS. How appropriate is was, the woman speaking with us explained, that a quilt so big and diverse be created to educate and spread awareness, because AIDS can infect anyone and affects everyone on a global scale. The quilt was different from some the memorials we would visit later on. It celebrated the life of individuals, not the death of HIV positive victims. The quilt requested that I mourn and remember, but it also asked that I live and grow.
Almost a week later I found myself at the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial, a distinctly different experience from the one I had at the Names Project, and I think much of that comes from the way the memorial is structured. Two gates stand at opposite ends of the memorial, The eastern gate with the time 9:01 and the western gate timed at 9:03. The gates of time symbolize the minute before the attack and the minute after it, the the last minute of innocence and the first minute of recovery. Between the gates stretches an expansive pool of water, hardly moving at all. The unequivocal stillness of it reminded me of a heart rate monitor that flatlines, like the dead hearts of those 168 people at 9:02.
We visited the memorial that morning but after a couple of hilariously pathetic rounds of bowling we went back to experience it at night, all lit up. I got a chance to walk up the rows of chairs with glowing glass bottoms, each bearing the name of a victim. A few people with brains and hearts that should have objected to their plan were responsible for those lives and the empty chairs that should be filled with working adults on important phone calls and gossiping parents with children fidgeting in their own miniature seats or climbing down them to play and giggle with each other.
After a few minutes the group gathered together with our director. He said he didn't have an explanation for why the chairs are empty, or why our shoes are full. Some people live and others don't get to and he said he doesn't know why. It's okay that we don't either, that no one does. It was okay to be sad at the time, okay we goofed off at the bowling alley, and okay to feel happy again tomorrow. So I figure it serves us well to overcome the guilt and grief of our existence. God only knows why, but we are alive and that is much more than okay. If we don't learn how to live, we might as well be an empty chair, or the panel of a quilt.
http://www.aidsquilt.org/ - These people are really incredible, check it out if you have a few spare minutes
http://www.etgar.org/ - The trip I went on has a website! And this post is me explaining what the trip is.
Photos are not mine, they belong to a couple of my friends. Thanks guys :)
When I walked into this place, I assumed it would be something of an office building with cubicles and coffee only to find these gorgeous quilts adorning the walls, with more panels folded on shelves or flat under humming sewing machines. I looked for a trend across the colorful squares: Ethnicity no, gender no, religion no, race.... Except for the actual lines and shapes that made up the fabric, no such pattern existed. And then I figured it out: AIDS. How appropriate is was, the woman speaking with us explained, that a quilt so big and diverse be created to educate and spread awareness, because AIDS can infect anyone and affects everyone on a global scale. The quilt was different from some the memorials we would visit later on. It celebrated the life of individuals, not the death of HIV positive victims. The quilt requested that I mourn and remember, but it also asked that I live and grow.
After a few minutes the group gathered together with our director. He said he didn't have an explanation for why the chairs are empty, or why our shoes are full. Some people live and others don't get to and he said he doesn't know why. It's okay that we don't either, that no one does. It was okay to be sad at the time, okay we goofed off at the bowling alley, and okay to feel happy again tomorrow. So I figure it serves us well to overcome the guilt and grief of our existence. God only knows why, but we are alive and that is much more than okay. If we don't learn how to live, we might as well be an empty chair, or the panel of a quilt.
http://www.aidsquilt.org/ - These people are really incredible, check it out if you have a few spare minutes
http://www.etgar.org/ - The trip I went on has a website! And this post is me explaining what the trip is.
Photos are not mine, they belong to a couple of my friends. Thanks guys :)
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Inspiration and Motivation
I have a flight to catch tomorrow morning that begins my summer trip, but I figured I would leave you with one last post before I head off and the amount of blogging I'm able to accomplish becomes questionable. Here is a by no means complete list of music, poetry, and people that I draw inspiration and motivation from.
Bigger Than My Body - John Mayer
This song inspires me to be more than I'm capable of, and I love that.
You Gotta Be - Des'ree
When I was a baby this is the only song that would get me to stop crying. The minute my parents popped in the CD I shut right up. They were thankful for that. This song still motivates me to keep fighting when I've nearly given up.
Scratch and Dent Dreams - Eric Darby
Very creative poem that inspires me to pick up the things I gave up on (like soccer, which I'm starting again in the fall!).
The Information Man - Buddy Wakefield
More abstract but at the end it all comes together. He is a riot, his delivery is perfect, and the poem is a real celebration of humanity!
The Doctor (You know, like Doctor Who)
So not a real person as much as I have tried to convince myself otherwise, but how could this guy not inspire anyone? He's an alien who travels though space and time, is witty, charming, and compassionate! He's far from perfect and often makes huge mistakes, like, the universe could collapse kind of mistakes, but he fixes them. And he cares. I might be in love. But crushing on a fictional character is probably better than crushing on dead people (cough Jeff Magnum), or murderers, or something.
Vlogbrothers -
This may seem like an obvious choice to most of you, since most of my traffic comes from people who stumbled over here through Nerdfighteria. But how can I not include them. So much of who I am is defined by than channel. They've brought me so many odd facts and funny inside jokes, but the most valuable thing they teach me every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday is how to wear myself with pride, which is the most daring, stunning outfit anyone can put on.
Bigger Than My Body - John Mayer
This song inspires me to be more than I'm capable of, and I love that.
You Gotta Be - Des'ree
When I was a baby this is the only song that would get me to stop crying. The minute my parents popped in the CD I shut right up. They were thankful for that. This song still motivates me to keep fighting when I've nearly given up.
Scratch and Dent Dreams - Eric Darby
Very creative poem that inspires me to pick up the things I gave up on (like soccer, which I'm starting again in the fall!).
The Information Man - Buddy Wakefield
More abstract but at the end it all comes together. He is a riot, his delivery is perfect, and the poem is a real celebration of humanity!
The Doctor (You know, like Doctor Who)
So not a real person as much as I have tried to convince myself otherwise, but how could this guy not inspire anyone? He's an alien who travels though space and time, is witty, charming, and compassionate! He's far from perfect and often makes huge mistakes, like, the universe could collapse kind of mistakes, but he fixes them. And he cares. I might be in love. But crushing on a fictional character is probably better than crushing on dead people (cough Jeff Magnum), or murderers, or something.
Vlogbrothers -
This may seem like an obvious choice to most of you, since most of my traffic comes from people who stumbled over here through Nerdfighteria. But how can I not include them. So much of who I am is defined by than channel. They've brought me so many odd facts and funny inside jokes, but the most valuable thing they teach me every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday is how to wear myself with pride, which is the most daring, stunning outfit anyone can put on.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
When A Star Dies
This poem is basically about a star who stole too much light from the other stars, so she was banished from the sky by a wise moon and forced to live in the body of a little girl. I think this is worth saying because it's easier to appreciate someone's poetry if you know what the hell they're talking about.
in a cul-de-sac the same as every other
a girl ties fireflies together with blades of grass.
their striped bodies stacked like toy blocks,
or their faces pressed together, forming multi-point stars.
she likes to watch them stumble and see how far
they get before wincing, they collapse in her hands.
but after they sleep she weeps to the moon
for expelling her to the dim and doom
of a poorly lit house made of bread and sawdust
and answers to questions she never asked
in the first place, she was a lustrous omnipotent flame
with a name the whole galaxy knew.
in a universe like every other, they still see her
the common as comets commoners
and the fireflies choking beneath delinquent fingers.
they watch infamy burn slower than time can.
night is her most ironic fun house mirror
a reflected reminder, the loss of a winner.
in a cul-de-sac the same as every other
a girl ties fireflies together with blades of grass.
their striped bodies stacked like toy blocks,
or their faces pressed together, forming multi-point stars.
she likes to watch them stumble and see how far
they get before wincing, they collapse in her hands.
but after they sleep she weeps to the moon
for expelling her to the dim and doom
of a poorly lit house made of bread and sawdust
and answers to questions she never asked
in the first place, she was a lustrous omnipotent flame
with a name the whole galaxy knew.
in a universe like every other, they still see her
the common as comets commoners
and the fireflies choking beneath delinquent fingers.
they watch infamy burn slower than time can.
night is her most ironic fun house mirror
a reflected reminder, the loss of a winner.
Monday, June 20, 2011
EXCITING HAPPENINGS (and lice)
A few things have been brewing since we spoke last.
I finish school tomorrow, but I still have an algebra/trigonometry test to take which is simply no fun at all. I'm eagerly anticipating the announcement that Jo is going to make which is connected to a new website she launched called Pottermore. I’m less eagerly awaiting the arrival of my SAT scores. I thought I had Lice because three bugs fell out of my head. My Mom's friends came over and combed through my head for over an hour but I'm clear. So that's good.
More importantly, I am going on a trip across the country for five weeks! I leave on Sunday. It's part of a program called Etgar 36, which provides a group of Jewish teenagers the opportunity to travel across the United States and hear from political leaders, artists, activists, and educators about hot topic issues that the country is dealing with currently. To say I am insanely obscenely excited about this trip is a huge understatement. Social action is totally up my alley, and after taking U.S. history this year, I feel like I will be able to appreciate everything I see so much more. We hit 22 different states and do a bunch of fun things besides the educational stuff like theme parks (I’m a rollercoaster junkie), movies, and shows. And we go to a Poetry slam! I have always loved poetry and more recently developed a slam poetry obsession, so I'm very excited to see some slam poets perform live!
The downer of this trip is that I won't have my laptop with me. I will have my droid which has fairly good internet access but is pretty difficult to type on comfortably. So basically, I don't know how much blogging I'm going to get done. I'm going to have so many wonderful things to write about, but I'm not sure if I should wait till I get back and do a few blogs based on my handwritten journal entries, or if I should try and update with the iffy technology I will have at my disposal. Also, pictures will be pretty much impossible to provide while on the trip, but I could upload some when I get home. Any advice on what I should do?
Let's chat again before I leave, okay? And I'm going to try and finish a few poems I've been working at.
Best Wishes,
Jaime
I finish school tomorrow, but I still have an algebra/trigonometry test to take which is simply no fun at all. I'm eagerly anticipating the announcement that Jo is going to make which is connected to a new website she launched called Pottermore. I’m less eagerly awaiting the arrival of my SAT scores. I thought I had Lice because three bugs fell out of my head. My Mom's friends came over and combed through my head for over an hour but I'm clear. So that's good.
More importantly, I am going on a trip across the country for five weeks! I leave on Sunday. It's part of a program called Etgar 36, which provides a group of Jewish teenagers the opportunity to travel across the United States and hear from political leaders, artists, activists, and educators about hot topic issues that the country is dealing with currently. To say I am insanely obscenely excited about this trip is a huge understatement. Social action is totally up my alley, and after taking U.S. history this year, I feel like I will be able to appreciate everything I see so much more. We hit 22 different states and do a bunch of fun things besides the educational stuff like theme parks (I’m a rollercoaster junkie), movies, and shows. And we go to a Poetry slam! I have always loved poetry and more recently developed a slam poetry obsession, so I'm very excited to see some slam poets perform live!
The downer of this trip is that I won't have my laptop with me. I will have my droid which has fairly good internet access but is pretty difficult to type on comfortably. So basically, I don't know how much blogging I'm going to get done. I'm going to have so many wonderful things to write about, but I'm not sure if I should wait till I get back and do a few blogs based on my handwritten journal entries, or if I should try and update with the iffy technology I will have at my disposal. Also, pictures will be pretty much impossible to provide while on the trip, but I could upload some when I get home. Any advice on what I should do?
Let's chat again before I leave, okay? And I'm going to try and finish a few poems I've been working at.
Best Wishes,
Jaime
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Dear Gym Class...
For my 4th quarter Gym assignment (yes we get Gym homework), I had to write about my "thoughts on the Physical Education program over the past 3 years of your high school experience." This is not what I wrote, but it should have been.
Dear Gym Class,
I know you just rolled your metaphorical eyes at me for addressing you as "Gym" rather than your less common and much more pompous title, "Physical Education" but honestly dude, get over yourself! You're indisputably the least important class in the curriculum which gives you no right to demand a longer name than any other course on my schedule! What a waste of Ink! You leave students all sweaty and smelly and since a substantial portion of the high school population does not know what hygiene is, we must all brave the narrow, malodorous hallways.
Look, it's nothing personal, you and I just don't get along and frankly, I don't think we ever will! Your mandatory attendance and unnecessary assignments that require sports knowledge I will never posses only makes me resent you that much more! Maybe you are just trying to help, make the student body healthier and more active but...well...you don't do that. At all. How much actual exercise does 40 minutes of softball give the student who stands in the outfield the whole time texting? Or the the one who is thinking up Haikus during Field Hockey? That last one is me by the way. I am not a rolling ball of fat, and I managed that without your lame attempts to combat obesity.
My thoughts on Physical Education? You want to hear what I learned from you? You taught me that getting picked last and getting assigned to a team by the teacher because your one of the remaining few who was not picked is practically the same thing, except in the latter scenario at least someone pointed to you and said your name. I now know that volleyballs gravitate toward my head like it's the most massive object in the room or something. It never is unless measured in Harry Potter trivia, in which case my head is almost always the heaviest. I learned that the only sport I can perform with some skill is Pickleball, a pretty goofy sounding sport to be good at. I learned that boys are way too into you. I'll see you next fall gym class, I won't be missing you one bit.
Much Love,
Jaime
Dear Gym Class,
I know you just rolled your metaphorical eyes at me for addressing you as "Gym" rather than your less common and much more pompous title, "Physical Education" but honestly dude, get over yourself! You're indisputably the least important class in the curriculum which gives you no right to demand a longer name than any other course on my schedule! What a waste of Ink! You leave students all sweaty and smelly and since a substantial portion of the high school population does not know what hygiene is, we must all brave the narrow, malodorous hallways.
Look, it's nothing personal, you and I just don't get along and frankly, I don't think we ever will! Your mandatory attendance and unnecessary assignments that require sports knowledge I will never posses only makes me resent you that much more! Maybe you are just trying to help, make the student body healthier and more active but...well...you don't do that. At all. How much actual exercise does 40 minutes of softball give the student who stands in the outfield the whole time texting? Or the the one who is thinking up Haikus during Field Hockey? That last one is me by the way. I am not a rolling ball of fat, and I managed that without your lame attempts to combat obesity.
My thoughts on Physical Education? You want to hear what I learned from you? You taught me that getting picked last and getting assigned to a team by the teacher because your one of the remaining few who was not picked is practically the same thing, except in the latter scenario at least someone pointed to you and said your name. I now know that volleyballs gravitate toward my head like it's the most massive object in the room or something. It never is unless measured in Harry Potter trivia, in which case my head is almost always the heaviest. I learned that the only sport I can perform with some skill is Pickleball, a pretty goofy sounding sport to be good at. I learned that boys are way too into you. I'll see you next fall gym class, I won't be missing you one bit.
Much Love,
Jaime
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Wordy Gurdy
About a week ago, Wordy Gurdy became the game to play at my household. My Dad and I spent all dinner on Thursday coming up with them, and my Mom has been going crazy from all the Wordy Gurdy madness. It goes like this: You say a a sentence, usually not a complete sentence, and the other person has to guess the two words that rhyme, have the same number of syllables, and mean the same thing.
For example: "To worship a small metal object"
Didjya get it? The Word Gurd was Hail Nail.
I'm horrible at thinking of these, but surprisingly good at guessing them. And I think it actually has been helping to expand my vocabulary! If the SAT I took yesterday had Wordy Gurdys on them, I would have aced that shit! Pretty unfortunate for every other student in the country, but hey, all is fair in word and war.
Here's a few more. If you get one and write it in the comments, you win a super sexy special secret prize.*
A Tired flower
A Melancholy Man
A Cold storage Unit for an Eccentric old man
Best,
Jaime
PS: Sorry if I don't sound like myself today. That is what camping outside on a field for twelve hours will do to you. Teenagers are a very strange breed.
*But not really.
For example: "To worship a small metal object"
Didjya get it? The Word Gurd was Hail Nail.
I'm horrible at thinking of these, but surprisingly good at guessing them. And I think it actually has been helping to expand my vocabulary! If the SAT I took yesterday had Wordy Gurdys on them, I would have aced that shit! Pretty unfortunate for every other student in the country, but hey, all is fair in word and war.
Here's a few more. If you get one and write it in the comments, you win a super sexy special secret prize.*
A Tired flower
A Melancholy Man
A Cold storage Unit for an Eccentric old man
Best,
Jaime
PS: Sorry if I don't sound like myself today. That is what camping outside on a field for twelve hours will do to you. Teenagers are a very strange breed.
*But not really.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
A Place Father Time Skipped
Fizzy weeds and whuzzing bees,
deep barrels of purple honey.
Bring some spoons so we can share,
this will always be funny.
Always still, this one nostalgic thrill.
Carousel ponies have chipped to silver.
Zoo ponies shrunk like leather.
A puppeteer’s world unstitched.
Falling into seconds, minutes,
fundays, mondays, footsteps, birthdays.
Threaded into pencils and blood cells.
That happened, but here never did.
Here stayed purple and infinite,
a nook in the universe,
a place Father Time skipped.
deep barrels of purple honey.
Bring some spoons so we can share,
this will always be funny.
Always still, this one nostalgic thrill.
Carousel ponies have chipped to silver.
Zoo ponies shrunk like leather.
A puppeteer’s world unstitched.
Falling into seconds, minutes,
fundays, mondays, footsteps, birthdays.
Threaded into pencils and blood cells.
That happened, but here never did.
Here stayed purple and infinite,
a nook in the universe,
a place Father Time skipped.
Monday, May 23, 2011
7 things I can do in 7 minutes
1. Microwave a piece of leftover lasagna from dinner the night before, and eat the entire thing.
2. Read 15 pages of Macbeth. And not understand a word of it.
3. Sit in my desk during a Trig test and practically have a heart attack because I don't have the faintest idea how to solve any of the problems, raise my hand to tell my teacher that "I'm blanking", only to have him tell me he gave me the wrong test.
4. Write a Haiku:
Me must eat your brains
They taste like jelly donuts
We are people too
5. Watch the new Deathly Hallows Part 2 Trailer, and then scream with joy for the remaining 5:03 minutes.
6. Straighten my hair, sprint toward school, turn back because I didn't unplug my straightener (which is an important part of not burning my house down and stuff) and make it to first period. Five minutes late but still a noteworthy achievment.
7. Catch a firefly in May, name it, grow attached to it, and then let it fly away and abandon me.
2. Read 15 pages of Macbeth. And not understand a word of it.
3. Sit in my desk during a Trig test and practically have a heart attack because I don't have the faintest idea how to solve any of the problems, raise my hand to tell my teacher that "I'm blanking", only to have him tell me he gave me the wrong test.
4. Write a Haiku:
Me must eat your brains
They taste like jelly donuts
We are people too
5. Watch the new Deathly Hallows Part 2 Trailer, and then scream with joy for the remaining 5:03 minutes.
6. Straighten my hair, sprint toward school, turn back because I didn't unplug my straightener (which is an important part of not burning my house down and stuff) and make it to first period. Five minutes late but still a noteworthy achievment.
7. Catch a firefly in May, name it, grow attached to it, and then let it fly away and abandon me.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Rain
I love when the rain comes, but I would hate to be outside for him. I much prefer being in this warm house, listening to the water pound against my windows and watching the grey cloud spit and whistle and sigh at everything he can reach. But he can't reach me because I'm sitting on my couch sipping Chai tea and the fact than I am in here and not out there makes this that much better.
Do I really love the rain? I don't think that can be true, because how can someone love something just to hate it, to mock it. It's like saying I love malaria, because I don't have it and other people do. Still, the way the rain fails to hit me as it tries to beat down my door a million times per second, it makes me feel like I've won. And he lost. Sometimes, I would rather laugh at the rain then smile with the sun.
Do I really love the rain? I don't think that can be true, because how can someone love something just to hate it, to mock it. It's like saying I love malaria, because I don't have it and other people do. Still, the way the rain fails to hit me as it tries to beat down my door a million times per second, it makes me feel like I've won. And he lost. Sometimes, I would rather laugh at the rain then smile with the sun.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Fingerprints
You tell me our fingers fit together
Have you never seen the surface of these hands?
Read the mismatched curves of their topography
The overs and unders at opposite angles
If I am swimming you are soaring
We are fixed at different latitudes
Traveling in opposite directions
Each sure the other is counterclockwise
Only as close as these mountains let us
Balancing on distant snowcapped peaks
We often don’t hear what the other one speaks
Through the mercurial wind, the miles of mountains
The gusts of air smashing into walls of rock
Getting shattered and scattered
My messages reflecting back to my lips
The important words in the back of my lungs
You tell me our fingers fit together
I wish you would explain that claim to me
You laugh like asymmetry is something beautiful
And ask if I would stand out here with you
For a few more moments
I'm unsure why, but I always agree.
Have you never seen the surface of these hands?
Read the mismatched curves of their topography
The overs and unders at opposite angles
If I am swimming you are soaring
We are fixed at different latitudes
Traveling in opposite directions
Each sure the other is counterclockwise
Only as close as these mountains let us
Balancing on distant snowcapped peaks
We often don’t hear what the other one speaks
Through the mercurial wind, the miles of mountains
The gusts of air smashing into walls of rock
Getting shattered and scattered
My messages reflecting back to my lips
The important words in the back of my lungs
You tell me our fingers fit together
I wish you would explain that claim to me
You laugh like asymmetry is something beautiful
And ask if I would stand out here with you
For a few more moments
I'm unsure why, but I always agree.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
FREEDOM
I have not been posting around here very much lately. I decided it would be a good idea to abandon this blog for a week so that I could focus on studying for APs, but I don't think it worked. I procrastinated anyway, as I always do when I need to study for something as dreadfully painfully awfully awful as 400 years of history. I never got around to learning the last half of the 20th century, but the test went well enough I suppose. I don't have to see my score until July anyway.
FREEDOM. I'm done! Those tests were gunna keel mee but now they're over! See ya later, supreme court case flashcards! Best wishes, Mr. Presidents! Hasta la vista Treaty of Guadeloupe Hidalgo! Au revoir peace negotiations!
No more test talk, lets talk about....
Food! I went to Stew Leonards last night, which is this really awesome supermarket that has animatronic doohickeys everywhere and dancing cows and puppets that do flips! Oh, and a singing banana. She sings the same song on repeat; "Chiquita bananas make a great meal, there are so many good things under the peel, there are vitamins and minerals in every bite, and best of all its got the taste you like...." It goes on.
Stew's has these amazing apple cider donuts, but this time they also had red velvet donuts! Pretty amazing stuff. I'm eating one right now.
Also, they have a rather large wall filled with beanie babies so I bought this adorable porcupine guy. I named him Melvin. The tag says his name is Spike but c'mon, far too unoriginal for a porcupine. That's my dog, by the way. I think they're best friends.
I'm going to start legitimately writing again now that I have time. More poetry/semi-interesting posts that don't include stuffed animals and donuts/short stories possibly. Bye!
FREEDOM. I'm done! Those tests were gunna keel mee but now they're over! See ya later, supreme court case flashcards! Best wishes, Mr. Presidents! Hasta la vista Treaty of Guadeloupe Hidalgo! Au revoir peace negotiations!
No more test talk, lets talk about....
Food! I went to Stew Leonards last night, which is this really awesome supermarket that has animatronic doohickeys everywhere and dancing cows and puppets that do flips! Oh, and a singing banana. She sings the same song on repeat; "Chiquita bananas make a great meal, there are so many good things under the peel, there are vitamins and minerals in every bite, and best of all its got the taste you like...." It goes on.
Stew's has these amazing apple cider donuts, but this time they also had red velvet donuts! Pretty amazing stuff. I'm eating one right now.
Also, they have a rather large wall filled with beanie babies so I bought this adorable porcupine guy. I named him Melvin. The tag says his name is Spike but c'mon, far too unoriginal for a porcupine. That's my dog, by the way. I think they're best friends.
I'm going to start legitimately writing again now that I have time. More poetry/semi-interesting posts that don't include stuffed animals and donuts/short stories possibly. Bye!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Reevaluating the Value of Endings
Youtuber and Musican Alex Carpender uploaded a vlog today about how our experiences shouldn't be tainted or somehow devalued because they didn't last forever. That letting go of good things rather than "holding onto them for dear life" actually makes them more valuable rather than less. It was a really thoughtful video and and it made me reflect on past experiences as well as events yet to unfold.
Tons of experiences and people have come and gone for me, and I'm not even out of High School! Some of these things I was eager to be done with, but a lot of great things have ended too. What about my best friend from elementary school? We grew apart in distance and then in other ways, or maybe the other ways came first? Sometimes I wish we were still friends, but that shouldn't change all the hours of scootering in suburbia and made-up games and trampoline flips and dressing like boys and being chased (literally) by boys. My years of being a little kid had to end, and even if our friendship did not have to go along with it, I'm glad she was there. I'm glad I have those memories to remind me that our friendship had value and continues to be important.
I made a huge decision this year regarding my summer plans. I'm going somewhere completely different from the beloved place I have been returning to since I was eight, leaving all my best friends behind. It was a hard choice for me and not completely my own, but I think it is the right one. I'm probably never going to be as close with them as we were those seven summers which has been making me rather sad, but I'm learning that, well, it's okay. It's okay because I had an amazing unique experience with them that will continue to be a valuable source of memories, inspiration and general happiness. And I get to create another amazing unique experience with a new group of people!
The Epiphany: It's not fair for me to devalue things that are over. Those things were valuable to me when they were happening, and that shouldn't change just because they aren't happening anymore. A lot has ended for me, but even more things are beginning, now more than ever. Nothing lasts forever, but that doesn't mean that everything that ends becomes depressing and obsolete. I am so grateful for everything I had and ready to appreciate all the new, coming my way.
Tons of experiences and people have come and gone for me, and I'm not even out of High School! Some of these things I was eager to be done with, but a lot of great things have ended too. What about my best friend from elementary school? We grew apart in distance and then in other ways, or maybe the other ways came first? Sometimes I wish we were still friends, but that shouldn't change all the hours of scootering in suburbia and made-up games and trampoline flips and dressing like boys and being chased (literally) by boys. My years of being a little kid had to end, and even if our friendship did not have to go along with it, I'm glad she was there. I'm glad I have those memories to remind me that our friendship had value and continues to be important.
I made a huge decision this year regarding my summer plans. I'm going somewhere completely different from the beloved place I have been returning to since I was eight, leaving all my best friends behind. It was a hard choice for me and not completely my own, but I think it is the right one. I'm probably never going to be as close with them as we were those seven summers which has been making me rather sad, but I'm learning that, well, it's okay. It's okay because I had an amazing unique experience with them that will continue to be a valuable source of memories, inspiration and general happiness. And I get to create another amazing unique experience with a new group of people!
The Epiphany: It's not fair for me to devalue things that are over. Those things were valuable to me when they were happening, and that shouldn't change just because they aren't happening anymore. A lot has ended for me, but even more things are beginning, now more than ever. Nothing lasts forever, but that doesn't mean that everything that ends becomes depressing and obsolete. I am so grateful for everything I had and ready to appreciate all the new, coming my way.
Monday, April 25, 2011
A List: Top 10 Eleventh Doctor quotes
In honor of the series 6 premiere of Doctor Who this past Saturday, I thought it would be fun to make a list of my favorite Matt Smith quotes as the Eleventh doctor. Sorry if you don't watch watch Doctor Who, but really, you should. It is fantastic.
10. "How are you doing that? I am loving it! You're like Houdini, only five slightly scary girls. And he was shorter... will be shorter. I'm rambling. - The Vampires of Venice
9. "No, I have a thing. It's like a plan, but with more greatness." - Vincent and the Doctor
8."The universe is big, it's vast and complicated, and ridiculous. And sometimes, very rarely, impossible things just happen and we call them miracles." - The Pandorcia Opens
7. "Annihilate? No. No violence, do you understand me? Not while I'm around. Not today, not ever. I'm the Doctor, the oncoming storm... and you basically meant beat them in a football match, didn't you?" - The Lodger
6. "Ah! Yes! Blimey, sorry! Christmas Eve on a rooftop, saw a chimney, my whole brain just went... what the hell!" - A Christmas Carol
5. "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant. And we definitely added to his pile of good things." - Vincent and the Doctor
4. "I'm being extremely clever up here, and there's no one standing around looking impressed. What is the point of having you all?" - The Impossible Astronaut
3."Oh that box. Amy, you'll dream about that box. It'll never leave you. Big and little at the same time. Brand new and ancient. And the bluest blue... ever. And the times we had, eh? Would've had. Never had. In your dreams, they'll still be there. The Doctor and Amy Pond." - The Big Bang
2. "You know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine, but you really think they're lying to make you feel better? ...Everything's going to be fine." - The Eleventh Hour
1. "You're not the first lot to have come here. Oh, there have been so many. And what you have to ask yourself is... what happened to them? Hello. I'm the Doctor. Basically... run." - The Eleventh Hour
And so many more great ones! What is your favorite Who quote, if you have one?
10. "How are you doing that? I am loving it! You're like Houdini, only five slightly scary girls. And he was shorter... will be shorter. I'm rambling. - The Vampires of Venice
9. "No, I have a thing. It's like a plan, but with more greatness." - Vincent and the Doctor
8."The universe is big, it's vast and complicated, and ridiculous. And sometimes, very rarely, impossible things just happen and we call them miracles." - The Pandorcia Opens
7. "Annihilate? No. No violence, do you understand me? Not while I'm around. Not today, not ever. I'm the Doctor, the oncoming storm... and you basically meant beat them in a football match, didn't you?" - The Lodger
6. "Ah! Yes! Blimey, sorry! Christmas Eve on a rooftop, saw a chimney, my whole brain just went... what the hell!" - A Christmas Carol
5. "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant. And we definitely added to his pile of good things." - Vincent and the Doctor
4. "I'm being extremely clever up here, and there's no one standing around looking impressed. What is the point of having you all?" - The Impossible Astronaut
3."Oh that box. Amy, you'll dream about that box. It'll never leave you. Big and little at the same time. Brand new and ancient. And the bluest blue... ever. And the times we had, eh? Would've had. Never had. In your dreams, they'll still be there. The Doctor and Amy Pond." - The Big Bang
2. "You know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine, but you really think they're lying to make you feel better? ...Everything's going to be fine." - The Eleventh Hour
1. "You're not the first lot to have come here. Oh, there have been so many. And what you have to ask yourself is... what happened to them? Hello. I'm the Doctor. Basically... run." - The Eleventh Hour
And so many more great ones! What is your favorite Who quote, if you have one?
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tragic Springtime Love (aka procrastination)
I really should be studying but I wrote this instead. Procrastination at its finest!
I dream you would stay a bit longer
Your departure is sadly twisted
That though you are of stunning height
Your lovely looks would be your plight
With hard black claws and razor jaws
Those sinister convex eyes
They will devour your sugary flesh
Your meat to them tastes very best
There is no stopping their decent
In rows of four or sometimes more
All I can do is crawl into this hill
I want to save you but never will
This happens every single cycle
Just as werewolves awake in full moon
Those first warm rays stir the appetite
Of the beasts that bear your untimely doom
Your beautiful bloom I will be missing
Rest in peace, my darling daisy
Spring will bring us together again
Perhaps next time a bit longer, Maybe
I dream you would stay a bit longer
Your departure is sadly twisted
That though you are of stunning height
Your lovely looks would be your plight
With hard black claws and razor jaws
Those sinister convex eyes
They will devour your sugary flesh
Your meat to them tastes very best
There is no stopping their decent
In rows of four or sometimes more
All I can do is crawl into this hill
I want to save you but never will
This happens every single cycle
Just as werewolves awake in full moon
Those first warm rays stir the appetite
Of the beasts that bear your untimely doom
Your beautiful bloom I will be missing
Rest in peace, my darling daisy
Spring will bring us together again
Perhaps next time a bit longer, Maybe
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
My Family's Hilarious Rendition of a Passover Seder
My family is not very religious and our annual Passover Seder makes that pretty clear. Our usual approach toward the Jewish holidays is to disregard most of the typical praying and services and "boring stuff" and just skip right to the food. In fact, my family sees nearly all of the Jewish holidays as an excuse to eat. A lot. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Personally I've never felt compelled to be a more observant Jew. However, Passover is the one holiday that gets my family feeling a bit guilty, I suppose, for not being the "good Jews" we ought to. Passover is a pretty big deal after all.
So yes, my family does attempt a Passover Seder every year. It's always...interesting. We all gather in my grandparent's apartment which is definitely large enough to accommodate everyone comfortably but is shaped in such a way that two separate tables are needed to seat everyone. Our Haggadahs are a packet of 12 pages stapled together that have been photocopied, consisting of all the parts deemed important by my grandfather. None of us know the real prayers for the eggs or the bitter herbs or anything else on the Seder plate, so my grandpa just goes, "baruch atah adonai Elohienu Meleh Ha-Olom l'had'lik neir shel EGGS!" The paragraphs we are supposed to read together sound ridiculous because everyone reads at different speeds. During the song Dayenu, my uncle interjects a comment about a passage that was read 3 minutes earlier: "if God left us stranded in the desert, that certainly would not have been sufficient!" Nobody minds the interruption because most of us don't know the words anyway and all of us have awful singing voices.
By the end of the Seder we are starving, though honestly the entire thing never takes longer than 30 minutes. I always see passover as a race against ourselves, a challenge to beat the "fastest seder ever" record we set last year. To me, we always seem to. Every year is more chaotic than the last. My uncle's voices get louder, their comments more ubsurdly hilarious. My baby cousins grow up, my older cousins get even older, but passover is always passover. Sometimes not everyone shows up, but people always seem happy when they do.
There's quite a story that goes along with Passover, by the way, but that's not what this blog post is about. Instead, watch this clip from the Dreamworks animated film "The Prince of Egypt." Or you could read the Bible which admittedly is a lot more accurate. But this is more fun, and more musical.
Obviously I really just wanted to put this clip in.
So yes, my family does attempt a Passover Seder every year. It's always...interesting. We all gather in my grandparent's apartment which is definitely large enough to accommodate everyone comfortably but is shaped in such a way that two separate tables are needed to seat everyone. Our Haggadahs are a packet of 12 pages stapled together that have been photocopied, consisting of all the parts deemed important by my grandfather. None of us know the real prayers for the eggs or the bitter herbs or anything else on the Seder plate, so my grandpa just goes, "baruch atah adonai Elohienu Meleh Ha-Olom l'had'lik neir shel EGGS!" The paragraphs we are supposed to read together sound ridiculous because everyone reads at different speeds. During the song Dayenu, my uncle interjects a comment about a passage that was read 3 minutes earlier: "if God left us stranded in the desert, that certainly would not have been sufficient!" Nobody minds the interruption because most of us don't know the words anyway and all of us have awful singing voices.
By the end of the Seder we are starving, though honestly the entire thing never takes longer than 30 minutes. I always see passover as a race against ourselves, a challenge to beat the "fastest seder ever" record we set last year. To me, we always seem to. Every year is more chaotic than the last. My uncle's voices get louder, their comments more ubsurdly hilarious. My baby cousins grow up, my older cousins get even older, but passover is always passover. Sometimes not everyone shows up, but people always seem happy when they do.
There's quite a story that goes along with Passover, by the way, but that's not what this blog post is about. Instead, watch this clip from the Dreamworks animated film "The Prince of Egypt." Or you could read the Bible which admittedly is a lot more accurate. But this is more fun, and more musical.
Obviously I really just wanted to put this clip in.
Happy Passover to those who celebrate, Happy Easter to those who celebrate that, and Happy whatever! to those who are celebrating whatever else there is to celebrate.
Monday, April 18, 2011
To the Moon
This is a short dialogue I wrote. It doesn't go with anything and it is not part of a longer story, but I think it works just fine by itself. Feedback and contructive critsism please, if you wish to share any. It's one of the best ways I can become a better writer.
“I love you to the moon and back,” he told her.
“I love you to the moon…,” she began, but her reply faded into a string of inaudible syllables as her gaze shifted toward a mosaic window behind him.
Through the translucent glass fixed inside the hollow walls of the cathedral, past the metal cars and buildings and people, Beyond the interstate with its networks of malls and material, even past the patches of trees permitted to transpire only to alleviate the boiling urban heat, sat a gold coin.
The coin looked to be about the size of a coat button though her distance made it difficult to judge. But it was bright, brighter than anything she had ever seen, anything that existed in this so called beautiful world. Brighter than his eyes. Or hers for that matter. The beams of light began to blend to together and blinded her, engulfing the parameters of her vision. That coin, probably worth nothing at the shops downtown, but that is not why it mattered. It was what it could be with all that radiant potential energy. Shinier that all the gowns in all the malls off the highway. Brimming with more clarity than church bells.
The boy just stood there, clearly uncomfortable with his fiancée’s lapse of consciousness. “What was that?” he interjected.
“I love you to the moon,” she replied.
The boy gave a nervous half smile and blinked a few times. Why she had left her part of their routine dialogue seemingly incomplete for the second time he did not understand. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but decided to let it go when she told him impatiently,
“You know, like the Space Shuttle Challenger crash of ‘86.”
She gave him a wide smile. It was evil and rude but she couldn’t help it. The boy’s face grew into a pathetic mixture of horror and defeat, his eyelids drooping at the corners is a way that only filled her with more certainty. She turned around and left without another word through the double doors located behind him, directly underneath the mosaic window.
She didn’t look back once.
“I love you to the moon and back,” he told her.
“I love you to the moon…,” she began, but her reply faded into a string of inaudible syllables as her gaze shifted toward a mosaic window behind him.
Through the translucent glass fixed inside the hollow walls of the cathedral, past the metal cars and buildings and people, Beyond the interstate with its networks of malls and material, even past the patches of trees permitted to transpire only to alleviate the boiling urban heat, sat a gold coin.
The coin looked to be about the size of a coat button though her distance made it difficult to judge. But it was bright, brighter than anything she had ever seen, anything that existed in this so called beautiful world. Brighter than his eyes. Or hers for that matter. The beams of light began to blend to together and blinded her, engulfing the parameters of her vision. That coin, probably worth nothing at the shops downtown, but that is not why it mattered. It was what it could be with all that radiant potential energy. Shinier that all the gowns in all the malls off the highway. Brimming with more clarity than church bells.
The boy just stood there, clearly uncomfortable with his fiancée’s lapse of consciousness. “What was that?” he interjected.
“I love you to the moon,” she replied.
The boy gave a nervous half smile and blinked a few times. Why she had left her part of their routine dialogue seemingly incomplete for the second time he did not understand. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but decided to let it go when she told him impatiently,
“You know, like the Space Shuttle Challenger crash of ‘86.”
She gave him a wide smile. It was evil and rude but she couldn’t help it. The boy’s face grew into a pathetic mixture of horror and defeat, his eyelids drooping at the corners is a way that only filled her with more certainty. She turned around and left without another word through the double doors located behind him, directly underneath the mosaic window.
She didn’t look back once.
Monday, April 11, 2011
10 things I know to be true
The idea for this list comes from a talk given by spoken word poet Sarah Kay at TED2011.
1.Nobody can love something as much as they will miss it later.
2.People are not mind readers (but I wish they were).
3.If I ever met David Tennant, I would probably cry.
4.Ice cream always tastes better with gummy bears.
5.I will never stop loving mud fights or Disney.
6.Words are as pretty as pictures.
7.If God plays favorites, he is no God of mine.
8.I have a wonderful life, and I'm wasting it.
9.A few people have me figured out better than I ever will.
10.Magic is real.
The idea behind this is that if you started to compare your list of 10 true things with the lists of other people, you would discover the following: 1) Someone has the exact same thing or something very similar to something on your list, 2) Someone wrote something the complete opposite of what you wrote down, 3) Someone had something on their list you've never even heard of before and 4) Someone addressed something in their list that made you see that thing in a new way.
It is fascinating that when given the same assignment, each person will react in a completely different way, and still have certain aspects of their list be exactly the same as someone else! Hmmmm... I think a profound message about the nature of humanity is hidden somewhere here, but I am way to tired to figure out what it is. Getting three hours of sleep is awesome.
Anyway, goodnight! Comments are always welcome.
1.Nobody can love something as much as they will miss it later.
2.People are not mind readers (but I wish they were).
3.If I ever met David Tennant, I would probably cry.
4.Ice cream always tastes better with gummy bears.
5.I will never stop loving mud fights or Disney.
6.Words are as pretty as pictures.
7.If God plays favorites, he is no God of mine.
8.I have a wonderful life, and I'm wasting it.
9.A few people have me figured out better than I ever will.
10.Magic is real.
The idea behind this is that if you started to compare your list of 10 true things with the lists of other people, you would discover the following: 1) Someone has the exact same thing or something very similar to something on your list, 2) Someone wrote something the complete opposite of what you wrote down, 3) Someone had something on their list you've never even heard of before and 4) Someone addressed something in their list that made you see that thing in a new way.
It is fascinating that when given the same assignment, each person will react in a completely different way, and still have certain aspects of their list be exactly the same as someone else! Hmmmm... I think a profound message about the nature of humanity is hidden somewhere here, but I am way to tired to figure out what it is. Getting three hours of sleep is awesome.
Anyway, goodnight! Comments are always welcome.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Spoken Word Poetry
A couple days ago, the YouTube spotlight bar featured the playlist of a spoken word poet named Sarah Kay. And let me just say that I am so thankful I clicked on it. Her playlist introduced me to a whole world of poetry that I didn't even know existed!
Spoken word poetry is a different experience from written poetry. The author's voice provides a more emotional experience for the viewer. The poem is being presented in exactly the way the author intended because they control the speed, inflection of voice, and where to pause for effect. They are able to supplement their words with hand gestures and facial expressions that give the poem a kind of energy. Not that traditional written poetry isn't lovely and even more appropriate in the case of some poems, but some poetry just needs to be performed.
Sarah Kay has a lovely poem entitled "If I should have a daughter", which is beautiful and touching. And the thing is, if I read that poem, I might not have liked it. In fact, there's a very probable chance my eyes would have skimmed past it. But her delivery was engaging and spot on. Her performance made me interesting in what she had to say.
Spoken word poetry is a different experience from written poetry. The author's voice provides a more emotional experience for the viewer. The poem is being presented in exactly the way the author intended because they control the speed, inflection of voice, and where to pause for effect. They are able to supplement their words with hand gestures and facial expressions that give the poem a kind of energy. Not that traditional written poetry isn't lovely and even more appropriate in the case of some poems, but some poetry just needs to be performed.
Sarah Kay has a lovely poem entitled "If I should have a daughter", which is beautiful and touching. And the thing is, if I read that poem, I might not have liked it. In fact, there's a very probable chance my eyes would have skimmed past it. But her delivery was engaging and spot on. Her performance made me interesting in what she had to say.
My favorite poet I have encountered so far is Rives. That's John G. Rives, and he is fantastic. The guy is funny as anything and a brilliant writer. He can weave words together in the most beautiful interesting ways, combining irony and humor and nostalgia and vision into the best three minutes of your life. Some of his performances are not that different from stand up, but some of them are more metaphorical and poetic. Some tell stories and others express a concept and most do both. Some are funny until you think about them more and realize that behind all the humor he had something a bit more profound he was trying to get across. The video below is my favorite poem of his.
I really encourage you to search for his other performances on YouTube, or if he doesn't particularly strike you, to explore the work of other slam poets. Because in the world of spoken word poetry, there is something for everyone.
A Link to Project VOICE, a movement to encourage self expression through spoken word poetry created by Phil Kaye and Sarah Kay.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
A List: Top 10 Tearjerkers
Hello lovely person who happens to be reading this. So I love lists. I'm thinking about doing a series of them on this blog because they're fun and don't suck up a whole lot of time. Which is awesome, because the month of April has unfortunately promised me minimal free time. It has however, given me hours of AP studying to look forward to. April sucks.
Also, lists will hopefully create a better picture of who I am, a good thing since I have never formally introduced myself. Hi! I'm Jaime. Well, enough with the long introductions. List numero uno...
Top 10 "Tearjerker" Films (In no particular order)
1. E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)
2. West Side Story (1961)
3. The Notebook
4. A Walk to Remember
5. Dear John
Hmmm...I'm noticing a pattern. Well I don't care if Nicholas Sparks' movies are cheesy. I love cheese! Who doesn't love cheese? Cheddar is my favorite, but I also like swiss OKAY! Joke taken too far.
6. Dead Poets Society (1989)
7. Slumdog Millionaire
8. Fiddler on the Roof (1971)
9. La Vita è Bella (1997)*
10. Pan's Labyrinth
Not sure why I put the year next to some of the older ones, I just felt like it was necessary for some reason. I hope these lists prove to be mildly entertaining, but even if they're not, I probably won't stop doing them because they are just too much fun! There is something so satisfying about seeing the names of a collection of things you love lined up neatly on a page.
I could go on for an entire paragraph about any one of these movies and highly recommend all of them. Write some suggestions of movies that make you cry in the comments so I can rent them!
Thanks for reading, best wishes!
* It just occurred to me that this movie is a comedy, at least in part. But I just remember watching it and being deeply moved by its timeless message of unconditional love and sacrifice. It made me cry, it stays on the list.
Also, lists will hopefully create a better picture of who I am, a good thing since I have never formally introduced myself. Hi! I'm Jaime. Well, enough with the long introductions. List numero uno...
Top 10 "Tearjerker" Films (In no particular order)
1. E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)
2. West Side Story (1961)
3. The Notebook
4. A Walk to Remember
5. Dear John
Hmmm...I'm noticing a pattern. Well I don't care if Nicholas Sparks' movies are cheesy. I love cheese! Who doesn't love cheese? Cheddar is my favorite, but I also like swiss OKAY! Joke taken too far.
6. Dead Poets Society (1989)
7. Slumdog Millionaire
8. Fiddler on the Roof (1971)
9. La Vita è Bella (1997)*
10. Pan's Labyrinth
Not sure why I put the year next to some of the older ones, I just felt like it was necessary for some reason. I hope these lists prove to be mildly entertaining, but even if they're not, I probably won't stop doing them because they are just too much fun! There is something so satisfying about seeing the names of a collection of things you love lined up neatly on a page.
I could go on for an entire paragraph about any one of these movies and highly recommend all of them. Write some suggestions of movies that make you cry in the comments so I can rent them!
Thanks for reading, best wishes!
* It just occurred to me that this movie is a comedy, at least in part. But I just remember watching it and being deeply moved by its timeless message of unconditional love and sacrifice. It made me cry, it stays on the list.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Old Fabric
I want to scream so loud, dance until I implode
Smash my lava lamp into mirrored jewelry boxes
and play my perfect opposite
I have stopped trying to understand
the intricate folds of all these brains
I don't even know my own
I want to douse my feet in warm cloud
and sleep for seven years
Then wake up and regenerate
into something obviously spectacular
Leaving all this slippery skin behind
Forgetting I ever wore such a heavy organ
Those fingernails still lodged in my flesh
But that old fabric is not mine
I'll just watch those hungry hands
and laugh in my new silk outfit
Smash my lava lamp into mirrored jewelry boxes
and play my perfect opposite
I have stopped trying to understand
the intricate folds of all these brains
I don't even know my own
I want to douse my feet in warm cloud
and sleep for seven years
Then wake up and regenerate
into something obviously spectacular
Leaving all this slippery skin behind
Forgetting I ever wore such a heavy organ
Those fingernails still lodged in my flesh
But that old fabric is not mine
I'll just watch those hungry hands
and laugh in my new silk outfit
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Do the right thing?
My school provides each student with a planner to write down homework. The cover design of these planners differs from year to year but it always says something that's supposed to be motivational. Currently the front of my planner says "What am I supposed to do?", and then it answers its own question in significantly bigger font with "Do the right thing!" I never really noticed it said this until a couple days ago, probably an indication of how often I actually write down my homework in that planner.
Do the right thing. What a silly thing to say! How am I supposed to know what the right thing is? I mean, sometimes it's easy to discern between right and wrong. It's right to help an old lady cross the street. It's wrong to kick an old lady and steal her purse while she's trying to cross the street. But not everything is that straightforward. In fact, almost nothing is. Even decisions that seem easy always end up being more complicated then they appear.
When you are six years old, "do the right thing" is a great message. The life of a child is pretty simple and so are the decisions they are forced to make. But as you get older, the definitive line between good and bad gets fuzzy. Sometimes their is no right decision but only a more right one because no matter what you do, someone will get hurt. Sometimes hurting people is the the right decision. Sometimes every choice has the potential for right and wrong, in which case one must set off in the direction they can only hope will be positive. It seems to me the statement does not belong on a notebook meant for high school students. The front of my planner makes "do the right thing" seem so simple with its visually pleasing font, but I find myself frustrated and confused by the generalization.
Do the right thing. What a silly thing to say! How am I supposed to know what the right thing is? I mean, sometimes it's easy to discern between right and wrong. It's right to help an old lady cross the street. It's wrong to kick an old lady and steal her purse while she's trying to cross the street. But not everything is that straightforward. In fact, almost nothing is. Even decisions that seem easy always end up being more complicated then they appear.
When you are six years old, "do the right thing" is a great message. The life of a child is pretty simple and so are the decisions they are forced to make. But as you get older, the definitive line between good and bad gets fuzzy. Sometimes their is no right decision but only a more right one because no matter what you do, someone will get hurt. Sometimes hurting people is the the right decision. Sometimes every choice has the potential for right and wrong, in which case one must set off in the direction they can only hope will be positive. It seems to me the statement does not belong on a notebook meant for high school students. The front of my planner makes "do the right thing" seem so simple with its visually pleasing font, but I find myself frustrated and confused by the generalization.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Oh, the Places You'll Go!
Yesterday, I was exploring old bookshelves in a room neither I nor anyone else in my family often bothers with. Nearly all of these books belong to my dad, novels he must have read at one point but have since been retired to a secluded section of shelf space upstairs. I was scanning through them when I came across a book that caught my eye not for its title, but for the multi-colorful binding . It was a book I had not seen in a long time, a children's book that looked out of place in a sea of biographies and historical fiction.
Oh, The Places You'll Go. A book that defines my childhood, along with many other childhoods of the past, present, and future (hopefully). I probably liked this book even before I understood the words simply for the colorful pictures and rhythmic sentences. The first real clue that I would one day be absolutely infatuated with poetry. On the inside cover I found this:
 |
| "I love this book! It's something inspirational to pull out when you feel like a putz. Happy Birthday!" |
My uncle gave this book to my dad for his birthday in 1991, when they were both in their twenties! My uncle's note made me think about how those childish things most adults seem to dismiss might not be as silly as they appear. Take this book as an example. If you strip away all the illustrations, the witty rhyme scheme, and the words that aren't words, you are left with a clear message: You can achieve. It's simplistic of course, but I think it speaks to a fundamental truth that we can all find inspiration in. If you ever feel frazzled by life's frustrating complexity, I would recommend going back to basics. Not only is it a comfort to connect to a simpler time, but it may even give you some insight into your current state of affairs. Sometimes, people forget that some of the most important things happen to be the simplest. Being able to find meaning in books like Oh, the Places You'll Go, is a beautiful skill to have. A skill my uncle still has, and one I hope I will keep far into my future.
"You're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!"
- Dr. Seuss
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Value of Instead
Hysterical front porch jabber about nothing
And nostalgic back porch discussions about everything
Painting red toenails and catching warm breeze
With them she could talk for hours with ease
Listen to the songs that made her cry
To try to know that this is goodbye
Yet only till she entered her vacuous bed
Could she finally fathom the value of instead
And nostalgic back porch discussions about everything
Painting red toenails and catching warm breeze
With them she could talk for hours with ease
Listen to the songs that made her cry
To try to know that this is goodbye
Yet only till she entered her vacuous bed
Could she finally fathom the value of instead
Saturday, March 12, 2011
I took the SATs today!
As the title of this blog post suggests, I did in fact wake up at 6:45 on a Saturday morning to take a lovely little test known as the SAT (but most commonly referred to by students as "death itself"). This "lovely little test" can more accurately be explained as an unnecessarily long four hour exam that must be endured by nearly every student planning on applying to an American college. Needless to say, this morning was not my best, but surprisingly, not my worst either.
My mom drove me to the high school one town over where the test was being administered. I couldn't help but fidget with the buttons on my graphing calculator and tap my toes to that catchy Enrique Iglesias song a little too forcefully. I hate getting all worked up about this kind of thing because because I know the SATs don't matter, not really. What's the difference if I score 500 points this way or that? My score will only be a portion of what the admission's staff at any particular school will examine when deciding whether to accept me into their glorious institution. In the grand scheme of my life, a high SAT score means absolutely nothing.
Even so, I can't help but feel the obsessive need to do well. Maybe it comes from society's absurdly high expectations regarding education forcing their way into my thought process. Maybe I just want to make sure all the money my parents spent on SAT prep courses pays off. It's probably both, but as I approached the test center entrance, all I could think about was keeping my cereal down. Thankfully, I found a group of people from my school and stood with them awkwardly because my good friends hadn't arrived yet. You know the kind of dreams where random people from your life show up in places they are not supposed to be? Like when your dreaming about relaxing on the shores of a distant tropical island and suddenly you notice the Varsity Football Team doing squat jumps across the length of the beach? That is what waiting to take the SAT feels like. In the ten minutes I spent anticipating my entrance into the the testing room, I saw girls from my sleep-away camp, a girl from my 5th grade travel soccer team, kids I knew from middle school, kids that used to go to my school before switching to private school, and even a few kids that I swear I recognized but couldn't quite place. This bizarre, worlds colliding kind of experience only contributed to the feeling of uneasiness that I felt prior to test time.
When I finally sat down to take the test, I realized it wasn't that bad. I couldn't answer every question, but as I progressed through the test I realized that I knew more than I had initially given myself credit for. The test was long, and though my hand began to cramp with an hour still to go, I felt confident about the work I had accomplished and optimistic about the sections I had yet to complete. I wrote my essay about how "The Jersey Shore" creates misconceptions toward people of Italian decent, which I thoroughly enjoyed writing. And my testing room was full of giraffes. Posters of giraffes, small stuffed giraffes, giraffe cartoons with speech bubbles written in spanish, giraffe magnets, and even a large giraffe statue. Oh, and there was one poster of a koala bear. Poor lonely koala bear.
The SATs are hardly the nightmare students make them out to be. What I had assumed was going to be a painful experience comparable to that of mandatory torture or forced labor actually turned out to be more of a general unpleasantness. I didn't suffer through it so much as I stumbled along, occasionally hitting bumps in the road but ultimately reaching the other side unscathed.
My mom drove me to the high school one town over where the test was being administered. I couldn't help but fidget with the buttons on my graphing calculator and tap my toes to that catchy Enrique Iglesias song a little too forcefully. I hate getting all worked up about this kind of thing because because I know the SATs don't matter, not really. What's the difference if I score 500 points this way or that? My score will only be a portion of what the admission's staff at any particular school will examine when deciding whether to accept me into their glorious institution. In the grand scheme of my life, a high SAT score means absolutely nothing.
Even so, I can't help but feel the obsessive need to do well. Maybe it comes from society's absurdly high expectations regarding education forcing their way into my thought process. Maybe I just want to make sure all the money my parents spent on SAT prep courses pays off. It's probably both, but as I approached the test center entrance, all I could think about was keeping my cereal down. Thankfully, I found a group of people from my school and stood with them awkwardly because my good friends hadn't arrived yet. You know the kind of dreams where random people from your life show up in places they are not supposed to be? Like when your dreaming about relaxing on the shores of a distant tropical island and suddenly you notice the Varsity Football Team doing squat jumps across the length of the beach? That is what waiting to take the SAT feels like. In the ten minutes I spent anticipating my entrance into the the testing room, I saw girls from my sleep-away camp, a girl from my 5th grade travel soccer team, kids I knew from middle school, kids that used to go to my school before switching to private school, and even a few kids that I swear I recognized but couldn't quite place. This bizarre, worlds colliding kind of experience only contributed to the feeling of uneasiness that I felt prior to test time.
When I finally sat down to take the test, I realized it wasn't that bad. I couldn't answer every question, but as I progressed through the test I realized that I knew more than I had initially given myself credit for. The test was long, and though my hand began to cramp with an hour still to go, I felt confident about the work I had accomplished and optimistic about the sections I had yet to complete. I wrote my essay about how "The Jersey Shore" creates misconceptions toward people of Italian decent, which I thoroughly enjoyed writing. And my testing room was full of giraffes. Posters of giraffes, small stuffed giraffes, giraffe cartoons with speech bubbles written in spanish, giraffe magnets, and even a large giraffe statue. Oh, and there was one poster of a koala bear. Poor lonely koala bear.
The SATs are hardly the nightmare students make them out to be. What I had assumed was going to be a painful experience comparable to that of mandatory torture or forced labor actually turned out to be more of a general unpleasantness. I didn't suffer through it so much as I stumbled along, occasionally hitting bumps in the road but ultimately reaching the other side unscathed.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Greek Mythology is Fascinating
Every year there is this event at my school called Olympics. It’s basically this super big competition where each grade picks a theme and a color and we compete against each other, mostly in sports, but points are also awarded for team spirit, decorations, etc. The seniors almost always win, and while the freshmen and sophomores really don’t stand a chance, the juniors have been known to swing a victory periodically in our school’s history. Can I here a woot woot for the 2012 junior class aka my class!
Anyway, my grade’s theme this year is Junior Olympians (it’s just a coincidence that our theme is so closely related to the name of the competition). I started researching Ancient Greek culture so I could get some costume ideas for our dress-up day, but then I started researching Greek Mythology and I realized it is so cool. These gods are not just big mighty bearded assholes that sit up in the sky all day. Well actually a lot of them are assholes, but that’s why Greek Mythology is so interesting. They are Gods, but they are so human. They quarrel, they betray each other, they kill, they love, they destroy, they rebuild. They even interact with people on earth and have children with them which frankly I don’t understand, nor do I care to. It’s not my idea of the supernatural, but it would make a great afternoon soap opera! A Greek Mythology Soap Opera. Someone needs to make that happen.
As I was reading descriptions of the major gods and goddesses, I came across one goddess in particular that struck me. Athena, the goddess of wisdom, sports, crafts, strength, and a whole slew of other admirable qualities. She pwned Poseidon and was praised by the Athenian people when she gave them the gift of an olive branch, providing them with wood, oil, and food. Athena engaged in a weaving contest with a mortal named Arachne who claimed she could weave better than Athena. When Athena beat her, she turned her into a spider to punish her for her arrogance so she could continue to weave with “neither a spindle nor loom.” AND when the god Hephaestus attempted to rape Athena she eluded him and his semen fell to earth and impregnated some other chick! How awesome is she?
Athena is a true matriarch. Her confidence and wisdom has earned her a spot on my list of people who inspire me. She is the second non-human to make this list. Extra points if you can guess who the other nonperson is.
Best wishes!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Cosmic Make Believe
- A Doctor Who inspired poem from a companion perspective. This cynical view of the Doctor is not my personal opinion, but similar ideas have been touched upon in a number of episodes, so I thought it would make an interesting poem!
We travel with a sick desire
To send these planets off with fire
Escaping then to view the show
The product of our fairytale crime
Beaming through space and believing
As we play progression of time
That this the product of imagination
Your ingenuity or inspiration
Indulging in cosmic fantasy
A reckless way to make believe
For you know even better than me
That this adventure is no dream
We travel with a sick desire
To send these planets off with fire
Escaping then to view the show
The product of our fairytale crime
Beaming through space and believing
As we play progression of time
That this the product of imagination
Your ingenuity or inspiration
Indulging in cosmic fantasy
A reckless way to make believe
For you know even better than me
That this adventure is no dream
Friday, March 4, 2011
Physics
My spectacular separate perspective
I keep my distance because you make me breathless
Yet even here I am crushed by your gravity
Crashing and collapsing under physical attraction
I’ve entered your orbit and you wonder why
This pitiful creature has come here to die
Ignore and retract to ease the weight
In the delusional hope that this saves the interaction
These pushes and pulls are not my intention
You are the cause of these awkward exchanges
Your quirky comments and that beautiful grin
Your fault in the first place that I was sucked in
I know you're confused, I know I should tell
But I’m still too far and not one to yell
I keep my distance because you make me breathless
Yet even here I am crushed by your gravity
Crashing and collapsing under physical attraction
I’ve entered your orbit and you wonder why
This pitiful creature has come here to die
Ignore and retract to ease the weight
In the delusional hope that this saves the interaction
These pushes and pulls are not my intention
You are the cause of these awkward exchanges
Your quirky comments and that beautiful grin
Your fault in the first place that I was sucked in
I know you're confused, I know I should tell
But I’m still too far and not one to yell
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
We Are Not Acrobats
Dazed and depleted, stressed and defeated
All I want to do is melt into my mattress
But I need to be a scholar before I can be tired
Learning and spinning and spitting information
They say you’ll need speed to keep up with the nation
Race to the top when we already float
Score a five so we privileged can gloat
Pushing and stretching and forcing and bending
We are not acrobats, we look silly pretending
All I want to do is melt into my mattress
But I need to be a scholar before I can be tired
Learning and spinning and spitting information
They say you’ll need speed to keep up with the nation
Race to the top when we already float
Score a five so we privileged can gloat
Pushing and stretching and forcing and bending
We are not acrobats, we look silly pretending
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Love and Logic
My neural rivers, those driftwood thoughts
Carrying them to realms beyond their birth
Misplaced in space, set adrift into forever
In places I knew, but no longer remember
These sorts of thoughts are called feelings
They seem to possess little use
Except to fuel a burning want
To express a coherent truth
If able to wield emotion
I could form words and string sentences
Glorious paragraphs of intelligible insight
Bridging the gap
These ideas don't think, they feel
I feel them buzzing in my arteries
A sensation that only inspires myself
Will I ever seem eloquent to anyone else?
Carrying them to realms beyond their birth
Misplaced in space, set adrift into forever
In places I knew, but no longer remember
These sorts of thoughts are called feelings
They seem to possess little use
Except to fuel a burning want
To express a coherent truth
If able to wield emotion
I could form words and string sentences
Glorious paragraphs of intelligible insight
Bridging the gap
These ideas don't think, they feel
I feel them buzzing in my arteries
A sensation that only inspires myself
Will I ever seem eloquent to anyone else?
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