Prompt: ABC, 123

Alejo walked over to my desk, hands in his pockets, and asked, "Do you have the homework?" Slightly uncomfortable, I told him no, I didn't, sorry. (Lie. Obviously I had the homework -- I always had the homework. Everyone knows that.)

But instead of calling me on this, he dimpled at me and said, "Thanks, anyway," then walked away.

I watched as he went to ask another classmate the same question. We have never interacted much, Alejo and I. Just when it's something school-related. You could likely attest that to my own personality rather than his, or anyone else's. Countless people have admitted to me that I am not incredibly personable. Quiet. Reserved. Unapproachable, even.

Do I care?

Not really.

Xue, my equal in academic organization but far superior to me in sociability, seemed to have had the homework for Alejo. Hm.

Great for him.

Very... Kindly of her, with her...
Zippy personality.

...
... ... ...

For the first time, I thought, Maybe I ought to have given him a chance -- but the thought was a fleeting one as I heard Xue and Alejo's laughter and realized the implications of sharing homework and, consequentially, a relationship.

Pah to that; I would rather be considered unapproachable for the rest of my life.

para la dia de san valentin

Wow yes it's Valentine's Day. I enjoy it just as much as the next guy, even if I'm not directly involved. Lots of my friends are happy and have gr8 days planned with their significant others! Sweet! And tomorrow will be Bargain Chocolate Day! Hell yes.

But the other day, I was thinking about this guy who really makes me mad, and then I wrote a really angry, bitter poem about it, and now I'm posting it here, today, in dedication to all the disgusting misogynists who will show their ugly mugs on this beautiful day. Enjoy, you horrendous sexists. Enjoy.
-------------

Grass is green
Violets are blue
Holy shit—
I am sick of you

Roses are red
And so is your blood
I dream to push you down
Right in the mud

The sun is so hot
Your soul is so cold
And I’d like to meet the demon
To whom it’s been sold

Birds fly in the sky
Fish swim in the sea
You don’t even know
How sorry you’ll be

Yes, roses are red
No, violets ain’t blue
Just what did you think
You’d be able to do?

To sway my affections?
To win over my heart?
You’d be considered Picasso
If love were an art—

Not cool or unique
I mean, a total mess
Unlike L’Demoiselles d’Avignon
Your work is worth much less

You see women as nothing
More than a prize
So I see you as nothing
Just a boy to chastise

We are not your playthings
You can’t just trade us in
Put one girl in the dump
Take one out of the bin

The roses are dead
The violets are poo
I won’t be doing it
But seriously, fuck you

Review: High School Story

High School Story is a phone game created by Pixelberry Studios.

You are a new high school student in the area, and it is your job to make a better school than the local Hearst High School (booo Hearst). This is done by recruiting more students, building new facilities, and completing various quests that the characters present you with.

I was admittedly pretty dubious about this game when my sister told me about, especially because she described it as, "Farmville but with high school." But it gets really addicting really fast. The best thing about this game is the level of customization you get with all of your students (except for the plot-relevant characters that the game gives you, which you are not changable) as well as the campus itself. You can build classrooms and hangouts for your students wherever you want, as well as throwing in things like balloons and flower hedges.

One of the most fun features is the Isle of Love, where you can put your students on dates, including your own avatar and the plot-important characters. And, like in most things I review, you don't have to be in a straight relationship if you don't want! Woohoo! It's also really cool how, after sending the couple on a lot of successful dates, they move on from "Flirting" to "Crushing" to "Online Official" and probably a bunch of other levels that I personally haven't achieved yet. And while I'm on the subject of breaking out of social normacy, this game largely features people of color as the protagonists or antagonists instead of making everyone white (there are, like, 6 or 7 different skin color swatches to choose from).

I give this game an A- for its characters that actually make me care about them and its fun gameplay that makes you strategize to have optimal gain rather than tapping the screen endlessly like some other phone-based games. My only complaints are how the higher level you get, the longer quests and construction and other things take (once a couple is at Online Official, their dates can take upwards of 7 hours).
Still, I recommend this game; but just a friendly tip: don't spend all your rings too fast bc omg they are so important in later levels ok HOARD YOUR RINGS

You can download this app from Google Play.

this is my campus :)))

my avatar lmao yes lv6 nerd
and my gf rose (lv5 student gov)

Found Poem

This could certainly be qualified as a dream of mine, though more in the aspiration for change sense rather than sleeping dreams.

The Agenda

“Dressing up for a safe environment?”

Sick.

Women:

Change global society

Debate policy
Prevail the costs 

Celebrate personality

Thrive on success

The perfect blend

Men, time for you:

Your required work? 

Be an ally

To be assistance to excellence

Out of sight recognition

My  fight

My exit speech

Make it a great day to be a woman

These are the words & phrases I found:
exit - the perfect blend - your work to - our edition - personal - debate - policy - superior - sick - others - global society - men - must be - women - personality - if it can fit - your photo - dressing up for - safe environment - required - celebrate - thrive on success - speech - change minds - my fight - seeing - costs - eligible - open - prevail the - intellectual growth - social - interests - aspirations - individuals - out of sight - recognition - excellence - guidance - personalize - time for you! - spirit - congratulations - assistance - for after - chicago - make it a great day to be a - be the change - change policies - ally 

Review: Fly Guy

Fly Guy is a browser-based game created by Trevor Van Meter. 

just doing some copying in the sky hbu

The basic premise is that you are a middle-aged balding man in sensible clothes, evidently waiting for the bus, who just happens to be able to fly. Using the arrow keys, you navigate around the sky, interacting with different passersby (to do this, you just have to fly up to them and their action with activate). There are many different people and objects to interact with, and the higher you fly up the more interesting things get.

he got so tired waiting for the bus
he spontaneously learned how to fly

I love this game because it is so simplistic yet still so fun. Everything is in black-and-white so it isn't hard on the eyes, and the drawing style is very minimalist, which serves to make the player pay closer attention to what is happening rather than what they are looking at. The background music, ever-looping, does not get boring or tedious even after a long session of flying around because it is so relaxing and enjoyable.

The game is not win-lose (although there are some frustrating times when interacting with certain people or objects transport you back down to the bus stop!), and so you do not get stressed out when playing it like you would other games that have actual stakes. You are simply a balding man in a suit flying around and having a super time talking to people and and sitting in chairs with wings.

ok thanks floating guru man

I give this game an A for its relaxing nature and unique concept (not an A+ simply for all the times I got momentarily peeved when a sea monster ate me or something (you'll find out when you play)). If you ever feel like you need to wind down or calm yourself, I highly recommend playing this game, or even just running it in the background so you can sit and listen to the relaxing music.

You can play the game here.

Review: Welcome to Night Vale

Welcome to Night Vale is a podcast created by Joseph Fink and Jeffery Cranor, who have co-created other projects, all hosted on their website, Commonplace Books.

I would describe Night Vale as a mix between NPR and The Twilight Zone. And, speaking of NPR, Joseph Fink talked about the origins of the story in an NPR interview: "(We) came up with this idea of a town in that desert where all conspiracy theories were real," which is a very good way to sum up the gist of what Night Vale is all about.

It's set in the fictional town of Night Vale, way out in the middle of the desert. The podcast is set up as a radio show, with the host, Cecil Palmer (voiced by Cecil Baldwin), talking to his fellow townies about the goings-on. This news-based aspect is the NPR bit. The Twilight Zone bit comes in with the nature of the stories: in Night Vale, bloodstone rituals and floating cats with poisonous spinal ridges are seen as completely commonplace and ordinary. Helicopters fly overhead, manned by the Sheriff's (not-so) Secret Police to watch the town. The dog park is occupied by malicious supernatural creatures that will steal you away.

It's a very interesting and unique concept that can appeal to just about anyone. What I think is so great about this being a podcast rather than a TV show is that, as there are rarely any in-depth physical descriptions of the characters, Cecil included, people can dream up what they think the Night Vale citizens look like, and it's all completely valid. Okay, well, mostly valid -- what's not cool is whitewashing characters like Carlos (Cecil's love interest) or Tamika Flynn, who are very obviously people of color.

Which, speaking of Carlos, he's also another really important facet to this story. Oftentimes in media today, when there is a gay romance plot, there's a whole big to-do about the characters being gay in a straight-centric society, and will they be okay? how ever will the family react? can the couple stay together throughout the trials and tribulations of being in a homosexual relationship??? The plot is more focused on the fact that they're gay rather than the fact that they're in love. Not Night Vale. When Cecil falls for Carlos (which is in the very first episode, so it's not really a spoiler), it's because Carlos is Carlos, and that's it. Their relationship is dealt with wonderfully and realistically -- I don't think the word "gay" ever even comes up in the entire podcast.

The final big thing I adore about this podcast (besides absolutely everything about it) is the amazing attention to detail the writers have. A big issue in television or book series is laziness on the writers' parts, who leave out plot points that had been brought up in earlier seasons or episodes, totally disregarding continuity. Not Night Vale!!! The writers bring back characters and plots from several episodes back, catching the listener off-guard and making them stop to think, remember where they heard that name before. It keeps the audience on their toes, as they never know what character is going to come back and wreak havoc at any point!

Each episode ranges from 20 to 30 minutes. Two episodes are released every month (there are a total of 40 published episodes to date). Though Cecil is the main voice on the show, other characters sometimes come in to have a few words themselves. There is music under much of the stories (created by Disparition), but there is one specific segment, the weather, where new music from a different artist each episode is played -- which is something I really love, because it gets bands and singers that might have gone under the radar for a long time some very good exposure. And, just as a head's up, Cecil's voice is so smooth that it will literally lull you to sleep, so make sure you're sitting up or doing something else when listening, or you're a goner.

I give this podcast an A+ for its immersive and intriguing storylines that keep listeners interested, keeping us coming back to hear the resolution of each subplot, as well as having really great characters and relationships.

Start listening by downloading the (free!) episodes: iTunes - Stitcher - Libsyn - Feedburner - Soundcloud

Dreams (text contribution)

I'm sure there are boatloads of fine examples of poems and stories discussing the world of dreams, I would like to state some interesting facts. I learned this in my Zoology & Botany class.

We, as humans, are capable of very complex, intricate dreams. Sometimes, our dreams reflect past events in the day, month, year -- whatever. We pull in personal experiences as well as family and friends to star in our dreams. Or, we can dream about completely abstract, impossible things, in fantastic landscapes. This is thanks to our highly evolved, complicated brain structure.

But do animals other than ourselves dream? And if yes, then what do they dream about?

In a study by MIT, it has been found that other animals do, indeed, dream. It has also been shown that there is a direct correlation between the evolved state of the animals brain and the complexity of the dreams they dream.

Dogs are able to dream about any past event they have experienced in their lives, most often about running or chasing something; if you've ever seen your dog twitching their legs in their sleep, that's why! They're replaying the moment, and feel it as if they're there again, reliving it.

Rats and mice are even simpler minded, and consequentially have very limited dream ability. Rats and mice are able to dream only about that past day's events. This was discovered by MIT through a simple test: they put a rat through a maze and measured its brainwaves all the while. Then, when the rat fell asleep, they measured the brainwaves while it dreamed. The activity was exactly identical, meaning that the rat was replaying precisely what had happened that day.

Here's an article about the MIT research.

I just thought this was very interesting, as many people do not always think that other animals besides ourselves can dream! (Animal rights activist plug: homo sapiens aren't the end-all be-all kings of the world! We're not all that special, biologically speaking, aside from our disastrously gigantic brain! Just saying!)

Prompt #3: Time Travel (Episode 1)

My story starts with what many epic tales of triumph and tragedy do: a rejection.

This was in the second grade, back when I considered myself a pretty savvy kid. Good at making friends, got solid grades in school, didn't cause too much trouble for my parents. I thought I was a Pretty Big Deal, especially because I was so damn good at hide and seek.

It's around half-way through the school year, everyone settled into their routines of teaching or being taught, when Baladeva Kumar arrived with his family from India. He was not the first Indian child I had seen thanks to the mixed demographic of my inner-city school, but that didn't detract from the wonder and excitement we all felt toward him. He was new, and new things are the world to kids.

The  first time I talked to him was two weeks after his arrival. I had watched him rebuff everyone's attempts at making friends with him -- boys, girls, no matter their grade. He spent recess by himself, kept quiet in class. No one wanted to bother with him anymore -- and that's when I decided it would be perfect for me to come in. Because I was, you know, a Pretty Big Deal.

I went up to him during recess, where he sat on the dingy metal bench reading a book in Hindi. "Hey, Dave," I said. That's what everyone was calling him, not wanting to be bothered with mastering something foreign, in typical American fashion.

"Baladeva," he corrected, not looking up.

Undeterred by his cold demeanor, I sat down beside him. I asked, "What are you reading?"

He said, "Go away."

"That sounds cool."

Baladeva gave me a sideways glare, his mouth twisting up in disapproval. I smiled good-humoredly. I said, "You wanna know somethin', Da-- Baladeva?"

He didn't respond. I went ahead and said what I'd been working up to -- I told him, "Baladeva, you're real beautiful." I was proud of myself because I'd just learned that word -- B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L, byootihfull -- and thought it would impress him and make him be my friend.

Baladeva closed his book, which I took to be a good sign. I smiled even wider when he looked straight at me. He said, "You want to know something, John?"

I said yeah, eager, thrilled that he knew my name.

He said, "I hate this place. I hate everything about it. I hate everyone here. But, guess what? Now I hate you the most." Baladeva narrowed his eyes, his mouth a thin line as he harshly told me, "Go. Away."

It does not seem possible for a person so young to harbor so much disgust for the world, but that's what made his words all the more powerful. I remember feeling incredibly small, speechless and embarrassed. I realized in that moment that I was not a Pretty Big Deal. In fact, I wasn't much of anything at all. The playground was a blurry mess when I looked out at it, frowning.

When the first tear rolled down my face, gravity seemed to increase tenfold. The wind got knocked out of me. I passed out.

I woke up in a field of daisies.

***

I'm not quite sure what year that field was in because what came was a very fast succession of time jumps thanks to my frantic state. After the daisies was a cobbled road, then a vast body of water in which I nearly drowned, then a dirt path. . . I eventually figured out I ought to calm the hell down, hard as it was for such a young kid to do that. This was around eleven years ago now.

Basically, when I get too emotional, I jump through time. At first, I thought it was only negative emotions that set it off -- sadness, anger, fear, that kind of thing. Imagine my surprise when I found myself jumping from the first warm bed I'd slept in in months -- years. Too happy, I guess. That was the last time I got directly involved with people.

Which, honestly, I should have been avoiding people altogether in the first place, though I suppose I couldn't have imagined just how the only way it can get worse than being an involuntary time-traveler is to be a black involuntary time-traveler. Something I wish I could have learned about behind a graffiti'd desk, peering into a battered textbook, taking notes from a worn-down teacher. . .

I miss school.

***

What I've figured out is that I can go as far into the past as is possible, but I can't go further into the future than my timeline corresponding with my current age. Meaning, if I weren't some freak of nature time-traveler and had stayed linear like you're supposed to, I can't go past the day my linear self would have gotten up to. If regular, linear John would have made it to this particular Tuesday in this particular year, then freak of nature, time-jumping John cannot go past that particular Tuesday, no exceptions. In fact, I don't think I could make it up to that Tuesday, but would rather be limited to the Monday before that Tuesday. I've come very close to matching up to linearity, you see, but never quite made it to the exact day.

Those might be the worst times, actually, when I'm only a day or a week or a month behind -- because something else I have discovered is that though I may jump times, I don't jump places. I am jumped into the future or the past of whatever spot I am occupying at that exact point, which has made for some pretty awkward situations if a house has been built up by then, or deadly if a road  has been laid down and there are cars -- or, hell, even horse-drawn carriages (both awkward and deadly).

So trying to restrain myself from seeking out my family when I'm close enough, time-wise, to get to them, is tough. It's horrible. Horrible. I don't know why I don't just leave this area, this state, this country.

I haven't seen my family in over ten years.

***

I'm doing my best to temper myself -- not too happy, not too sad. Instead, I am content. Congenial. Just, you know, goddamn okay. Living more as a wild beast, hiding in the trees, than as a human being -- if I even am human. Maybe an alien switched me out with the real John, like faeries in myths do. Whatever. I'm okay with it. I'm okay with everything. I have to be, unless I want to jump into the middle of a KKK meeting or something.

As I live by stealing food and escaping into nature, I can't help but wonder how Baladeva Kumar doing, and if he's happy that I did as he said, and went away.

~TBC~

Review: Frozen (spoilers!)

why is the snowman in the
middle ugh he's so gr0ss

Frozen was a Disney movie released in November 2013 (US). IMDB's synopsis: "Fearless optimist Anna teams up with Kristoff in an epic journey, encountering Everest-like conditions, and a hilarious snowman named Olaf in a race to find Anna's sister Elsa, whose icy powers have trapped the kingdom in eternal winter." 

I had no real desire to see this movie until I was being consistently affronted with it while on Tumblr (a lot of people on there really really like it). So I finally checked it out, just to see if it was actually worth all of the fuss -- and I'd have to say it is kind of justified. 

It's got all your typical Disney movie things: a handsome guy, a selfish antagonist, the revelation of true life. The staples. But what was really unique was how the protagonist (Anna)'s sister, Elsa, was written. (spoilers start) A girl cursed with power to control ice and no means of learning that needed control, Elsa could have very easily been portrayed as the main antagonist. She ends up casting an eternal winter in summer, and isolates herself in a castle of ice. From there, they could have made her the typical evil queen character, spiteful for having been pushed into solitude. But she isn't. Instead, she's shown as doing everything -- from her isolation to her hiding her powers -- for the good of her kingdom and her younger sister. She chose to deal with it all on her own rather than subject those around her to worry and harm. This was astounding to me, and very refreshing. As well, I read another person's review about how Elsa was a woman with intense anxiety and depression -- very real problems in the world for many people -- and that she dealt with it the best way she could. She is a role model for children who may develop these disorders, because she is still able to live a good life with these things. The fact that she wasn't criminalized for this made it all the better. 

Another amazing, unique plot feature was that, while the solution to the movie's biggest problem was  an act of true love, it was not resolved with a display of romantic love, which is typical. Instead, it was familial love, which was seen in only one other Disney movie I can think of (Lilo & Stitch). This was a very important facet, as it shows that deep familial ties are just as important and powerful as the romantic love of a significant other. (spoilers end)

I also really loved the graphics! They were absolutely beautiful, as to be expected from the Disney studios. Nothing was held back as the characters were shown tromping through incredible snow-covered landscapes -- especially when it came to the ice. I would not be surprised if every animated snowflake were unique!

I'm going to give Disney's Frozen a solid A, awarded for amazing effects and the fact that it made me cry like a goddamn infant. 

Review: Homestuck

Homestuck is a webcomic written and drawn by Andrew Hussie, the creator of many webcomics that are hosted on his website MS Paint Adventures. An incredibly abridged synopsis of the webcomic is, "It's a story about some kids who are friends over the internet. They decide to play a game together. There are major consequences." It would be entirely possible to spend a whole page trying to sum of even the first act of this story, but I will not. A more in-depth explanation of what Homestuck involves and looks like can be found here.

If you have heard of Homestuck before, it is probably with a bad connotation brought on by the complete monstrosity a majority of the fanbase is. These obnoxious followers, called homestucks, give the comic a bad name. It is important to purge their influence on your opinion toward the comic before getting personally involved in it. I know I had to (thoroughly).

Because it would be shame if they were to deter you from reading such a beautiful and complex piece of literature/art. Never before have I encountered a story of this depth and magnitude, and I doubt I ever will again. Homestuck weaves together characters of different personalities perfectly, making each relationship meaningful, while still effortlessly dealing with the plot. It's engaging and well thought-out. It may be confusing at times, but you can tell that Hussie put a lot of energy into making it interesting and involved.

I also really like the way it's written. Homestuck is set up sort of like an old video game, where the player had to enter commands to continue the adventure. Each panel is drawn art, most of which is by Hussie himself but sometimes he invites in other artists to contribute. Usually, they have a bit of text accompanying them to further the plot, but sometimes the page is only the drawn panel, and other times, it has a "chatlog" instead. Much like AIM or Skype chat, every character has his/her own chatname and assigned color, and in this way, the story shows dialogue between characters. Here's an example of what hat looks like:

What I love most about this comic is that there are equal amounts female and male protagonists (and antagonists), which is unfortunately rather scarce. Many stories revolve around men, or if there are females they are often reduced to either the stereotypical lover or bitch character. Every boy and girl has realistic personalities. As well, as with any story there are your romantic sub-plots, but these are not all heterosexual; this, too, is very exciting. The romantic relationships are dealt with beautifully -- sometimes they blossom into amazing partnerships, othertimes they find out they do not work and break up, just like in real life.

I easily award this webcomic an A+, for its flawlessly woven plot, deep and relatable characters, unique art, and endless hilarity. Unfortunately, I know it's not for everyone, but I still think it's worth checking out.

Here's the first page.

Prompt #2: Up In The Clouds

She gasped with excitement and shouted over the noise of the propeller: "The islands in the clouds are real!”

 Keiko’s were gripping the ship’s metal railings as the wind howled in her ears and pulled at her hair. She had been out on deck for hours, scanning the skyline in desperation to catch a glimpse of what her mother had searched for all her life: iziqhingi efwini — the islands in the clouds. It was Keiko’s grandmother’s grandmother who had first begun the quest that would become the Wakahisa family tradition.

 As the story goes, Keiko’s great-great-grandmother had met a Zulu man who told her the story of a tribe of people that had grown wings like an ibis and took flight to live in the skies. Great-great-grandmother Wakahisa had then on done all she could to find this tribe, and implored in her daughter to do the same when she no longer could. Since then, every successive Wakahisa daughter was told the legend and encouraged to journey out in search of the fabled izighingi efwini. The tradition nearly died with Keiko’s grandmother, who was a bit more skeptical than her predecessors — but despite that, she felt duty-bound to pass along the story to Keiko’s mother.

 Keiko wished her grandmother could be there with them now, so that she could feel the exhilaration and wonderment of seeing the islands come into view on the horizon.

 Keiko’s mother, Akane, had joined her daughter on deck when she heard Keiko’s excited yell. They stood side-by-side, gazing outward with white-knuckled holds on the railing and wide grins on their faces. The closer they got, the more beautiful the islands looked. Keiko could see trees with leaves colored fuchsia and teal, and red spires that protruded high up into the clouds. Akane pointed at what seemed to be birds flying around the island they were nearing. Huge birds, with massive wingspans—

 “Those aren’t birds, okaasan,” Keiko shouted above loudly cranking propellers, “those are people!”

 They were near enough to the island to make out the definitive human shape attached to the wings — wings that really did look like those on an ibis! Some wings were black, others were white, and others still had the intense pink of the Scarlet ibis, which surprised Keiko because Scarlet ibises were not native to Southern Africa. It was then that she realized that she no longer had to theorize about what the sky-islanders would look like because they were right there in front of her.

 Keiko clapped a hand over her mouth to quell the immense sob that formed in her throat. Her mother put an arm around her, and Keiko looked up to see that Akane, too, was teary-eyed.

 The ship was almost upon the first island now. Akane left to turn the auto-pilot off and “park” it a little ways off so that they could plan their next move; it wouldn’t do to just cast anchor on the island and invade the peoples’ privacy. They wanted to get their permission somehow, but hadn’t thought of a way to entice a representative to maybe board their ship to speak with them.

 Keiko put her elbows on the railing and rested her face in her hands, gazing at the island. The ship was now close enough to make out details of the environment; round yellow fruit hanging from tree limbs, rivers of iridescent water flowing through the pale blue grass, strange creatures flitting through the air. It seemed like every animal had wings of some sort. As she had for the past nineteen years of her life, Keiko wondered how the sky-people had grown wings. No where else was there such an incident, so what made this particular Zulu tribe special? It boggled the mind. Keiko desperately wanted to ask a sky-person herself — actually, she wanted to ask them many, many things, but that was definitely within the top five questions.

 She was so lost in thought that she screamed in surprise and stumbled backward when a figure appeared directly in front of her. Keiko heard Akane come running out of the helm, calling out to her, but when Keiko looked up she could not focus on anything else except for what — who — had startled her.

 A man was sitting on the ship’s railings staring down at her with curiosity. He was totally bald, and his dark skin seemed to glow like starlight, his eyes the same fluorescent blue as the sky around them. But the most enchanting thing about him, of course, was the huge pair of wings neatly folded on his back, white feathers tipped with black ruffling gently in the wind.

 Akane helped Keiko stand, who was too spell-bound to do anything on than stare with a gaping mouth. The man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Akane elbowed her daughter.

 Keiko snapped to her senses and quickly bent in a straight-back bow. “Hello!” she said in Zulu, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “It is very nice to meet you.”

 After a long moment, Keiko glanced up, hoping she had not offended the man. Instead, she saw that he was smiling. He stepped down onto the ship’s deck and stood before them. “Welcome to iziqhingi efwini.”

Review: The Secret Sharer

In AP Lit, we had to read The Secret Sharer by Joseph Conrad, author of the famous book, Heart of Darkness. The story focuses around a ship's captain who doubts himself as a leader of his crew, seeing himself as a stranger to them. He then meets a man named Leggatt who heavily influences the captain's personality and outlook on life.

The story itself is very short -- only two chapters -- but it still presents many debatable topics, which in itself is quite a feat. A major cause of disagreement is whether or not Leggatt was a real man; some say that he was only a projection of the captain's mind, Fight Club-style. I personally believe that he was, indeed, a real man, but in the attempt to avoid spoilers, I will not elaborate. Instead, I will simply say that the fact that an in-depth discussion can be created about just that one question -- Was he real or not? -- and only from two chapters is incredible, and a testament to Conrad's use of psychological angles in his writing. Conrad sheds light on the flaws of mankind by including a tale of (accidental) murder in addition to the captain's shifting personality that makes the reader contemplate their own life and agency.

What I enjoyed most about this story was the relationship between the captain and Leggatt. Whether Leggatt was the captain's doppelganger, a projection of the captain's mind, or a real man does not water down their interesting interactions. The two had a deep connection right from the beginning, a true understanding of each other that one would expect only from the closest and oldest of friends. Seeing how the captain changed himself to accommodate Leggatt was both intriguing and amusing.

Still, though they had a tumultuous relationship that was unique, it did not get the conclusion it deserved. Truly, in comparison to the detail and care Conrad gave to the captain and his look-alike up until the end, how it concluded seemed very lazy. It was likely an attempt to slap in another "deep" and introspective metaphor that was rather sloppy. There are so many more satisfying routes Conrad could have taken (albeit perhaps much more sad), so it was a major disappointment to an otherwise solid short story discussing the inner turmoil of human beings.

Ultimately, I would give this story a B+, its only real saving grace being the relationship between the main characters that Conrad masterfully constructed.

You can read Joseph Conrad's The Secret Sharer online here.

About My Blog's Title

"Go fahn ya, Isabeau!" The bit at the end is pretty self- explanatory, as that's just my name. But the phrase preceding that might be somewhat of a mystery, in meaning and pronunciation both.

Let me prologue this by stating that my mother is Belizean (making me mixed, not white). In Belize, though the official language is English (not Spanish, because it was colonized by Britain and held firmly under their rule up until quite recently, historically speaking), in reality the most widely spoken language is Kriol. The first thing many people think of is Haitian Creole, but these two things are very different. Haitian Creole is based on French and some other languages, I'm sure, while Belizean Kriol is based on English with influence from African and Native American languages. (Note: Kriol is not a dialect nor an official language in its own right; instead, it is referred to as a pidgin language)

With that little lesson over, what does my title mean? First of all, you would pronounce it like goh fai yah. The n in "fahn" kind of runs into the "ya." It basically means "go away." I learned of this phrase from the Belizean Bible my sister is reading, where it says, "Go fahn ya, Satan!" Yep. Literally, go away, Satan. The Belizean Bible is pretty great.

In fact, here's a little section my sister sent me before. Kriol was a spoken language that much later started getting written down and learned formally, so it's something that will make more sense if you say it all out loud rather than try to understand it by reading in your head. Enjoy :')

belizean jesus takes no ones bs

Prompt #1: 5-line Poem

Cullen, I thought you said the poem could be about anything, not just Waking Life or dreams!
Well, whatever. Here's the proper assignment. But I'm keeping the other poem, too. :')

I Don't Like To Dream

i shot a man twice in the face with his own gun

after i had stabbed him in the stomach.

i could not move (horrified) 

paralyzed as i stared at my ceiling.

i couldn't flip the goddamn switch.

The Secret Sharer

This poem is based off of Joseph Conrad's story, The Secret Sharer, which we had to read in AP Lit. Aight:

The Secret Sharer
"I've killed a man," he said to me,

the secret sharer of my heart.

I clasped his hands tightly in mine

as we rocked the boat, before I let go,

whispering confidently, "Fit of temper."