| St. Francis |
[23 Sep 2007|09:37pm] |
|
The late afternoon sun slanted in turgid, saturated beams, bathing the pale gray facade of the church orange and setting the cut stone decoration in sharp relief. An old man pauses at the top of the steps to gather his strength before shuffling inside the heavy wood door toward the shady confession booths off to the side of the pews, shrouded in secrecy. After settling himself inside and leaving the flimsy door to the booth slightly cracked to let out the dusty air choked with other people's sins, he turns to the screen and waits. The priest's voice drifts through the lacy filigree woodwork and black screen mesh with the creaking and suppleness of old leather; the old man begins his confessions, wearied of the juxtaposition between his finished life and never finished sins. Upon receiving his blessing he walks slowly out of the booth and shuffles to a pew, carefully bending at the knee and crossing himself before sitting. He is kneeling in prayer, collecting his thoughts, when a woman across the aisle in the other row of pews catches his eye. With the subdued gleam of her chestnut hair, highlighted by a red plane of light from the stained glass window, he is suddenly forcibly reminded of his Julie, his only daughter. The woman's lips move rapidly, intoning a prayer he cannot hear, her eyes affixed to the crucified Jesus spattered by the numerous candles burning in the front of the church. The old man regards the candlelight shining on the sculpture, and then looks back at the window affixing the woman with an aura of red; his thoughts wander from his prayers as he peruses the window, a depiction of St. Francis. He thinks back to something his art teacher in college once long ago told them, that in the medieval ages, stained glass was introduced to churches because they were thought to purify the light entering the church; he glances back at the woman sitting in her halo of St. Francis-purified air, with her hair so much like Julie's, and an image of his daughter the last time he saw her rises unbidden into his head; laying in a pool of her own sickly gray vomit on a table dusted with cocaine and a few remaining crumbs of some cheap murky crystal meth. She had still had a syringe clutched in her clammy fist, he remembered with a wave of sadness, trying to banish the way her wide, staring eyes had been dully reflected in the flame-blackened spoon lying next to her head. He peers furtively at the woman's hair again, recalling the way his daughter's once silky auburn hair had lain in stringy, oily clumps, more cocaine scattered on her scalp like carpet powder. For one fervent second, more fervent than any of his prayers, he wishes the woman was his daughter, sitting safe in a puddle of holified, pure Christian light, not dead, her pathetic search for truth bitterly revealed for all to see in the illuminating beam of the cop's flash light. Pure light, truly cleansing, unlike the confession booth he visits regularly every Tuesday, swabbing of one's pains, unlike the prayers he struggles to pull from his soul, crouched on the scantily-padded knee board. He raises and the woman looks his way, smiling for a brief second; he smiles back and calls her Julie in his head as he shuffles his way back out into the watery late sunshine.
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| Dream Osmosis |
[23 Sep 2007|09:05pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 creative |
] |
I-
would sink into your dreams if I could,
In my despairing effort to draw every last piece you offer me;
A passionate osmosis in my wish to postpone your inevitable descent [so we could become one.]
Assimilation into your very pores while en route to your secret dreamland,
My particles would swirl into a desperate alchemy,
To settle into your sleep as my yearning composite cannot do.
Opportunity for intimacy begins to slowly dissolve
With the rhythmic expulsion of bellows behind beloved bars of ivory;
And I cling to your back, eyeing the impenetrable gate of flesh sadly-
It is the barrier and enforcer of this necessary separation.
Drawing the lingering echoes of your last whisper around me like I do the blanket,
I am left wishing the echoes were enough to keep you in a place we could at least be together.
The shadows slink across the ceiling above me, fleeing the spears of grey dawn;
I still lie studying every facet of your face, lamenting today's disparancy between us,
As I am wanting to be walking your dreams with you.
|
|
| Belated (and not very good) poetry |
[23 Sep 2007|08:59pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
creative |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
"Signal Fire"- Snow Patrol |
] |
Shattered cacophony
Rips my eardrums and sacrifices the slaughtered silence upon the altar
In the temple of my wistful desire for destruction
Destruction to lay voice to the pain muted in wrinkles of gray matter
Monotones and ragged, breathy expulsions always falling short of my silent scream
I wait for illumination into the foggy blackness of the things I want to say
Light to fight away the unseen dangers stalking me in this darkness
The leaden weight of suppressed emotion creeps up my leg
Seeking to trap me and render me incapable of articulation
If not cast in lead, then I'll just be colder
Depicted in ice, my arctic self as useful as my present flesh edition
When it comes to making you understand these feelings
Emotions and insecurities like iron bars to my love
They will be the death of us
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Poetry is form of self mutilation
Yet unclassified by today's psychologists
Discarding glass or razor
My weapon of choice is a pen
The release never blood
But a torrent of sticky black ink
Shining on the paper, a veritable flood
Of everything I wish to exorcize out
Relief found, I smile at the pleasure
The scars not on my flesh
But my now unburdened soul
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My good intentions lay fallow for three months,
Rotting along with my inadequacy and responsibility.
I hand you my soul and future on printed paper-
They take on the image of president's faces.
It's funny how money can't buy you happiness,
But can buy you clearance and security of a better future.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Innumerable
Are the amount of moments a day I would kill to avoid this inescapable revelation
Countless
Are the number of times I find myself slipping back into you
And the simplicity of your stale love
It was always so easy- you always made it so easy
Are your guilty recollections tainted with the grey of truth;
The truth of things maybe only I never admitted to myself?
You'll never know how many times I died in trying to
Finally release my hold on you
Med school and the MCAT can't teach you
The proper way to dissect what was never meant to be sliced out
What are the symptoms of atrophy of the heart?
Someone call a doctor
Those whispers of yesterday
Trickle into a concentrated form of nostalgia
Wrapping their cold fingers around the salty slivers of flesh I once knew as well as my own
Effectively trapping you right where I didn't know I wanted you
I don't know if you remember me before I was yours
But I find myself transgressing back to ancient avoidance as my eyes dance around the gunshot of your gaze
Your confusion sneaks up behind me
I try to dodge the oncoming reaper of our six feet under memories
But I'm carried against my will into a warm June day and the remembrance of your first touch
Did I just imagine a ghost of your summer self in your eyes just now?
I had forgotten how your eyes could so easily say what your mouth never could
The force of those eyes
Mingles with our dusty, decayed goodbye like the alchemy of lover's sweat
To pen the memoirs of our inability to ever let us go
Or maybe your eyes write my requiem
There is no phoenix to rise from our ashes.
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| [Title to be announced on further notice] |
[12 Oct 2006|02:21pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 melancholy |
] |
| [ |
music |
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"Intertiatic E.S.P" The Mars Volta |
] |
It's been said
Long time ago
You'll be the first and last to know
You'll never know...
The cold fall air whipped impatiently at her face, as though it too was desperately curious to know why she was down here at this time of night. It slapped her nostrils with the scent of deep and cold, smelling right to her. Her shoes clicked against the concrete as she made her way along the narrow spillway ledge, reveling in the sharp edges of her shadow rippling on the jagged rocks to her left. Taking a careful step over the icy chainlink fence, she finally allowed her gaze to take in the melting edges of the water far beneath her, the inky blackness disappearing into the tawny orange of the light's reflection on the water's surface.An enigmatic smile spread across her wasted face as her eyes closed, her head tilting back to fully absorb the moment.
He would never understand this. No one would. This thought filled her with a wild inordinate pleasure that caused her hands to shake with the intensity of sudden emotion. Could anyone fathom her desperation, her slow death these past few months? They could try, pat her hands, rub her shoulders with the cloying platitude, "I understand." She hated them for their cheerful ignorance of her pain. She wanted to reach out, let someone else shoulder her burden in their love for her, but if she tried to ask for help, the words bubbled in her throat, congealing on her tongue like cold clam chowder. They understood....did they? Could they, would they too do anything to escape the disenchantment?
She saw everyone's shocked, initially denying faces. She had taken especial care to donate each person one last memory to treasure and wear thin until her memory faded from importance, until they failed to punish themselves for not missing her. She paused to single out the scent of the love she had made with her boyfriend that lingered in the air. A residue of the passion still lay on her skin and she breathed it in with a defeated air. She had thought his love would save her, but not even he could fix every part of her life. This realization had been it for her, the last domino to fall in the neat line of the failures of her life. She had always wanted to be an Estella, but she instead sat as Ms. Haversham, waiting in her moldy wedding dress for someone to come and bring her the perfection she had witnessed but never possessed.
A suddenly impatient gesture propelled her off the fence, her toes kissing the bevelled edge of the concrete wall. She could never be Estella, but she wouldn't be Ms. Haversham.... maybe she would settle for Hedda Gabbler? Life was a disappointment and she would never have perfection, but maybe she could at least have beauty. She spread her arms out slowly, her eyes closing to allow the last images of everyone she knew sleeping peacefully in their beds to splay across her eyelids like movie projection. She tilted her head back again as she felt her body slowly leave the concrete ledge, freefalling seemingly slowly, almost gracefully on its way to the deep, dark water. The splash and sudden heartstopping chill romanticized themselves in her brain as her last epitah to the life above the water, a life of pain and misguided dreams, her life of great expectations culminating in this self-defined beautiful ending. Weeds brushed her face as the water soaked through her heavy clothing, pulling her deeper. She sighed out a last cache of oxygen, relaxing into her watery cradle, her last bubbles her final renunciation of Ms. Haversham. She would do anything to live, even if to live meant to die.
Clipside of the pinkeye flight
I'm not the percent you think survives
I need sanctuary in the pages of this book
Gestating with all the other rats
Nurrse said that my skin will need a graft
I am of pockmarked shapes
The vermin you need to loathe
|
|
| Awesome |
[26 Jul 2006|01:32pm] |
| How You Are In Love | 
You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time.
You give and take equally in relationships.
You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time.
You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change.
You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard. |
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| It's tha REMIX! |
[05 Jun 2006|10:46pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 sleepy |
] |
| [ |
music |
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"If I Fail" Cartel |
] |
Let's see... rewind back to August 6th, 2005, and I answered these questions with these lyrics. I thought it would be interesting if I came back and reanswered them now.
ORIGINAL ANSWERS:
1.~Are you Male of Female~~ "Now I'm just a dumb girl. Yeah,a dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb girl- that's what I am."
2.~Describe your neighborhood~~ "It's a long way from my thoughts to what I'll say, it's a long, long way from paradise to where I am today; someday I'll see home. I can see the stars from way down here..."
3.~How do you look~~ "I'm nothing fancy, I'm nothing special, that's true. But that's good enough for me, since it's good enough for you."
4.~If you could say something to the person you like it would be~ "As long as you got me, and I got you..."
5.~Where do you wish you were right now~~ "Wish I could fall, on a night like this, into your lovin' arms... for a moonlight kiss..."
6.~What would you say to you best friend~~ "Tell all the dreams that you have let slip right through your hands; do you feel lost inside of someone else's life? Failure is the only way to learn till you've come undone. The rest will never find out what they might have been."
7.~Any words of Wisdom~~ "You know I used to mean everything to you...now I'm last in line and that just won't do. I feel blue, you feel trapped; life's too short to love like that..."
8.~What do you wish you were doing right now~ "The sun is up...I'm so happy I could scream. And there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be, than here with you. It's perfect, it's all I ever wanted; I almost can't believe that it's for real...say it will always be like this- the two of us together..."
9.~What do you think of Drugs And Alcohol~~ "Now I feel pathetic and now I get it; what's done is done, you just leave it alone and don't regret it... but sometimes, some things turn into dumb things, and that's when you put your foot down."
10.~If you could say one thing to your enemy, it would be~~ "To all my dreamers out there - I'm with you. All my underdogs, ha - I feel you."
11.~ What do you usually do one Friday nights~~ "Now I was sitting, waiting, wishing..."
12.~Are you for World peace~ "What the world needs now is love...love, sweet love; it's the only thing there's just too little of. What the world needs now is love, sweet love; no not just for some but for everyone... let's come together, lay our differences down, spread it all around...that's what the world needs now."
13.~ What do you feel about school~~ "School's back in session, get ready for a lesson... I just want to feel alive."
14.~How do you feel right now~~ "I have fallen in love, with no use. I don't know how I came to be on this cloud...thinking about your touch, makes me lose my ground. I want to be in your arms again, holding hands and never leave..."
15.~Any closing words~~ "When memories fade; we've got each other. When time and confusion collide, singin' I hold it all when I hold you. When friends walk other ways, we've got each other... I hold it all when I hold; I hold it all when I hold you...I won't do this without you, I won't do this without you. So take heart... because you know that you have mine. And it feels like we could last forever...and I'm not doing to do this alone."
Sooo, let's see if it all changes now. I think I might even add a few questions of my own. All of you, feel free to answer in your own lyrics. :]
REVISED ANSWERS:
1.~Sum up your life as of today's mood~~"Everything I think about makes me feel like a version of myself."
2.~ Optimist or pessimist~~ "And so I'd rather have hope than sadness...so where's the change? It'll happen someday. Oh I try not to give up hope that one day things will get better. We're all gonna be together -may not be sunny weather...don't give up hope."
3.~ How do you look~~ "You're a regular decorated emergency."
4.~What would you say to the person you like~~ "If I can't remember the words, could you be my tongue for these few seconds and spit them out for me? See I've crossed the line and I've done what I told myself I'd never. We've become everything that we once hated, feeling special actually listening to my conscience when it confronts me. I told myself I wouldn't waste my time holding my breath for what may potentially be a lost cause, leave me stranded, branded stupid and all too often a sucker for the teenage delusion called true love. But you changed me...you are the risk that I'm taking."
5.~ What would you say to your ex~~ "Just stay where I can see you, DOUSE THE LIGHTS! We sure are in for a show tonight. In this little number we're graced by two displays of character... we've got: the gunslinger extraordinaire, walking contradiction. And I for one can see no blood from the hearts and the wrists you allegedly slit, and I for one won't stand for this..."
6.~Where do you wish you were right now~~ "Relax, relax and let these taxes of your reflex act... make tonight stay, stay tonight right here..."
7.~ What would you say to your best friend~~ "I know the way you feel, the way you view incompetence. So we have to remedy our extreme lack of confidence."
8~ Any words of wisdom~~ "There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses; it's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses at the shade of the sheets and before all the stains, and a few more of your least favorite things."
9.~ What do you wish you were doing right now~~ "I hope this makes you smile, and you might stay that way for awhile. Because you deserve every grin that you get, and you'll get them a lot from me."
10.~ Give me your take on love~~ "It makes you crazy, it makes you mad, when you lose it, how it makes you sad. It drags you down, it gives you wings; it's the knot in your stomach that stings. Love goes a long way... it takes you in, it throws you away, it gives meaning to your empty days. One day you're sure, the next you doubt- don't bother trying to figure it out."
11.~ If you could say one thing to your enemy, it would be~~ "And oh, I try to give you everything; and if I fail, well then I failed, but at least I gave you something."
12.~ What do you usually do on Friday nights~~ "Ignore the noise and find a better way...but indecision clouds your mind,as the reasons linger deep inside; penance for a single day..."
13.~ What would you say to the person who's pissing you off the most right now~~ "I owned up, I've grown up, do you remember me? I showed up and so what if I'm the used to be? I'm here to tell you that I'm sorry I was sorry, but I'm happy that you're happy- this is no longer about me."
14.~ What do you feel about school~~ "I've made enough mistakes for this lifetime, now I'm here to make amends. Next time I'll try, for the first time in my life. It won't pass me by; procrastinate it can wait, I put it off. "
15.~ How do you feel right now~~ "Someone please help me out- I never meant to take this so far, now I've fallen way too hard. Take a long step back to the days when I was younger, decisions never mattered all this much. It’s an emptied handed promise from my heart to my conscious that says one day I will make this count (the best that I know how). The closest that I am to living life on the edge is packing all my bags, and heading off with my best friends..."
16.~ Any closing words~~ "So to my friends that call but I don't call back, I want you deep inside my heart upon a hill. It seems to hide sometimes and run away and wonder... I'm really sick of saying sorry, but I will."
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| I set myself up for the greatest fall of all time |
[27 May 2006|04:04am] |
[For Amanda]
The impossible distance disappears like sugar in a glass of iced tea with that unforgettable 'Hello?' bypassing 2,000 miles of Alexander Graham Bell's daydream. It crystalizes into a shot of pure something and he realizes he's the happiest he's been all day. This perfectly pure thought is quickly tucked into that separate corner of his heart, the one he saves just for her, the part he unconsciously jealously saves for that one day she'll be there, the only appropriate gift he feels he has for her. Sometimes he finds himself visiting it. Like someone sneaking into the room of a deceased loved one to caress the dusty belongings and smell the sheets for that fading familiarity, he finds himself transgressing the hot room that reeks of sex and sweat and even staler love, removing himself from the misguided affections of another distraction to retreat in the already worn-smooth treasures of last night's phone call. Immersing himself in the way she laughs when she's really happy, the perfectly easy way she fits into everything, the way she heals the hurts he never felt stinging, he can feel himself relaxing, slipping into his real self, the various puzzle pieces of his character falling into places, as graciously donned as that tucked away wool coat on the first cool day of fall. Emotions were so effortless with her, he constantly felt himself clinging to those last chords in her goodbye, drinking in the last dregs of salvation meeting their nemesis in the dull buzz of a dial tone. Then he would take each new memory and add it to that corner, arranging it in the most pleasing manner for her viewing on some far off sunny March day. Tonight was no exception. Each metallic click of the minute hand completing it's circuit around the clock, cheap hammered brass mockingly clicking out his death knells, demonstrating with sadistic ease each time he fell even harder. An unusually affected wash of his name falls from her lips and he's shutting those eyes tightly, trying to halt production of those increasingly overwhelming natural reactions; autopilot is activated, and out pour lyrics before he can even comprehend what his subconscious is revealing through metered emotion and rhythmic longing. "Oh, no, this couldn't be more unexpected. And I can tell that Ive been moving in so slow. Don't let it throw you off too far, cause Ill be running right behind you. And could this be out of line? Could this be out of line, to say you're the only one breaking me down like this? You're the only one I would take a shot on- keep me hanging on, so contagiously."
A pregnant pause vibrates in the silence as they both digest the unspoken message, his reaction disguised in italicized lyrics. He finds himself straining for her reaction, hoping like he's never allowed himself to hope for anything, willing her to understand. Again, his name in that heart stopping deliverance, only softer than before and tainted by nervous purity of emotion and purpose. The clock strikes four as he feels the final blow , his heart ceasing beating, his body momentarily taken over by certainty and hope. He feels himself pausing on the ledge, looking back at rational control, all he stands to leave behind... and then he hears her voice again, officially broken this time delivering the lifeline he always needed; as he falls his final fall, he suddenly knows that he never really had a choice. With her, he was never even standing on the ledge. Every moment with her from the beginning has been free-falling. A million "I love you too's" crowd his brain and choke his throat, and he does the only thing he somehow understands as fair to her, the only way to truly give her what she has given him. A finger raises to the end button, neatly severing the premature lifeline, disconnecting him before she can reach out and catch him and save him from hitting bottom in this newly begun discovery of himself for her. He knows she will understand. He pauses and smiles an enigmatic smile to all- except her, she would know it, this orchestra of emotion across his mouth, because it was all for her- embracing this leap for her, as he responds in the only way he knows how: The time flies by with the sound of your voice. Its close to paradise, with the end surely near. And if I could only stop the car and hold onto you, and never let go (and never let go). For this one night we have spent, and I want to speak these words, but I guess I'll just bite my tongue, and accept 'Someday, somehow' as the words that we'll hang from..."
"I love you too. "
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|
|
[06 Mar 2006|04:30pm] |
Thinking of you
This goes as follows
Up one second
Boating the river Styx the next
How is one supposed to navigate
The labyrinth of your revelations?
Brown melts into grey and blue
Swallows my good intentions
Wincing ache brought back to reality
By a hopefully sarcastic mix of syllables
I fall silent tracing the shape of your mouth
Nervous comparisons collide with painful self doubts in the quiet
You're already looking away, concentration lost
I retreat to the cool darkness of my recollections
And cling for life to words congealed in cooled sweat
Finally reaching dry ground on the packed passed moments, things unsaid and defensive drawbacks
I know these to be real, my own
Before I'm tossed out to sea with another verbal wind
I reach again for my now familiar thought path
Following the crumbs of your stale confessions Through the shadows of my self- crucifixion
I get used to the waves of uncertainty
Their rhythm puts me to sleep
I like it, I think
Even as I wait for you to fish me out and save me
I thought of you all day
|
|
| Happy Valentine's Day, all |
[14 Feb 2006|01:47pm] |
And all these stupid silly songs
Keep trying to catch your ear
I'm trying desperately
Its just so hard to persevere
And even if you listened
I never had much to say
Because its the same old song
I'm written for the day
Here it goes again,
Put on that deserving tone
and don't forget that this was all your fault.
It's breathing down your neck,
You know you've got to let this go.
You're such a wreck and now it starts to show
Because our days were numbered by nights on too many rooftops.
They said we'd burn so bright.
We burn this city and go.
Because all you can't deny
is all held inside
And when we go, we say goodbye,
and then we run,
We run away
It's better than silence
Give me one good reason
To leave this in silence
No you don't have a good reason
Because all we can't deny is just a lie.
And when we try to just get by
We just can't get past ourselves.
It's creeping up again.
(It's all to be considered.)
(It's a game and you're not the winner)
It's a haunting memory
Because where you are is where you'll be:
always wanting everything.
It's all the same that you can't ignore
Cause all you want is just "to be more"
And I'll hold on to the dream
of this beggar's plea and optimistic fantasy
Just hold the hand and drop the knee
You're facing love
You're embracing melody
Play it again, (our games of love and lust.)
There's no such thing (no there's never too much).
And we were so, so sure, oh we never had a doubt.
Now we're counting days to getting out.
Because all we can't deny is just a lie.
And when we try to just get by
We just can't get past ourselves.
We were elemental, took down to bear essentials.
Who knew we'd get so far?
We hold this truth self evident,
The lies we used to represent
Who we are, because it was never meant to be.
And all the songs we used to sing, they used to tell us everything.
Now were left with all were left is memories.
Because who you are is who you'll be,
and that is really everything.
It's all the same that you can relate.
Because what you want's not what you're getting.
It's just a matter of time, It's just a matter of time.
It's just a matter of time, It's just a matter of time-
Until you know you'll be somebody tonight
Simple words we never knew,
The power behind what they put us through,
Now it's all begun
What it takes to make it real.
We're standing on the edge of this,
When our soul is gone what will we miss?
We lost what it takes to really really feel.
But the better days behind us now,
We all need someone to tell us how
To save the state of where we are,
Its keeps demanding more and more and more.
And who will save us?
This can't go on, without the meaning in the rhyming.
Can you save, can you save us?
Oh I can't go on out of rhythm without time.
Say the words, give it all the time you need.
Let it out, oh, just say anything.
Say the words and make them count,
Say the words without a doubt.
Give us truth and nothing more,
Leave us wanting more and more
Because where you are is where you'll be:
always wanting everything.
It's all the same- that you cant ignore
Cause all you want is just "to be more".
Oh I have the hardest time resisting you
and oh if you
If you feel the same way then how can we be friends?
He's right you know
We can't go on like this
and oh I try to give you everything
and if I fail well then I failed
but at least I gave you something.
|
|
| Philosophy Essay 3 |
[14 Feb 2006|01:43pm] |
"Marge and Ethics"
In today's society, ethics and compassion often take a backseat to our daily lives, jobs and material worries. People deal more with the what, when, why, where and how of money more so than the what, when, why, where and how of other's daily troubles. Besides those who are paid to listen, such as shrinks, psychatrists etc., those who take an interest in the troubles of others are pegged as weak and concerned with the wrong things, even as they are respected and sought in times of need. In the Simpson's episode, "In Marge We Trust," Marge voluntarily takes on the responsiblity delegated to her by the reverand and offers advice to the citizens of Springfield. Her actions, while compassionate, raise the question of her ethics. Is Marge ethical or simply compassionate? Is compassionate a component of ethics or not even close?
Aristotle, like many of his peers at the time, saw ethics as crucial to a well-balanced life. A set of virtues -justice, courage and temperance for instance- were necessary for one to live as an ethical person. A balance of all virtues in practice and habit defined an ethical life. Through the Simpson's episodes, one see Marge continually act as a calm force, rational and supportive, despite her difficult husband and son. She does these things as habit and personal decision, out of practice, versus doing them because she has been told to or because she has been told they are the proper actions. Thus, her actions adhere to a schedule of practice and habit in her daily life. However, can one view her compassion as ethical? If one were to weigh it on the scale determining virtues, compassion falls in the middle of cruel insensitivity and sniveling groveling. She uses her compassion out of habit, she uses it at the right
times for the right reasons. If one were to observe the necessary requisites for a virtue in this manner, than compassion could be viewed as a virtue. Using an Aristotelian scale of ethics, the virtues he deems necessary for an ethical life, Marge has and carries out actions with these virtues as well. Therefore, her dominant trait, compassion, could be deemed as a virtue when viewed from the standpoint of being between two vices and practiced for the proper reasons. When compiled with her practice of other necessary virtues, one could determine that Marge lives an ethical life.
|
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| Philosophy Essay 2 |
[14 Feb 2006|01:39pm] |
"Does As Bart Does"
In the Simpson’s episode, “Bart’s Inner Child,” Springfield is on the brink of destruction when everyone, on the urging of a pop psychologist, begins liberating their inner child, thus all acting as Bart. Gradually, everyone is lead to see the foolishness of their ways and Bart is able to go back to his hellish ways, but for the purposes of this paper, a discussion of the impracticality of Bart’s actions on a Aristotelian scale of virtue.
While Bart is a comedic character, his purpose being to deliver to witty quips, and to insulate the audience against Lisa’s ingratiating perfection, if one were to evaluate Bart in comparison to Aristotle’s view of virtue, Bart would be in deep crap on the virtuous side. To define virtue, it is to do the virtuous thing at the right time for the right reasons. A truly virtuous person knows the proper response to any situation, and their actions are virtuous out of natural
character and lifestyle/habit versus doing something for selfish games. For a character trait to be a virtue, it must be in the exact middle of a spectrum, without sliding to either excess. Thus, in Bart’s sake, none of the particulars apply. To do the right thing at the right time without consciously thinking that it’s the right thing? Bart’s better at automatically processing the wrong thing to do. While Bart is not an evil person, and his actions are done out of mischief and not ill will, he would still be disqualified from the chastity and virtue pageant. Mischief couldn’t be argued as a virtue. Other factors that exempt Bart would be his lack of age and wisdom, and the fact he lacks moral or intellectual excellence; thus, he would be unable to reach the plateau situated by those of moral excellence, and those of a virtuous nature.
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| Philosophy Essay 1 |
[30 Jan 2006|09:55pm] |
"I Will Be Authentic To My True Self"
In the Simpson's episode, "Homer the Heretic," mayhem ensues when Homer decides to boycott church, in a very Emily-Dickinson like move. Through a conflagration involving nuddy magazines and cigars, Homer is lead to see the errors of his ways, and even has a meaningful heart to heart chat with God himself. However, the philosophical minded may wonder how Homer's experiment would gel with his authenticity, if you hold it to a Kierkegaardian ideal of being one's true self.
As many of the Existentialist thinkers, Kierkegaard had some focus upon truth and authenticity, what keeps one from authenticity and what the absolute necessities for truth are. Kierkegaard saw religion and Christianity as crucial to one's authenticity, a direct opposite of his fellow Existentialist, Fredrich Nietzsche. While Nietzsche is famous for "God is dead," Kierkegaard saw Christianity as the one redeeming factor a paltry human had going for themselves; the denial of God and his power, the denial of God as your savior was a direct renunciation of your true self. Only by admitting your inherent flaws and your dependency upon God could one strive toward the whole purpose of life, the act of casting aside the actions that keep us from being who we really are. While Kierkegaard had a stringent set of ideals he saw as the perfect Christian, thus making it impossible for any to be his vision of a true self through religion, it still stands that through the Kierkegaardian objective, religion is pivotal to the development of our authentic selves. If one were to re-model "Homer the Heretic" on this framework, the opening credits would show Bart writing "I will be true to my authentic self" on the chalkboard. Thus, while Homer's escapades provide amusement- and Bart's quips as well; "Lisa, this is neither the time nor the place." - using an existentialist viewpoint, Kierkegaard's specifically, one must view Homer's actions as inauthentic and untrue to his genuine self, a great travesty in the philosophical train of thought.
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| Goodbye [Revised Edition] |
[28 Jan 2006|03:06am] |
It’s time to say goodbye. I know it, everyone knows
it. Even the sky, which remains a relentless sunny cerulean blue
despite my numerous resentful squints upwards, knows it. I can’t help
giving all who pass acrimonious glares, wondering at their audacity to
smile and be happy when I was on my way to say goodbye to the first
love of my life. After resisting the urge to hurl a random man’s
doughnut into traffic, I took a shaky breath and paused to calm myself
and the thoughts in my head that were racing like a hamster on speed,
racing on his little hamster wheel. Unfortunately, the reprieve only
brought me pain as my mind all too easily slipped to the previous.
When had things started to change? I nearly drowned
myself in tears and bittersweet nostalgia last night, when I had been
unable to stop myself from dusting off some of the early memories,
hadn’t been able to help myself from recalling things back when they
were easy; when all that mattered was that we cared for each other. It
didn’t matter that I was fresh out of college, and that he was just
recently embroiled in grad school. It didn’t matter that our love for
each other was more serious than either of us expected; it was before
love took us both by surprise, before both of us panicked. It was all
so perfect and clean before those common thieves, disillusionment and
reality came and smudged it all up, forcing me to realize the truth.
Everything felt so new, like it was created just for us. Of course no
one had ever loved another man the way I loved him. We were madly in
love; we couldn’t get enough of each other, and he didn’t hesitate to
let me know. At first, it was me who was reluctant to let him know just
how much I cared, it was me that wouldn’t let him look me deeply in the
eye; I was afraid that he couldn’t possibly feel the way I did, and
that if he looked too close, he would see how I felt and bolt. I would
be left alone with all these new feelings. I can still remember the
euphoria I felt when he told me he loved me; I didn’t stop smiling for
days. If I could have only stored all the love and affection he had
lavished on me then and some how stored it in a savings account for the
end when his extra attention ran a bit deficient. I was crazy about
him, there’s no denying. Hell, I was still crazy about him. But love
takes two, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
Gasping a suddenly ragged breath, I pulled myself
off the light pole I was leaning against for dear life, and pushed my
feet forward in the direction of his apartment. I could think of so
many times that I had walked this familiar path- never quite with this
intent though, that’s for damn sure. A ghost of a smile slid over my
face as I remembered the time I had come to bring him back from the
jaws of death in the form of the flu. I had made him soup and done the
whole cold juice and fluffed pillows bit. It seemed so long ago. A
rogue tear made its way down my cheek, and I hurriedly wiped it away.
No tears now, I sternly told myself, to no avail. They fell, despite my
futile attempts to halt their flow.
The smell of tears reminded me of another time
between us. Looking back now, I suppose his actions then could would
tell me a lot about what was sliding about in his brain now; hindsight
really is 20/20. He and I had been fighting a lot. Against his consent,
he had been sent to a hospital five hours away for his internship in
med school; I of course saw this a calamity and threat to our
relationship. What’s that quote? “Wind is to fire like distance is to
love; it extinguishes the small and enflames the great.” Had I not been
so selfish, I might have seen what I was doing to our relationship, but
at the time, I thought nothing of how I was so cruelly hounding him
about something he couldn’t control. One weekend, he came down to see
me at my demand. We had been spending the day together, doing all kinds
of stereotypical couple things, but I noticed a trace of detachment in
his sentiments towards me. I went ballistic, screaming and sobbing that
he no longer loved me. After months of my abuse, this was the final
straw and he finally lost it. My tears halted in shock as he began to
yell back at me about how he couldn’t take this anyone, my constant
guilt trips when he was trying as hard as he could. My silence
continued, even when he stopped and took a deep breath. The whole time
he had been screaming at me, his eyes had been focused upon a point- a
picture or crack in the wall, maybe- to the right of my shoulder, but
as he took another deep breath, his eyes met mine, serious as I had
ever seen them.
“Babes, I love you...but I don’t want to do this
anymore. I’m sorry, I just...” Here his voice trailed off, and he shook
his head in the way a little kid does when you tell them to eat their
vegetables. I blinked rapidly before bending to sit upon our couch,
missing it completely in my astonishment.
“Oh.” It was all I could say. I felt all my
illusions draining into my eyes, threatening to spill out. I took a
shaky breath and canted my face from his gaze, absently picking at a
loose thread in the weave of the upholstery before I rose saline bathed
irises to peer up at him. “You don’t want to love me anymore?” I felt
like a little girl, but for some reason his words hadn’t yet pierced
the wall of my stubborn disbelief. He let out a long sigh before he
looked up from the floor where his irises had focused to meet my avid
stare. His expression was sad, tinged by something I’ve told myself was
indecision and regret. It wasn’t. It was relief.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? What happened?”
An exasperated huff of frustration.
“I don’t know. It’s not like I planned this.
Sometimes people just fall out of love.” At this, I flung myself out of
my self-induced fortress by the couch and rose to face him. My pride
stung me, causing me to swipe away my tears and slap him across the
face; I left a wet smear across his face, a modern day trail of tears
across the ridge of his cheekbone. With the simple act of my hand
meeting his face, I could almost feel the destruction of whatever bond
of love and trust we had shared manifested by the loud crack of my
fingers on his skin. His eyes never left mine, and I watched as they
closed up as neatly as someone shutting a window.
“I don’t want cliches.” My pride personified itself
in a husky timbre, my voice alien to myself. He nodded, his emotions
all tightly under control now and made his way to the door. He turned
just before he left, his eyelashes brushing his cheek, before he looked
at me once more, tragic my pose as I stood there, my hand still half
raised in the air, my skin soggy with my wounded pride. He sighed once
more, his mouth dropping slightly, guilt clear in his eyes.
“We’ll talk when I get back.” His tone was soft, the
click of the door the only thing registering in my brain that he was
gone. As tragic as the breakup was, it was nothing compared to my
behavior when he came back.
As he said, we did talk when he came back. A few
months had passed- I had worked out my master plan by then, and it
waited for him like the steel jaws of a trap, waiting for him as I
waited, dressed in my most seductive attire that I knew would catch him
off guard. I had asked him to come back for this talk he intended to
have, and I was more than prepared, manipulations pat in my mind like a
child with their multiplication table. I can see now how cruel and
heartless I was, and I can see every mistake I made; at the time, the
only thing in my mind was the rabid wish to have him back again. He
walked in the door, his demeanor cautious as he approached me for a
stiff kiss on the cheek. I invited him to sit, invitation and apologies
planted in my eyes. I ruined each formal attempt he made to address our
breakup with a careful memory that would make him recall us at happier
times. I waited until I had his guard down and his mission forgotten,
waited until I could see in his eyes that customary indecision people
experience when they decide to break up with someone. That was my cue
to cross over to him and seal his doom. I had planned out my every
action, because I knew him well enough to know his reactions; I crossed
the room and leaned over him, angling in for another kiss, a more
intimate one, lips meeting his in the way I knew he liked it. He kissed
me back, surprise lingering in the flavor his lips left upon mine when
I pulled away and lead him to what had once been our bedroom. The next
morning, I lay watching him sleep and I pondered over what had lead him
to allow the night. Finally I concluded that it was love that made him
stay that night and for the next months. He really did love me...that
was why I was able to get him to stay.
It wasn’t. It was really guilt.
Trying to wipe the tears off my soggy face, I made
my way up the stairs, disgusted at the way my body began to immediately
clamor for his arms around me, my ears already perked for his familiar,
if not somewhat insincere by now, greeting. Sucking down a sob like it
was my salvation, I raised a shaking hand and knocked on the door; I
even remembered to add two quick short knocks at the end. It had always
been our system; he wouldn’t always answer the door if he didn’t feel
like getting up, so I developed my own special knock to guarantee an
answer. It hadn’t always worked here recently...sometimes he
disregarded my knocks under the pretense of being asleep.
Shaking off this tiny seed of negativity that infiltrated my
thoughts, my musings were immediately halted by a gift in the form of
my knocks being answered, the sight of him opening the door and not
pretending to be asleep. My breath slipped out of my body as seamlessly
as if that was the way it was supposed to be, as though my body was
meant to be empty of oxygen, and I felt my heart cascade into my feet
at the sight of that smile. I hated how he could do this to me, render
me completely defenseless, steal all of my control and independence for
his own with just one small curving of the lips.
“Hey gorgeous.”
Damn him for being able to always make it seem like
he means it. I’ve heard it a million times before, but it, along with
his, “I love you.” and “Hey babes, don’t worry about it.” had faded
into triteness, catalogued under “Insincere” neatly in my brain. At
least, that’s where they were supposed to be. That’s where they would
stay until my eyes took in that face, those devastating eyelashes,
those dimples, that mouth which now uttered more lies that fooled me
every time. His irises, which used to be so open and revealing to his
feelings, were now shuttered and tracing my face in the usual method,
only now with bored indifference hiding behind forced affection. I ran
the next line of the script in my head, his voice already echoing in
the confines of my skull before his mouth actually uttered them.
“It’s great to see you babes.” His arms mechanically
loosened from his side to fold me into a warm hug that had lost its
warmth and affection; I let him pull me against his chest, closing my
eyes and wishing that this wasn’t a play, that he wasn’t rehearsing
lines in his head. I could feel the little cogs in my tear ducts
gearing up to crank out some more tears, but I hastily halted the
production and pulled out of the loose embrace, painting a plastic
Barbie smile on my wan features before I rested my hand on his jaw to
give him a kiss. He pulled away, only allowing the most perfunctory
contact of his cool lips on mine, his eyes distant. “I’m kinda tired,
sorry. We can make love next time.” I shrugged woodenly, eyeing the
various textures in the rough woven carpet. He always said that; “We
can make love next time.” After that last time in the foyer three
months ago, “next time” had never come. I knew now that it never would.
He patted my shoulder half-heartedly, one hand on his hip, as he looked
anywhere but me. I felt a lump forming in my throat, like someone had
opened my jaws and jammed a tennis ball in my throat, and no matter how
hard I tried, I couldn’t swallow it down. Waves of saline began to wash
over my eyeballs, threatening to leak out of my eyes. I tore my eyes
away from his profile, looking for something, anything to occupy my
irises with in the vain hope that the tears would possibly be siphoned
back into my eye socket. They came to rest upon the beta fish I had
bought him months ago. We had decided that adopting a dog was the next
step for us. The dog would have been like our child...if we had been
able to agree on what kind of dog to buy. We had argued and argued and
argued, back and forth, with no end in sight. I wanted a tiny little
toy dog, like a chihuahua or a terrier or something like that. He
wanted a big, hyper masculine dog that he could name Spike, or Butch
and throw frisbees for in the park. After weeks of unresolved conflict,
I bought him a beta fish and named it Spike. We had had a good laugh at
our silly little fight, and lavished Spike with attention. I remember
that I had savored the brief sample of domestic life, excitedly saw it
as a forecast of married life. The memory made me sick now.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I kind of have somewhere to be
babe, so you should probably go.” His voice ripped me out of my
thoughts, and I pulled my eyes from the beta fish to view him standing
there, irreparably handsome and untouchable as he glanced at his watch.
I felt a sob making its sly way up my throat as a wave of unfairness
washed through my brain. It wasn’t fair that I loved him so much, and
that he no longer cared about me. My brain screamed the injustice as I
let the fans of my lashes fall briefly, hiding my pain from his all too
keen eyes; they soaked up the moisture of my denial and matted together
in thick clumps. I allowed him to gently steer me to his foyer, allowed
him a kiss on the soft flesh of my cheek. I turned and lasered him with
a glance before I stepped out into the cruel sunlight. I studied his
face, permitting the connotations that attached themselves to each
feature. My brain raced through the days of our courtship, like
sunlight through celluloid movie frames, with the smell of his shaving
cream and the sweet scent of the sheets we shared perpetuating through
it all. He looked a trifle disconcerted at my careful study of him, but
he said nothing as I memorized each detail of him so that I wouldn’t
forget. Finally, I received another dry, impersonal kiss, and managed
to wave cheerily at his retreating form. He didn’t turn back to watch
me walk away; he didn’t know that this was goodbye. He was free of his
guilt. Maybe one day I will be free of mine. .
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| Hm, interesting |
[23 Jan 2006|05:12pm] |
| You Are a Dreaming Soul | 
Your vivid emotions and imagination takes you away from this world
So much so that you tend to live in your head most of the time
You have great dreams and ambitions that could be the envy of all...
But for you, following through with your dreams is a bit difficult
You are charming, endearing, and people tend to love you.
Forgiving and tolerant, you see the world through rose colored glasses.
Underneath it all, you have a ton of passion that you hide from others.
Always hopeful, you tend to expect positive outcomes in your life.
Souls you are most compatible with: Newborn Soul, Prophet Soul, and Traveler Soul |
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[09 Jan 2006|05:15am] |
"Everything We Were Has Become What We Are"
Is this what you want
No words at all
Silent but sure of the things that you lost
Take all your words
To cover your lies
Secrets won't coat all your tears and your cries
One reason (Reason)
(For past mistakes)
Won't save us now (Now)
I'm lost for words
To deep in this
For you to see
We've come so far
So far for me
I'm gone with every line you said
So here's to your heart
Here's to your name
Here's to the stone that you broke once again
You've crossed every line
Worn out your stay
This is the last chapter of our fading days
One reason (Reason)
(For past mistakes)
Won't save us now (Now)
I'm lost for words
To deep in this
For you to see
We've come so far
So far for me
I'm gone with every line you said
And every road you take (You take...)
I'll miss our yesterday (...terday...)
And everything we know (We know...)
Is gone
I'm lost for words
To deep in this
For you to see
We've come so far
So far for me
I'm gone with every line you said
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[31 Dec 2005|12:48am] |
She said "Don't leave this up to me to say that I don't love you anyway"
Just leave it up to me to say goodbye
Because these good times will never last
Keep a handle on the wheel and a foot on the gas
We thought it would last forever
I wish you'd just remember
No
Will anything change your mind?
(She said)
A one way ticket was a pretty good sign
(And I said)
Well how can you leave it all?
(And she said)
There ain't much to leave behind
Just say goodbye
So say goodbye
Say goodbye
So say goodbye
Just say goodbye
So say goodbye
Say goodbye
Next time I'll take it slow
And as for you, I'll never know
At least next time I'll try to understand
So please don't leave this up to me to say that you don't love me anyway
I'll just leave it up to you to say goodbye
Because these good times will never last
Keep a handle on the wheel and a foot on the gas
We thought it would last forever
In case you don't remember
No
Will anything change your mind?
(She said)
A one way ticket was a pretty good sign
(And I said)
Well how can you leave it all?
(And she said)
There ain't much to leave behind
Just say goodbye
So say goodbye
Say goodbye
So say goodbye
Just say goodbye
So say goodbye
Say goodbye
Just say goodbye
Just say goodbye
Just say goodbye
Well, these good times will never last
Keep a handle on the wheel and your foot on the gas
We thought it would last forever...
In case you can't remember
No
Will anything change your mind?
(She said)
A one way ticket was a pretty good sign
(And I said)
No
(And she said)
No
(And I said)
No
(And she said)
No
Just say goodbye
So say goodbye
Say goodbye
So say goodbye
Just say goodbye
So say goodbye
Say goodbye
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[25 Dec 2005|10:41pm] |
| Guys Like That You're Charming | 
You're the girl most guys can't get out of their heads
Even if they met you on a bad hair day :-)
You just seem to "click" with everyone you meet
So even if a guy forgets about you for a second... his friends haven't! |
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[14 Dec 2005|10:56am] |
Outline of a storyboard with no idea
Head first in the shallow end
and I apologize if I do not care
Busy hands keep swimming
They don't like swallowing to the abstract motor
"Gotta make that motor hum, gotta make it run."
Forward seems like forever when "ever" is hand over hand over hand
The busy hands keep swimming
Gotta make that motor "hum"
Get it over and done
So much for the autographs
So much for apologies
So much for the promises I never intended to keep
How does it all add up?
How does the story end?
I can't let go
I can't pretend
Very I'm so friendly
Very I'm so halloween
So this is what I wanted
Gotta keep those channels clean and other sobering themes
I'm drowning by numbers
my halo is bent
it's a fat fucking lie
and so the abstract motor gives in
it says "At least I tried."
At least I tried.
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[14 Dec 2005|10:48am] |
You'll be the first flight out of Dallas
You leave but never get away
From the color you swear that your life takes in this town
Because scenery is just a shade
You live in regret
It hurts to know how much you'll miss...
I want to make it feel alright
Hold you through the dark tonight
So what if now is all you have?
Live as if you never knew
What it was to lose
Honestly have you ever been honest with yourself?
Or are you someone elses point of view?
You live in regret
It hurts to know how much you'll miss
It's what you expect
That leaves you such a mess
One day you'll learn
No place will make you happier....
Are you someone elses point of view?
Are you someone elses point of view?
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| Grey Matter |
[13 Dec 2005|06:10pm] |
Love is the bread heel. Don’t listen to what anyone
else tells you; listen to me. Love is not like silky blood red roses,
it’s not heaven on earth. Love is a bread heel. Or the kinda nasty spot
under your bed. Or the skin on jello. The harsh sticky crack your foot
makes when you step in congealed coke on the floor. You know, those
little annoying things that drive you insane, although they aren’t
really enough to bitch about.
People are too intent on liquefying love to black
and white. Love is either great, all sunshine and roses and that
bullshit, or it’s black; you know, “Leave me in my bed of pain.” and
“God hates me.” and stupid shit like that. So let’s talk about the grey
parts of love. The little things that get glossed over in the bigger
picture.
I loved her more than she’ll ever know. I’m sure to
this day, she still neatly classifies me in that little group that
necessitates the careful avoidance of my name, all songs, smells and
foods that bring up the hazy ghost of my memory, the group that reeks
of memories like your pillow used to reek of tears then. You know what
group I mean. Everyone knows. The group that gets the same treatment of
a bruise on your heel; you don’t mention it much, you just kinda alter
your step so that it doesn’t hurt and then you don’t have to think
about it much. Give it its own Jeopardy category, and you’d have “I’ll
take Pain and Issues + Avoidance for 400, Alex.” But I digress. That’s
the black side of love, after all. I don’t even remember the white
side; what does it feel like to be so happy and careless? God knows I
still love her. But I’ve been without her so long I can only tell you
about the dull hopeless aching you get with the perpetual hope that
things could be different.
Sure love has its big hugely great things and its
big hugely horrible things. But why does no one mention the little
things that I guess you get over or leave behind? Like the way love
takes all of your independence. The way you forgot how to sleep by
yourself, even though the reprieve from their snoring helps. The way
decisions automatically go from being all about you to somehow
involving the other person. How you have about ten minutes in the day
that you might think of something besides them. That lovely process of
your brain, where it attaches significance to every single place you
may go, “Oh look, that’s the window I was looking out of when they
asked what time it was! We weren’t dating then, but I knew things were
going to be something different.” [insert giddy smile here] You can
sure as hell bet that those places are going to hurt if things go sour;
“Oh God, it’s that window that I was looking out when they asked me
what time it was; I wish I had known then they were going to break my
heart.” [insert the blinking away of tears here] Or how about the way
your brain tricks itself in so many ways; did you know that when you’re
in love, your body releases so much dopamine, you can become addicted
to your partner like a drug? And because sex releases oxytocin, you get
an exaggerated feeling of closeness? Let’s not forget the way you find
yourself constantly overanalyzing their every saying and action.
Welcome to the gray area ladies and gents. Nobody ever mentions these
things until they’re either looking back bitterly, or in one of the
black stages. Happy lovers like to gloss over it all. The little
sacrifices get swept under the rug until things end, and then suddenly
we all knew it all along. We never really liked them anyway. You know
the drill. Don’t kid yourself in the future. No matter how things are
at the present, they always change. We start out with loaves and end up
with heels.
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