Sophmore year is the last time you get to be immature. I can already feel my wild imagination and age catching up to me. My greatest fear currently is growing to 18 and becoming one of the slack jawed Adults who just live life day by day, night by night, year by year. Nothing occuring to them but the stock portfolio, or the next cup of joe. I am already grown to the point death is just a familiar gust that hits us all. It had gotten kinda weird for me that at the sight of death I do not waver.
So now I figured out what to do. A person's life is defined by the memories created while there. It could've been a long and stressful terrible memory, but people when they pass that painful and troubling portion for their life they can look back. Even a highly embarassing event can cause a few laughs and a "Ah, good times...". My greatest memories I know will be of my Friends. Antwana and Brandon, we have done so much stupid stuff in our short 3 years of being a figurative "Circle" that it is impossible to imagine even going somewhere major without my friends kicking it with me.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
What goes bump in the Morning
Waking up in the morning is a serious issue for me. It is like I was born a vampire, desiring to stay down until the afternoon. I don't know what it is about night that makes me limited to go to bed at the right times. School has hindered my sleep and I hate having to have the alarm exactly next to my face so I can't ignore it. Forcing myself to smash on the snooze just for a momentary nap. If you keep having to hit snooze, you'll get so annoyed that you will have to hit the Sleep button, and fall ancidently back to sleep.
I hate the sunlight in the morning. It is always stale and grimincing to me. It is like I am being breathed on by a four hundred year old dragon with bad breath. I am more of a Noon person, when the weather has hit it's "Just Right" mark. And also noone notices the reason why we don't eat breakfast. Because breakfast has weird meals. In the morning you are so busy doign stuff you can't focus enough to make it. The best you can usually do is a Orange Juice and maybe a quick poptart. I do not see how people do it.
I feel like a zombie half the time in the morning. A Vampire could describe my coma-like state in the morning. A Werewolf can describe my attitude. A Bunny can describe me at the Middle of the day. I think if we had a Night School if we would have more of a chance. We could hang out all day, focus all night, etc etc. And notonly that you might be able to catch a actual Sunset instead of beign so exhausted you'll miss it. I mean think about it.
I hate the sunlight in the morning. It is always stale and grimincing to me. It is like I am being breathed on by a four hundred year old dragon with bad breath. I am more of a Noon person, when the weather has hit it's "Just Right" mark. And also noone notices the reason why we don't eat breakfast. Because breakfast has weird meals. In the morning you are so busy doign stuff you can't focus enough to make it. The best you can usually do is a Orange Juice and maybe a quick poptart. I do not see how people do it.
I feel like a zombie half the time in the morning. A Vampire could describe my coma-like state in the morning. A Werewolf can describe my attitude. A Bunny can describe me at the Middle of the day. I think if we had a Night School if we would have more of a chance. We could hang out all day, focus all night, etc etc. And notonly that you might be able to catch a actual Sunset instead of beign so exhausted you'll miss it. I mean think about it.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Writing Workshop #1 Dance Wars: Short Story
The fire flickered in the campsite. The Ruins of the civilization prior to ours obstructed the view of the suns horizon. The cold of the night departing to another area of the world as the smoke hovered into the sky, as simply as cigare smoke puffed into the air. The warriors preformed their flares and pops. Ticking to the lost beat of the New York civilizations.
We were preparing for a War brought on by the attackers. They wanted turf...we refused. As was the nature of our world now that the past events happened. Looking around a charred Flier labled "Class of 2013" faltered to the floor from the wall.
Nuclear war, hate, and greed had long since destroyed the planet, leaving only our hearts and with hearts come imagination and with that comes The Arts. The arts grew to full bloom in our little left over of a war. Dance being the major weapons, music the Ammo. B-boys spun and performed their knee drops in open view, training for the upcoming war.
They were our brawn, representing some of the most original moves of Hip-hop, their uncommon strength to survive was known to them as inspiring, and to some terrifying. The Poppers were next on the other hand, their waves and chest pops denying their physical laws. Their bones cracking repeatedly in unison of the rusted old dusty remains of cds and many audio players.
Many other dancers and forms existed within our little tribe. The violent and yet subtle Krumpers, the Robots moving at a "techno-physical" state, The ballerinas and tappers performing their oldest of practices, and the majority of Hip-hop dancers. This destiny wrought onto us all descended from a likeliness that we would always have war, we just found a new way of doing it.
It may've been a century ago that this happened. Dancing Arts rising to the tips of Human fingertips to be used as a weapon, Dancers using their elegant build to send challenges for more turf, facing new dangers and finding newer moves. Music had a effect on us all, After a century of collected minds beileveing something possible it can be true. We turned beauty into a lethal weapon. Where if you lose a dance battle you hope you can just leave injured otherwise you'd drop dead from the shock.
I've been thinking too much. My soldiers need me to lead them in a ceremony of rights. We were entitled "BFABB" (Born from a Boombox) and we honored that. We even honored enemies, beileving in a old philsophy "Love your Haters". The Fire was out and in a distance a hard and violent hip hop beat scuttled into the NYC Turf Ruins. The B-boys, Krumpers, and Poppers are went to the front line as the Enemies burst out. Our poppers sending flips and pop, their B-boys doing their handstands. The battle had begun and the sides were now at it. And you can only hope you win.
We were preparing for a War brought on by the attackers. They wanted turf...we refused. As was the nature of our world now that the past events happened. Looking around a charred Flier labled "Class of 2013" faltered to the floor from the wall.
Nuclear war, hate, and greed had long since destroyed the planet, leaving only our hearts and with hearts come imagination and with that comes The Arts. The arts grew to full bloom in our little left over of a war. Dance being the major weapons, music the Ammo. B-boys spun and performed their knee drops in open view, training for the upcoming war.
They were our brawn, representing some of the most original moves of Hip-hop, their uncommon strength to survive was known to them as inspiring, and to some terrifying. The Poppers were next on the other hand, their waves and chest pops denying their physical laws. Their bones cracking repeatedly in unison of the rusted old dusty remains of cds and many audio players.
Many other dancers and forms existed within our little tribe. The violent and yet subtle Krumpers, the Robots moving at a "techno-physical" state, The ballerinas and tappers performing their oldest of practices, and the majority of Hip-hop dancers. This destiny wrought onto us all descended from a likeliness that we would always have war, we just found a new way of doing it.
It may've been a century ago that this happened. Dancing Arts rising to the tips of Human fingertips to be used as a weapon, Dancers using their elegant build to send challenges for more turf, facing new dangers and finding newer moves. Music had a effect on us all, After a century of collected minds beileveing something possible it can be true. We turned beauty into a lethal weapon. Where if you lose a dance battle you hope you can just leave injured otherwise you'd drop dead from the shock.
I've been thinking too much. My soldiers need me to lead them in a ceremony of rights. We were entitled "BFABB" (Born from a Boombox) and we honored that. We even honored enemies, beileving in a old philsophy "Love your Haters". The Fire was out and in a distance a hard and violent hip hop beat scuttled into the NYC Turf Ruins. The B-boys, Krumpers, and Poppers are went to the front line as the Enemies burst out. Our poppers sending flips and pop, their B-boys doing their handstands. The battle had begun and the sides were now at it. And you can only hope you win.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Doll Face
Doll Face. To me the portayal of the mechanical jack-in-the-box was a metaphor for this generation's youth. It was saying how the youth imitate the media's portrayal of how they look in my opinion. The concept of having a blank face until it came up to the television screen seeing another face only with makeup was to me a accurate description of the American girl. It reminds me of a short story we read in my English class. A girl was getting a make over and all the while the girl who was "helping" her was cricizing her for not wearing make up or dressing how her description of beauty required. It can bring up the new age question does the media pressure children into dressing how soceity thinks you should, appearing how they think you should, limit even a bit of your own creativity in anything.
People say they don't care how they look but then put up almost a entire coat of makeup and won't walk out the house unless its on. Some male teenagers redicule each other because they aren't wearing a brand of shoes, neglecting to notice if the shoes were even affordable to their families. I also beileve we should bring up the point of the Television leaving. The tv would rise and rise until it was out of reach of the youthful Jack-in-the-box until she brokedown. She couldn't exist while the Television didn't, this is probably a metaphor on how we depend way to much on television for many things: News, Information, Entertainment, and even Surveilance. This subject and video brings up many points, but it is unknown what to think to any of them.
People say they don't care how they look but then put up almost a entire coat of makeup and won't walk out the house unless its on. Some male teenagers redicule each other because they aren't wearing a brand of shoes, neglecting to notice if the shoes were even affordable to their families. I also beileve we should bring up the point of the Television leaving. The tv would rise and rise until it was out of reach of the youthful Jack-in-the-box until she brokedown. She couldn't exist while the Television didn't, this is probably a metaphor on how we depend way to much on television for many things: News, Information, Entertainment, and even Surveilance. This subject and video brings up many points, but it is unknown what to think to any of them.
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