for what its worth, it was worth all the while. its something unpredictable, but in the end is right, i hope you had the time of your life.
goodbye, Baltimore, goodbye and good riddance.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
"midway upon the journey of life, i came across..."
the entrance to hell. (http://cromwell-intl.com/travel/usa/baltimore/) this person's bog sounds almost identical to mine.
my first full day in the beautiful city of Baltimore was greeted warmly by the nice sound of cars roaming outside and the songbirds chirping. i got dressed, hopeful and happy for the day of historical excursion ahead. i donned my plum velvet blazer and left my happy bank/hotel to enjoy a stroll around POE's Baltimore. many streets were crossed, many people passed. streets turned into avenues, that turned into alleyways, that slowly began to look less like a scene from a cake baking show, and more like a hybrid between good times reruns and the breaking news on channel 10. the nice cars and birds i heard this morning were exchanged for sirens and children screaming, as well as blasting rap music and cursing that resembled the halls of menchville...on steroids. i was beginning to wonder where the transporting machine from an alternate universe i had stepped on was, because it seemed like as soon as i left the Westminster church i ended up in the middle of the set of the movie, Boyz in the Hood. as i walked on, hoping that somewhere along the way i would find the safe haven that would be the Poe house, the surroundings were getting worse and worse, and i was thinking that either i was two steps from being shot, or someone was going to try and sell me some hard drugs. i was wondering if the map had lied to me, a dangerous thing when one relies on printed information to get to where they are going on foot and have no familiarity with the area. there was no sign of anything remotely like a museum....so i found it increasingly necessary to phone a police officer, or superman, or JESUS, whomever got there faster.
i don't think i will never forget Officer Nelson. when the police came to pick me up, they were all laughing at what must be the typical lost and weary traveller. apparently, the Poe House that i never saw, i had just walked by. and apparently my story was not falling on unfamiliar ears. the "historical landmark" is in the middle of one of the worst ghettos in Baltimore, and is actually attached to Project housing. it wasn't even open, as a male officer informed me, it was closed for renovations. and i found out on the blog that i posted a link to above, that you can only get in through prior notice and arrangements. and hardly anyone goes because it is in the middle of hell, or Maryland's Bronx, whichever.
Officer Nelson gave us a ride back to the hotel, which was exceedingly nice. and she even drove by the Poe House so we could see it. it was not what we expected. and was surrounded by truly unseemly circumstance. this was not explained on the brochure. NEVER GO THERE, UNLESS YOU ARE SEEKING DEATH OR HEAVY DRUGS.
while i was riding in the back of a police car for the first and only time in my life, i started to realize how far from the hotel i had actually walked. the high rise businesses and old fashioned historical buildings, gave way to thousands of discount liquor stores and Animal Chop Shops specializing spare parts. the smells changed, from commercial smog and food to nasty dirt and decay. the quaint eateries gave way to run down restaurants out of service for years. Officer Nelson had commented as we passed through the projects that the police in this neighborhood have nicknamed the area around Edgar Allan Poe's House "THE PO' HOUSES."
i took a photograph of a bench in that terrifying ghetto i was in, it was well worn with the phrase, "Baltimore the best city in America." it made me realize how deep the rabbit hole i stumbled down really goes. it is amazing when you see with your own eyes the disappointment that emanates from a place like that. it made me glad for the beauty that i find in my own home, it made me realize how sad i truly am for America.
my first full day in the beautiful city of Baltimore was greeted warmly by the nice sound of cars roaming outside and the songbirds chirping. i got dressed, hopeful and happy for the day of historical excursion ahead. i donned my plum velvet blazer and left my happy bank/hotel to enjoy a stroll around POE's Baltimore. many streets were crossed, many people passed. streets turned into avenues, that turned into alleyways, that slowly began to look less like a scene from a cake baking show, and more like a hybrid between good times reruns and the breaking news on channel 10. the nice cars and birds i heard this morning were exchanged for sirens and children screaming, as well as blasting rap music and cursing that resembled the halls of menchville...on steroids. i was beginning to wonder where the transporting machine from an alternate universe i had stepped on was, because it seemed like as soon as i left the Westminster church i ended up in the middle of the set of the movie, Boyz in the Hood. as i walked on, hoping that somewhere along the way i would find the safe haven that would be the Poe house, the surroundings were getting worse and worse, and i was thinking that either i was two steps from being shot, or someone was going to try and sell me some hard drugs. i was wondering if the map had lied to me, a dangerous thing when one relies on printed information to get to where they are going on foot and have no familiarity with the area. there was no sign of anything remotely like a museum....so i found it increasingly necessary to phone a police officer, or superman, or JESUS, whomever got there faster.
i don't think i will never forget Officer Nelson. when the police came to pick me up, they were all laughing at what must be the typical lost and weary traveller. apparently, the Poe House that i never saw, i had just walked by. and apparently my story was not falling on unfamiliar ears. the "historical landmark" is in the middle of one of the worst ghettos in Baltimore, and is actually attached to Project housing. it wasn't even open, as a male officer informed me, it was closed for renovations. and i found out on the blog that i posted a link to above, that you can only get in through prior notice and arrangements. and hardly anyone goes because it is in the middle of hell, or Maryland's Bronx, whichever.
Officer Nelson gave us a ride back to the hotel, which was exceedingly nice. and she even drove by the Poe House so we could see it. it was not what we expected. and was surrounded by truly unseemly circumstance. this was not explained on the brochure. NEVER GO THERE, UNLESS YOU ARE SEEKING DEATH OR HEAVY DRUGS.
while i was riding in the back of a police car for the first and only time in my life, i started to realize how far from the hotel i had actually walked. the high rise businesses and old fashioned historical buildings, gave way to thousands of discount liquor stores and Animal Chop Shops specializing spare parts. the smells changed, from commercial smog and food to nasty dirt and decay. the quaint eateries gave way to run down restaurants out of service for years. Officer Nelson had commented as we passed through the projects that the police in this neighborhood have nicknamed the area around Edgar Allan Poe's House "THE PO' HOUSES."
i took a photograph of a bench in that terrifying ghetto i was in, it was well worn with the phrase, "Baltimore the best city in America." it made me realize how deep the rabbit hole i stumbled down really goes. it is amazing when you see with your own eyes the disappointment that emanates from a place like that. it made me glad for the beauty that i find in my own home, it made me realize how sad i truly am for America.
Friday, March 26, 2010
live! from charm city.
Greetings from Gay Street!
above are pictures of my hotel, an ex bank, circa 1800s. that is a picture of the grand lobby, which is quite beautiful in person. what you cannot see behind that blue board straight ahead is that the office is a converted bank vault, complete with the extreme turning lock and bars....which is pretty much the raddest office door i have ever seen.
TschauWiederseh'n!
above are pictures of my hotel, an ex bank, circa 1800s. that is a picture of the grand lobby, which is quite beautiful in person. what you cannot see behind that blue board straight ahead is that the office is a converted bank vault, complete with the extreme turning lock and bars....which is pretty much the raddest office door i have ever seen.
anywhosen, more tomorrow, i am going to have some amazing adventures in this city! it is so unbelievably beautiful here!
TschauWiederseh'n!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
the morally ambiguous character.
Things Fall Apart, 2002. Morally ambiguous characters -- characters whose behavior discourages readers from identifying them as purely evil or purely good -- are at the heart of many works of literature. Choose a novel or play in which a morally ambiguous character plays a pivotal role. Then write an essay in which you explain how the character can be viewed as morally ambiguous and why his or her moral ambiguity is significant to the work as a whole. Avoid mere plot summary. (1979 is similar)
Achebe employs the morally ambiguous character Okonkwo in order to allow him to be more accessible to the audience. The reader recognizes that Okonkwo is ethically indefinite in that he can be an outwardly merciless killer while at the same time a loving father figure. When first the reader is introduced to Okonkwo, he is known as the respected warrior, affluent and imperative as a leader and farmer. But he is also a man that is haunted by the memory of his father, and therefore all of his acts are in desperation to elude the failures his father was marred with.
Okonkwo is celebrated in his tribe as being an infamous warrior, a merciless killer. He was known throughout many villages as the strong fighter, the fearless combatant, whom was revered for his strengths. It is difficult for the reader to acknowledge that any man so impassive to the physical pain he had inflicted upon others, could be more than just simply wicked. He shows that he enjoys the sport of killing through his actions, and is not restricted in his disdain for any man he feels is weak. He is a man that loathes limitation, and despises laziness. Perhaps the most agonizing occurrence in the entire novel offers to the reader the best example of the malicious character that resides within Okonkwo. When Ikemefuma runs to Okonkwo for salvation and Okonkwo refuses, the audience is almost all at once painful realization that his fear of what others perceive of him is too strong to overcome, and they experience the heartbreak of knowing the love he felt for Ikemefuma was not enough to dominate his fear. This is significant to the novel’s genuine accessibility, in that Achebe wrote this character to represent a universal irony of the strong man who cannot help but succumb to his weakness.
It is easy to view Okonkwo as the strong warrior, but he also has a loving aspect to his character, which works to portray him as the vague man he is. The reader is quick to acknowledge the violence and fear, but must look deeper to recognize the warm and loving father figure beneath. It is because of his fears that Okonkwo suppresses most of his affections, but there are some instances where the reader can see but a glimpse of his kindness and adoration. The reader notices this in his fondness for Ikemefuma and Ezinma. It is unfortunate that Okonkwo must conceal the love he has for his favorite daughter, even though she is much like him in her ways of placing importance on performance instead of emotion. It is significant to the novel that Okonkwo suppresses his emotions in this way. The concealing of emotions that he feels are feminine, including love, is central in portraying his moral ambiguity.
Achebe uses his mastering of the qualities universal to human men of all cultures to create a character in Okonkwo that is morally indistinct. It is intriguing to the reader to try and place Okonkwo in a type of “evil” or “good,” although it is not at all an easy task. The fact that Okonkwo is so vague in his motivation makes him uniquely obtainable to the audience. His tragic flaw, common in all familiar Greek myths, is his fear of failure and his abhorrence of weakness. He is a man dominated by anger that struggles with his emotions, and works to resist his basic human need for poignant expression. His characteristics are powerfully human, and because they are so believable, he is exceptionally identifiable to the reader. His ambiguity is what makes his character so believably human, and Achebe uses his understanding of human nature to his advantage. Okonkwo cannot be burdened with any kind of label, whether his intentions are good or bad, just as any human cannot be restricted to such dry descriptions. And with this in mind, it is simple for the audience to acknowledge that it is his motivation that remains clear, to be a strong, prosperous man.
Achebe employs the morally ambiguous character Okonkwo in order to allow him to be more accessible to the audience. The reader recognizes that Okonkwo is ethically indefinite in that he can be an outwardly merciless killer while at the same time a loving father figure. When first the reader is introduced to Okonkwo, he is known as the respected warrior, affluent and imperative as a leader and farmer. But he is also a man that is haunted by the memory of his father, and therefore all of his acts are in desperation to elude the failures his father was marred with.
Okonkwo is celebrated in his tribe as being an infamous warrior, a merciless killer. He was known throughout many villages as the strong fighter, the fearless combatant, whom was revered for his strengths. It is difficult for the reader to acknowledge that any man so impassive to the physical pain he had inflicted upon others, could be more than just simply wicked. He shows that he enjoys the sport of killing through his actions, and is not restricted in his disdain for any man he feels is weak. He is a man that loathes limitation, and despises laziness. Perhaps the most agonizing occurrence in the entire novel offers to the reader the best example of the malicious character that resides within Okonkwo. When Ikemefuma runs to Okonkwo for salvation and Okonkwo refuses, the audience is almost all at once painful realization that his fear of what others perceive of him is too strong to overcome, and they experience the heartbreak of knowing the love he felt for Ikemefuma was not enough to dominate his fear. This is significant to the novel’s genuine accessibility, in that Achebe wrote this character to represent a universal irony of the strong man who cannot help but succumb to his weakness.
It is easy to view Okonkwo as the strong warrior, but he also has a loving aspect to his character, which works to portray him as the vague man he is. The reader is quick to acknowledge the violence and fear, but must look deeper to recognize the warm and loving father figure beneath. It is because of his fears that Okonkwo suppresses most of his affections, but there are some instances where the reader can see but a glimpse of his kindness and adoration. The reader notices this in his fondness for Ikemefuma and Ezinma. It is unfortunate that Okonkwo must conceal the love he has for his favorite daughter, even though she is much like him in her ways of placing importance on performance instead of emotion. It is significant to the novel that Okonkwo suppresses his emotions in this way. The concealing of emotions that he feels are feminine, including love, is central in portraying his moral ambiguity.
Achebe uses his mastering of the qualities universal to human men of all cultures to create a character in Okonkwo that is morally indistinct. It is intriguing to the reader to try and place Okonkwo in a type of “evil” or “good,” although it is not at all an easy task. The fact that Okonkwo is so vague in his motivation makes him uniquely obtainable to the audience. His tragic flaw, common in all familiar Greek myths, is his fear of failure and his abhorrence of weakness. He is a man dominated by anger that struggles with his emotions, and works to resist his basic human need for poignant expression. His characteristics are powerfully human, and because they are so believable, he is exceptionally identifiable to the reader. His ambiguity is what makes his character so believably human, and Achebe uses his understanding of human nature to his advantage. Okonkwo cannot be burdened with any kind of label, whether his intentions are good or bad, just as any human cannot be restricted to such dry descriptions. And with this in mind, it is simple for the audience to acknowledge that it is his motivation that remains clear, to be a strong, prosperous man.
Monday, March 15, 2010
if you could only see how welled her eyes can be when she says:
when she says she loves me.
these sweet babies will be coming to my feet in just a few days. i cannot wait to cover my toes in their awesome vegan shoe-ness. not at the same time of course. but all the same. cannot wait! and i will be wearing them as i read the book i ordered, looking psychologically educated, reading Dr. Drew's book i have wanted for months!
hours pass like minutes
this government project is seriously turning into evil incarnate.
just letting you know i was still alive. god, i could shoot myself. it is so tedious.
just letting you know i was still alive. god, i could shoot myself. it is so tedious.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
series of unfortunate events.
Friday was the day i had been looking forward to all week.
it was going to be a half day, the sun wasn't shining, i had English....sounds beautiful, right?
then Friday came and the series of unfortunata that transpired left much to be desired. (daily couplet served fresh daily, with a hefty helping of sarcastic sides.)
first, i had to write an essay that i was not prepared for, seeming as i had missed the previous class, and spent the first 10 minutes of my 45 minute allotment reading and assessing the INTRO SHEET. so, i assure you, i did write an acceptable essay, but it could have been better, and was not up to my high standards. i probably hold my expectations too high for myself, but i shutter upon recollection of the fact that i took all of the possible time and i turned it in with a sigh of displeasure. i sound like a freak, but English is my letter, and i wear the mark proudly.
second, i was one of the only students that followed instruction by not doing the government reading notes at home. how unpleasant it is, however, that i was absent one of the class periods we were working on them. i finished them before the quiz, but needless to say, i failed it. it was only 25 questions long, and i missed 9 of them. fml.
then, i came home, ready to watch will and grace and eat some brunch. that was the only high point of my day, (besides giving Mrs. Traner my Moliere DVD, spending car time with Victorious, and going to sleep that night) but i digress. i was looking forward to taking a cat nap, or a nap with my cat, whichever. as soon as i got my favorite blanket and lay down, the phone rings. it was my aunt, telling me that i had to help her get the boys out of the car. i had to babysit so that she could take my mom to the doctor.
fast forward two hours later, when i am alone with not only the infant and the three year old, tired and coughing, but my own sisters as well. Jared came an hour and a half later, to take the infant. but i was left with the terrorizing three year old from 12:15 to 8 something.
my mom had to be taken to the emergency room, because her doctor thought she had something wrong with her appendix. it was found later that it was just her enlarged colon, but she was kept at the hospital until late that night due to tests and a mild case of dehydration.
all the while, i had planned on working on my gov project from hell, i couldn't. and so now, i have until Monday night to finish it. i loathe government. i am so ready to graduate.
now, i am sick. from exhaustion, from stress, from everything. i cannot go two minutes without coughing up a lung, nor two seconds without blowing my nose. i cannot taste, i cannot smell.
this has got to get better. i hate life at this point. i am so weak.
and i am so tired. so tired. to coin a phrase from a tool song i heard so often in my childhood:
"why can't we sleep forever?"
it was going to be a half day, the sun wasn't shining, i had English....sounds beautiful, right?
then Friday came and the series of unfortunata that transpired left much to be desired. (daily couplet served fresh daily, with a hefty helping of sarcastic sides.)
first, i had to write an essay that i was not prepared for, seeming as i had missed the previous class, and spent the first 10 minutes of my 45 minute allotment reading and assessing the INTRO SHEET. so, i assure you, i did write an acceptable essay, but it could have been better, and was not up to my high standards. i probably hold my expectations too high for myself, but i shutter upon recollection of the fact that i took all of the possible time and i turned it in with a sigh of displeasure. i sound like a freak, but English is my letter, and i wear the mark proudly.
second, i was one of the only students that followed instruction by not doing the government reading notes at home. how unpleasant it is, however, that i was absent one of the class periods we were working on them. i finished them before the quiz, but needless to say, i failed it. it was only 25 questions long, and i missed 9 of them. fml.
then, i came home, ready to watch will and grace and eat some brunch. that was the only high point of my day, (besides giving Mrs. Traner my Moliere DVD, spending car time with Victorious, and going to sleep that night) but i digress. i was looking forward to taking a cat nap, or a nap with my cat, whichever. as soon as i got my favorite blanket and lay down, the phone rings. it was my aunt, telling me that i had to help her get the boys out of the car. i had to babysit so that she could take my mom to the doctor.
fast forward two hours later, when i am alone with not only the infant and the three year old, tired and coughing, but my own sisters as well. Jared came an hour and a half later, to take the infant. but i was left with the terrorizing three year old from 12:15 to 8 something.
my mom had to be taken to the emergency room, because her doctor thought she had something wrong with her appendix. it was found later that it was just her enlarged colon, but she was kept at the hospital until late that night due to tests and a mild case of dehydration.
all the while, i had planned on working on my gov project from hell, i couldn't. and so now, i have until Monday night to finish it. i loathe government. i am so ready to graduate.
now, i am sick. from exhaustion, from stress, from everything. i cannot go two minutes without coughing up a lung, nor two seconds without blowing my nose. i cannot taste, i cannot smell.
this has got to get better. i hate life at this point. i am so weak.
and i am so tired. so tired. to coin a phrase from a tool song i heard so often in my childhood:
"why can't we sleep forever?"
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
self titled
I never wanted this. I never wanted to become so alive that I learned how to feel. I wanted the silence, the loss of voice, but had the want of a soul to fill that empty space that danced on a line of regrets. I had them. I know what it is to feel so bruised, to the point of dejection; to be morally burned so that the skin falls away like dieing leaves. They are flyleafs of nature's bitter love songs and eulogies.
For me...
Be that brilliant falling moon on the water, what with one slight move is lost, be that one last star that is seen at dawn and at noon forgotten. So beautiful. Beauty in an evanescent form so lucid I feel I never knew it at all, but merely dreamed it real and deemed it tangible. I am aware now of the music that plays but no one hears, that faint melody that tickles the background, and leaves me breathless. That heartbeat that is constant and reliable, but the most delicate and fragile reality I have ever known.
Know this, in remembrance of me....
The loss of the veil I had shielding the world from my eyes; it fell so heavily that I nearly died from the shock. Where is beauty now? Does anything exist, now, that is pure and clean anymore? Even the water tastes of taint. I feel the eyes of those lonely and waiting fall on me, fondling the darkness for a message. But what remains of salvation, and where can it be found? If for a moment, just a moment, I can behold an endless sunrise, then let me live for just one day. I'll wait for just that day before I fall. And when I find you, as I am sure I will find you, speak to me of redemption. Will you wait for me, as you had promised long ago, when the world was so much more? When everything meant so much more? Now all is dust as I am dust, and hopefully one day we will find that Star once more. For now, leave us with your regrets. And let the cries fill that empty space, in want of a star, in want of a soul.
....do this in remembrance of me.
For me...
Be that brilliant falling moon on the water, what with one slight move is lost, be that one last star that is seen at dawn and at noon forgotten. So beautiful. Beauty in an evanescent form so lucid I feel I never knew it at all, but merely dreamed it real and deemed it tangible. I am aware now of the music that plays but no one hears, that faint melody that tickles the background, and leaves me breathless. That heartbeat that is constant and reliable, but the most delicate and fragile reality I have ever known.
Know this, in remembrance of me....
The loss of the veil I had shielding the world from my eyes; it fell so heavily that I nearly died from the shock. Where is beauty now? Does anything exist, now, that is pure and clean anymore? Even the water tastes of taint. I feel the eyes of those lonely and waiting fall on me, fondling the darkness for a message. But what remains of salvation, and where can it be found? If for a moment, just a moment, I can behold an endless sunrise, then let me live for just one day. I'll wait for just that day before I fall. And when I find you, as I am sure I will find you, speak to me of redemption. Will you wait for me, as you had promised long ago, when the world was so much more? When everything meant so much more? Now all is dust as I am dust, and hopefully one day we will find that Star once more. For now, leave us with your regrets. And let the cries fill that empty space, in want of a star, in want of a soul.
....do this in remembrance of me.
ode in D major.
i realized, dear bloggers, that i have never shared with you the inspiration for my life. so, everyone has their icons, right? people they look up to, and try to look like? well, i usually tell people i don't have one, or they automatically assume it to be Kat Von D. well, here is where i will dispel the myth, and enclose the truth. my icon has always been, and will always be....
A Miss.Dita Von Teese. i always wanted to look like her, and i loved her because she loves the same things i do: red lipstick, old fashioned pinups, antebellum fashion, 1940s, black lace, lingerie, and beauty...among other things. she is my constant inspiration.
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