Saturday, 28 November 2009
For You, Dear Reader
Together we will swim in the depths of each other's thoughts as two people, but arise to the surface as one.
It Just Doesn't Feel Like Christmas Anymore
This coming Tuesday, it will be the 1st of December, the countdown to the big day. There's something about this year unlike any other year...It doesn't feel like Christmas. I feel as if I've grown up in a flash and I'm not getting swept up in the hype of Christmas. It seems that when you hit your teens, toys don't seem to satisfy you anymore. You want bigger things, less afordable things. MP3 Player's, laptops, game consoles and the list goes on. But I don't really need or want these things. Unlike any other teenager I know, I want poetry books and an SD 4mb camcorder card and so on...
Another thing that's getting me really peeved off is how towns and cities have already turned on their Christmas tree lights! It was bloomin' November! It's just ridiculous! In late October, supermarkets had all their Christmas stock in stores, television is all filled with toy adverts and shopping centers saying, "Come buy all your Christmas presents here!" It's getting very frustrating.
Christmas just seems an excuse to waste money, go clubbing, get drunk and put on weight. And then supermarkets get their Easter stock in and I just walk on and sigh.
Another thing that's getting me really peeved off is how towns and cities have already turned on their Christmas tree lights! It was bloomin' November! It's just ridiculous! In late October, supermarkets had all their Christmas stock in stores, television is all filled with toy adverts and shopping centers saying, "Come buy all your Christmas presents here!" It's getting very frustrating.
Christmas just seems an excuse to waste money, go clubbing, get drunk and put on weight. And then supermarkets get their Easter stock in and I just walk on and sigh.
Thursday, 26 November 2009
50 Book Challenge Fail
Quite some time ago, I mentioned that I was going to try and complete the 50 Book Challenge, and boy did I fail. There are a number of reasons for this, one being that I haven't got my own money to buy a lot of books. If I go to the library and get some, I have to finish them in a period of about two weeks or so. That doesn't really fit in with my schedule so therefore it's useless. But I think once December passes, I'm going to re-start the challenge and try get some reading done.
I year's not up yet since I began, but there's no way I could catch up now, I'm way too far behind. Though I'm determined to complete it in 2010.
CURRENTLY READING:
"Northern Lights" by Phillip Pullman
and
"Studying Poetry" though I can't remember the author.
I year's not up yet since I began, but there's no way I could catch up now, I'm way too far behind. Though I'm determined to complete it in 2010.
CURRENTLY READING:
"Northern Lights" by Phillip Pullman
and
"Studying Poetry" though I can't remember the author.
An Excerpt of Yet Another Short Story
Disturbing? Maybe. Make of it what you will.
The impact of the water stung like a whip on my cold flesh. I was completely submerged in the murky lake, and already I could faintly hear the screams of passers-by who had witnessed what I’d done. I did not try to swim to the surface…I did not want to. My body froze and the iciness of the water made my joints stiff and painful to move. I could feel myself descending to the bed of the lake, ever so slowly. My lungs tightened, my ears popped and my head was throbbing. I could feel myself drifting away from this life, until…
My eyes burst open. A man in his early thirties was hunched over me as I lay coughing up the fowl water on the ground. He was dripping wet, yelling muffled words at me. I struggled to breathe and my vision turned on and off like a light bulb. From what I could see during the strange intervals, a crowd of people swarmed around me, all chattering to each other about the incident. Two or three men pushed them back, obviously trying to give me some space. I felt like I’d been punched in the chest consecutively for a life time. Later, the doctors told me that was because the high pressure of the water pushing down on me while I was drowning.
I stayed in hospital for three days until I recovered. My mother cried for hours every time she looked at me in the hospital bed. I hated to hear her cry, the one person who dried my tears and put on a brave face every morning, was crying. She cried, because this was my third attempt to commit suicide in two months…
TO BE CONTINUED...
The impact of the water stung like a whip on my cold flesh. I was completely submerged in the murky lake, and already I could faintly hear the screams of passers-by who had witnessed what I’d done. I did not try to swim to the surface…I did not want to. My body froze and the iciness of the water made my joints stiff and painful to move. I could feel myself descending to the bed of the lake, ever so slowly. My lungs tightened, my ears popped and my head was throbbing. I could feel myself drifting away from this life, until…
My eyes burst open. A man in his early thirties was hunched over me as I lay coughing up the fowl water on the ground. He was dripping wet, yelling muffled words at me. I struggled to breathe and my vision turned on and off like a light bulb. From what I could see during the strange intervals, a crowd of people swarmed around me, all chattering to each other about the incident. Two or three men pushed them back, obviously trying to give me some space. I felt like I’d been punched in the chest consecutively for a life time. Later, the doctors told me that was because the high pressure of the water pushing down on me while I was drowning.
I stayed in hospital for three days until I recovered. My mother cried for hours every time she looked at me in the hospital bed. I hated to hear her cry, the one person who dried my tears and put on a brave face every morning, was crying. She cried, because this was my third attempt to commit suicide in two months…
TO BE CONTINUED...
Sunday, 22 November 2009
An Unfinished Work of Fiction
The messenger stormed through the corridors, his dark cloak gliding behind him. The sound of his footsteps echoed off the stone walls. After walking for what seemed like an eternity through the narrow tunnels of Salfalk Castle, he finally stopped at a door. It was robust and was made of mahogany. There was a door knocker in the form of an angry gargoyle, it’s mouth wide open, fangs glaring at the messenger. He took hold of it and gave three hard knocks.
There was no reply for several seconds until an elderly voice beckoned the visitor inside. The messenger opened the heavy door, closed it once inside, and approached an old man seated at a desk.
His face was weak and pale, broken up it seemed, by define wrinkles. He slouched in his large chair and his hands were clasped on top of numerous papers. The only thing that made him look young, were his eyes. They were lively amber in colour, glistening in the glow of the fire. You couldn’t help but see kindness within them, as they were so warm and friendly. He too was dressed in a cloak, but a red one, only given to the Diatecs, the wisest in all of Salfalk Castle. Messengers and other low classed inhabitants wore black ones.
“Excuse me Master Vankar, sir.”
“What is it?”
“Master Brulle would like you to join him for lunch this afternoon.”
“Would he now?” Master Vankar smiled.
“Tell him that’s fine. I shall meet him in the lounge at noon.” he continued.He glanced up at the clock; eleven-fifteen.
The messenger bowed, turned, and left the study. Master Vankar stood up and went over to a wooden cabinet with glass panels. Inside on several shelves sat glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He carefully poured some into a glass and stood staring at the flames of the fire dance. All around him were bookshelves built into the walls. The books themselves were old, probably as old as the castle. They were a mixture of dull greens, browns and blacks, and Master Vankar had read them all, some more than once.
His job was to educate the young students who enrolled to Salfalk Castle, where they would learn many things including Maths, English, Science, Latin and the art of Magic. So, naturally he studied day and night, filling up his head with everything he could find. Never drawing the line of how much knowledge he could obtain. He was not the only one who taught the students, all the Diatecs did. But Master Vankar was highly respected by everyone in the castle for his wisdom and kindness. Master Brulle was the founder of Salfalk Castle, and was very old indeed. In fact, many reckoned that he should be dead by now, but the power of the magic which he'd obtained over the years gave him the strength to live another day.
Master Vankar was good friends with Brulle, and had been since they were both students. They grew up together and encountered many things in their day. Sometimes they would gather and talk about old times, laughing all the while. But not all the stories were joyful…
Occasionally Vankar took over for Master Brulle when he was feeling ill, and if anything went wrong during the times he did take over, it would be up to him to clean up the mess.
There was no reply for several seconds until an elderly voice beckoned the visitor inside. The messenger opened the heavy door, closed it once inside, and approached an old man seated at a desk.
His face was weak and pale, broken up it seemed, by define wrinkles. He slouched in his large chair and his hands were clasped on top of numerous papers. The only thing that made him look young, were his eyes. They were lively amber in colour, glistening in the glow of the fire. You couldn’t help but see kindness within them, as they were so warm and friendly. He too was dressed in a cloak, but a red one, only given to the Diatecs, the wisest in all of Salfalk Castle. Messengers and other low classed inhabitants wore black ones.
“Excuse me Master Vankar, sir.”
“What is it?”
“Master Brulle would like you to join him for lunch this afternoon.”
“Would he now?” Master Vankar smiled.
“Tell him that’s fine. I shall meet him in the lounge at noon.” he continued.He glanced up at the clock; eleven-fifteen.
The messenger bowed, turned, and left the study. Master Vankar stood up and went over to a wooden cabinet with glass panels. Inside on several shelves sat glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He carefully poured some into a glass and stood staring at the flames of the fire dance. All around him were bookshelves built into the walls. The books themselves were old, probably as old as the castle. They were a mixture of dull greens, browns and blacks, and Master Vankar had read them all, some more than once.
His job was to educate the young students who enrolled to Salfalk Castle, where they would learn many things including Maths, English, Science, Latin and the art of Magic. So, naturally he studied day and night, filling up his head with everything he could find. Never drawing the line of how much knowledge he could obtain. He was not the only one who taught the students, all the Diatecs did. But Master Vankar was highly respected by everyone in the castle for his wisdom and kindness. Master Brulle was the founder of Salfalk Castle, and was very old indeed. In fact, many reckoned that he should be dead by now, but the power of the magic which he'd obtained over the years gave him the strength to live another day.
Master Vankar was good friends with Brulle, and had been since they were both students. They grew up together and encountered many things in their day. Sometimes they would gather and talk about old times, laughing all the while. But not all the stories were joyful…
Occasionally Vankar took over for Master Brulle when he was feeling ill, and if anything went wrong during the times he did take over, it would be up to him to clean up the mess.
If you could meet any person; Who Would it Be?
You've already seen the title, my friend, so give me an answer. ;-)
Friday, 20 November 2009
Time to Read- "Northern Lights"
Over these past few weeks I've found it harder and harder to fit in some time to sit down with a book, and read. I've had so many things to do. Homework, family, friends and time to myself. You're probably thinking, "Why don't you just read when you're having "time to yourself". " Good point. I usually spend this "time to myself" sitting on my computer watching YT videos and just couldn't be bothered reading a book as entertainment.
I have so many books that I want to read but never have the time or make the effort to do so. One book that I'm trying to read and am throughly enjoying is, "Northern Lights" by Phillip Pullman. It's a 397 page book that is the first of a three book series called, "His Dark Materials". The other two books I believe are called, "The Subtle Knife" and "The Amber Spyglass". In "Northern Lights" an instrument is featured which plays a major part in the plot. It's called the alethiometer. In the book, alethio means truth, and meter means measure, so it's the truth measure. If you've ever seen the motion picture, "The Golden Compass", you'll know what this instrument looks like. If not, then you should look it up on Google images, it's quite a cool looking gadget. It resembles a compass or a pocket watch, and it has three dials with many, many ivory carved pictures around the rim inside the compass face. Each picture means different things, and in turn those things mean different things. For example, there is one picture with an hour glass and a skull above it. This means time and death.
The idea is that, in your mind you think of a question that you want to know the answer to. You then pick three symbols/pictures that relate to what you want to know, then think about your question and the dials move to different symbols in order to give you an answer. By looking at the symbols, you have to interpret their meaning to get the answer. Of course, it's not real or anything, but you can buy one of these things. I've seen numerous videos on You Tube of people showing off their cool alethiometer. Anyways, I just thought it was an interesting concept. Reading Pullman's book here has been amazing. His plotting is extraordinary! Just when you think you know the plot like the back of your hand...BANG! There's twist in the tale and the tension reaches a new peak. I'd definately recommened this book, even to those who are older than teenagers. It's a book not to miss!
Anyways, it seems I strayed from the subject matter there. I haven't had the time to read this fantastic novel. So far, I'm on page 147. It's been a fantastic roller coaster ride of a read. Thankfully though, I had about an hour and a half worth of time to get some reading done, and I did just that!
Another thing I'd like to mention regarding something featured in the book. I find it fascinating! The concept of "daemons" (pronounced "de-mons"). In the book, every human being has a daemon, which is basically their spirit or soul in the form of an animal. It is very close to it's human owner and daemons express the human's feeling via body language. If your sex is female, your daemon will be male, and if your sex is male, your daemon will be female. When you're a child your daemon is capable of shape-shifting into different animals, e.g from a moth to a cat etc. But when you reach adolescence, you daemon is not capable of changing shape anymore, it remains one animal. Some people's are crows, cats, lemurs, squirrels, butterflies etc. And if one daemon fights/hurt another daemon, the human owner will feel the pain too. Isn't that interesting.
Well, maybe not for you, but I guess you have to read the book to understand what I mean. I'm sorry if I went on a bit too much, but it's just a really good book. Very well plotted.
I have so many books that I want to read but never have the time or make the effort to do so. One book that I'm trying to read and am throughly enjoying is, "Northern Lights" by Phillip Pullman. It's a 397 page book that is the first of a three book series called, "His Dark Materials". The other two books I believe are called, "The Subtle Knife" and "The Amber Spyglass". In "Northern Lights" an instrument is featured which plays a major part in the plot. It's called the alethiometer. In the book, alethio means truth, and meter means measure, so it's the truth measure. If you've ever seen the motion picture, "The Golden Compass", you'll know what this instrument looks like. If not, then you should look it up on Google images, it's quite a cool looking gadget. It resembles a compass or a pocket watch, and it has three dials with many, many ivory carved pictures around the rim inside the compass face. Each picture means different things, and in turn those things mean different things. For example, there is one picture with an hour glass and a skull above it. This means time and death.
The idea is that, in your mind you think of a question that you want to know the answer to. You then pick three symbols/pictures that relate to what you want to know, then think about your question and the dials move to different symbols in order to give you an answer. By looking at the symbols, you have to interpret their meaning to get the answer. Of course, it's not real or anything, but you can buy one of these things. I've seen numerous videos on You Tube of people showing off their cool alethiometer. Anyways, I just thought it was an interesting concept. Reading Pullman's book here has been amazing. His plotting is extraordinary! Just when you think you know the plot like the back of your hand...BANG! There's twist in the tale and the tension reaches a new peak. I'd definately recommened this book, even to those who are older than teenagers. It's a book not to miss!
Anyways, it seems I strayed from the subject matter there. I haven't had the time to read this fantastic novel. So far, I'm on page 147. It's been a fantastic roller coaster ride of a read. Thankfully though, I had about an hour and a half worth of time to get some reading done, and I did just that!
Another thing I'd like to mention regarding something featured in the book. I find it fascinating! The concept of "daemons" (pronounced "de-mons"). In the book, every human being has a daemon, which is basically their spirit or soul in the form of an animal. It is very close to it's human owner and daemons express the human's feeling via body language. If your sex is female, your daemon will be male, and if your sex is male, your daemon will be female. When you're a child your daemon is capable of shape-shifting into different animals, e.g from a moth to a cat etc. But when you reach adolescence, you daemon is not capable of changing shape anymore, it remains one animal. Some people's are crows, cats, lemurs, squirrels, butterflies etc. And if one daemon fights/hurt another daemon, the human owner will feel the pain too. Isn't that interesting.
Well, maybe not for you, but I guess you have to read the book to understand what I mean. I'm sorry if I went on a bit too much, but it's just a really good book. Very well plotted.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
I Hate Mathematics
I said it. I hate the thing that you need, to get anywhere in this world. It seems that in almost every job on the planet, you'll need to know your maths. I for one, have never been good at maths. Never. I have absolutely no mental maths capacity in my brain. I can't really solve maths problems either, and the only thing that I'm good at in maths is alegbra and formulas. I can count money and I know my times tables etc. But overall I suck at this subject. Let's look at what could be the cause of this.
1. Genes
2. I'm just naturally not good
3. I don't bother trying hard to become good
4. I'm more creative than logical
Let me explain number one. My Mum was never any good at maths either. She didn't really get good marks in her maths exams, but she was far better at English, as am I. Now, I don't know if this has anything to do with genes or something that I've inherited, but it seems like a valid explanation to me. My Dad was pretty good at maths though, and I've inherited a lot of things from him, just not his ability in this particular subject.
Number two...Well I've often just thought, "That's it! I can't do this, I just naturally suck at maths and I always will!" And I'll tell you, I've said that alot! I think you can not have the ability to do something. Just like you can have the ability to naturally pick things up. I didn't grow to love English, I just always have. From the teachers comments over the years about my work, it seems I'm pretty good at it too. So, likewise, I can just as easily not be good at maths.
Number three, well this could indeed be the cause, but I think I've proved it to be wrong. Over the years I've tried so hard to do well, and I still am below the average and find it hard. A good mark to me, is when I've improved from my last mark. Two years ago, I got 40% in a maths exam, bad right? Then the following year I tried harder to do better and I got 67%. Bingo, improvement. I don't care how bad it may have seemed to other people, because at least I knew that I'd improved and made progress. My teacher was even happy for me. 67% was enough to get me into the top class though. I guess you could say that if you try hard at anyting in life, you'll get somewhere. It might be harder because you don't particualrly like the subject, but you can still suceed.
Number four is my best theory. The left side of the brain is more logical whereas the right side is more creative. It's obvious that my right side is stronger. Below are some pieces of information that were copied from the internet:
Left Brain
Logical
Sequential
Rational
Analytical
Objective
Looks at parts
Right side
Random
Intuitive
Holistic
Synthesizing
Subjective
Looks at wholes
How is the Right Brain / Left Brain Concept Relevant to Artists?
"When you start a painting, you need be able to to visualise the final painting in your mind (right brain, working from the whole), then develop the painting, chosing the elements, matching and mixing colours, placing in the shadows and highlights (right brain, working on various things simultaneously), but at the same time be able to look critically at what you've doing (left brain, being analytical). By finding out whether your thinking is dominated by your right or left brain, you can then deliberately set out to use the 'right brain' way of thinking in your painting or drawing, rather than working on 'auto-pilot'. By trying a different strategy you will probably be surprised by what different results you can produce."
Well, personally, I like the way I think. Being creative suits me fine. I'm not saying that being good at Maths is a bad thing, it's great!
*Yawn* I'm tired...
1. Genes
2. I'm just naturally not good
3. I don't bother trying hard to become good
4. I'm more creative than logical
Let me explain number one. My Mum was never any good at maths either. She didn't really get good marks in her maths exams, but she was far better at English, as am I. Now, I don't know if this has anything to do with genes or something that I've inherited, but it seems like a valid explanation to me. My Dad was pretty good at maths though, and I've inherited a lot of things from him, just not his ability in this particular subject.
Number two...Well I've often just thought, "That's it! I can't do this, I just naturally suck at maths and I always will!" And I'll tell you, I've said that alot! I think you can not have the ability to do something. Just like you can have the ability to naturally pick things up. I didn't grow to love English, I just always have. From the teachers comments over the years about my work, it seems I'm pretty good at it too. So, likewise, I can just as easily not be good at maths.
Number three, well this could indeed be the cause, but I think I've proved it to be wrong. Over the years I've tried so hard to do well, and I still am below the average and find it hard. A good mark to me, is when I've improved from my last mark. Two years ago, I got 40% in a maths exam, bad right? Then the following year I tried harder to do better and I got 67%. Bingo, improvement. I don't care how bad it may have seemed to other people, because at least I knew that I'd improved and made progress. My teacher was even happy for me. 67% was enough to get me into the top class though. I guess you could say that if you try hard at anyting in life, you'll get somewhere. It might be harder because you don't particualrly like the subject, but you can still suceed.
Number four is my best theory. The left side of the brain is more logical whereas the right side is more creative. It's obvious that my right side is stronger. Below are some pieces of information that were copied from the internet:
Left Brain
Logical
Sequential
Rational
Analytical
Objective
Looks at parts
Right side
Random
Intuitive
Holistic
Synthesizing
Subjective
Looks at wholes
How is the Right Brain / Left Brain Concept Relevant to Artists?
"When you start a painting, you need be able to to visualise the final painting in your mind (right brain, working from the whole), then develop the painting, chosing the elements, matching and mixing colours, placing in the shadows and highlights (right brain, working on various things simultaneously), but at the same time be able to look critically at what you've doing (left brain, being analytical). By finding out whether your thinking is dominated by your right or left brain, you can then deliberately set out to use the 'right brain' way of thinking in your painting or drawing, rather than working on 'auto-pilot'. By trying a different strategy you will probably be surprised by what different results you can produce."
Well, personally, I like the way I think. Being creative suits me fine. I'm not saying that being good at Maths is a bad thing, it's great!
*Yawn* I'm tired...
I'm Not Addicted to Coffee
Maybe I'm experiencing self-denial or something, but I'll definately argue that I am not addicted to coffee. "What?! I thirteen year old girl drinking coffee?!" Whatever. I tried it and I liked it, so I drink it. I know, coffee stuns your growth, it stains your teeth. I've realized adults who are tea and coffee drinkers tell me those effects occasionally. Hypocrites! They're the ones who drink around three cups a day and I'm lucky if I have one! Maybe they're doing it to protect me or warn me, "You don't want to end up like us.", while sitting nice and cosy with a mug in their hands.
To be honest, I shouldn't really be drinking coffee. I have braces and if the coffee stains my teeth I'll be in big trouble. I was specifically warned by the dentist, "No hard or sticky sweets, stay away from breads like bagettes, no fizzy drinks or coffee, don't eat corn on the cob..." and the list goes on, but hey, old habits die hard. At least I don't drink fizzy drinks, or crusty bread or corn on the cob. But I like a mug of coffee and the odd bar of chocolate every once in a while...
Caffiene, the big ingredient that coffee drinkers get addicted to, and tea drinkers I suppose. They say that addicts have to have a few cups or they'll be tired or stressed, and maybe that's an excuse to hide the fact that they really are addicted to it. For me, I just like the taste and the smell. Notice the word, like, not love. And when I go deeper into the matter of drugs and such, I start thinking about why they were made, included as ingredients in food and drink and why they were sold to the public. If things like cigarettes and alcohol are so bad, why were they produced? Money would probably be they answer to that question. It just goes to show you that humanity is willing to sell unhealthy drugs to people that can effectly lead to their death, for money and profit. Not that caffiene is going to kill you, but a lot of other drugs obviously can.
So, just because I like the odd drink of coffee does not mean I think I need it to live. Besides, if I was addicted to coffee, what's the problem, surely it would be my own fault? So therefore, you shouldn't care.
To be honest, I shouldn't really be drinking coffee. I have braces and if the coffee stains my teeth I'll be in big trouble. I was specifically warned by the dentist, "No hard or sticky sweets, stay away from breads like bagettes, no fizzy drinks or coffee, don't eat corn on the cob..." and the list goes on, but hey, old habits die hard. At least I don't drink fizzy drinks, or crusty bread or corn on the cob. But I like a mug of coffee and the odd bar of chocolate every once in a while...
Caffiene, the big ingredient that coffee drinkers get addicted to, and tea drinkers I suppose. They say that addicts have to have a few cups or they'll be tired or stressed, and maybe that's an excuse to hide the fact that they really are addicted to it. For me, I just like the taste and the smell. Notice the word, like, not love. And when I go deeper into the matter of drugs and such, I start thinking about why they were made, included as ingredients in food and drink and why they were sold to the public. If things like cigarettes and alcohol are so bad, why were they produced? Money would probably be they answer to that question. It just goes to show you that humanity is willing to sell unhealthy drugs to people that can effectly lead to their death, for money and profit. Not that caffiene is going to kill you, but a lot of other drugs obviously can.
So, just because I like the odd drink of coffee does not mean I think I need it to live. Besides, if I was addicted to coffee, what's the problem, surely it would be my own fault? So therefore, you shouldn't care.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
My Life is Collapsing
Sometimes through day-to-day life I feel like everything's buzzing around me too fast that I can't really understand how things got that way. Parts of my life collapse and just float away from me, and it seems that I have no comtrol of their flight. I get so frustrated and angry with myself for getting into a mess that no one could control.
Half the time, I'm not even sure if they could be avoided. I have a tendency to get lost in my self and my thinking and then awake suddenly in a dilema who's source I can't trace. This then leads to me feeling guilty and ashamed for not making an effort in some situation and I feel like isolating myself from the world. I've been doing that a lot lately.
Self-seclusion is something I'm very good at. Very few people have the same mind set as myself, and my interests often differ from my peers. Thus, I cut myself off from the world and be in the company of someone who does share my hobbies, myself. It's horrible to admit, but it's true, and there would be no point starting this blog if I was to post lies over and over again.
I'm constantly being poked and prodded at my life's cruel finger and it's starting to get bloody annoying.
Half the time, I'm not even sure if they could be avoided. I have a tendency to get lost in my self and my thinking and then awake suddenly in a dilema who's source I can't trace. This then leads to me feeling guilty and ashamed for not making an effort in some situation and I feel like isolating myself from the world. I've been doing that a lot lately.
Self-seclusion is something I'm very good at. Very few people have the same mind set as myself, and my interests often differ from my peers. Thus, I cut myself off from the world and be in the company of someone who does share my hobbies, myself. It's horrible to admit, but it's true, and there would be no point starting this blog if I was to post lies over and over again.
I'm constantly being poked and prodded at my life's cruel finger and it's starting to get bloody annoying.
Monday, 16 November 2009
Following the Crowd
I am here to discuss my outrage at the concept of ‘following the crowd’. One cannot condense into words how it frustrates me to see young people change themselves to please others. “Others”, who usually have no interest in what you do, they only want to see you trying to impress them; it gives them a sense of power.
In some cases, young people try to change themselves to look like someone in a magazine. For example, many young teenage girls look at models in fashion magazines and try to lose drastic amounts of weight to look just like those skeletons in the media. In some cases, they make themselves vomit and eat little or no food. Likewise, young teenage boys see men with rock hard abs and bulging biceps and do all that they can to mimic these men’s appearance. Not only can these things be harmful for your body, they can be harmful to your mind. If you’re constantly trying to be someone else, you’ll never find out who you really are. Going to these drastic measures can lower your self-esteem and you tend to become more self-conscious about what people think of you.
I’d also like to point out something that’s rather important. Don’t you realize that these men and women have had a whole team of make-up artists working on their appearance for hours? Don’t you realize that their picture has been photo-shopped look how the editor wants them to? Don’t you realize that they’ve been spray tanned and pampered? Therefore, they are not truly the people you see plastered in magazines.
You see, companies want to sell as much of their products as possible, they want to make big profits from you. By looking at this “perfect” model showcasing their beautiful skin thanks to this special cream, people are warped into thinking that they should buy this product so they get the same results. Not only can those products be harmful to your body, you’re being suckered in and you’re effectively wasting your money. I believe we can’t slow down the process of ageing, it’s got to happen, and forever rubbing cream and products on your skin is not going to make a difference.
We’ve got to accept who we are, and that might seem difficult at first when you’ve been brainwashed beforehand, but it’s the right way to go. Of course you’ve got to make some effort to keep yourself smart looking, but going overboard with it will only cause a whole lot of trouble. Don’t be like everyone else. You are who you are, and beneath all the cosmetics lies an extraordinary human being. Let that person show.
In some cases, young people try to change themselves to look like someone in a magazine. For example, many young teenage girls look at models in fashion magazines and try to lose drastic amounts of weight to look just like those skeletons in the media. In some cases, they make themselves vomit and eat little or no food. Likewise, young teenage boys see men with rock hard abs and bulging biceps and do all that they can to mimic these men’s appearance. Not only can these things be harmful for your body, they can be harmful to your mind. If you’re constantly trying to be someone else, you’ll never find out who you really are. Going to these drastic measures can lower your self-esteem and you tend to become more self-conscious about what people think of you.
I’d also like to point out something that’s rather important. Don’t you realize that these men and women have had a whole team of make-up artists working on their appearance for hours? Don’t you realize that their picture has been photo-shopped look how the editor wants them to? Don’t you realize that they’ve been spray tanned and pampered? Therefore, they are not truly the people you see plastered in magazines.
You see, companies want to sell as much of their products as possible, they want to make big profits from you. By looking at this “perfect” model showcasing their beautiful skin thanks to this special cream, people are warped into thinking that they should buy this product so they get the same results. Not only can those products be harmful to your body, you’re being suckered in and you’re effectively wasting your money. I believe we can’t slow down the process of ageing, it’s got to happen, and forever rubbing cream and products on your skin is not going to make a difference.
We’ve got to accept who we are, and that might seem difficult at first when you’ve been brainwashed beforehand, but it’s the right way to go. Of course you’ve got to make some effort to keep yourself smart looking, but going overboard with it will only cause a whole lot of trouble. Don’t be like everyone else. You are who you are, and beneath all the cosmetics lies an extraordinary human being. Let that person show.
Saturday, 14 November 2009
We Are Terminated (poem)
The following is a poem I wrote a few days ago. I changed and added some things to the first draft and this is the finished product.
The one I used to be has been terminated,
I have been programmed to see with democratic eyes.
My warm veins have morphed into cold circuitry,
With brain-washed charges surging through them.
I do not walk the same; talk the same, or act with original nature,
My cup is void of emotion, it evaporated as I grew colder.
I no longer have possession of my own mind,
For they manipulate my thoughts for their gain.
I understand they monitor us through lenses of technology,
We could not rebel against them; or were we afraid to?
We all were blinded when the sun was down,
We had our chance to see what was to come.
I cannot remember having dominance of my inner being,
And I yearn to gain control of it with each passing day.
No individual thoughts elude from my mind when I try,
Caged within the confines of the box they built here.
What can I do? I have departed, I have abandoned you,
I was destroyed by those who were terminated long before.
The one I used to be has been terminated,
I have been programmed to see with democratic eyes.
My warm veins have morphed into cold circuitry,
With brain-washed charges surging through them.
I do not walk the same; talk the same, or act with original nature,
My cup is void of emotion, it evaporated as I grew colder.
I no longer have possession of my own mind,
For they manipulate my thoughts for their gain.
I understand they monitor us through lenses of technology,
We could not rebel against them; or were we afraid to?
We all were blinded when the sun was down,
We had our chance to see what was to come.
I cannot remember having dominance of my inner being,
And I yearn to gain control of it with each passing day.
No individual thoughts elude from my mind when I try,
Caged within the confines of the box they built here.
What can I do? I have departed, I have abandoned you,
I was destroyed by those who were terminated long before.
Saturday, 7 November 2009
The Early Bird Gets The Worm
The expression above may seem kind've gross, but there's a very good moral behind it:
When you get a head start to the day, you'll get that worm, that prize, that thing you've wanted to get done since last week. ;-)
I've come to realise something, during the weekdays, I hate waking up with a passion, and am usually tired. But on the weekends, I love getting up early and having some time to myself, or write poetry or just sit thinking about things. Then, when Monday morning crawls over I am exhausted and question whether I even bother to get up early on the weekends.
But, that fact aside I enjoy mornings, and I'm always in a good mood. I just love that feeling that you can accomplish something today. No matter how small or big. In fact even accomplishing nothing could pass as an accomplishment. There isn't a more satisfying feeling...Well...except sleeping. ;-)
When you get a head start to the day, you'll get that worm, that prize, that thing you've wanted to get done since last week. ;-)
I've come to realise something, during the weekdays, I hate waking up with a passion, and am usually tired. But on the weekends, I love getting up early and having some time to myself, or write poetry or just sit thinking about things. Then, when Monday morning crawls over I am exhausted and question whether I even bother to get up early on the weekends.
But, that fact aside I enjoy mornings, and I'm always in a good mood. I just love that feeling that you can accomplish something today. No matter how small or big. In fact even accomplishing nothing could pass as an accomplishment. There isn't a more satisfying feeling...Well...except sleeping. ;-)
Friday, 6 November 2009
Analyzing Poetry
Currently in English class, we’ve been studying poetry. To be precise, war poetry. To be even more precise, war poetry by Wilfred Owen. Wilfred Owen was a poet who fought in World War 1 and described so vividly what he encountered. In class, we’ve had to analyze many of his poems. A number of his poems have touched me and changed my outlook on war and also have made me have more respect for the men and women that fight/fought in wars for us.
I went slightly off topic there, but nevertheless, I wanted to blog about analyzing poetry. I’m going to give you some humble tips on how I, myself, analyze poetry. This might be the way you do it too, and then again, it might not, but let’s give it a go anyway.
THE DRAFT
1. When I’m given a poem to analyze, firstly, I just read it through normally. I do not look out for anything in particular, I just read.
2. Next, I’ll read the poem aloud several times. I often find that it can make more sense by doing this, and I’ll notice things like alliteration, style, rhyme and rhythm.
3. Thirdly, I grab a highlighter or pen, and underline certain words or phrases that stand out to me. I take my time and pace myself through the poem, really looking out for things that catch my eye.
4. Then, from these highlighted/underlined phrases, I write a brief, short sentence about what the text is saying and/or meaning. At the side of the page, I might also include some little points about who the writer is addressing, the writer’s style, tone etc.
NEAT COPY
1. Now, from the rough points you’ve written, begin to expand these on a new piece of paper, making them more detailed and organised. To make it clearer, include what stanza or line you’re talking about and use quotes to back-up your points.
2. Be sure to include the actual terms for different things to show that you know what they are, e.g adjectives, verbs, nouns etc.
And that’s my guide to analyzing poetry. I don’t claim to know everything about analyzing poetry; these are just my humble tips. Have fun!
I went slightly off topic there, but nevertheless, I wanted to blog about analyzing poetry. I’m going to give you some humble tips on how I, myself, analyze poetry. This might be the way you do it too, and then again, it might not, but let’s give it a go anyway.
THE DRAFT
1. When I’m given a poem to analyze, firstly, I just read it through normally. I do not look out for anything in particular, I just read.
2. Next, I’ll read the poem aloud several times. I often find that it can make more sense by doing this, and I’ll notice things like alliteration, style, rhyme and rhythm.
3. Thirdly, I grab a highlighter or pen, and underline certain words or phrases that stand out to me. I take my time and pace myself through the poem, really looking out for things that catch my eye.
4. Then, from these highlighted/underlined phrases, I write a brief, short sentence about what the text is saying and/or meaning. At the side of the page, I might also include some little points about who the writer is addressing, the writer’s style, tone etc.
NEAT COPY
1. Now, from the rough points you’ve written, begin to expand these on a new piece of paper, making them more detailed and organised. To make it clearer, include what stanza or line you’re talking about and use quotes to back-up your points.
2. Be sure to include the actual terms for different things to show that you know what they are, e.g adjectives, verbs, nouns etc.
And that’s my guide to analyzing poetry. I don’t claim to know everything about analyzing poetry; these are just my humble tips. Have fun!
Accidents, do they exist?
Do you think there is such a thing as, an accident? Everything happens for a reason, we were born for reason, we'll die for a reason, we DO things for different reasons. Nothing is an accident. Even if you didn't mean for something to happen, it still did. It was destined to occur.
I guess we just call things, 'accidents', because we didn't mean for them to happen, or you didn't know that they would happen . But time is drawn out already, and because we live INSIDE of time (i.e we only experience the present), and not OUTSIDE of it (like God, who knows what is to come), we have no way of seeing the things in the future, whether they be good or bad.
I guess we just call things, 'accidents', because we didn't mean for them to happen, or you didn't know that they would happen . But time is drawn out already, and because we live INSIDE of time (i.e we only experience the present), and not OUTSIDE of it (like God, who knows what is to come), we have no way of seeing the things in the future, whether they be good or bad.
Thursday, 5 November 2009
To Town And Back
In today's blog, I thought I'd post another poem about what I see when I cycle around my town. This poem is not rhymed and is rather short, but nevertheless, I hope you like what you see. Thank you. Now here it is...
To Town And Back
Spinning wheels attached to a metal frame,
The energy seeping through my thighs.
My movement steady and rhythmic in nature
And my legs feel as if they’re not present.
Four wheeled metal boxes revving on the right,
Toxic fumes spluttering from their behind.
Horns and sirens bouncing off concrete buildings,
Small talk approaches then fades away as I pass.
Fatigue gangs drunk out of their skulls on the sidewalk,
Slurring foul words, polluting the air with a poisonous cloud.
People out walking in the streets to nowhere
Wrapped up in scarves and hands buried in their pockets.
Old ladies in doorways sweeping dirt to one side,
Occasionally lifting their heads, then returning to their work.
The hub-bub of traffic, slowing down, then speeding up,
Weaving round parked cars on the kerbside.
Cold wind numbing my face, blowing my hair in all directions.
Cheeks coloured pink, hands gripped around the metal bars.
I have seen what needs to be seen, done what needs to be done,
Now to town I have went, home I shall go.
To Town And Back
Spinning wheels attached to a metal frame,
The energy seeping through my thighs.
My movement steady and rhythmic in nature
And my legs feel as if they’re not present.
Four wheeled metal boxes revving on the right,
Toxic fumes spluttering from their behind.
Horns and sirens bouncing off concrete buildings,
Small talk approaches then fades away as I pass.
Fatigue gangs drunk out of their skulls on the sidewalk,
Slurring foul words, polluting the air with a poisonous cloud.
People out walking in the streets to nowhere
Wrapped up in scarves and hands buried in their pockets.
Old ladies in doorways sweeping dirt to one side,
Occasionally lifting their heads, then returning to their work.
The hub-bub of traffic, slowing down, then speeding up,
Weaving round parked cars on the kerbside.
Cold wind numbing my face, blowing my hair in all directions.
Cheeks coloured pink, hands gripped around the metal bars.
I have seen what needs to be seen, done what needs to be done,
Now to town I have went, home I shall go.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
The Nature of Reality
Hey folks. Today I thought I'd blog about a theory of reality and consciousness that holds a lot of water. Through a You Tube account and an online blog by Darryl Sloan, I have learnt many things from this guy about the nature of reality and consciousness. I have yet to wrap the whole thing round my head, but I have acquired plenty of information to blog about...I hope.
So, let's start off with thinking about who you are, and what you should or should not believe. To begin, think about Chritianity as a religion. It effectively brainwashes people into believing that there is a God, Jesus Christ died on a cross to save us from our sins and that there is such a place as heaven and hell. There is no solid, firm proof that this all occured, and unless a believable arguement is put forward, how can we make our own judgement? Many adults present this information to their children at a very young age when they cannot create an informed decision themselves. I know that for a fact, as it happened to me.
Next, lets go down the scientific route, which consists of believing that you are just a brain inside a body, the world is just physics and that there is a big universe out there, and just a 'little you'. Thinking that when you die, that is just the end completly and that there is no afterlife. This lifestyle can be very depressing and unfulfilling as Darryl pointed out, he himself went down that route.
He also explained that you need to destroy the foundations of these beliefs that were built in your childhood, and start again. Asking yourself questions and reading between the lines.
To prove that the scientific way of living was inadequate, Darryl decided to try do telekinesis, which is basically moving an object (or in his case a psi wheel) with the mind, or rather consciousness. It was very sucessful and he did all sorts of experiments with static, heat and air to prove that he was the one moving the psi wheel. This proved that because he moved the psi wheel with his consciousness and defied the laws of physics, that the scientific way was incorrect. He did not do this in an occult way or for occult reasons, he did it purely scientifically.
This whole exerience of learning from him has taught me some valuable lessons. I think I'm gradually getting there, and I will keep my mind open and ask myself questions.
Now, I can't put into words the rest of his theory (yet), so I advise you to check out his You Tube account and online blog.
http://www.youtube.com/user/darrylsloan
So, let's start off with thinking about who you are, and what you should or should not believe. To begin, think about Chritianity as a religion. It effectively brainwashes people into believing that there is a God, Jesus Christ died on a cross to save us from our sins and that there is such a place as heaven and hell. There is no solid, firm proof that this all occured, and unless a believable arguement is put forward, how can we make our own judgement? Many adults present this information to their children at a very young age when they cannot create an informed decision themselves. I know that for a fact, as it happened to me.
Next, lets go down the scientific route, which consists of believing that you are just a brain inside a body, the world is just physics and that there is a big universe out there, and just a 'little you'. Thinking that when you die, that is just the end completly and that there is no afterlife. This lifestyle can be very depressing and unfulfilling as Darryl pointed out, he himself went down that route.
He also explained that you need to destroy the foundations of these beliefs that were built in your childhood, and start again. Asking yourself questions and reading between the lines.
To prove that the scientific way of living was inadequate, Darryl decided to try do telekinesis, which is basically moving an object (or in his case a psi wheel) with the mind, or rather consciousness. It was very sucessful and he did all sorts of experiments with static, heat and air to prove that he was the one moving the psi wheel. This proved that because he moved the psi wheel with his consciousness and defied the laws of physics, that the scientific way was incorrect. He did not do this in an occult way or for occult reasons, he did it purely scientifically.
This whole exerience of learning from him has taught me some valuable lessons. I think I'm gradually getting there, and I will keep my mind open and ask myself questions.
Now, I can't put into words the rest of his theory (yet), so I advise you to check out his You Tube account and online blog.
http://www.youtube.com/user/darrylsloan
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)