Quotes, Ghosts, and Ozymandias

In school, I'm taking a course called Literary Analysis for my Creative Writing minor. It's that stepladder course- the one NEEDED before moving on to the upper level electives. I've always appreciated the difficulty in writing a proper analysis of a writing or poem- and this isn't exactly the course that ineptitude and glamorous words can pass as a grade-A essay. Currently, we are focusing on poetry (see Ozymandias below), and I'm enjoying the chance to look at writing from a critical perspective.

I'm starting to consider myself a writer. Is this a dangerous thing to presume of myself? I am not sure. While I've looked into the writing styles of the authors I've enjoyed in the past, now I scan every word with an intellectual eye. I attempt to pick out what I "like" about each paragraph, how the author creates a certain "feeling" in each chapter. Slowly, I'm modifying my personal style to adhere to the likes of a novel I would be proud of completing one day.

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Time speaks at a slow pace, but when you listen to its recording or watch a video of the past, everything moves at a rate the eye cannot comprehend. So, as viewers, we delve into our minds for solutions to what our eyes see- memories become intermingled and amazing moments become highlights on a movie reel. To capture time we use words and photos. Streams of images that speak to us with color coated nostalgia.

Nostalgia from the graphic novel Watchmen

I trust this is why we have quotes, such as James Dean’s, “Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today.” Simply, as humans, we must live every minute to its fullest and not dwell on past happenstance. Move on. Move forward. Always progress.

However, as there is one positive quote, there is an alternative. Voltaire states, “Everything’s fine today, that is our illusion.” While we can imagine and pursue the perfect day where every second is magnificent, we may look back on moments with regret become void on our individual purpose.

Thus, is it best to look at life with a passive objectivity, or aggressive stance on living free and capable? Or, is it (as it is in many cases) advantageous to mix the two theories?

Ozymandias from the graphic novel Watchmen

I’d like to include Percy Bysshe Shelley’s (1792-1822) poem, Ozymandias here as a fluid example of living full and free only to be stranded in a counteracted past.

Ozymandias - Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away".

The "King of Kings", Ozymandias, lived a powerful life as a ruler of an impeccable empire. Yet, even as he urged to ascend to the highest of power with every breath, his memory is nothing more than a ruin, a "colossal wreck" of nostalgia and stone. Nothing surrounds him- thus, Ozymandias is the symbol of living life to its fullest without any shred of objectivity.

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Onwards with the writing process. Creative post coming next. Not sure as to what, but it will be there.

Best of health and luck,

-TWO-12

Zeptember

What I'm Doing: Finishing Season ONE of the TWO-12 Blog

212:

It takes me an average of thirteen bites (with twenty-six chews per bite) to finish the last quarter of my whole wheat bagel as I stare in a stoic trance, waiting for the shuttle in the morning. It takes me approximately seven steps to walk from the front of the shuttle to the back, where I take a seat in the usually packed form of public transportation. It takes me, on average, the entire allotted time for me to complete an exam and to double check all of my responses. It takes me about seven (same number of steps to the back of the shuttle) months to write twenty-six blog posts (same number of chews in one bite), 37,256 words, and 72 pages of material. This post, Zeptember, is therefore the Season ONE finally.

Of sorts.

I've joined the Creative Writing club called ECWC here at UA. It's pretty sweet, and is a great and relaxed environment to think with the imagination and let the non-mathematical brain juices flow. Here are two pieces I wrote last Tuesday. The first is a stream-of-consciousness, the second is written completely with my right hand (a very hard task for a non-ambidextrous lefty).

Light my Cabeza
In a powdery cadence repeat aloud the timelessness, the timelessness of a music note not in memory, but sound- sound like rain drops trickling in a cruel rhythm, a beat determined by some to pierce ear drums and break sonic barriers. The timelessness of memory as music, the drifting words of that song that rings in your head like clockwork. Tick. Tick. Tick.

As people we create the clouds of imagination which spur forth consciousness and destroy the vague reality that reality is the tick tick tick of a clock, and you are the minuteman of a country, your country's hour. Faded are the memories that were thought to be the absolute shred of timelessness and suddenly, so suddenly you're lost in the tick tick tick that was the repeating cadence of your existence. Tick. Tick.

The moon shines daylight on the invisible city as waterfalls crash in the distance. The memories they, tick, are blending now like the colors blue and yellow when they form that other color, the color you called white. Opaque powdery white. The soft flakes of snow as they fall on green buildings making the sound which is only a memory of the timelessness pronounced through speakers as tick. tick. tick.

Lick your lips as your spit falls on clouds and turns to liquid on your tongue. Is this taste real or imaginative? Questionable or questioned? It surely isn't real- if it were real your mind wouldn't be crumpled with excess sardine cans and excuses for excuses. Words that are words that are pictures with vocal chords, vocal chords that mumble under the constraint of gravity and the atmosphere- tick. tick. TICK.

In a powdery cadence repeat aloud the timelessness. The words. The memories.

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Dear Right Hand #1
Synthetic is the unreal facility
where machines eat and drink they are robots
with human arms and their favorite
food is ice cream-
Specifically vanilla bean
mixed with happiness.

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Recently, I’ve started running with a good friend of mine. I learned my lesson in Philly that while it is fantastic to be busy, exercise still shouldn’t be ignored. I’ve never been a runner- I’m more of a sea creature, if anything- but it is nice to get out and explore the roads of Tucson with feet instead of wheels.

At first appearance, Tucson can seem worn down, beaten, ugly. But if that’s all you see, then you don’t know Tucson. I’m still getting to know the place, and every day I see more and more beauty, more and more qualities of nature of character that shine. I find myself standing outside at nighttime, taking a fresh breathe of air. The air is so sweet out here- so tasteful, fluid, and gentle on the lungs.

Sometimes, it’s relaxing just to take in what surrounds you.

Over the past few months, I've really struggled to meet my self-designed four-post-a-month quota. If you are a consistent reader, you've probably noticed this… and laughed at how I post two or even three posts on the last day of the month. So, finally after several periods of thirty-day difficulties, I've decided to cut back on quantity and propose a new era, a new season if you will, of quality. From hence forth, there will only be one major post per month. If I am feeling extra ambitious or full of creativity though, don't be surprised if there's more.

I really, really, really want to write a novel.

I was talking with my roommate, Michael, yesterday about why we take such hard classes, such hard majors, and such hard schedules at the University. Why can’t I just take fifteen credits of a non-science major per semester, breeze through those classes with B’s and C’s, and smell the roses? I could write a book in my spare time, snag a part-time job, beef-up my resume for the corporate ladder. We talked, and eventually we came to a conclusion that involved a video-game metaphor.

We can’t go through life on EASY mode. It just wouldn’t be fun. It wouldn’t be interesting. There would be no challenge. Instead, we have to play INSANE mode, LEGENDARY mode, MENTAL mode (to name a few). We have to struggle through the most impossible challenges, and then beat them. Conquer them. Crush them.

Where’s the rush in beating a game on EASY? I’d rather play LEGENDARY and fight with all my strength to win in the end.

INSANE > CASUAL

Like I said, I want to write a novel. I don’t need to take fifteen credits per year with a simple major to do it. I added a Creative Writing Minor to my Biochemistry and Molecular and Cellular Biology Majors just to have more time to write.

The brain is about to storm, baby, and the world better watch out for my lightning bolts.

-TWO-12

Uni-Ver-Sit-Ee

What I'm Doing: Gazing into the vivid infinity of my Samsung SyncMaster 710N monitor.

212:

Yes, I do listen to classical music.

Researchers believe that by subduing children to classical music at an early age, they will have enhanced spatial reasoning skills. This, they say, is due to the complex structure of classical music (music such as Bach, Beethoven). By now, this isn’t really a new concept. Experiments are conducted daily by ambitious parents hoping to give their two-month-olds a Beethoven boost to the brain.

Classical music, you’d have to admit, is very soothing. It’s smooth and soft at times, but also loud and rambunctious. The flurries of quick piano-key flourishes or rough strokes on bass strings seem to bathe the mind in a fixated curiosity. That curiosity then extends towards a heightened state of awareness, as the veins of violins meet the nerves of the human body.

I find at times I act like a conductor, waving my hands around loosely like I am directing a full orchestra. I have no idea what I am doing, but my hands and arms seem to know… so I allow them to do their thing.

Besides classical music, it is said that bird song is a great and unique method to improve brain function. Something about the vocals of Mother Nature’s planes supposedly string a chord in the body. Maybe it’s like classical music. Instead of waving your arms around, you whistle softly to the call of a lark.

In other news, Google Chrome is faster than lightning. That’s fast.

Haruki Murakami is quoted for stating, “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”

In swim team, we took on this similar phrase as our motto, “Pain is weakness leaving the body.”

What do these two statements say? What do they tell us about pain?

Pain is going to happen no matter what. By allowing pain to leave your body, you are removing weakness and therefore becoming stronger. Because pain is regarded as weakness, this also means that weakness is inevitable. No man or woman is inhumanly built without weakness. It is there and consistently present just as pain is. But it is up to each individual to regard that pain or that weakness as suffering. If one believes a specific pain to be too treacherous, they may say that they are suffering. However, it is always possible that a man or woman may tread through life and live without suffering- as they believe that pain and weakness are merely setbacks to their ultimate goal.

This is my final free week of summer. I start at the University of Arizona next Monday, and I am excited to see what lies in store for me. Because of this, though, there is a good deal of work I have to complete and a large amount of subjects I would like to review before jumping into new classes. On the bright side of things, I am completely moved into my apartment in Tucson. Things are falling in place- albeit awkwardly at times. But they are still coming together, and I don’t mind if it appears as if I wasn’t that great at Tetris.

-TWO-12