Euphoria

This morning, after a nice seven-and-a-half hour night of sleep, I woke up to the soft repetition of "The Cost of Resistance" by Xploding Plastix. Following my own resistance and final consent to disrupt the music's continuation, I languidly rolled out of my bed to rid myself of clingy fatigue. Once I set my feet on the Pom stained carpet, I stood still for a while to make sure that my foundation was as strong as I'd wished for it to be today. A good minute went by. My feet agreed to keep me standing and able to walk yet another day. On my way from the bed post to the vanity, I stumbled over a heap of nothing; I've always been a bit clumsy. Maybe my feet hadn't quite abandoned their own fatigue just yet. Luckily, I've tripped over myself plenty of times, so I managed to avoid a complete spill. I once again gathered myself and reestablished my balance. After I had safely made my way to the sink - with my head down to watch my feet take individual steps, parallel to each other - I tied my now semi-long hair up with a thin brown band which never leaves my person, grabbed my face wash to awaken the senses along with my mind, brushed my teeth with my green Pokemon toothbrush and finally, rinsed off my face and took my hair down- all without taking the slightest glance at my reflection. I have become quite accustomed to disregarding the presence of mirrors and going about my life without giving them the due respect of allowing them to serve their primary function: give back to us a smidgen of what we long to know without an ounce of questioning.

Every morning, some ulterior force provides me with yet another moment of life, but regardless of the endless love I have for those moments, I have not shown a fraction of the appreciation which I owe to that ulterior force. Every time a new day commences, the pages of my unwritten schedule close and reopen to the first page, starting at: Wake! Then, the sequence of events continues just as it did this morning; I get out of bed, find my ground, trip a bit, resist the mirror, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. My life could hardly be considered as boring, but repetition has the full capability of agitating, and it has done so in my own existence. To repeat something in one's mind triggers a memory, which creates a habit. Repetition is great for learning and obtaining new information! For life, on the other hand, to repeat is to hinder one's own experience on earth. And when one allows for hindrances to continuously occur in his or her life, life itself becomes something of less value than it would have been otherwise.

This morning, though, my typical schedule went against protocol and consisted of an unexpected violation; I turned away from the vanity, fresh and fully awake, to dress in the unflattering uniform the school presents as my solitary option of attire. Afterwards, I persisted to destroy my hair with a four hundred degree straightener in order to be a bit more pleased with my outward appearance. At last, after filling my autographed book bag with six or seven text books and spiral-bounds, I jumped to my feet and headed toward the door which was only about an inch cracked open. But right as I expanded the space between the door and it's frame, I stopped myself from stepping into the hall, and with a tinge of discomfort, I turned one hundred and eighty degrees to the right and faced myself in that reflective surface, once a pile of sand grains. To my surprise, I stared, and I did so with a bit of content. Another flaw did not leap out at me and carve at my self-esteem as I had expected. A form of remorse for exposing to myself an image which I rather disliked did not blanket my mind. Instead, I moved closer to the mirror and more delicately examined my anitomical features which had previously seemed to be an affliction to me. I saw my hair, and though it had been tortured by unbearable heat, I liked it. I saw my eyes, which have a small difference in shape, and I enjoyed their azure presence. I turned my head ninty degrees to see my nose, which now I know is nearly perfectly straight. Lastly, I turned back to a head-on position, and noticed a smile in the corner of my mouth. I giggled for a while at how silly I had been to hate my appearance for no real reason. I turned around, walked towards the door, flipped the light switch down, and left the room to live my repetition with a bounce in my step.

Cummings Imitation

Which conditions under are you allowed
love
to be in?
Sex is a requirement says
whom to love another? With days as
short
as they are,

leap

should thoughts across one's mind
with or without lust the slightest bit.
Done and said, all, mind one's thoughts of
love
and one's love of thoughts of
love
and think of not the shallow exterior
but
interior, deep, desirable, passion-drowned.
Hesitant quivering are the actions initiated by
and led by nervousness
yet curiousness
the movements, awkward,
unsure pure
sure formidable.
Flash the images through quickly the brain
but
thoroughly the mind.
Wrong is an erotic experimentation
but
why then right are amorous feelings/"feelings"
between sheets
proceeding marital ceremonies?
Constrainedbyconditions
meaningless
contradictory
one's
love
may not exist.
Lacking permission for physical allure
to commence
love
lifeless
will cease to continue.
Which conditions under can love allow
you in?

A Dream Deferred: Our Own Version

What happens to a dream deferred? (A)

Does it cease (B)
like a fire without air? (C)
Or does it burn like an itch – (D)
you can no longer bear? (C)
Does it tear at the heart? (E)
Or inject toxins in the veins – (F)
like a poison dart? (E)

Maybe it sits crying (G)
like a child in pain. (H)

Or does it go insane? (H)

Things Fall Apart versus A Raisin in the Sun: Characters?

Both Things Fall Apart and A Raisin in the Sun were influenced by poems which were written in times of despair. The two works expose conflicts between tradition and change, and the most prominent advicates of staying constant to tradition are Okonkwo from Things Fall Apart and Lena from A Raisin in the Sun. In Things, Okonkwo is essentially the alpha male and he runs the pack. His intentions are to keep his tribe true to its culture and not let it be corrupted by outside ideas or influences. Lena does the same with her own family, but at the same time, she wants progression for the generations to come. Her strict belief in God is something from which she will not step away, and Christianity is a means of comfort for her when faced with conflicts. Okonkwo, on the other hand, is heavily against Christianity and disowns those in his tribe, and even his family, who dare step outside of the boundaries he has set. The two firmly believe in tradition and being knowledgable of their ancestral lineage and pushing certain traits from generations passed through the generations to come. Nevertheless, Okonkwo's attitude is that of a closed-minded brute who cares for himself and his power, while Lena's approach is simply to better the lives of her family. Her intentions are nothing but good, while Okonkwo's are based off of rapacity.

A Raisin in the Sun: Setting Related to Themes?

The setting in any book, movie, play, et cetera, is vital in order to convey the proper moods or general themes of said works. Relatively soon after World War II and the Cold War, A Raisin in the Sun was written during a time of segregation, despite the recent abolition of slavery and uprising of equal rights. The play/movie is set in the family’s apartment, which happens to be pretty small and in a primarily “black area” of Chicago. The apartment represents the seclusion and isolation which the family is essentially forced to endure, but simultaneously, it is a symbol of the bond each member of the family has with one another. Notwithstanding the numerous arguments and disagreements, the members of the family get along and support each other to the best of their abilities.

As an “outside of the box” view, the apartment is small, correct? The play was influenced by Langston Hughes’ poem “A Dream Deferred,” correct? The apartment’s size and growing populace, for lack of a better word, may symbolize a raisin, being the black family, slowly shriveling up due to the overwhelming impact of the sun, being white people as a whole. The apartment can only hold a certain amount of people before running “like an oozing sore.” If the apartment begins to overflow, the inhabitants will not be able to help but leak out a bit. Lena realizes that the apartment is much too small for such a large family, so she ends up buying a house, which excites the family until she mentions the fact that it is in a “white neighborhood.”

Lena acts as the head of the house and does what she thinks is best, without first consulting the rest of the family. The result of her buying the house may be that the family is unable to bear the fact that they will be the only black family amongst a bunch of white people, who are the cause of their problems in the first place. Lena may have thought, though, that the household would explode, like a dream deferred, if the family did not move to a more reasonable location. The movie has a great amount to do with dreams, because Travis wishes for more than has, Walter Lee wants to have his own liquor store and provide more for his family, and Beneatha wants to be a doctor, which would never have come true for a black woman in that day and age.

The family wants progress, and that is their dream, as well as a massive theme in A Raisin in the Sun. The members of said family who stick to tradition, in a way, shoot those down who wish to better themselves through unbelievable manners. Although they are all black and have the same dream, Lena and Ruth basically defer the dreams because they see them as unreachable. The entire movie, so far, is an endless feud between progression and tradition. Once the family moves into the new house, though, what will happen to them? Will the dreams progress or be once more deferred?

A Raisin in the Sun: Perception of God

The idea of God is an extremely complex subject; what drives people to believe or not believe in him? In some households, God is a heavily enforced concept and figure in which family members seek guidance and assistance in their lives. In other homes, however, families are not required to believe in God. It is impossible to control others’ values or belief systems, so those who instill the power within themselves to say whether or not one believes in God is simply absurd. Walter Lee’s mother, Lena, who is essentially the head of the house, takes it upon herself to decide whether or not God exists. A strong faith or belief in him is completely normal, but no person can say what is real beyond the physical objects which are visible to everyone.

When Lena’s daughter, Beneatha, makes the statement that she does not accept the idea of God, Lena is absolutely infuriated, because she raised all of her children to strictly believe in God. In a way, Lena resembles the missionaries from Things Fall Apart; she tells everyone else what is “right” and that they will abide by her rules and belief system when they are in her house. The missionaries of Things Fall Apart act upon their goals in a similar manner, but instead of raising the Africans with the influence of Christianity, they simply invade and plant the seed of God in the minds of the Africans. When one acts out, though, the missionaries severely punish him or her, and Lena does so with Beneatha when she declares her disbelief in God; when Beneatha finally expresses her views in a truthful manner, Lena slaps her and has her say something along the lines of, “As long as I am in mom’s house, God still exists.” Such actions are a bit despotic.

Beauty

Sure, your eyes are captivating and quite capable of leaving me breathless, but most would base such a description off of mere aesthetic beauty. Not that your eyes are not quite deserving of the title, "beautiful," but the question is longing to evade these lips, through these fingers, which cannot keep up with this train of thought: what is beauty? In most cases, one would contemplate the concept of beauty and simply regurgitate every simplistic idea that had ever been spewed into his or her face - beauty is a six-letter word for something which elicits some sort of a hormonal outburst. Well, all right, that's beauty. But beauty, which manufactures a fleeting pulse and a cold sweat - rather addictive, if not related to cardiovascular problems - cannot possibly refer only to the select few lucky ones with the perfect symmetry and awesome genetic make-up. Arousal is not simply driven by voluptuousness or a petite skeletal frame; beauty provokes arousal both physically and mentally. What could cause the mind to produce the same feelings which are composed by a sexual sensation? Surely not the exterior. Your eyes, along with every other sight-capable being's eyes, are a direct path to pure truth. Whether it be the depths of an honest statement or the disclosure of a lie, your sensational, magnificent eyes provide the directions which lead to your mind, which just so happens to be connected to your soul. The one thing that brings forth unfeigned beauty in it is that the legitimacy behind your corneas, a bit to the left of your retinas, and straight past the optic nerves, is the unclouded honesty in every word which escapes your mouth.

It's strange that the utterances, forced upward and forward by involuntary systems - starting at the brain, which sends the signals to the voice box to generate vibrations which bounce off of the walls of your throat and remind the tongue to curl and touch the roof of the mouth occasionally, all in order to create a sound - originate in the soul. But wait, the signals initiate in the brain, do they not? What runs the brain, though? Some ulterior force, which some like to call a spirit, a soul, or a consciousness. All of such are absolutely correct, and they, as a whole, form the center of one's being which is where that alluring truthfulness, of which you are oh so famous, obtains its life. Why, though, are your eyes so much more understandable than the tone in those utterances or the fashion in which your lips move? A tone, which is yet again a result of one minuscule signal sent from the brain to the rest of the body, cannot uncover what the soul dies to eject; a tone merely follows its orders, which it takes from the brain. A tone is capable of trickery. Eyes, though, pull every emotion and every physical expression together to fully convey the mind, which is imprisoned in that overpowering brain. One cannot hide behind his or her eyes, because the eyes' sole purpose is to portray what the rest of the face and the body cannot; what the physical fairness cannot display, the eyes do, as a means of exposing the untouched, uncorrupted beauty which lies within.

So, your subdermal beauty, which surpasses your corporal excellence, either advertantly or inadvertantly seduces my very being. Let it be known that I am quite cognizant of the effect which your essence has on me, but your beauty, which even your captivating eyes are unable to fully release, has my inferior core under a hypnosis. The hypnosis would not succeed in enthralling me if my focus were not entirely devoted to your unearthly totality.

What is beauty?
I guess that's you.

A Bit of Discomfort?

Does it make me a creep or
a burden to care for your will?
Will my attempt at condolence
and understanding dilute our
bond? The less you accept it,
the greater the space between
us. That space may have mounted
from discomforts, but the farther
and farther it grows, the less we
know about one another. Might I
have another chance? May I
redeem myself, if at all possible?
I suppose it's plausible that my
evidently failed pursuit at helping
you purely pushed you away.
Thus, try, I will not. It's apparent
that my breath, and my words,
and my tears are wasted on an
effortless, cold soul. But my
observations and interpretations
are solely based off of previous
experiences, and that goes against
the underlying message of Tartuffe.
Wouldn't want that, now, would we?

Life Lessons

The purification of the soul and
the escalation of the mind let
the changes take the course so
the life is to the fullest, but
the memories and the times
win us over and over again and over
the years, when the angst has sat in
the seat, which stays dormant in the theatre,
the realizations build the guidelines and
the mistakes turn into the lessons which allow
the mind to escalate and
the soul to purify.

Commie Russia or Commie China?

When Stalin ruled in Soviet Russia, Communism was the main priority. Stalin was distinctly against rights of the individual, and his goal was to equalize the people and make success and life in itself a team effort. Mao Tse-tung idolized Stalin and intended to model China after Stalin's Russia. Once Khrushchev took over, however, things changed and Communism wasn't as heavily enforced in the USSR. Said takeover crushed Mao, because the changes made in the USSR were in an effort to achieve "peaceful coexistence," meaning that the USSR would not necessarily be at war with Capitalist nations. After Khrushchev came Khrushchev 2.0, or by his biological name, Makhail Gorbachev.

People referred to Gorbachev as "Khrushchev 2.0" due to his similar values and intentions. Gorbachev, though, went to greater lengths to achieve his goals; he started mass amounts of reforms in order to give freedom to the people and put an end to the Cold War and all of its disputes. In contradiction to his belief in freedom of the people, Gorbachev kept the government Communist. In spite of its negative connotations, Communism was put in place to provide equality to everyone so that no one had any feelings of discontent to one another for having more privileges than others. Gorbachev simply wanted to treat everyone fairly, because he had to appease both the conservatives as well as the liberals. Therefore, his choice of keeping Communism yet allowing more rights and cutting censorship was the best way to go about ruling a country that had such great differentiating parties.

When Mao was aware of Khrushchev replacing Stalin, he was infuriated. The changes which Khrushchev made were essentially going completely against Stalin, but even more so, Khrushchev directly stated that Stalin was the reason for the decline of the USSR. Such words were blasphemy to Mao's ears, because he had thought of Stalin as a great leader and he saw Khrushchev as a traitor to his predecessor's intentions.

Communist China was a completely different story; Mao created "three-year plans," as a form of mimicry of Stalin's five-year plans. The two main pieces of Mao's plans were the Hundred Flowers Campaign and the Great Leap Forward. The Hundred Flowers Campaign was meant to be a "comment box" campaign, which offered the general public the chance to criticize the government. Mao had lured the people in with trickery, because as soon as one decided to legitimately criticize his or her government, he or she was sent into "re-education," which entailed stern lessons on his or her wrongdoings and on the fact that he or she should regard the leader with high reverence. Mao blamed any areas on which he received criticism on those who were not supportive of his ideas.

The Great Leap Forward was a way to rob the farmers of their farming equipment and use it for industrializing China. The fact was, though, that the products were insufficient and useless. The government promised to provide regions that were not farming with food, which merely added to the stockpile of deceit. Eventually, thirty million people died in China, resulting from such deceit. Thus, Communist Russia, under Khrushchev, or rather Gorbachev, would be preferable.