March 2019 – Page 3 – Literary Arts Blogspace

My Top Five Song Preferences(each belonging to a different mood.)

Hi hello, Vic here. I’ve been really connecting with music lately, so I thought, “hey why not share it with other people?” With that being said, here are my top five songs that I listen to when I’m in five different moods. Enjoy.

I Hope to Be Around- Men I Trust

I cannot stress enough how much I love Men I Trust. They have such an eccentric vibe. This song is what I like to listen to on a calm Sunday morning when I’m sitting at my desk by the big window. I’m usually painting at this time, or collaging. You know, soaking in all that sun. This song is definitely for a more calm, zen-like vibe, I guess you could call it.

Feels Like Summer- Childish Gambino

I came across this song on my discover weekly a few months ago, and I just really liked it for the beat and sound. However, when I actually started listening to the lyrics I realized the deeper meaning behind this song. It’s talking about how our planet isn’t doing too good. As someone who is very passionate about this earth and what it has come to, this song really hit hard. It’s all around a great song, and has an amazing message behind it. I really appreciate what Childish Gambino did with this song.

TEST DRIVE- Joji

This is the song I listen to when I’m in my feels, but I’m trying to get out of it. The song is sad when it comes to the lyrics, but the beat and music behind it is just kinda upbeat and chill. It’s very nice, and I recommend it to any sad boyz that are in need of a pick me up.

Goodie Bad- Still Woozy

Still Woozy is currently my favorite artist. He has this funky taste with his music. It’s very unique and different, and I very much so enjoy it. Still Woozy is what I like to listen to when I’m at school or just walking around downtown. I’m not sure exactly why, it just serves me well, honestly.

Somebody- Bazzi

This song is what I listen to when I’m in need of motivation and focus because the song itself is about reaching your goals and the obstacles and people that get in the way of that. It always reminds me that I have something that I’m committed to and nothing can get in the way of that.

Spring Break

Spring break is next week, and honestly, I’m so ready. I really just want to use the week to recharge, and I already have some plans for it. I was talking to my best friend, Jennifer, earlier, and I told her one of my little projects for this break was a quote board. I’m gonna take different quotes that I really enjoy and just paste them all together with some pictures and such. Her response was “Oooh how Pinteresty,” but we’re gonna work on it together. My other project is a present for her. My dad just told me Sunday night that I am going to be working concessions at his powerlifting meet. That’s honestly one of my favorite things to do because I just like working concessions for whatever reason. What sucks about this time, though, is that I won’t be able to actually see the meet. Usually, the “stand” is a table set up behind the racks, so we can see the meet while we work, but we’ll be at a different school so the stand will be set up differently. Maybe my mom will let me take breaks to watch the meet? I doubt it though. Concession gets really busy around lunch time, so we’ll have four or five people at a time ordering three or four things. It’s a little difficult to manage that much stuff already, but then you have to add in the change. And that’s between two people. Also, I’m really slow with math under pressure. So…. it’s not a great situation at times, but I still love it. I’m really looking forward to break now.

I Blame The World

Sometimes, the world just was it out for you. I know I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. Sometimes the world just gets angry and needs someone to take it out on. It’s horrible because you start to question what you could have possibly done to make her (the world) so vengeful. Maybe she is heartbroken, and you happened to have waltz into one of her tears. Now you’re drowning, and there honestly seems to be no way out.

Now, I guess I have conjured up this idea because I need to blame something. I don’t want to blame you. Despite the fact that I should and that I need to, which everyone has been very vocal about, I just can’t find it in my self to hate you. Do you remember when I used to write you letters? Or that leather bracelet I gave you and you wore until it fell apart? That piece of toast I drew on your wall because you were sad and I wanted you to be able to look at something and smile? All of this was before we fell in love. Part of me wishes we could go back to then. The other part of me isn’t ready to let you go yet.

I can’t blame cancer either. I mean, if cancer was personified I would probably beat it with a steel pipe, but I can’t do that. I can’t really put my finger on cancer, yet along point at it. I can’t blame cystic fibrosis either, for the same reason. I’m sure cancer and CF didn’t get together one day and decide over tea that “hey, let’s kill Savannah’s friends a week apart.” No, I don’t imagine they know each other that well.

So I come back to you, and I want to scream and cry, but I feel like I’ve done too much of that already. I want to say I never want to talk to you again, but I would be lying. I want to say I don’t love you anymore, but that’s just not true. I can apologize to everyone that disappoints, but all of these tragic events have made me miss you more. I guess part of me wants to hold on to something.

I don’t blame you. I don’t blame cancer or cystic fibrosis. The world just has it out for me right now. Maybe I’m naïve, but that’s what I want to believe. I’m tired of asking you why you had to do this to me, so I will just blame the leaves and the grass and the air. I’ll get angry at the pink and purple sky. It’s easier to blame one thing for my problems rather than multiple different things. The world put all three of you here, so I feel justified. I can handle being mad at the world. That’s an easier pill to swallow than grieving… or being mad at you.

Dear, Dear

there was once a way i looked at things

with side ways glances

or just a smile

i never looked long enough

to see just how much damage

there was held behind your eyes

i’m sorry now

i apologize for every moment of mistreatment

and ignorance

i am here now

i am who i always needed to be

who you needed me to be

i wish i would have always been this person

i would give up the world for you

if human hands could touch the sun

i would pluck it from the sky

and give it to you

i would steal the light from the rest of the universe

just so you wouldn’t have to spend another moment in darkness

no one could hurt you again

you’d be so bright

and never feel pain again

the way roses love

“The way roses love is harsh. They die as quickly as they grow without the proper care. Would you say one loves more than the other?” The elderly woman asked, thumbing through the day’s newspaper with her bony finger. Her almond eyes squinted down at the tiny words on the paper and she grumbled in annoyance. She sat with one of her legs crossed neatly over the other, the floral fabric of her skirt brushing against her calves. Her curly, ash grey hair hung down past her shoulders, tickling her face and tiny wrinkles created paths and messages onto her face. I looked at her in shock considering I hadn’t said anything to the woman since I’d come into the small flower shop. “Pardon?”

“You keep looking at those roses, dear,” she stated simply without looking up from her newspaper. “That’s why I ask if one of you loves more than the other.”

She cut her eyes at me above the newspaper, mouth set in a firm line. I shook my head and replied. “No, I would hope not. I’d like to say that we love each other equally. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve come here for the past four days and everytime you immediately find yourself near the roses after about two seconds of looking at the others,” she said, folding the newspaper and plopping it down onto the counter. With that, she picked up a random record without hesitation and placed it onto the turntable with such care, it was as if it were a tiny child she was handling. The record spun, scratching and making static sighs and sounds. Then, the sweet sound of low jazz danced its way into the air. I furrowed my brows, trying to figure out what the woman was on about. “Ma’am, no disrespect at all, but what do roses have to do with me and him loving each other? How did you even know I was in a relationship?”

“Dear, I feel it. Those roses are your way of making up for the lost love and connection in your circumstances. Come here and sit.” I made my way towards the counter and sat on an old, torn stool that stood next to it. She leaned over and smiled sadly, wrinkles deepening. “Like roses, love dies without the proper care. Roses love so desperately but so harshly. They flaunt their beauty, attracting many but cuts the many that encounter them. They’re a toxic kind of love. Your love? Your love is like a broken record, constantly repeating itself. You fall for the same kind until it tires you out. Stop tiring yourself out and buy a new turntable.”

I sat in silence, blinking to keep back the tears that had been fighting to get out. The old woman disappeared behind the counter for a moment and then popped back up, setting a bouquet of small, purple flowers on it. “You need a new flower. Lilacs have never failed me. Let go of what you can’t handle and find someone new. Start fresh.”

I took the bouquet and reached in my pocket when she stopped me. She shook her head and winked, nodding her head towards the door. A sad smile spread across my face. “Thank you for being what I needed.”

I left, hugging the bouquet to my chest, the image of her smile vivid and fresh in my mind. Before walking in the direction of my apartment, I looked back inside the window of the store. The old woman sat with a small, content smile sitting on her face. In her hands was a picture frame. She lifted it to her fragile lips and kissed it. I hugged the lilacs tighter and smiled to myself, letting memory lead the way home.

the handmaid’s tale

so we just finished reading margaret atwood’s the handmaid’s tale in english, and boy let me tell you what a RIDE it has been. i personally don’t really want to put myself or anyone reading this through the pain of rehashing this bleak world, but there’s little to be said about it otherwise, so here we are.

first of all, this book is sad. and not in the boo-hoo weepy way, but in the sour sinking-feeling-in-the-pit-of-your-stomach way. i never wanted to but this book down once i got into reading a section, but i also never wanted to pick it back up again after. it’s definitely something that caters to a morbid curiosity we have for chaos (among other things).

the government was massacred and completely overthrown by christian extremists, their rule gradually tightening its grip into what is now the republic of gilead. women’s value is assigned based on two things: how “morally corrupt” they are, and their ability to bear children. offred is our narrator and a handmaid, a woman whose sole function in society is to have children in a state where populations have been decimated by diseases causing death and infertility. she describes this world as she experiences it, with the occasional flashback to her life before the republic and the limbo period between that and becoming a handmaid.

we want this world to be unfathomable. we want it to be impossible. we don’t want to ever consider for a second that any aspect of this world could ever exist – this pious, totalitarian nightmare. and what’s scarier is that it could happen, that it is happening, somewhere in some way. certainly not to such extremes, but freedom is a privilege not all of us our granted. the book discusses this as well – this “freedom to” versus “freedom from.” there is a freedom to autonomy for women, but there is also a freedom from men’s unwanted attention to women; the republic has chosen the latter, and its citizens suffer for it.

i’m someone who has always been vehemently independent, and the thought of losing my autonomy (especially in such an extreme setting as this one) makes my skin crawl. this society, this world of the handmaid’s tale, is abhorrent. the thought of my existence becoming nothing more than my body is terrifying, but i cannot help but fear its possibility. sure, it’s an extreme state of mind, but in this day and age, even the ability to fear it is a virtue.

Song Review: Intro III by NF part 1

*I’m cutting this into three parts (Pun intended) because the song is fairly long.

Off the bat, the first thing I was interested in was that the song was split into “Two parts” Nathan and Nathans fear. This isn’t the first song I have seen a personification of an emotion, but this is one of the few songs which the host of said emotion actually overcomes it, though in this case, I think it was in an unhealthy way, nonetheless the emotion he possess while he’s speaking to himself is very powerful to me. Fear owns this section of the song it doesn’t matter what Nathan wants fear will always get what he wants, right?

(NF’s Fear)

What, are you scared of me? It’s embarassin’
If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve never wrote Therapy
I’ve been here for you, but how come you’re never there for me?
It’s a little bit twisted, but I miss when you and I had scary dreams

*It’s clear that Fear is a strong character that seems to take the reigns from the beginning. This to me is a way to showcase that fear is the first one to greet anyone and that it has remained close to NF throughout his life. Fear has lingered since he was a kid.

(NF)

I don’t really wanna talk about it

*I think everyone has had an instance when they have spoken to themselves. Trying to silence the voices in their head from taking over and making themselves worse.

(NF’s Fear)

Well, that’s too bad now, Nate,

(NF)

shut up!

*Another show of force from NF even though he seems to be still playing it fairly passive at this point. He doesn’t want to listen to himself anymore but he can’t help that. he has made this fear as strong as it is now and he has to face it eventuall

(NF Fear)

Now where were we? Way back in the day when
You and I had it all mapped out in the basement
Cryin’ in your room like a baby

*At this point, i think when fear begins to lose a bit of his hold over NF.

(NF)

I wish mom was here

*Through a majority of his songs he mentions his mother. He seems to have had a great but rocky relationship with her and seems to dedicate himself to her in a way for a source of comfort.

(NF’s Fear)

We all do so we wouldn’t have to hear about it
Every single record you don’t really wanna change me
Yeah, I’m the on that made this happen
Do you really wanna get rid of your main attraction?
Let’s pack our bags and go back to Gladwin now
Yeah, it’s time for the third record
And you know I got the content
I don’t wanna make you nervous
But it ain’t like it used to be
We got a lotta people watchin’
You told me that you don’t want me in your life
That’s pretty hard to digest
And I told you I’d leave when we die, and we ain’t died yet

*This is when I question if Fear itself is kinda regretting the fact that NF hates him? During the actual song, he seems frustrated and angry that NF refuses to accept that he is apart of his life whether he likes it or not he is him. In a way, I think Fear doesn’t want to die or be forgotten.

Therapy Session was beautiful, Nate, but I’m wonderin’ what’s comin’ next
Yeah, get that stupid hat off of your head when I’m talkin’ to you, you hear what I said

*I feel that Fear is feeling disrespected at that he’s at this point in time not being taken as seriously as he wants to be.

You don’t like the prison I built you?
Yeah, you wanna know what the funny thing is?
You keep on talkin’ to me like a stranger, but we’ve been together since you were a kid
Took us from a no-name
Told you everything was okay
Now you tryna cut me out of it like I ain’t never been a part of it
I am the heart of it, I made this whole thing

*Fear created him. Fear is what made him what he is today. is it possible to cut off parts of yourself that you don’t like? At what cost?

Yeah, I put us on the dope stage
You must have no brain
What’s the point of having guns if you can’t aim?
What’s the point of having blood with no vein?
What’s the point of having love with no pain?
What I’m sayin’ is me without you doesn’t make any sense
I know I’m intense in controlling, but you need to learn how to cope with it
That’s just the way that it is
If you didn’t want me to live in your house, you shouldn’t have let me move in

*In Previous song Fear snuck in. NF never really intended for it to happen and that was the last time he left his “Mansion” and after that he decided to stay within the building to stop other things from getting out or getting back in.

It’s comfortable here and I like it, I got my own room and everything
It don’t get better than this!
You say you wanna own your life, then wake up and take your own advice
You just mad ’cause you know I’m right
Yeah, I’m flattered you put me in Mansion, but you should’ve told ’em right
‘Bout your hands on the coldest nights
You didn’t tell ’em ’bout the times you and I used to hold he mic
I mean, what are you, outta your mind?
‘Cause both of us will be
Come on, let’s go outside!

*Fear tries to take control again and forces NF to face his biggest challenge which is to go back outside. His biggest fear is facing the light and seeing everything that he was trying to avoid.

Is this what you wanted?
Both of us out in the open? Let’s do it then
I mean, why are you doin’ this?
I know that you’re mad, but I’m not in the mood for this
We got a record to drop
So why you actin’ like I’m not a part of it?

*Fear goes back to trying to reason with NF he wants him to see his point of view. “You need me to write. You need me to live. You need me” But forcing someone to get over their biggest fear doesn’t cripple them it makes them stronger. Fear and NF willingly/Unwillingly helped him get over his self in a way.

I’m cutting it here because the dynamic completely changes for the other parts. This song is similar to a story it has a beginning, a climax, and an end. For the beginning, I truly enjoyed the conversation and liked the insight into his two parts of himself. Fear seems humanized in a way. He isn’t this giant looming figure, he’s just a voice that taunts and picks NF apart but even Fear can be defeated in a way. Fear feels insecurities Fear even feels fear which was a breath of fresh air to witness for the next two-part i will dive into.

Boxing with Your Mom

E. Ethelbert Miller has written the piece as a block of prose, but first presents a quote:

Whoever said men
hit harder when women
are around, is right.
– Yusef Komunyakaa

After, he follows with the piece:

You push the door open not knowing
what to expect. She sits in a chair next
to her hospital bed. Just sitting. How long?
Before you can even enter the room a big
smile of recognition kisses her lips before
she kisses you. Her seamstress eyes survey
your clothes. You’re a rhinestone of a son
slipping between her shaking hands. As the
sparkle leaves her eyes she withdraws under
her hospital robe. So small she looks. So
small she is. You want to leave but you just
came. It’s just you and her. You’re overmatched.
Her moods change so quick you can’t avoid
her jabs. There’s bitterness in each blow. She
has you against the wall. You’re fighting with
her again. This is sick you say to yourself.
You want to leave but the bell never rings.
You’re trying to love her too much. You’re
losing another round.

I began the piece without first reading the quote that precedes it, and, after rereading the piece with the quote, I was given much more insight into the route Miller was giving his poem.

The prose is offered as an observation from the point of view of a man with his hospitalized mother. She has some sort of sickness that makes her forget things, most likely some stage of Alzheimer’s, and, instead of making her weak in this moment, Miller sort of paints her image as that of a fighter-but not a fighter against what you would initially believe.

He writes the piece as if the son and mother are fighting against one another, and for what reason? My thought is that he would do this to describe exhaustion as something more tangible, more physical.

I found the line, ‘You want to leave but the bell never rings.‘ to be very hard-hitting when paired directly after with, ‘You’re trying to love her too much.‘

Miller is basically saying that there are many ways to look at how this sickness is affecting everyone’s life so greatly. I could feel in my body the expression of just being over wanting to do something in this piece. Just-just being tired, you know? The feeling of exhaustion in this prose was so well-written that, even though it isn’t one of my favorites by Miller, it still stuck in my brain. He almost needed a separate sense besides the five he was given to describe the way both characters in the piece felt, and he nailed them as characters themselves.

This piece was honestly just so overwhelming. There was so much going on, and Miller added many underlying descriptions that built the characters he was talking of, for example the lines about the mother’s seamstress hands shaking, then the comparison following, talking of how her hands let the son slip- none of these descriptions were directly needed, but they added so much to the story he wove within these lines.

This is Water Messed Me Up

I wrote this for Letters for Literature, and this speech is really incredible, so I thought I would use this as my blog.

(Here’s the link, if you want to listen to it.)

November 9, 2018

Dear Mr. David Foster Wallace,

How could you? In This is Water, you open our minds to breaking the boundaries of our brains, of shifting perspective of life and the little inconsistencies we find in our everyday routines-you speak of hope. This 2005 public speech at Kenyon University would later go on to be one of your most influential pieces, a speech that would leave all generations open mouthed and in awe of their own existence. And yet, police found you hanging from the rafters in your home not three years later. You hung yourself on September 12, 2008, you killed your ideals when you killed yourself and that, Mr. Wallace, makes you a hypocrite.
This is Water is a piece that reflects on human self-perseverance through seeing life’s negative attributes as a gift to each of us. You suggest within it a self-discipline, a mind-over-matter way of seeing the world. It is a piece meant to remind us of the “water” all around us, of our lives that are more beautiful than we now can comprehend, and of the self-awareness we all should have towards our external experiences and through our communications with others. And I knew as I listened in my bed and cried to this piece, that you must be a forever lonely man, having thoughts such as these. It is a very daunting task to chase intellect and nearly worship it, you said it yourself, so how could you let this same idea ruin you?
After hearing this speech, I noticed my shoes fit different. I watched my words fall from my mouth and found myself able to touch them with my fingers, to feel the power each syllable had once spoken into the air. I imagined my life and walked with open hands into it, palms outstretched and ready to gratefully tackle any obstacle. Shortly after practicing this lifestyle, I learned too of your death. Of your major-depressive disorder and the electroshock therapy. Of your struggles and your internal pain, though I had initially pictured you as this impenetrable force, a man with a more resilient mind than anyone I had the privilege to listen to before.
Mr. Wallace, I will forever be in awe of you, but you are a hypocrite, you are a liar. You cheated me, giving me false hope where even you couldn’t find any. You said once that “writing is what it means to be a f****** human being”, that writing has the potential to make the writer and reader “less alone inside.” Still, there was a hole in you-the writing wasn’t enough, the people you touched with your spirit through poetry, essays, and speeches was not enough for you. The hole was your heart and head aching in a constant and never-ending battle, depressive episodes racking through your bones and choking these sentimental, humble phrases from your mouth. You let your brain eat you from the inside out, and I don’t know if I can forgive you for it.
What did you worship, Mr. Wallace? Was it intellect, as I first imagined, that drove you? Perhaps not, as you did say it was incredibly useless to do so, but I still have notions that you said this knowing you would always return to look for more intellect, that you secret did in fact worship knowledge and knowingly let it break you into little pieces, running to a finish line that never existed.
As you said, “The one thing that is Capital T- true, is that you decide how you’re going to see it.” You were talking about life when you let these words tumble from your mouth. Maybe you were more selfish than I knew, only talking of your own life, but Mr. Wallace, when you said this, I considered my life and the lives of my friends, of my family, of strangers I would meet in the next. It was universal, and your words hit home. As a fish in water, as my seventeen-year-old self, I was hooked to this quote, and it still carries me through days. But, Mr. Wallace, can it even hold the weight it once did in my mind after discovering that you never fully invested into the idea yourself? You had chances, you have choices, and though your words were brilliant, I have trouble coming to terms with your death and simultaneously believing in them. I can barely believe in you anymore.
Mr. Wallace, I hope you found peace through your decision, but I also hope you know that because of your decision, I do not believe peace is something I will have for a very long time.

Best wishes, wherever you are,

Katherine Dian Westbrook

February Book Review

I started reading a series of books when I was in elementary/middle school that made me fall in love with books and reading. They were the only books that the author had ever released or planned on releasing, and I absolutely loved them and still love them to this day. Anyways, after all these years and thinking that I’ll never have the chance to experience this world again, he released a new and final installment to the series.

(SPOILERS KINDA)

The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm – Tales from Alagaesia was the ending to a world that you always want for a world, but you never seem to get. Christopher Paolini ended the “final” book in the series with a cliffhanger that left all of the characters across the world from each other, love stories were left unresolved, and the main character was cast out into the world alone because of a foreshadowed cryptic prophecy from book one that everyone forgot about. In my own personal opinion, it was probably one of the most infuriating series/book ending that I have ever read. After spending years falling in love with the characters and all of their separate, intricate story-lines and then pretty much having the author do that thing that some authors do where they leave the story open for the readers to imagine the ending was awful. Turning the last page of a four book series, after reading over a 1,000 pages, and turning the last page to have no closure was the worst thing that I didn’t plan on. That’s why having this extra, small book to cover the ends of the stories was almost enough to make me cry.

Paolini began the new, bonus stories book set a year after the final installment of the original series, writing out three brand new smaller stories inside the book to clear up all of the loose ends of the original series. We’re now able to see the end of Eragon and his family and friends, bringing it all to a final point, opening the way for a whole new set of books, but it isn’t clear yet if we’ll get them or not.

I’ve been a little vague with this book review because I am still trying to process the stories and ending of the newest book. I will say that these books are some of the most in-depth, world-building series I’ve ever read. Never have I read a series and understood the layout of the world as much as I did while reading the Eragon books. 10/10 would recommend.