Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Fourteen Estimates

I am . . .
1.A blank, immovable wall cemented in wait for inspiration to splatter its techtonic plate-moving potential over every centimeter
2.The friend everyone can cry to but is shoulder-to-cry-on-less
3.The understated participant of a many-playered game
4.A weak-looking flame waiting on the sidelines, contained in a glass lantern, unable to obtain its chance at engulfing an idea
5.A shirt worn during a paint fight, catching the slopped hues that will create its own color wheel
6.A gullible fool willing to be pulled by a tractor-pulled sled through hardened, crusty Jell-O
7.A piece of paper, used to scribble homework, then lost in the depths of objects in some artist’s portfolio
8.A French fry dipped and eaten with an ounce of chocolate frosty and gulped down with a carbonated, ice-cold Pepsi
9.A Swiss army knife - just when you think that’s it, there’s another layer of gadgets
10.A bulletproof vest with imperceptible holes small enough for words to seep through
11.The lone pianist in a sea of violins
12.A warm air pocket caught in the center of an Antarctic ice storm
13.A freelance thinker in a foggy room chalk full of political auctioneers
14.In a room of shouting, power-hungry, ignorant world leaders, I am my own opinionated voice in need of a microphone

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Film Analysis --- Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Ordinary World: Harry is an ordinary 11 year old boy, orphaned, living with his only living relatives.
Call: Harry begins recieving letters. Letters sent directly to him 'To Mr. Harry Potter, Number Four Privet Drive, Surrey; The Cupboard Under the Stairs'. His Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon know who they're from, but don't want him to know. Another Call could be when Rubeus Hagrid, the groundkeeper at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, comes to collect Harry from his relatives and bring him to the school that's chosen him, telling him that Harry is a wizard. Hagrid says, 'A ruddy good one at that, I'd wager', which leads to a bigger concluson and question about who he is.
Refusal: When Hagrid tells Harry what he is and how his parents really died, Harry tells him it's impossible. 'I c-can't be a w-wizard. I'm - just Harry. Just Harry.'
Mentor: Hagrid goes on to tell him 'Have you ever made anything happ'n? Anythin' you couldn' explain when you were angry, or - or scared?' He reassures him that's how all great witches and wizards start out.
Threshold: When Harry and Hagrid journey to Diagon Alley, he begins to believe and wonder about who he is, how is parents died and why he became so famous when he didn't know he was. He then hears about people calling him the 'Boy Who Lived'.
Tests, Allies, Enemies: Hagrid ends up telling Harry about Lord Voldemort, the most powerful, Dark Lord ever to live in the wizarding world. He tells him how his parents died, how Harry recieved the lightning bolt scar on his forehead from Voldemort and how he was destroyed. But, rumor has it that he didn't just die. That he is still alive. But only just. He meets his soon-to-be best friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, two friends who we would never expect him to gain and keep in his next adventures. He also meets Draco Malfoy, a pureblood whose father is well-known to be rich and powerful. He all but orders Harry to be his friend 'You don't want to get involved with the wrong sort. I can help you there'. He meets Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, his future mentor and best teacher and tutor. Professor Snape, whom Harry already begins to hate with a burning passion, emerges, along with Professor Quirrell, a stammering, confused, worrisome man who teaches DADA (Defense Against the Dark Arts).
Approach: They arrive at Hogwarts on the Hogwarts Express from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The first years, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and the rest are sorted into Houses (Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor), have their beginning of Term feast in the Great Hall and begin with their first classes, learning spells and potions.
Ordeal: Harry, Ron and Hermione together find their way to discover that the Philosopher's Stone - a stone of unimaginable power, the ability to keep you alive for the rest of eternity - is going to be stolen by Professor Snape, who turns out to be Quirrell instead. The trio fights their way through a series of challenges and trials, including a giant, intense game of Wizard's Chess and a nasty infestation of Devil's Snare. Harry finds Quirrell, who turns out to be Voldemort in disguise.
Reward: They fight, Harry wins, barely making it out alive. He protects the Stone from Voldemort and destroys him (partially), sending him out of the school.
The Road Back: The students are on their ways back home on the Hogwarts Express.
Resurrection: Harry, Ron and Hermione all return from the Hospital Wing, recovered and well from their expedition and triumph against Voldemort.
Return with the Elixir: Going onto the train, Harry realizes where he belongs. 'I'm not going home. Not really'.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Monotonous

Unloved. Unappreciated. Unwanted. Uncared for. Unusual. Monotone. Neglected. That's what my ordinary world is. When I think over what I do, I even bore myself. Nothing. I write my book. I have a great family. Alright friends. No significant other, but hoping for one. I have so-called beautiful art skills. But, what exactly can I do with the talents I have? Publish the book, cherish my fam, appreciate my friendships, find someone who 'completes me', use my artsy-fartsy skills to do what? I dunno. Improve someone's mood? Perhaps. What would my extraordinary, extravagent, incredible, exceptional world be? To be loved. Noticed. Praised. Appreciated. Recognized. That people would ask my opinion and actually give a crap. That my parents would treat me like an adult sometimes, but know when to treat me like their kid. That I would find my significant other, we'd meet in some romantic place or another, love at first sight (which I personally do not believe in), fall in love, happily ever after. If it was that simple, it would be a dream come true and a weight lifted from my chest...

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

WhiteOut

This is for those without a sense of humor. For those who have one, but don't know how or just plain don't use it. For the special people out there searching for the light. This is for those who can sing, or those who can't but do anyway. Use the WhiteOut. This is for the downhearted with no way to turn. This is for the quirks and mistakes. For the originals who don't think twice. Use the WhiteOut.This is for the romance, action and comedy novel readers who wish something like that would happen to them, but don't plan to do any work. For the warm-fuzzy feeling people. For the protective fathers and patient mothers. This is for the sun-baked sidewalks with cravings for popsicles. Use the WhiteOut. For the unpredictable fairytale endings. For the rainy days spent with a significant other. This is for all the nights wasted on meaningless exercise. Use the WhiteOut. For the dog huggers, the bird owners and the messed up cat lovers. This is for the nature enthusiasts. For the smoking addicts. For the 'Wish I hadn't's. For the 'Regretting it forever's. This is for those people. Use the WhiteOut. Always use the WhiteOut.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Ghandi

I keep forgetting to remember. I keep forgetting to smile. I keep forgetting to talk. I keep forgetting be myself. I keep forgetting to forgive. To forget. To be a friend. I keep forgetting to stand up. I keep forgetting to go to sleep earlier. I keep forgetting to appreciate you. Your smile. You laugh. Your kiss. Our hugs. I keep forgetting to open up. I keep forgetting to cry. I keep forgetting to mindlessly dream for the sake of mindlessly dreaming. I keep forgetting to lock up my heart. I keep forgetting to not take things for granted. I keep forgetting to love my family. When will we own ourselves completely? I keep forgetting to laugh my guts up about something that isn't funny. That is funny. That doesn't make sense no matter where I put the inflections. I keep forgetting to tie my shoes. I keep forgetting to put down my guard. I keep forgetting to compliment my friends. I keep forgetting the name of that song. I keep forgetting. I keep forgetting those in peril. Those in danger. Those who're starving. Those who need my help. But tonight's not the last time I'll see the light. I'll never forget again.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Is it confusing to anyone else but me?

Okay. So I've never been in real love before. I'd like to admit that. I've been in a relationship, but I was fifteen and immature then. I am now older and still rattling my brains. What is love supposed to feel like? When I see the inevitable significant other, how will I know if it's real or just fantastical blurbs of the thousands of books I've read garbled into one thought? Will there be a certain feeling? A tingling in my toes? A rush of blood to the brain? A sudden, unexpected adrenaline rush that has absolutely nothing to do with the death-defying stunt I heroically avoided? Is there a way to tell when I'm in love? I think I am and have been for a while now, but is there a way to know for sure? Post your opinionated comment letting me know what you think. I need answers.

Blurb.

Traveling Soldier - Dixie Chicks
A soldier 
comes into the Diner late one afternoon. He meets a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair. The pretty little girl agrees to write to the soldier since he has no one else. He leaves with the army. They write letters back and forth and soon fall in love. He dies in the army. She becomes depressed, saying she'll never hold the hand of another.
Sara Beth- Rascal Flatts
Sara Beth feels strange. And soon finds she has cancer. While she dreams about going to prom and falling in love, 
doctors assure they can cure her. After a surprising experience or two, she is asked to prom. Her date comes to the door and surprised her and her parents by shaving his head to make her feel less uncomfortable. They fall in love at prom and she's no longer scared because her true love is dancing with her.
Letter to Me - Brad Paisley 
Brad Paisley imagines his matured, older self writing a letter to him, when he's younger. Thinking that providing him with advice and suggestions as he goes throughout life will help him when life gets him down. To stand up and keep on the path. But sooner or later he will have to face reality. That we can't send a letter. We, unfortunately, have the honor to live through life right. The first time.

Sing for the Moment - Eminem
Eminem isn't against the world. The world is against him. And his fame. Even his music. Everyone might hate rap, but it's his life. And he may be hated by everyone for that, but that's their issue. He wants to speak to the young generation, anyway. The old generation hates rap because they know they bring no good, so they hate him.
Mine - Taylor Swift
A busy, loud restaurant, full of complaining, fighting people brings Taylor back to her childhood. Back when her mom and dad used to fight. After shaking herself out of her daydream, Taylor meets eyes with a handsom waiter. They fall for each other instantly. They go through life together, taxes, mortgages, but no real problems. Their life is a happy life. But, when disagreement heats between them, she's unsure that they will last much longer.