Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

Today I saw this last act of Heath Ledger by that one director who used to do Monty Python animation.

Imaginarium, I shall call it for short, was a disaster of a movie, a horrific mess of confusion, hard-to-follow plot, and random scenes glued together.

But, it is also now in my list of favorite movies for all its imagination, vision, and splendid acting.

The film is a nonsensical craze of well-made randomness, the sort of thing I love to mindlessly devour for a 122-minute span.

January 31, 2010 at 12:06 am | Lifepost | No comments

I write this because I must occupy myself

…and in the writing of this, I will attempt that which has been attempted time and time again whether by form of the poem or prose, the measure or sentence.

I must remark that among all luxuries of life, the greatest is freetime and upon the capturing of freetime, I must stop myself from spacing out and gazing into the nothingness by keeping my mind active when I no longer wish to think, so I pray to you ancient, archaic, and rustic muses who rarely get prayed to anymore these days to help me in my plight to make this creation mediocre!

In all my endeavors to capture my freetime and let not the opportunities of everyday life waste, I must keep typing at a rate which I have never felt my fingers sore before, and in my plight, I shall forget all knowledge, all pasts which have taught me the secrets of the ancient backspace key which is in fact not so ancient, and forget all advices given to the writers of essays to omit that which is extraneous.

Oh, muses! I pray that you will let me ramble like art in all my verboseness and lack of terseness! Lend not to me the sweet elegance of great poetry but lend instead to me the reject of inspiration!

Okay, this thing sucks. I’m not continuing. I have no freetime.

It may seem a bit cliche, but I am about to announce my opinion on a topic which has captured the hearts of all lately, and I would hope that the opinion which I am about to present will come across as unique and insightful, but at the same time, I hope to not appear so self-conscious in my communication of my opinion. So, whether my opinion is in fact cliche or not, I will express it for all of you to take your own stance in response to.

I don’t love blueberry pie!

January 28, 2010 at 9:25 pm | True Rambles | No comments

College Application Essay

On a rainy day, I stay home like any other sort of day. I do not go outside often because the inner world offers much, yet there are times when I must venture.

I had stayed after school to attend an Art Club meeting, but I was restless of drawing indoors. The art teacher’s room had two doors leading directly outside, and I took the first, sneaking to the woods behind the school. After short moments of wandering down the hill to straight among the trees, I found my scene, as tree-filled as any other forest segment on a day as clear as any other rainless day. The minutes passed, and I sketched my forest in pencil, then wandered back to the school.

A week gone by, and I forget the day. The time is Wednesday, and I am bored in homeroom, so I flip through my pages, and find my forest in soft, plain pencil marks, and I take my colored pencils and fill the leaves with green and blue and the skies with red and yellow.

A classmate sees me, walks over, so I look up to smile and wave at her. She asks what I am drawing, and I show her. “Wow, that’s really good, I can feel the tension,” she says. Our small talk continued in the typical ways small talk goes, but I can only remember seeing then that upon my forest I drew tension, and colored reds among blues where there were no reds. I took a forest which was and created a new one which never was, and I realize then this is the way life is.

That things come just as they are, nothing more and nothing less, and I, in my perception, create the good and the bad, the stresses and joys. That in venturing outwards I see, and in returning inwards, I create. That all the world around me is but food to my inner perceptions as I paint my own reality and life.

When on one rainy day I stay inside, I think. My life is my creation, and the world my tools.

January 24, 2010 at 4:48 pm | Lifepost | No comments

Lines Like Ink

I remember drawing in pen. Doodling, scribbling, mindlessly tearing away at the surface of paper.

I throw away the paper and start again. I get a new paper; I am ready to create a fresh, new drawing.

I draw a line.

I fail a line.

The paper is young, and I tear it apart, ready to try again.

My strokes are inelegant and frustrated, and I waste many sheets.

But when I look at life, I realize I cannot throw out the imperfect me’s and start anew.

But it’s the curse of the perfectionist who judges all things from their beginning creation

because every mark, in pencil or pen, will always leave lines like ink.

January 19, 2010 at 6:45 pm | Reflections | No comments

Exhaustion

Life sure is tiring….

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Isn’t it?

January 19, 2010 at 6:34 pm | Reflections | No comments

On Considering This Time of My Life

I remember the day I quit Runescape. I had already planned to quit the game I was addicted to at the end of Summer ’08, but on July 26, my dad shortened the journey.

I was hasty to sneak on my laptop, and rush to mIRC; I told my clan that I was quitting but never told the reason why. I proceeded to make an emotional statement of the thing by creating a video called “My Runescape Career”, featuring many screenshots I had collected while I had played Runescape.

Some people told me my video made them cry. I bitterly accepted that I had to quit the game eventually, so I did not try to fight it, but I couldn’t suppress tears over the end of a more remarkable period of my life.

Yes, among the remarkable periods of my life was the time when I was addicted to an MMORPG.

When I grinded at 15+ hours a day to get ahead of the level curves.

When random chatters lurked about my clan chat, and I would respond to their questions every few moments.

I cried over that.

I remember going outside one night with a sleeping bag onto the back deck, and crying ’til my eyelids had wrinkles. I remember regretting that I never finished my last major goal in the game: reaching 99 Runecrafting(often considered the “hardest” skill in the game).

I remember regretting the end of some friendships I had worked to develop though internet-based they may have been and regretting the loss of the support of those who acclaimed me as a great Runescape skiller.

But most of all I was afraid of change and the future. And I regretted that I would have to leave the lifestyle I had lived all too long.

And a week passed. And my video “My Runescape Career” got about 700 views on Youtube. And I had cried my cry, and reflected my reflections.

I remember smiling and telling myself “I will never regret because I have learned.” And I looked to the future with joy, and saw the beginning of a new era in my life, a time of new opportunity.

And for a while, I became that one person who always smiled.

But as I write this article, I am not smiling.

Today, it has been about a year and a half since I quit Runescape. My great accomplishments in life have been scarce and few. I have made many acquaintances, but few friends, and I am cruelest to those who I cherish most.

I am tired and bitter, regaining the lost cynicism of my childhood, that same cynicism I discovered when I first realized that death was the end.

And I look away from those around me so that they will not see that I am crying.

Because I am far too ashamed of the me who I have become, and the me who will come.

Because I realize that the stubborn me regrets and did not learn the lessons that history has taught. All in the me.

I start to wallow in self pity, and feel the endless despair, the inescapable cycle of sadness, the imperishable plague of self-bashing.

At the end of the day, I alone realize once again that I am an idiot.

January 17, 2010 at 10:34 pm | Lifepost | No comments

Emo Poem

A lonely ant drifts off to sea.
On a log and analog,
His life is plain.

A lonely ant ponders.
Why he cannot swim,
When on this sea,
He acts by whim.

A lonely ant is confused.
Because an ant
Was never meant be.
Drifting in a sea.

Looking water at his feet,
Sitting, falling off his seat.

A lonely ant imagines:
There is nothing wrong.

January 16, 2010 at 2:28 pm | Poetry | No comments

There is Only Me

This is the time when I contemplate the past and worry of the future. In looking around me, I reach for the world, and I want to ask, “Why did you make me the way I am, World?”

Then, I realize there was only ever me, and the World surrounded me, but I was the one who created myself.

I look inside, and think of all the things I do. I look around to the World, and I wonder to myself. “Why do you make me the way I am when the World is that way, Me?”

I know how there was only ever me, and in knowing full well the truth, I start to ask myself, “Why am I the way I am?”

I grow bitter. Cold. And start to hate. There’s nothing in the world for me. There’s nowhere left for me to go. There’s nothing left for me to. And only me to wonder of me.

Then, I realize, there was only ever me.

Then, I realize, there is only me, only me who can open the door. The door which leads to the world.

And only I, only me, do stare at my own door, afraid to turn the key.

January 3, 2010 at 12:51 pm | Reflections | 2 comments