May Free Write

Like an alcoholic is attracted to the lip of a bottomless bottle with only a few drops left, for really he knows the bottle never could really empty, it simply can’t, or how a tobacco pipe smoker finds pleasure in little else than his meerschaum, I am have yet to find at least five things that give me more enjoyment then reading fine literature, poetry mostly. With that being said, I am completely and utterly unashamed of what I'm about to announce. When it comes to poets, no one is as fickle as I when it comes to who is their favorite. However there is one poet I cannot shake from my conscience the guilt I feel when I don't consider him my favorite. W.B. Yeats (the W.B. stands for William Butler, and I will not tolerate mistaking him for Keats!). This will not be a lecture on how I believe class and rich culture is going to the dogs, I've done that one so many times even I'm sick of it, though I certainly could. No, this blog will simply be to acknowledge the greatest Irish poet of all time.

W.B. Yeats (Last name pronounced ‘Yates’, yes I will now admit for the public to see that you were right Miss Transue) was born on June 13^th, 1865 (I mean…he COULD have toughed it out and lived to be 146-year-old so I could have met him) in Sandymount, Dublin, Ireland and died at in 1939 at the age of 73 in Menton, France. He won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1923 ‘for his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation’. I’m not here though to acknowledge him by stating dry facts that anybody can look up on the Internet and find within two minutes (I just felt the need to incorporate that he won the Nobel Prize). I plan on appreciating by…well…being a slight fangirl.

The first poem I had ever read of his was one that I found in a book of the top 500 Poems of English Literature that I found rummaging through my father’s office in our upstairs one day and decided to take. I’m extremely glad I did to, it just looked so sad there collecting dust….It is also a poem I could quote by heart called ‘When You Are Old’,

WHEN YOU ARE OLD

 

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;



How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;



And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

 

--William Butler Yeats 

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever read in my life, and it did not fill me with pitiful envy like so many great works often do. It did one of the rarest things a writer can do to me. It only inspired me and made me feel warmth inside. It was something that hadn’t been done in years since I decided to take writing seriously.

SO IN CONCLUSION(  (=   )...my typical view on things that I love such as artists, bands, and writers (and yes, I know this is bad), is to keep them to my greedy self. I would be doing a great dishonor to Mr. Yeats if I continued to do so to him. I believe that he would want his voice to live on even years after his death, so I encourage all of you, if his poem more than tickled your fancy, you genuinely find fewer pleasures in life than reading fine literature, and you do not think you will soon cast his works aside like a month-old newspaper, read as many poems of his that you can. He was a wonderful man who wrote poetry that certainly was, ’always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation’.

In our lives, I have to believe we were all subjected to listen to MANY horrid and sappy love songs. I also believe that many also enjoy the mushy the filled your ears to the brim, and the sticky and gooey substance probably feel…well good to you, and if that’s the case, good for you. Personally I hate love songs that are only meant to appeal to the ‘Top Forty’ crowd.  The  one thing though that well-done love songs and laughable love songs have in common is this: both are at fault for creating some sort of reference to Romeo and Juliet, not all of them, but good and bad have both done it. The difference in that though, is that good love songs are accurate with their references to one of Shakespeare’s most famous tragedies. The song that first comes to mind is one that has been stuck in my head all day called ‘Goodnight Moon’ by Go Radio. It is granted, only a small piece of the song that makes the reference to Romeo and Juliet that makes you know it was about the two star-crossed lovers, but it is very accurate.

Again, whether this band meant to or not, the allusion is actually spot on.. However, I believe all is in order to first say where the allusion is at the very and of the song, he refers to object of admiration as this ‘And there you were, as I saw my Juliet come graceful down the stairs/It’s hard to miss the way her eyes light up the room and steal the air’. Whether or not this was the intent of the song or not, Go Radio did a very good job at this. The song depicts entirely only the romantic side of Romeo and Juliet. When I say this, they exempt the suicides, the murders, and the fact that they were really just hormonal teens. Instead they show two people whose infatuation with each other is pure and meant to be innocent saying in the chorus ‘Sit in our bedroom and read aloud, like a passage from 'Goodnight Moon'’ (Yes! They even make an allusion to the beloved children’s novel), which once you really start to read in between the lines, this is actually extremely sweet. It’s just giving you an image of the euphoric joys you have as a child, except these feeling of bliss were brought on by another, and that’s all you really want, in a sickly sweet and adorable sense, them.

Also, even more surprising of Go Radio’s successful go at even making me go ‘awwww’ at their cutesy lyrics, they also did a fabulous job of making sure their allusions were a correct ones. In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo sneaks away to see his beloved so early in the mourning, it was almost the day before, and they talk for supposedly a few hours (but only bout ten minutes in play time), and Goodnight Moon opens up with these lines And don't go to bed yet, love,/I think it's early,/And we just need a little time to ourselves./

If my wall clock tells me that it's four in the morning,/I'll give it hell. Possible unintentional reference to the famed ‘Balcony Scene’? I think so. This scene also has Juliet sort of not quite bashing, but scolding Romeo for being far to romantic and near the very end of the scene she tells Romeo not to swear his love for her on anything (accept thy gracious self). The next two lines show us feelings Romeo may have felt about Juliet’s comments 'Cause I've been trying way too long,/To try to be the perfect song,/When our hearts are heavy burdens,/We shouldn't have to bear alone. The last part I’m going to dissect from the song for you is one that I already did in the paragraph before. The only little reference to Romeo and Juliet. In the play, Romeo ‘fell in love’ with Juliet instantly, and hit the ground before he even knew what was coming next. ‘And there you were, as I saw my Juliet come graceful down the stairs/It’s hard to miss the way her eyes light up the room and steal the air’. This shows the infatuation Romeo felt when he first laid his eyes upon Juliet’s fair features. I would also like to mention, that the son does not makes references to the whole play, just from us discovering Romeo’s insane loneliness to when he an Juliet agree to marry, neglecting the fact that the play was actually a tragedy, however, many do enjoy the innocence of the song.

If I were given the stomach to handle all of it, I could name hundreds of songs with references to William Shakespeare’s tragedy Romeo and Juliet, good and bad. The difference though is that the good ones get the allusions correct, much like the song 'Goodnight Moon' by Go Radio.

Yo, Fresh-Meat!,

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably heard or thought ‘and so starts ‘the best four years’ of my life’. I am here, forcefully being told to give you advice, and my first piece of advice: expel that very thought from your mind right this moment (wait for college man). That is not me being cynical, or giving you a bad image of the start of your high school career, I’m just a firm believer in not overestimating things or else reality will be dull in comparison you your expectations.  I am going to be straight forward and blunt so pay attention!  I don’t want you to be reading this twice, even for those who need to.

                To start off I will give you the generic advice that you have heard time and time again, but I cannot stress enough how important it is you follow it. You MUST stay ahead of your work. Even if it is just an assignment that isn’t do that day, if you leave the paper of the assignment to rot in your backpack forgotten until the day before it’s due, nine out of ten times that night you’re going to be swamped with work because trust me, it accumulates fast.

So I suppose now

So, I suppose now I shall give you personal advice for each teacher.

Mr. Hein- Okay, despite what you MAY hear, don’t try bribing the man with food. The best way to get on his good side, shockingly, is to do well on tests and to PAY ATTENTION in his class. Also, try not to say you respect Hitler, women deserve to be abused, or the Australia is a part of the United States…it was painful this year.

Miss Transue- Get ahead of your blogs, or stay ahead of them. I’m currently writing this the day before its due, and I’m kind of regretting it.

Mr. Woolcock- This class has potential to be a lot of fun, just…pay attention guys, when you do great things happen. Also, you may get on the good side of an amazing student teacher.

Mrs. Farr- Mrs. Farr’s class is amazing, and she’s so straightforward. DO NOT be immature I beg of you in her class, she can handle a rowdy class, but just be nice for her, she’s a great lady.

Mrs. Host- SWEETEST lady ever. Seriously, my advice to you is to be nice to her or else I’ll come after you.

Mr. Delano- If you have him, may God help you.

So, here is my advice. Hope you survive freshmen year doing more than just that, surviving.

Lots-o-Love,

Keeley

April Free Write

Imagine being flung into a darkened pool against your will, knowing full well you cannot swim, while being surrounded by a darkness that gives off only a slight eeie greenish glow, while a respectable sie piece of lead is tightly positioned upon your feet. The drowning, downing into delicate lungs that are dangling for one last defiant, delightful gasp of air. A feeling one is not accustomed to. Certainly not I. Perhaps a time long but not so long ago, their as a man by the name of Poe who embraced the macabre dread he so artfully mastered. Perhaps he felt nothing more but the abominable  emotion. All it did was eat away at his true nightmarish horrors until it grew into something greater and more deadly, a newly formed species of parasites feeling the wanderlust that ails so many complex minded individuals, until it could only grasp at what it could. His reality. Perhaps it was so great, the torment of his reality with so many loved ones being consumed with consumption it crippled him, or perhaps he took it as a sign from the cruel heavens up above to wield a quill that came from his garments and exclaim with dignity you would think one with his life would not have, ‘Enough!’ and conquer his demons that dug down deep with a flourish of his weapon, tearing down all blocks from these monstrous emotions and relieving them some from his own mind while releasing them on into the world.

This blog in particular, was not suppose to have any real meaning, or substance about it at all. However, now that I’m in a rather peculiar mood, I feel it right to write a peculiar blog, for fun, and for practice for myself. Practicing what? you may ask. The fun of this for me is not to tell you. We’ll make a guessing game of it I suppose.

We have all felt the drowning sensation, but sensation isn’t really the correct term for it, nor is it a rush. If I would to choose a single word for it, it would be a vibe, for you can feel it course throughout your entire body as it were reverberating throughout the core of what makes your feelings rational and threatens to overthrow it. For over a year and half now, with my weakened lungs, there has been treading with great effort in the inky pool. I do not drown, but I do struggle. I am not sad, quite the contrary. However, I’m completely and utterly dissatisfied. Not from being in the state that the pool brings me into being, being in this state actually leads to much opportunity and promise for an individual such as myself and it would be ungrateful to think of it any other way. No, it is the green eerie light that taunts my conscious and unconscious so viciously. In an impossible way, it shows nothing but tells all. There are things behind the darkness or that lurk in the black forces that encompass you, the green light makes you feel the vastness of it all, but it’s the position that I’m currently in just shows a block of black, that beckons but wants to be rid of me. That’s actually the alluring thing about it though.

Though my objective was to befuddle you and create a slight air of mystery, there was an actual point behind all of this wrapped within layers and layers of riddles and metaphor. The emotion itself that I’m talking about should not be a challenge at all to guess, but what I’m trying to get at with it, that’s the real challenge to uncover.

March Free Write Have you ever been truly afraid for the future after you are long gone? Have you ever been extremely annoyed with someone for opening a blog as a question? (Yes)As I am currently writing, or rather typing these words on a digital page surrounded by the rowdiest of the rowdy crowd that is barely reaching my own notice from the very corners of my fidgeting eyes, a peculiar feeling is washing over me. From warm feelings of human socializing? Ch, who are you talking to? Personally, I find simple joys in serene solitude alone with my meditative thoughts. However, at this moment I'm finding my peace in Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and Queen, so it isn't that difficult to conceive from such information that it bothers the me that the majority of my generation are inspired mostly by the dribbling, unoriginal, cliche, and mind numbing rubbish that pours out of the aluminum speakers in the car.  A prime example of my exasperation derives from wat had happened to me this Tuesday. I was joking round with an old friend at a track meet who is also in chorus with me, and playfully poking fun at her because a few months ago she was completely oblivious to Bob Dylan's existence. However, this brought on, with the group I was joking around with, knowledge that I could live without. About five others had not one single clue who he was, whih lead to a baffled and slightly incoherant rant on my part, but at the time I do believe I justified my stunned state rather eloquently saying 'Bob Dyaln....BOB DYLAN?! You mean to tell me that you've never hear of Bob Dylan? Greatest song writer of all time? Nominated for the Nobel Prie in Literature (my dream to win by the way) because his lyrics are more poetry than anything else? The man who was named the voice of an entire generation? No? His music is infinitely  better...well infintely doesn't even cover it , it is more like insurmountably better to the point where if his lyrics went to battle with the (add profanity) played on the radio, just hearing who they will have to triumph over will compell them to combust into flame and be left to float upon the earth's crust, forgotten and loathed by those unsuspecting people with allergies.' (Okay, cards on the table. I didn't quite say it like that, but there was quite a bit of irritated arm flourishes) to which only one of the group could reply with, 'The music on the radio is NOT crap.' At this point I just let it be. Twas always my greatest flaw that when something put me out a smidge more than normal things usually do, a tongue of silver will metamorphosize into a mouth comparable to a certain object that is round nad porcelain, if you catch my drift. That story though, brings me to my point, (this is going to be rushed on account of how overdo this blog is, sorry Miss Transue)  I am truly disgusted and worried about the future. Yes, I know I am quite vocal about my love for Bob Dylan and this one instance isn't worthy of getting all worked up, but this isn't the first time it's happened. It as just the most recent of many examples. Not only does it show how people will willingly trade stimulating and meaningfull lyrics aside for occasionally amusing bass beats, but it shows how cultured kids are these days. It doesn't extend to just music either, people just completely lack of just knowledge in general. Sadly, the only examples I could give would offend some in my grade, but I really just want to rip my hair out sometimes. I adore old music, from Arcangelo Corelli to The Doors or Vivaldi to the Stones, I just love it. So one could understand that ones complete lack of mental enlightenment from not listening to such things, kind of puts me off.(I mean it is one thing not to like an artist, but to have NEVER heard of them...) Though this may lead to an anxiety of something that I do believe is completely rational. Especially since what ids are exposed to these days is just...garbage.

Representin'

Food and Life

From all walks of life and from every corner of the world, food has been a common ground universal experience for everything with life in their lungs. However, I'm taking it one step further and am comparing certain foods certain types of people.

Oreos- Procrastination

We have all sat down and enjoyed the delights of ‘milk’s favorite cookie’, and everyone has their own way to eat it. However, from my observations, the most common way almost directly shows procrastination. Most of the time one simply twists off that crumbly top, and goes straight for the kill, the creamy centers of the Oreo, completely avoiding the dry and hard outer shelling until one cannot wait any longer nor waste the food, such it up, and eat it.

Coffee-Inspirational bitterness

As a fourteen-year-old I’m sad to say that I have succumbed to addiction, a caffeine addiction. Without my mourning cup of Joe accompanied with a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I’m void of all motivation and inspirational thought, and all that I wish to do is curl up in a ball and sleep for a hundred years, during this time there will be a legend of ‘The girl who didn’t get her coffee’ and folks from all walks of life will come over and place a pack of coffee for my consumption in the afterlife, so that when I do finally wake…I’ll have a lifetime supply of coffee. (= However, this brings me to my point. Coffee, while bitter and when you first try it, it is just  god awful it motivates you to get up and go on throughout your day. No matter how bitter or awful things are, it is the harsh taste that motivates you.

Mashed Potatoes- That one guy you just love seeing bad things happen to.

Think about it, there is always that one tasteless and dirty guy that you just love to see bad things happen to, liked mashed potatoes (Except the potato actually serves a purpose.)

Bubblegum- Actors who can actually act

You can never get enough of actors the same way people can't get enough of bubblegum, and like the sticky moldable consistency of bubblegum, a good actor can shape themselves into any change into any character their script asks for, while well you know, still be amazing.

A reader response theorist would celebrate the movie The Pagemaster directed by Pixote Hunt and Joe Johnston.

One reason why The Pagemaster would be celebrated is that it takes having an ‘emotional journey’ with your stories quite literally when the main protagonist is thrown into a fantasty world with three different genres of literature (Fantasy, Horror, and Adventure) in book form. You find yourself enjoying all that has to come with the quirky mannerisms of each and every character from Horror's understandalbe cowardice to Adventure's grizzly tough exterior, and you get caught up in their own little exploits.

Another reason why one would feel the need to celebrate this movie is that you get the authors purpose. Not only did you follow the characters on a magical adventure(and as children the realm of mae-believe is a grand way to leave things before you're to be subjected to the confinement and conformity of school), the purpse of the author was caught lie most inane top forty songs. You know that by the tranformation the protagonist underwent from meak mouse to fearless dragon slayer. You just knew that he had it in him the entire time, you knew that was the purpose of everything he ever went through on his journey, to bring out, as cheesey as it sounds, the bravery you had in yourself all along.

A reader's response theorist would celebrate the film The Pagemaster directed by Pixote Hunt and Joe Johnston.

I come to you right now as an individual who is completely and utterly indifferent to Valentine’s Day. Yes, I know at most times I’m labeled a ‘cynic’ and am simply dismissed as one who does not know what they’re missing and therefore, I have an invalid opinion. However this ‘cynic’ is about to get on their high horse and tell you a thing or two about Valentine’s Day.

The fact of the matter is, there is way to much on this subject that I’d probably be the first person to overload this blog sight with too many characters (and if I had my way, more than likely generous amount of sarcastic profanities), so I’m just going to stick with the basics, or more specially the complete disregard people have for the history of the holiday. On Valentine’s Day, I was quite upset. For personal reasons and nothing to do with the day at all (I’d sooner walk into North Korea than become bitter and upset over something as petty as Valentine’s Day), however, someone gave me all look and asked what the matter was that made my facial expression so…forlorn. I could tell what they were thinking almost immediately and snapped a little ‘It has nothing to do with today if that’s what you’re referring to!’ and then I quickly added as an after thought ‘Valentine’s Day is nothing more than Hallmark holiday, and is completely void of it’s once genuinely romantic and original ‘forbidden romance’ history that ended in martyrdom and in return is being martyred for everything it’s worth!’ Sadly, much to my discontent, I could tell they didn’t believe me which made me all the more sour on that day. I felt like if I didn’t say that in passing, and were given a chance to explain my side without anther uncontrollable force in my life preventing any control in my emotions, I would have been able to prevent such a facial expression to ever be pitifully cast in my direction. Better late then never I suppose. If I would have had the time, I would have said something around the lines of this:



‘Many, many, many, years ago, there was once a priest named Valentine (later brought into sainthood long after his death) who lived in Rome. He lived under the rule of Claudius the Goth (or Claudius II), who, as legend has it, forbid any marriages in Rome throughout that time, for love, as we all have come to believe under sappy sitcoms and even stickier romance novels, the deadliest of all things. Besides, how could Claudius have big brave soldiers to protect is magnificent city if they’re turned soft by the ladies? Valentine though, a true fan of romance, wedded couples in secret. Once Claudius discovered he priest’s actions, he jailed him, and sentenced him to death. During his time in prison, he healed the jailers daughter of blindness (or so the story goes) and fell in love. On the eve of his execution, he sent her a note that read ‘From your Valentine’ (hence ‘be my Valentine?’). You know, right before he was beaten then beheaded in 270 on February fourteenth.

Now, though I’m indifferent to the holiday, I am an avid admirer of courage and audacity, so I applaud Saint Valentine for doing what he did, and for standing up (in secret) for something he believed in so passionately about, and that’s what annoys me so much about this holiday. I cannot possibly read off how many complaints and grammatically incorrect lamenting statuses I read on Facebook on the fourteenth there were so many. I could go on for hours how I feel about someone putting their life on hold and just sitting around feeling sorry for themselves just because they have no obligation to someone and are completely free of a chaining force that is a ‘significant other’, but I’m not going to get into that, though it is part of the reason why is distaste this holiday so. It promotes feelings like that, but sometimes I feel like some people who actually do have someone on Valentine’s Day are worse. Much worse. It seems lie all they care about is either topping their performance put on last year, or they just want to go so over the top just to show someone they ‘care’. In a few ways, that goes against the very base of what Saint Valentine believed in if you think about it.` He married people so they could have long (or maybe not so long, hygiene was terrible back then) happy lives together, not to show special love on one day. But since it’s a Hallmark Holiday specifically designed to make money for ironically heartless corporations, no one cares.

We all know that classic written scene from every mass produced romance movie in existence. The carefree stroll with your one special person at your arm, while the he buys the she some chocolates, pausing their walk, then they stroll some more along with the perfect music under some flowering trees. Maybe the screen with turned into gentle pastel colors while cliché lines are said, along with the perfect equally unoriginal response. Now, that’s all fine if you’re into that kind of stuff (I’m not personally), and it’s also fine if you want to show someone love like that everyday of the year. But to play into the hands of multimillion dollar companies and to disregard the meaning of something that was once truly beautiful (that ended in tragedy), then you’re just like every other person who ‘celebrates’ Valentine’s Day.

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