29 October, 2007

Mrs.Cutt-throat

Hello fellow bloggers, I'm writing this as another assignment for my English class, another type of persona essay, and my audience for this paper is you, so I decided to best get into my persona, I should write this out on Blogger. I'm to write a 3-4 page essay on a common human trait and give a personal anecdote on how I came to this conclusion. Unfortuantely my computer is acting up....

FACT (as decided by me) people are afraid, and therefore shy away from, the unknown.

How I came up with this conclusion: in the sixth grade, after watching a vampire movie, I was afraid to go to sleep. I analyzed why and found that, with the lights off, I couldn't see what was coming, it didn't take a large jump of intuition to see the symbolism in that. So, I came up with a little example of my own:a light in a dark room, if you were in a dark room you would be drawn to that light rather than stand in the dark. There's also the proverbial "Light at the end of the tunnel" using light to symbolize knowledge-heaven-and everyone is drawn to that light.

Our planet is in the dark-the universe-the unknown.

So I begin:

The imagination of a child is a powerful tool, one to be used with caution and care lest even more powerful ideas be wrought and therefore released into the world. I, myself, dear blogger, am guilty of possessing an imagination of such debilitating capabilities, and the suppositions that I have wrought due to this overactive tool began in the sixth grade in responce to the unfortunate mixture of a late night vampire movie and said imagination. I give testament now, my dear fellows, to the might of imagination on the young and budding mind of a searching pre-teen. After watching this horror film containing blood sucking fiends and night horrors

DONE:


The imagination of a child is a powerful tool, one to be used with caution and care lest even more powerful ideas be wrought and therefore released into the world. I myself, dear blogger, am guilty of possessing an imagination of such debilitating capabilities, and the suppositions that I have wrought due to this overactive tool began in the sixth grade in response to the unfortunate mixture of a late night vampire movie and said imagination. I give testament now, my dear fellows, to the might of imagination on a young and developing mind.

As previously stated, my first glimmers of real thought, startling in their swift yet infantile intensity, was the product of a late night horror flick. The contents of this movie are mere shadows in my memory and something I deem irrelevant to our conversation; they served their purpose by breaking through that gossamer curtain of juvenile thought and introducing me to a realm of possibility, of unchartered concepts, and of pristine ideas, as yet uncluttered by prejudice and progress and still the pure, innocent, yet shapeless, visions of the young. The sleep deprivation I experienced in lieu of this phantasmal film produced in me the urge to examine the irrational trepidation against the murky shadows and sinister darkness the night cast. In this analysis of the anonymous cause of fright, I considered, why the dark? Not for the first time did the increasingly redundant realization that, if anything were to happen, it would matter not if the clown lamp next to my bed was shining cheerily or currently hibernating; so why the dark?
Suddenly it struck me, and the idea seems so ingenuous now, that people fear that which they can’t see, they fear the ideas their minds can’t grasp, they fear the unexplainable, and darkness represents all of these things because you can’t see in the dark. Fortunately, it doesn’t take a vast leap of intuition to perceive the symbolism between dark and knowledge (or moreover the lack of knowledge), otherwise dear bloggers, I might not have an entry for you today, I might, instead, be salivating upon some picture of a teen-magazine hunk, or allowing my brain to decompose by watching reality television.
Once this connection became established in my mind, once I comprehended the accomplishment I made and the mental freedom I had achieved, I knew that I must cultivate and expand that freedom; therefore, I further advanced my idea, developing it into that which you are about to read.
Let us begin my avid readers and dear friends, with a universal definitive. The majority of people will recognize the proverbial, yet cliché, “light at the end of the dark tunnel”- an often used expression to describe the transition from life to death; from the mysteries of life into the glorious and sage afterlife. Like a moth drawn to a flame, so too are people drawn to this light and the understanding it promises. Why live in the uncertain when you can achieve ultimate understanding? Comprehension of the previously indefinite is what’s enticing about this light- the knowledge it offers is the magnetic force that tugs at its ignorant counterpart: human nature- and that is the reason people yearn for this comprehension. This is an ultimate truth about humans: because of our own inherent desire for moral reprieve, we refuse to live through life with the shady menace of ambiguity when we can illuminate our environment with the radiance of an insight tailored to fit our own comfort.
This lust for substantiating knowledge, a knowledge that agrees with our ethics, is an unconscious sin everyone suffers from, myself included; knowing all and fearing nothing because we know we’re right and, therefore, there is obviously nothing that would dare threaten us. Five and a half years ago, sitting in my dim room, I felt anxious about turning off my lamp because to do so would be to blind myself to the rather improbable vampire attack that was sure to come. Likewise, people refuse to acknowledge the dark and metaphysical around them, instead reveling in the serenity imparted by focusing on the “exquisite” truths provided by the tangible and by our “undeniable” science. The shunning of the uncomfortable, but necessary, potential prospects for future generations stunt the human population’s growth, just like not sleeping for fear of night spooks released by the dark unknown will stunt a child’s growth.
For centuries people have scorned the physically different, mocked the eccentric ideas of unrecognizable geniuses, and prosecuted those who threatened the longevity of their precious understanding with radical and confusing proposals. The human race’s grip on their comforting “knowledge” tightens with each turning century as the once heretical ideas of past times become increasingly possible, if not apparent. The feasibility that people might be born gay, that killing unborn children is publicly acceptable, that we are running out of nonrenewable energy supplies, even that people actually want to cut their hair in such extreme styles, menaces the set and “undeniable” knowledge that humans have always required. And, as I’m sure you’ve took note of dear bloggers, it is already becoming a matter of public concern that our planet floats nestled by galactic darkness, illuminated only by the resplendent, yet seemingly insufficient, star we’ve christened our sun. And so I ask of you dear bloggers, despite the promises of many a misguided politician, who will lead us out of this darkness; the darkness of human prejudice and obstinacy, and do we even want to be lead out?

12 October, 2007

Moving On

(I Don't Claim Artist Status)



Please note the wording of my next sentence:


My grandmother passed on yesterday.


I say passed on and not died because of the simple reason that the word "death" is much too final for the transition my grandmother's soul just made.


To die would be to cease existing, and my grandmother has not done that. She has simply left her frail and earthly physical form and took on a perfect and glorified body in heaven.

I'm happy for her, and didn't cry for her when she passed.

Although... I am terribly sorry for my grandfather; please, allow me to evoke tears by describing his "good-byes".

I mentioned in my last blog that my grandfather's faith was weak at best. Well..Mom-Mom's (my grandmother's) death certainly brought religion to my grandfather, he called the priest of our parish down to pray over my dying grandmother. He called himself weak and a sinner, said he should have done more. He told her that he would see her tomorrow in heaven and has since wished death down upon himself countless times since her passing. He's convinced that he'll be going to hell and that he'll never see her again.

And I...

I cried for him...

I cried for him as he pleaded with her to open her eyes. I cried for him when his knees buckled as he signed the sheet releasing her from her state of artificial living. And I cried whenever he looked at her the first time he walked into the room and gave a gasp and a moan at her shocking state.

I cried for her children.

I cried for my father who cried only momentarily on his older sister's shoulder because he lost his mother (only momentarily though, for he had to be strong for his own father). I cried when my big strong uncle laid his head on his wife's lap as if he was six years old again and had just woken from a nightmare...only...this nightmare was for real. I cried for my mother who was rife with guilt over her avoidance of my grandmother, convinced that my grandmother was always judging her.

Live as if your loved ones were dying tomorrow...remember?

I guess I wont be playing the piano for her any longer.

Depressing?

Well then, let us talk of poetic tragedy, shall we?

It was an on-going joke between me and Mom-Mom that whenever she hugged me my hair was always wet because I was just getting out of swim practice or just finished taking a shower. The last time I hugged her my hair was wet because I'd finished marching a color-guard for the parade while it was raining. When I watched her die, for I was in the room when they removed the oxygen tube, and I was there while her heartbeat slowed and stopped, my hair was also wet because I'd had an early morning swim practice and my hair had yet to dry.

My brother...well he arrived home that afternoon boasting a "Get Well" card he'd written for Mom-Mom at school that day.

And the good that came from this? What was God's intention?

Well...who can say what God's intention is, but...

My grandfather's faith is now firmly established; he'll be damned if he doesn't get into heaven to see my grandmother again.

My uncles, aunts and parents have never seemed closer.

I've been running and biking and exercising like crazy to work myself through any residual grief.

But who can really say why things happen? I can't even get my dogs to stay when I tell them to, I'm certainly in no position to try and guess at God's inner thoughts and actions.

09 October, 2007

Things Always Sound So Much Better in My Sleep

So....
My grandmother is in the intensive care unit of a local hospital.

I don't know what to think...although (and I know this doesn't make much sense) she's made me think...about a lot actually.

I don't feel anything about the situation, I haven't been worried...at least not for her, for my grandfather yes, but I'll explain that later (if I remember to).



So bear with me as I try to sort through these thoughts;



She's always been the healthy one b/w my paternal grandparents so when she was originally put in the hospital I dismissed it as being minor, unfortunately her condition has quickly deteriorated. I saw her a few days ago (for the last time?)---she called me pretty, claimed to have once been as pretty as I am, I wanted to tell er that she is pretty and that I thought her hands were beautiful.



She says she's proud of me.



I thought...if I was to never see her again, I think I would be most upset at the fact that I've always avoided playing the piano around her (she makes me nervous) even though I know she loves to listen to me play, ha, I once played her to sleep.



I've yet to be sad, although I have experienced bouts of guilt and have suffered the grief of that guilt.



Her sickness has taught me that the saying "Live like each day is you last" is absolute bump. I personally will grieve very little if my life means nothing to myself, because I know that that is my fault, and I can live with that. However, I now think that it is incredibly important to live each day as if it is your loved one's last day.



Does that make sense to you?



I can live with disappointing myself, but to let down someone I love, especially if it could be their last day on earth, is quite...unbearable.



I've also learned that your perspective of reality changes as you age, and I don't mean dementia or any other debilitating outgrowth of time.



For example, I find that beauty, as you age, changes from "the aesthetically pleasing" to "youth and vitality" and that strength is no longer so much a physical attribute as it is the ability to control your movements and possessing absolute belief in that ability - that is strength!

Now to make a reference back to my grandfather, I'm not going to call him atheist, but, his belief in God is not without major cracks and dents. He is the picture of cynical old men, and I love him for that, but I worry for his soul. He, as you obviously already suspect, blames God for the misfortunes that have befallen Mom-Mom (My grandmother), and he is particularly upset that this illness chose such a blissful time in my grandparents' lives to take effect.

My grandfather had just begun to take Conformation classes at our Episcopal church, now however....

I can't help but wonder if this illness is a test of God's toward my grandfather's budding faith. If so...I'm somewhat worried for my grandfather. I don't know what to think...

Heaven is a good place to go, or so I've heard, and so I believe, but to convince my grandfather of that will be more than a little difficult.

As a younger child I stumbled upon the most reassuring of quotes and I always connect it to death (although that's not difficult since it is about death)

"Why is it we rejoice at births and mourn at funerals? Is it because we are not the person involved?"