Wednesday, December 29, 2010

the monster

I am in a narrow tower with a spiraling staircase. It stretches and extends infinitely. It is abysmal.

It is the Tower of Babel.

I cannot see the top. It calls out to me, whispers enchanting tales, speaks of greatness and all things desirous. But the downfall of the tower is equally palpable and imminent.

I thought that I had been ascending the nautical stairs. But, all this time, I’ve just been on a perilous descent.

I pick myself up, and I realize the reality:

If I walk all the way down, if I reach the lowest level—the base of this tower, I’ll find it.

I’ll find the corridor to the dungeon, where the deepest, darkest, and foulest monster is housed.

How can I describe this monster to you?

It is Beowulf’s mortal enemy, the dragon; it is J├Ârmungandr, who will surely bring about my demise; it is the creation-gone-awry of Dr. Frankenstein.

The monster is my own—a manifestation of my greatest flaws and fears.

If I do not muster the will and courage to face it, I will be destroyed; it will be a slow, tragic and pitiful end to me.

I fear, I delay, I evade it. In the end I am simply running away, tail between my legs, cowering, because I do not have the will to face it head-on.

But I will not lose if I confront it. I cannot lose against my own creation.

I must confront it,

The monster called procrastination.

their friendship

A short story told accompanied by photographs featuring Janie & Chole.

It all started with the secret...

You quarreled. You swore you'd never hit them, but...

" Next time there will be no next time...if she ever tries to fucking leave again..."

The parting:


"Wait where you goin'?" 
"I'm leaving you!" 
"No you ain't! Come back!"

Well. They made up. 
The resolution:


The end.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

2011 New Year resolutions

In no particular order:

Academically
  1. Get nothing less than a B. Not even in pre-calc.
  2. Get a 5 on the AP Lang exam.
  3. Get a 4 or higher on the APUSH exam.
  4. WORK ON SCIENCE FAIR!!!
  5. Get at least a 1950 on the SAT in March.
  6. Apply for 3 scholarships by February.
  7. Study two days ahead of time instead of one.
Art-wise
  1. Direct and shoot a short film. 
  2. Direct and shoot a silent short film.
  3. Experiment with film photography.
  4. Have a nighttime bowling alley shoot.
  5. Snow shoot.
  6. Do a shoot for someone I don't know.
  7. A shoot at the BEACH.
  8. Successfully perform Arabesque No. 1 (Debussy) for recital.
Newspaper
  1. Improve on pages--and start at least 4-5 days before Friday deadline.
  2. Dream In-Depth.
  3. Sell more ads.
  4. Do more work for online.
Life in general
  1. Get my driver's permit.
  2. Reduce procrastination...
  3. Sleep earlier. 
  4. Keep in touch with people better.
  5. Go to NYC (and meet Emily).
Summertime
  1. Internship 
  2. Or job
  3. NYC (or abroad)

Thursday, December 23, 2010

poem inspired by poetry

I wrote this the very day of Poetry Out Loud. I had it in English, which was my first period class. Then I wrote everything down off the top of my head during Pre-calc (LS) on the back of this random sheet of paper that I inadvertently lost (and then found, just now). So this is rough, and rather spontaneous, but inspired nonetheless.


The room fell deathly silent
Hushed abruptly
As if the very air within the room had been
Sucked out by a vacuum.
The only sound that could be heard was
the sound of silence.
Palpitations setting the heart
aflutter.
A thousand butterflies filling
the cavity of a cavernous heart
The words are all there before me,
I can see them in every corner of my mind,
But when I stretch my arm out before me to
grasp them,
all that falls into my hands are
wisps,
remnants of the butterfly's powdery wings.
Words I know and have known
take flight,
they are here,
they were here.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

something i've always wondered about is...

my voice.

I wonder what it sounds like--to other people.

If it's really like they say, if it's really like how they try to imitate my voice--well...

I don't know.

I always thought that I simply had an unusually lower voice than most people, but that was it. I guess it's not. But it really does confuse me. And kind of scare me.

There's always those people you see or hear in movies and even in real life who have annoying voices that nobody likes to hear--or the ones that everyone snickers and laughs about.

I really hope that mine does not fall into that category.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

i should've had this epiphany years ago

Clearly I am not the slightest bit fond of mathematics or the sciences--I've never been the sort to have had a knack for them anyway.

But today, I had an epiphany of sorts regarding that matter.

I woke up late and was a disaster as I scrambled to gather my stuff (disconnected the laptop, packed my bags, brought the camera, etc.) for newspaper work day and tried to compose myself. About an hour later, when I finally got in the car, my aunt was talking about how I need to constantly practice for the SATs (even though I go to SAT prep every Saturday and Monday and have homework for each session!)--mainly the math part.

Amidst all the hooplah, sitting in the car--I had a moment of clarity.

Numbers are not alive. They are, as far as I am concerned, cold, stagnant, unresponsive things. For me to refer to an object or subject as a thing is rather derogatory. But in the end--numbers aren't like words. I cannot love them, they cannot convey feelings like words do, they do not hold meanings like words do. They are concrete and limited (by the way, infinity is not a number, it is a concept), whereas words are truly boundless and infinite.

I don't have anything against math or science, or numbers. But they don't even come close to words.

Monday, December 6, 2010

battles

 Today I spoke with my counselor about college and my prospects. It was a nice little chat, I suppose. But it just made me realize how unclear my prospects really are--if I even have any--in the field of print journalism--let alone journalism in general. And it dug up something I'd long tried not to think about for a while--if I can even take photography into consideration.

And then, I thought about other things.

Hell. I can't write anymore.

Today I realized clearly that I have not been recovering at all. I've been relapsing. I'm fighting an uphill battle, or a losing battle. Call it what you want.

I'm not getting any closer, I'm not getting any better. I think I might be getting worse. But I can change that. I will, I'll have to.

I cannot accept defeat. I might have lost a battle, but I can still win the war. It's tiring, sometimes, to try remaining optimistic. But I still believe in myself. And surely that will take me somewhere. I know where I want to go. It's just a matter of getting there. So long as I know, I can still fight for it.

But the fears never leave me--those what if's. What if I end up as a nobody? What if I don't get to that place? What if in the end I'm just the biggest failure? What if I end up crashing and burning?

But I still have time. It's a fallacy to think that way, I know. It's dangerous to think that way--that I still have time, because I'll just keep on prolonging and procrastinating as I usually do--but now is the time to really take advantage of having time and make the fucking best of it.

That being said--I have a lot to correct. Right now, I'm frankly a disappointment. No denying it. Not only to others--but to myself. I can't undo the past, neither do I have much desire to do so. What's done is done. I'm going to strike out and go forward, and stick to my words. I'll be better, stronger.