Heffalumps and Woozles.

I was having a conversation with David Cannon about Halloween, which turned into a conversation about Pooh Bear.

And then i got a link to a video that forever changed my perspective on pooh bear. And Heffalumps and Woozles, for that matter.



...I don't remember Winnie the Pooh being this scary. I wonder if I never noticed because at the time I was five. I watched a Sailor Moon episode and realized all of the bad guys are complete creepers, too.

How do children not notice such creepy things? Maybe my mind has just been corrupted.

I also worry and wonder who made this video.

Nevertheless, I think I can forgive the Pooh Bear team for this mind-freak, Pooh Bear's still awesome because I still have a million Pooh Bears attached to my back pack.

Where are the heroes?

I just felt like writing today....I was supposed to be doing that flashback assignment, but I always have problems answering the prompt -.-
I guess I have trouble focusing stuff to a predetermined purpose. Some writing just happens instinctively, without direction.
Not sure if I liked how it ended up, but I stuck with it....and now I can't believe I'm posting this.
Ugh.

"In the name of love and justice, we shall punish you!"

Slam. Bam. Alakazam.

With a flood of colors, the magical girl-wonder waved her unicorn scepter and turned the ugly, disproportionate monster to shadow-dust. The screen blacked out quickly, and small white credits began inching up, up, up, in time with the soft music.

She kept watching, eyes staring emptily at the white parade, ear buds gently buzzing against the walls of her ears. She always watched until the credits were done. Even though girl-wonder was no longer in action, beating up the bad guys, and zapping them to another dimension, she still liked the final image that played throughout the closing song, the image of the heroine standing still (for once), peacefully alone on a hill and looking up at a sparkling sky with a bright, fuzzy full moon.

As the music faded out and the screen darkened, she let out a small, singular "Hah!" and popped out the ear buds. Once again, the show had proven to be ridiculous, childish and cheesy, and yet she couldn't stop herself from watching another episode--or another whole season of it, for that matter. She couldn't wean herself off her addiction.

With her ear buds removed, she was once again out, out in reality. She could hear the muffled sounds of her mother, yelling at her dad over the phone, through the walls of her room. Arguing, again. Maybe she needed to watch the next episode while things cooled down. Too late. She'd shut down the computer.

What made her watch these things? These juvenile, unsophisticated, melodramatic TV shows? While others watched TV dramas, or reality TV, what was it that made her turn back to her favorite TV program from when she was five? Had she really not grown during the decade since then? It was getting difficult to watch--the ridiculous plot was painful to listen to, and she kept it an embarrassing secret.

She rubbed her eyes. Perhaps it was the memories. She remembered, years back, sitting in the living room, eyes glued to the TV screen in utter absorption, cheering on girl-wonder through a mouthful of potato chips and sweet Capri Sun. Well then. She had grown up, because watching it now wasn't the same. Now, she watched the exaggerated scenes and listened to unrealistic voice-overs not because she really believed, but because it helped her remember. There was a drawing, entrapping sense of nostalgia. By letting herself be temporarily convinced by the impossibilities, even if just for a second, she became a child again.

But then....it was never complete. She really, truly wasn't five anymore, in any sense. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it was clear that her life would never be as magical or adventurous as what she saw. The Real World ran on a ticking, ticking clock, and dreamers weren't welcome. With her nostalgia came an addictive jealousy. She wished she lived in a world where heroes and villains existed, where it was easy to tell good apart from evil, where goodness always won. She, too, wanted to have magic, and wanted to be surrounded by people with "good dreams,"--by people who had stars implanted in their hearts. She wanted there to be a sovereign force, complete trust in everyone, a pegasus, and a ridiculously perfect moon kingdom ruled by love and justice!

So amateur. So unrealistic. Once the show was over, and the credits rolled, and the music faded out, she was left with just a computer screen, knowing that her heroes only existed in her head, and that really, she had trouble trusting even the people closest to her.

When she was five, she had thought adults were stupid. They were narrow-minded because they lacked faith in magic while somehow, she was sure, magic existed, even if they couldn't see it. She felt it made her open-minded to keep believing, to keep looking. She searched for the secret magic, the hiding mythical creatures, and the dream-life for years. But slowly, the hopes dried up as she grew, as she came closer to being an "adult." Adult. What an ugly, faithless, skeptic word. Being a child, with endless, unstoppable faith and imagination was so much more wonderful and beautiful. As a child, she didn't need to wonder, "Where are the heroes? Where have they gone?" Instead, at five-years-old, she'd known, she'd just known, that the heroes were hiding from forbidden, human eyes, maybe concealed just around the corner, or standing behind her, out of sight. Or, she had thought, perhaps there was a hero inside her, too, waiting to come out once it was time for her to save the world and the galaxy beyond.

Sighing, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes in an uncomfortable attempt to fall asleep. The heroes and villains of her five-year-old reality had packed their bags and left long ago. But maybe, just maybe, somewhere they still fought, lived, and hid...somewhere, deep in her dreams.

Assigned Blog Post #5: Child

Prompt: Copy the style of Jamaica Kinkaid’s “Girl” and title your piece similarly (e.g. Boy, Kid, Gal, etc.) What kind of directions can you give? What are the do’s and don’t's of being a “girl” (kid, boy, man, boss, etc.)? If you’d like, write this in the voice of your Carrillon Point character. Due by next Monday, October 11th.

Child

Brush your teeth in the morning after you wake up; brush your teeth in the night before you go to bed; brush them up-and-down, left-to-right, criss-cross; don’t slurp your soup so loudly; say “please” when you want something and “thank you” when you get it; don’t doodle on all you’re your things—keep them clean; tread lightly when you walk, because your stomping disturbs the neighbors and the home below us; wash your hands for a minute before you eat; did you really push little Emily during recess?; put your feet on the ground when you sit, not resting on another chair, like a lazy bum sleeping out on the streets; wipe your mouth on a napkin after you’re done eating; don’t push Emily again; smile and try to pay attention when your teacher is talking to you—don’t be drawing on your papers; don’t tip your chair back like that, or someday you’ll fall and split your head open; but Emily pushed me first, for no good reason; don’t talk back; don’t cry; don’t snivel; don’t protest in that manner; do as you’re told—I know better; this is how to get up after you’ve fallen; this is how to rub in iodine solution to clean scrapes; this is how to put a bandage on your shameful knees so that it won’t peel off when you’re out running like a hooligan again; this is how to sit down and study; this is how to keep track of time while you test, so you finish and don’t fail and get rejected from college, like the ne’er-do-well you would be by now if it weren’t for me; this is how you erase those ridiculous drawings in the back of your book in case your teacher sees; this is how you keep your things smart and neat—plain and professional, because your doodles make you look uneducated and bored; this is how you make a reputation for yourself; this is how you do well in school; this is how you keep your 4.0; this is how you network; this is how you laugh when things get awkward; this is how you laugh when you’re happy; this is how you laugh when you really want to cry; this is how to look educated; this is how to look professional; this is how to feel professional; this is how to hide how you feel when you think you’ve been betrayed; this is how to get over it; this is how to work your internship at the laboratory so that they don’t see the lazy, doodling idiot you are inside; be sure you don’t draw on any of your important papers—and if you do be sure to start everything over; quit wasting your time on drawing these useless things—you’re not very good, honestly; quit applying for art scholarships—you’re not studying art; don’t start studying art, because it’s too late and you’re too far behind the real art students; this is how to apply to merit scholarships; this is how to write appealing essays; this is how to present yourself; this is how to present your goals; this is how to rewrite them if they don’t look quite right; this is how to deal with it if you still don’t like what your goals are; this is how to apply to college so you’ll get in for sure; this is how you apply to medical school; this is how you apply to law school if you change your mind, though medical school is better; this is how to work a regular life to pay for medical school; this is how to call out sick if you can’t work it; this is how to study your heart out once you get into medical school; but what if I don’t get into medical school?; so after all this time and work, are you really still bent on becoming one of those emotional, doodling bums sitting on the streets?

Whales :)

Whale
Oh look, it's another ridiculous whale.
I just had to put this up here.

Oh hey there

I haven't legit posted in this blog for a long time. All of the posts have been stuff I've written for class, or assignment posts. I kind of want to keep a steady flow of voluntary posts in here too...BUT SCHOOL HAS DECIDED TO FIGHT MEEEEE. yeah.

I think I like this course more and more as it goes on. Truthfully, I was kind of dreading it before the school year started. I opened up the letter from school and my heart dropped down to my stomach when I saw "Writing Fiction." I can write literature analysis. I can write journal entries (cause no-no-no-no-nooooooooooobody else can see them). But fiction is a whole nuther planet, darling. And the idea of sharing my creative writing just made me cringe. Literary analysis is more professional, it's based off of another person's work. But something that I bring life to myself seems....much more likely to appear deformed, wrong, weird, boring, dull to others. I'm still dreading the writing workshop. I have no idea what kind of short story I'm supposed to write. I'm used to responding to prompts and whatnot....As you can probably tell, my writing gets pretty incoherent once I decide to write voluntarily and RRRRRamble away to the stars!!!

oh dear. unbelievable.

This is also sort of how I am with my college essay. I don't know how i'm supposed to write this darn thing. And it's awkward when I need to share it with other people for edits. It's supposed to be such a personal, "this is me" sort of piece, but the more people look at it, the more they ogle it, I feel like i need to make it less and less and less personal so I can shield myself from their laser-eyes.

I wonder when I stopped writing fiction. That last sentence implies that at one point and enjoyed and consistently wrote made-up stories....which i did! I was cleaning out my desk, and I found my book of ridiculous stories from when I was 4 or 5 or 6. Haha, it was amusing. but haha, if anyone saw it I think I would be quite, quite humiliated.

My stories were crazy (awesome)! But i am not posting them on the internet. Oh-no, no-no, no-no-no-no-nooooooo. I suspect my stories reflect my state of mind at the time. I also suspect, from the sort of drawings I still draw on the computer, that my mind has not left it's childish state.

...I like my mind that way :)