Thoughts Today

So a kid killed himself recently at my school. I didn't know him, but I guess he might have been in one of my classes. And it got me thinking. Our society is so messed up today. Our priorities have completely shifted beyond the realm of sanity. Little things mean so much to us, and important things mean so little. You can see someone spend hours stressing out about something someone said in passing, but see someone dodge across the street in front of oncoming traffic because they don't seem to believe they could get hurt... they could die. But almost everything we worry about is ultimately, in the grand scheme of things, pretty inconsequential. How could it matter, for instance, if you embarrass yourself, or you fail a test, or someone's mad at you? In the grand scheme of things... in the future, across the world? Then why should something so inconsequential as this matter so much to us? Why do we choose to see these drops of trouble as insurmountable oceans of worry? Our minds have been so convoluted with our own self-importance that we believe every little trouble a travesty. Now, am I saying this kid who killed himself was self-indulgent? No. It is we, as a society, who encourage this detail-oriented mind-set, losing ourselves to even the knowledge that there exists a bigger picture. But that doesn't mean we should give ourselves up for lost, forsaking our minds to the current of the public mind-set.

Neither am I implying that nothing we do has impact. Who are we to judge our place in the world? Actually, for this argument, I'll just turn to some song lyrics.

"Through Heaven's Eyes"

(From The Prince of Egypt)

A single thread in a tapestry-

Though its color brightly shine-

Can never see its purpose

In the pattern of the grand design.

And the stone that sits on the very top

Of the mountain's mighty face-

Does it think it's more important

Than the stones that form the base?

So how can you see what your life is worth

Or where your value lies?

You can never see through the eyes of man

You must look at your life,

Look at your life through heaven's eyes.

A lake of gold in the desert sand

Is less than a cool fresh spring-

And to one lost sheep, a shepherd boy

Is greater than the richest king.

If a man lose ev'rything he owns,

Has he truly lost his worth?

Or is it the beginning

Of a new and brighter birth?

So how do you measure the worth of a man-

In wealth or strength or size?

In how much he gained or how much he gave?

The answer will come,

The answer will come to him who tries

To look at his life through heaven's eyes.

And that's why we share all we have with you,

Though there's little to be found.

When all you've got is nothing,

There's a lot to go around.

No life can escape being blown about

By the winds of change and chance,

And though you never know all the steps,

You must learn to join the dance-

You must learn to join the dance.

So how do you judge what a man is worth?

By what he builds or buys?

You can never see with your eyes on earth-

Look through heaven's eyes.

Look at your life,

Look at your life,

Look at your life through heaven's eyes!

Now, I realize that this is a song from a Christian movie, and those who subscribe to that particular religion might write it off as irrelevant. But it still applies. We can no more judge our impact on the world than a pebble can see the ripples it makes when tossed into a pond. We are so preoccupied with being too close to another rock, too deep in mud, too far from any fellow pebbles, too round or too flat, that we are all too willing to lose ourself to the world before we are even chosen and aimed at the pond.

We are so sad. And we are so small. So many little people with little worries, who care not one jot about anyone they cannot see. To quote River (from the TV series Firefly), each of us is just a "sad little king of a sad little hill."

I love this place... this city, this school. There are so many people, each with their own beliefs, ideas, and cultures. So many different individual entities. Together. But at the same time, I loathe it. So much pettiness, so much chaos. So many sirens. With all this insanity, it's a wonder our society can accomplish anything at all.

Autumn

Well, once again, I am all alone here. Not as bored as last time though. Keeping busy mostly... doing homework and watching Star Wars movies. But while I was on here I thought I'd post a little poem I "wrote" yesterday. (I say "wrote" because I didn't write it down, just thought about it.) ... Except it wasn't precisely a poem, more just a thought. Well... yeah. Anyway, here it is.

Leaves whither

From the cold

But the tree, preoccupied

With it's own survival

Neglects them

Surrenders them

To their deaths

At the hands of nature

They whither, they fall,

Lifeless, to the ground

Their fallen bodies

Crunch underfoot.

Their corpses pile

On grass once green

And strangle it -

To be sure

A most gruesome

Way to die

But also, perhaps,

An unasked for mercy

To be strangled with many

Rather than to freeze alone.

Love Test Discussion (a.k.a. Sir Gawain and the Whore)

I was just in one of my classes (it's about knights, and adventure, and all sorts of fun stuff like that). Right now, we're reading Sir Gawein and the Green Knight; today's discussion was over the part where Bertilak's wife tries to seduce Gawein while he is lodging at their castle, as part of a test of his loyalty to Bertilak, or some such. (Actually, prior to the discussion, we watched a very... unique cartoon of this part of the story, but that's neither here nor there.) 

Our discussion itself centered around whether it was acceptable to put love to the test. A few different thoughts on the subject were brought up (the most compelling of which by a student that reminds me wholly of Mat Cauthon from Wheel of Time... but once again I distract myself from my true purpose here, which is to express my sentiments on the topic, for I did not do so in class). 

The general sentiment seemed to be that love depends on trust, and that if one feels the need to put a love to test, there can be no trust, and therefore no love. I agree wholeheartedly with this, although it seemed they were including in this statement the regard between Gawein and Bertilak's wife. That, I think, is an exception. The feelings that exist between these two is naught but lust and physical attraction, for they have known each other for but a short time. Lust is not equivalent to love... it is but a glimpse of a vague impression of love. And if one has a relationship based on lust where they long for one of true, abiding love, this relationship must be tested. Although the test here is simple: just talk. Talk, not revolving around sexual innuendoes, but real, meaningful discussion... about likes, dislikes, beliefs, philosophy, memories, stories... whatever is meaningful to those in the relationship. And if the relationship cannot last through the constituents truly getting to know each other, then it was obviously not meant to be. 

We also talked a bit about how we would feel if we discovered we had been tested in this manner. Angry, hurt, offended. And, of course, before running one of these tests of loyalty or love or what-have-you, one should always consider the feelings of the one being tested. But often overlooked are the persons on the periphery who may be harmed by the test. As someone who speaks from experience... multiple experiences, actually, though not as a result of a test of love, but as a result of a test of friendship and trust, or some other such nonsense... it is apparently much too easy to overlook the pain of these innocent bystanders. These experiences have shaped a little part of me into what I am today... why I don't speak up in class during a discussion, for example, and why it has taken this long to regain most of my trust in boys in general. 

Instead, I choose to express my opinions on a blog which no one will ever read and for which no one cares or knows to search. 

(Which is actually probably a good thing. This is terribly written. If anyone on my floor saw this, I'd be hung by my toenails in the dungeon until New Years.)

Sarcasm, Meet Smoking

I love it when people smoke... especially for the sole purpose of looking "cool." There's just something... "cool"... about flaunting your drawn-out suicide... about letting your friends and family watch as you poison yourself. And the fact that you can't deal with day-to-day life without chemicals and nicotine makes you seem all the more amazing. "Look at her! Look at him!" the crowds will whisper. "See how they cope by escaping the stress we foolishly deal with on our own by altering the chemical balance of their brain. Why aren't we cool enough to do that?" 

My favorite part, though, I must admit, is being around these amazing people. You walk by them, and their poisonous exhalations engulf you, giving you a rare insight into their world of coolness. It surrounds you like a warm, smoky blanket, filling your eyes, nose, lungs. But I suppose I'm not cool enough to be accepted into this elite group; by the time I leave their presence, my eyes are watering, sinuses burning, and I'm just hacking away. I can't handle the awesomeness. But I suppose that's just the way it goes.

This overall aura of awesomeness rubs off on possessions, too. Their clothes, bags, cars... entire houses!... are permanently stamped with their signature. And, if you just so happen to borrow a sweatshirt from them, you will give off your own - slightly dampened, for it's only secondhand - aura of coolness. Lucky! Oh, I wish I had a boyfriend who smoked so his coolness would rub off on me!

Not that stale...

So I started forming this poem a couple of days ago...or maybe it was almost a week ago? I don't remember. It was raining, but that isn't exactly extremely helpful in this case. Anyway, I started making this poem, but then I forgot about it for a while. A few minutes ago I remembered and wrote it all out, adding a couple things here and there. And this one doesn't rhyme either, but I don't care. I think it sounds better this way, like it's not trying to hard to be amazing. I don't like it when my poems are posers. By the way, I realize this poem has an emo-esque feel to it, but don't worry, I'm not emo, or depressed, or whatever. Anyway, here it is:

Why is it when rain

Washes away my world,

Drowning my cheer

In a pool of tears,

The vibrant cheer

Of moments before

Smeared on my living canvas,

Why is it that

I turn my face

Up to the sky?

These tears of regret

From the sky

For what they've done

Clear my mind

Of its melancholy.

The drip, the drop,

The plip plip plop,

The drops that graze my cheeks.

They kiss my lashes,

My nose, my lips,

Whispering regrets.

They run down my skin,

Caressing my face,

Caring, consoling,

More alive than any friend.

Magnetic Poetry

So I got back to my dorm room after my last class today, and for some reason or another, I just plopped myself down on the floor in front of the mini fridge and played with the magnetic poetry. (Well, what do you expect? That I would get straight to work on my homework? Of course not! J'aime procrastination!) There are a couple words I wanted but we didn't have, so I typed both of my little "poems" up on the computer. (I say "poems" because they don't rhyme at all, but they seem poem-esque.) Here's the first one:

Sometimes

Life

Starts over

Walks in circles

With unknown definitions

Until

One day

It begins

That one I actually wrote this morning before I went to class. This next one is the one I just finished a bit ago:

I close my eyes

How my vision flies

Over yesterday

I see

Not in color

But in echoes

Of first impressions

My mind shifts

In a million directions

The world of possibility

Increases

Between desires

And fears

And a voice

Whispers to me

Its unlikely language

Spins my thoughts

In a straight line

And reminds me

To dream again tomorrow

Alright. That's all. Now I must make a birthday card. Good morrow!

The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

Warning: This is the second book in the Mistborn Trilogy. Please do not read this review if you are planning to read the first book.

The Lord Ruler is dead, killed by Vin. Elend Venture is now King of Luthadel, which used to be the capital of the Final Empire under the Lord Ruler. Kelsier, the mastermind behind the revolution is dead, killed by the Lord Ruler himself. But his death was a part of his plan - once he died, the kandra OreSeur was to take his body and appear to the Skaa of the Empire, inspiring them to rise up against the Lord Ruler.

Now the Skaa don't have to be oppressed by the Lord Ruler any more. Now everything's alright, right? Wrong. The kingdom is breaking apart, each region ruled by a different noble or a skaa who just up and decided to take over.

Now armies are marching on Luthadel, one of which is led by Elend's own father. One of the armies is made of a brutal and volitile race known as the koloss, who will kill eachother at the drop of a hat. A mysterious Mistborn confronts Vin, puzzled as to why she lets herself be nothing but a weapon in the hands of Elend and the crew. Sazed tries to puzzle out the legend of the Hero of the Ages. Another Keeper named Tindwyl tries to make Elend into a true king, worthy and capable of the title and responsibility.

This book presents an interesting question: which is better? A tyranneous ruler of all, where no wars ravage the land? Or freedom, but a kingdom in the face of a war? He does very well conveying different perspectives and inner struggles.