Composition - More Than Meets the Eye

            Most students take a composition course offered freshman year because they need to fulfill a general education requirement. I took the course in high school and neglected the pay for the credit, so I was stuck taking it again, here at college. I wasn't exactly wide-eyed and excited for it, especially at eight in the morning on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I told myself it might not be so bad. I had talked to a couple of friends, and they told me the professor was awesome, so I went into the course, taking it as it came.
            I not only got along with the professor, but he was distinguished in his teaching, and I enjoyed the class. I liked challenging myself, especially early in the morning while my mind was still fresh. I found the podcasts interesting, and I liked getting feedback on my weekly blog entries. I have always liked writing, but through the semester I grew to love it. It helped me become a better writer not only for the class, but for my other classes, and for future endeavors. I yearned to do well, and receive a high marking for my hard work in class, so each week I made sure to try and listen to the critiques I received on my blog entries.
             I found myself correcting my grammar, vocabulary, and other qualities of my English in other classes. It helped me apply what knowledge I had learned to sound more educated and intellectual in other areas aswell. This course not only gives one the armor for success, but the necessary weaponry to overcome any handicaps. Even though room 031 was not my favorite, and the time of the course was not what I would have desired, I came out of it a better writer, the most important objective. I feel as though I succeeded in my conquest to achieve a well-deserved grade. This course not only gave me a credit for my "gen eds" but I also look forward to taking another English course in order to further my writing and exceed my potential.

Cultural Differences - Presentation Proposal

Cultural Differences

             For my presentation I would like to envelope my audience on my recent hiatus in Brazil. I would like to compare the cultural differences of Brazil to the United States and assess the differences in economic status, industrialization, and other such endeavors. I would like to put together a power point presentation, as to engage the audience with the photographs I have obtained from my trip. I feel being knowledgeable about other cultures is an important asset to anyone, and from learning about other cultures we may learn the positives and negatives about our culture, forming our malleable world, in the pursuit of happiness.

Dreaming to Interpret, Interpreting to Dream

            Throughout our life, dreams inhabit our minds every night while we lay asleep, whether we recall their presence or not. This leads me to question whether they obtain intrinsic value or are simply just flashing images, which therefore lack any essence at all. What manifests during the process of dreaming, and where do our dreams originate from? Is there anything trite about this alternate universe we enter into when we close our eyes? There exists a ceaseless amount of questions about our brain and the functions that service it that have yet to be answered, let alone inquiry about our dreams.

            In Sleep: A Comprehensive Handbook by Teofilo Lee-Chiong, M.D., there is a report, the Psychology of Dreaming, composed by Milton Kramer, M.D., Director of the Sleep Disorders Center of Bethesda Hospital in Cincinnati, Ohio. He writes that examining the process of dreaming in modern lexicon is to comprehend the operations of the mind. Secondly, he suggests that from studying dreaming, we may further be able to unravel the cryptogram of psychosis, in which psychoanalysts Carl Jung, Sigmund Freud, and neurologist John Hughlings Jackson contributed substantial research.

            Kramer explains that the content of our dreams vary, due to the physiological oppositions we obtain. Our age, gender, race, marital status and social class are all components that affect the matter of our dreams. Demographic differences and mental illnesses add to the unprecedented variables. No one dream is identical to that of another person, although society tends to have a limited number of very similar dreams. Kramer adds that, as Sigmund Freud discovered, there are “typical” and “universal” dreams. This means that the dreamer’s content is virtually indistinguishable from someone who has also acquired an agnate dream. Freud’s findings exhibited some twenty-three universal dreams. A few are as follows:

·         Feelings of embarrassment while being in the nude.

·         The demise of someone in which you bestow deep emotions for.

·         Falling

·         Being on fire

These dreams are possibly thought to be prospects of our development through the lifespan. It has been reported that the currency of the numerous universal dreams have been widespread across cultures all over the world, due to the research of Ward. Wilson Harris, novelist of the twentieth century, tried to interpret some of these universal dreams. Kramer tied that dreaming of falling exhibits feelings of insecurity, whereas dreams of being harassed launches a sensation of being assaulted. There is little to no evidence to back up these theories though, many of which psychologists agree with, and scientists disagree with.

Kramer further speaks about repetitive dreams and how they differ from typical and universal dreams. They are not necessarily dreams that are shared by a vast amount of people, but only by the dreamer, rare on its own, that occur time and time again. In most cases it appears repetitive dreams take place in retort to a similar plethora of distressing temperamental situations. PhD G. William Domhoff proposed that our repetitive dreams are an emblematic venture for solving problems, and that they may be a pursuit for one to cope with equivocal sentimental upsets.

How many aspects of unconscious emotions are there in our dreams? Do we dream due to innate feelings of love, hate, fear and other impulses? In Sigmund Freud’s Dream Psychology: Psychoanalysis for Beginners, Section: Sex in Dreams he wrote:

“Above all I should not know how to dispose of the apparent fact that there are many dreams satisfying other than –in the widest sense- erotic needs, as dreams of hunger, thirst, convenience &c… seems to me to proceed far beyond what is admissible in the interpretation of dreams.”(p.105)

            So how do we individually interpret our own dreams? Would our own uneducated attempts even result in anything? Sometimes we have dreams that make us wonder why in the world we dreamt them. We wonder if there is a hidden meaning, and we may even try to dissect them. Some of these dreams are like lice crawling on our skin, eating away at us, until we figure them out. Freud comes to the ultimate conclusion in his findings that,

“Now and then a symbol in the dream content may have to be interpreted not symbolically, but according to its real meaning; at another time the dreamer, owing to a particular set of recollections, may create for himself the right to use anything whatever as a sexual symbol, though it is not ordinarily used in that way. Nor are the most frequently used sexual symbols unambiguous every time.” (p. 113)

            Modern dream theorists don’t always agree with Freud because of the lack of evidence in his findings. They criticize his constant relation to our sexual impulses, and require more hard data supporting dream theories.

            In Dreaming: Anthropological and Psychological Interpretations written by Barbara Tedlock, Waud Kracke, Department of Anthropology at the University of Chicago, Illinois, wrote an entry titled “Myths in Dreams, Though in Images”. Kracke states that there is much inkling in which several cultures around the world, especially Australian aboriginal ones (Stanner 1972) that linked dreams and myths. (pg.32)

                        So which theory do we agree with? Do we side with a certain psychologist or just hope that in future years we will discover the true meaning of our dreams? There are many theories existing in the world we live in today, but it is hard to pick apart evidence from theory. We will probably pry at dream psychology forever, in my own opinion. We barely know enough about our brain to know enough about the ways in which it dreams.

Bibliography

Freud, S. (1921). Dream psychology; psychoanalysis for beginners,. New York, N.Y.: The James A. McCann company.

M.D., Lee-Chiong, T. (2006). Sleep: a comprehensive handbook. Hoboken, N.J.: John Wiley & Sons.



Tedlock, B. (1987). Dreaming: anthropological and psychological interpretations. Cambridge, N.Y. Cambridge University Press.

Response to: Iyanatul Islam - Islamic Fundamentalism, Concerned Muslims & Anti-Americanism

            In the chapter "Islamic Fundamentalism and Anti-Americanism: Comprehending Casualty" the author states, "There is a deeply embedded view in Western discourse that Islamic fundamentalists are innately anti-American. They range from the naive - such as 'they hate us because of who we are' - to the sophisticated, such as the notion of the 'political enemy of hatred'...” So I must ask, where does intellect play into either scenario? Why shall we form barriers apart from other nations, when the ocean is already enough separation? It seems as though a Great Wall, like the one in China will be built, to further isolate us.
             How often do we hear, or make, uneducated and unnecessary comments? To narrow this question down even more, how often do we hear, or make, uneducated and unnecessary comments about Eastern civilizations (the Middle East to be exact)? Many times, I have seen my peers ridicule and mock their culture. They find it nothing less than humorous to wrap a towel around their head, and pretend it's a turban. For Halloween even, they take joy in dressing in the native clothing of Middle Eastern countries such as Afghanistan, trying to portray themselves as "terrorists". I find this nothing less than repulsive to put it lightly.
             Since when did common courtesy and human compassion die? When did it become okay, or even expected, to make fun of God, Jehovah, Buddha, Hari, or Allah etc.?  We not only need to asses this particular situation, but all that exist. Instead of taking Charles Darwin's idea "Survival of the fittest" and applying it usefully to everyday life, it has turned into "Survival of the races", or "Survival of the beliefs". There have always been those that are bias against or racist against those that do not fit into their "tier". We need not be categorized by our race, our religious beliefs, or sexual orientation, but by the simple principle that we are human, and we shall and will look out for each other. So much time is spent on hate, because ignorance is glamorized. Society sets an ideal, and those that do not fit the accepted mold are discriminated against.
            How do we change such a stubborn world? How do we show such stubborn people, there is another way? Certain dreamers, such as Martin Luther King Jr. have said it before me, and have said it best. When will we make their dream come true, if ever, and live in the world as one? When can we set down all the negativity we've heard, and disregard it? When can we live in peace and harmony, like the birds in the sky, the forests, and the vast oceans that divide us?

Response to: Michael O' Keefe - US Military Bases & Anti-Americanism

         "In 1997 Richard Haas described the US as a 'reluctant sheriff' who’s military was simultaneously viewed as the world's policemen as well as an imperial force." Why is the United States military viewed in such a negative way? It's as if anti-Americanism spread like an infectious virus, and the most powerful country in the world is now viewed as a contagious disease. "Stay away" outsiders of the US say, you can hear them clamor. They don't want to catch whatever it is we're spreading around. To be honest, I'm not sure I'd want to either.
            My brother and I thrive on conspiracy theory movies. I do not always believe them - but they are interesting nonetheless. I was brought up in an American-Brazilian household, which was based upon both cultures. My mother is very conservative, and my father is also conservative, but slightly more liberal. Neither will watch them with us, but we do for a reason. We don't want to be blinded by the corruption existing in this world; we want to open our eyes, when the United States government wishes so strongly we'd shut them. What is there to hide? Why haven't all of the government's activities been exposed? Don't the people of this country have a right to know?
              There was a polygamous group living in Waco, Texas an extremely conservative town in the south. Interracial relationships were forming, and the community was growing. They were a religious group of people called the "Branch Davidians: Students of the Seven Seals". There was has never been any knowledge of any wrongdoing, or that the group was harmful in any way. So why, did the military act in such a violent way? They said it was an accident; they even tried to change their story, but they couldn't. I watched as a branch of the United States military shot and killed innocent civilians - consisting not only of adults, but the worst kind of slaughter, children. Why did they do this? They committed this unfathomable sin because they did not agree with the way these people were living their life. The US Military appears to do anything when it comes down to the sacrifice of the way they think life in this country should be lived.
                The country in which we live is complex; one is not able to comprehend its monstrous power by taking but a fleeting glimpse; one cannot digest the benefits of life here, as well as the downfalls of life as a citizen of the United States of America. Our military force is one of the strongest in the world. We are one of the biggest threats to other countries. We not only have the power to destroy what they know and love in times of war, but we also have the power to try and change the way they carry out their lives. What if your life is not seen as proper or acceptable in the eyes of our government? What happens then?

Response to : Natalia Ginzburg - He and I

            "If I remind him of that walk along the Via Nazionale he says he remembers it, but I know he is lying and that he remembers nothing; and I sometimes ask myself if it was us, these two people, almost twenty years ago on the Via Nazionale, two people who conversed so politely, so urbanely, as the sun was setting; who chatted a little about everything perhaps and about nothing; two friends talking, two young intellectuals out for a walk; so young, so educated, so uninvolved, so ready to judge one another with kind impartiality; so ready to say goodbye to one another for ever, as the sun set, at the corner of the street."
             How it must feel, for one to love another so unconditionally, yet to have grown in different directions. The seeds fell, different and beautiful, and began to bud around the same time. They grew in the same garden, and when matured, their stems intertwined. Their soft plush petals pushed against each other, and together, they were radiant and ethereal. The soil began to dry up though, and the rain didn't come for some time. The sun wasn't as strong as usual, and the efflorescence felt they couldn't thrive synchronically. One, pointed up to the sky, the other, down to the earth, not knowing if their method of survival would work. It worked, but they would never be harmonious again. Something that was true but that could not be said. Remnants that would be hidden among the shrubs, in which you must dig aimlessly to discover.
            Most people are worried they will never find their true love. They search day by day, night by night, trying to stumble upon the one person on this planet who understand them completely and love them wholly, without omission. Do we ever worry, once he have found our true love, if found at all, that we will only have them for some time? That this is not forever, and that all must come to an end? Even if we feel confident in our relationships, do we ever ponder thoughts of quandary, hoping our significant other doesn't rise from bed one day, feeling different? Is it true that once you finally get the one thing you want most, you realize it really isn't what you wanted at all?
             Everything is a wish, and this life is but a dream. It appears sometimes vivid and all colors and all things in this word seem right and just. Other times it's arid and unwelcoming, the cup always seems to by half empty, and the clock on the wall ticks just a little too loudly. Everything is unpredictable, especially love, the most unnerving thing over all. We must take those walks, those journeys into someone else's universe, and explore them. We must risk all for that which is felt in matters of the heart. And love, if only fleeting - if only there for a moment, we must tend it forever, in hopes it will return to us someday. We may be able to watch it grow and blossom, into an entity so large that even the sun and earth cannot deflect the feeling.

Response to: Reagan's Recession

            History. It's what defines us as a people. From the earliest walks of life, we've had a history. A history of doing well in means to survive. A history of working our way from the bottom to the top. We're an intellectual species, that has created the world we know and live in today. We have moved mountains, and built institutions, in order to further our knowledge of this life. Yet, our history is not always beneficial. Sometimes, we don't learn from our past, and our future gets lost among the ruins. It's been said, that history has a way of repeating itself.
             Our economy entered the recession we are currently in during December 2008. Unemployment rates skyrocketed, and the people that were hit hardest were the middle class. People were not only worried about unemployment increasing more severely, but also rising budget deficits. A recession also occurred during Ronald Reagan's reign of presidency in the 1980's. So many circumstances surrounding the two crisis’s have quite shocking similarities. Why wasn't a change made - a detour taken - or a road block set up, in order to avoid such a large pile of confusion and distress?
               Had we opened our eyes wider, had we thoroughly examined the steps that led us blindly down the path of no return, would we be in a different situation right now? Had we tediously analyzed the exploits of our past, our history, we could have changed our position in the global economy today. What had we been more invested in? What was more important that our security, financially speaking. Could most people in this country be enjoying family vacations, and well-deserved leisure time, instead of scraping at the bottom of their purses for a few spare coins in order to purchase food?
               Universally asserting, we make mistakes as a whole. We also make mistakes individually. When did we forget that the key to evade making those faults again, was to learn from them? For such a perceptive species, we have lost the old pages of our book, because we are too busy writing new ones. The pages have been untouched for so long, that the words begin to fade away, and lose their meaning. Their edges are beginning to crumple, and become soiled in shades of yellow and brown. We need to save them, not rewrite them. We can't bury our past, we must cultivate it. It is what allows our future to thrive.

Response to : Erion - South Park & The Open Society

            "Perhaps extremists receive such unflattering portrayals on South Park because of the threat that they can sometimes pose to the very free expression that makes the show possible." p. 296, Erion, G.J., Curtis, D.V. Why do such extreme personalities and opinions cause such a fear in us all? Are we not only afraid of change, but domination? Do we recognize this fear without recognizing we are part of the severely opinionated?
              It has always been said that our ideas and our beliefs shape the world around us. Sometimes they cradle us, like a womb, and other times they destroy us, like a knife against virgin flesh. Other times, we sit untainted in the gray, avoiding the sovereigns of black and white. When we don't necessarily agree with an idea, opinion, or belief, we may come to the realization of anxiety. What if this sentiment is widely accepted? What if change occurs, and it does not support my own personal morals and values?
             Many people are scared of change. After all, we face change every day, all day, throughout our lives. Some change isn't so bad - the sun rises, the sun sets. Although, some change is devastating - the loss of a loved one. Change is inevitable. Everything is constantly moving, people are constantly thinking, and new ideas and viewpoints are born. Change can be beneficial or harmful to not only one, but many. Change can be such a scary thing to some, because we are never sure in which way it will occur, and when. It can strike at any moment, like a viscous bolt of lightning, unpredictable. And the most difficult segment of change is that you cannot always tell if it's deadly or not. You just have to wait and see. The hardest part of change is that you may not always have control.
             Some people find South Park offensive for its put-downs and crude humor. Yet, I agree with Erion and Curtis. I feel there is a democratic political philosophy buried in it all. In South Park, the characters express their constitutional right to freedom of speech, something that has made this country flourish the way it so rapidly has, with ever changing ideas. I don't mean to say The United States is the best example of a working society or economy, I mean to say I feel the attributes of The United States have proven effective when applied appropriately. We face diversity in a multitude of ways, and the fact that we have such diversity, is a beautiful thing.

Response to: This American Life - The Giant Pool of Money

             "I was really happy to see there were no major suicides, people weren't jumping off bridges, and there weren't a lot of personal disasters." said a attendee at an NPR gathering in 2008, when the mortgage subprime crisis began to deeply settle in. The laconic, fresh, verdant green dollars we earn or inherit decide more than happiness or a luxurious way of life, they also determine survival. Simplistic rectangular cut pieces of paper, derived from a tree, dyed and printed. How bovine.
              Listening to this podcast made my head spin, and by no means do I hope to sound dense. "Global pool of money...Seventy trillion dollars...Nervous armies of Investment Managers... Alan Greenspan...” is fading in and out, dimly. The sound of the conversation drilling and repetitive like the sound of water slipping down a rusty drain, hitting the furnish, instituting a headache in my brain. Is it possible only the world's geniuses can understand such psychobabble? Not to sound harsh, but you must have to obtain an IQ nothing lower than 140 to comprehend such communication. It feels like I'm listening to the African San Bushmen tribe, unable to decode their "clicking" language.
              It makes me a little nervous, marveling my confused mind around the amount of money existent in the world today. All of the cerebrates, making their calculations, counting their pennies and dimes, flicking effortlessly through their stacks of green, with George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, Alexander Hamilton, Andrew Jackson, U.S. Grant, Benjamin Franklin, and countless other late President's staring back at them in awe. The distant sound of a safe locking, and the chilling echo it makes as it spins shut. Such an intricate instrument the market bestows. We now face Charles Darwin's theory "Survival of the fittest" in a new manner. Disregarding physical attributes, we now yearn for financial stability in order to survive.
           What happened to common courtesy? It must be buried somewhere along the ruins of Mt. Vesuvius. People, losing their humanity, not caring about the Marine who needed the money originally intended for his son's college fund. Only caring about the next Black-tie event, being able to afford the Armani suits usually seen on GQ models, and sipping elegantly on Clos Du Mesnil champagne. What about the family who is going hungry? The elderly couple who is losing their home, unable to pay for their mortgage? What becomes of them? Aren't they more than just mortality numbers? All of the devastation circulates far away, and stays like a the naughty child in the corner with the cone hat, such a nuisance to the elite. How do we change this? I'm left dumbfounded and inept...

Response to: This American Life - The Fix Is In

           Is the fix in as we speak? Are we being decided for by some higher power or authority? In this episode of This American Life, we are told the true story of the fix being used in the worldwide liquor market. Men, sitting around a table, controlling the financial market of their sales, and doing it in such a simple manner. As if they held the smile of a friendly milkman, but were really robbers in disguise. They were going to control the market and steadily keep upping their prices as a unit, without anyone's knowledge of their corruption.
          This makes me question if the fix has always been in. The story of Mark Whitacre uncovering his own discrepancies, and the discrepancies of the company he worked for, was one of the few that anyone has ever known. What other fix's are we blind to? Are they existant in our everyday life? Is there anything we can really do about them, or is this fate that has taken charge? We must ponder that the fix may not always be in financial terms, but maybe in other situations too. It may just be the things we think happen by chance, really don't happen that way at all.
          A movie called "The Adjustment Bureau" has just recently premiered in theaters. Although I have yet to see it, I have some inkling of what the movie is about, just by reading it's title. Supposedly, there is a group of men who control the events of the world. Imagine, if everything is set for the human race, even in our own individual lives. Who you marry, how far you accel successfully, and every other factor of your life is determined for you. As if the human race is a colony of ants, with children, dictating them. The children tease the ants with food, stomping on a few here and there, taking them from their mortal life. Helpless and unarmored, even defenseless and fateful, the ant's don't even have prayers to save them.
         Will it always be a wonder if the fix is in? Or will we discover more and more what has been decided for us? Do we really even want to know, or are we content with nonchalantly taking things as they come? Like someone backpacking through Europe savouring every experience and not questioning how they came to be, loving them and cherishing them whether they are beneficial or deteriorating to their sense of self. I feel we must pry at what we find occult, until our knuckles bleed and the skin under our nails comes one with the bones that are it's structure. We are so unique, and deserve a say in what happens to us, we can never allow the fix to be in.

Personal Essay Assignment: The Enigma of Dreaming

The Enigma of Dreaming

Everyone obtains dreams throughout the process of dreaming. The act is so common, yet majestic against any other. As if divulging into an unparalleled universe, the dreamer gets to experience another world, another bursting surreal life, in which there are no limits or expectations. Dreams allow us to be free from our everyday slavery, our rules and regulations. By dreaming, awake or asleep, we can escape into our own personal desires, and hold onto our childhood imaginative sense we all so desperately need and crave.

“There's a long, long trail a-winding into the land of my dreams.”  Wrote Stoddard King, Jr. Multidirectional, our dreams grow and twist like an Oak tree. The branches of the tree serve as the asexual parent of dreams, giving birth to numerous amounts of branches until the tree is in full bloom. Like this plant, a young, innocent little girl dreams of becoming an artist. She sits, by her new easel, smelling the woodwork, breathing in the Cedar. She begins to fantasize about what she will do with her art. She imagines she will imprint her mark into the beams of the sun, the soil below her feet, and everything in between. She will be the heartbeat of the planets. Even known in the heavens, and the angels and cherubs will whisper about her. Her dreams are forever spiraling and growing like the branches on the Oak tree, and there’s always rain and sunlight, feeding their photosynthesis.

When we dream, we let our spirit flow. Our dreaming is so jejune, and at the same moment, so unexplainably natural. It’s as if we are one with everything, and the daily dilemmas of time and love are silenced by an anonymous entity. Whether we are distracted while awake, and slip effortlessly into our unconscious mind, or we are asleep and forcefully jump from the brink of the two airy atmospheres –the known and the unknown– we disappear from what is cemented to what is malleable. Like putty in our hands, we form organic means.

Renowned Psychoanalyst and Neuroscientist, Sigmund Freud, wrote in his work Interpretation of Dreams that, “Some writers flatly assert that dreams know nothing of moral obligations; others as decidedly declare that the moral nature of man persists even in his dream-life.” This leads me to question if the two worlds we exist in are simultaneous. Do take with us our morals, values, and life-learned lessons into our undiscovered world? As if we put all of our beliefs and cognitive emotion in a box, and float through the skies until we reach our unnamable dreaming nirvana. The clouds create a fog and the course is ever changing.

When I doze off into this unchartered territory, this unexplored horizon, I don’t know what to expect. It is as if I am deity of the art world, Salvador Dali, waiting for my work to paint itself. Sometimes I dream of things that inhabited my thoughts during the day. I dream of the bonds expanding even thicker in my blood, between those I was derived from, my family. Their souls so ultimately connected to mine, they exist where I exist. Yet, other times I dream of non-relatable things, people and stories I don’t know in my waking life. Strange things, dreams that make my skin rise in small circles, and make my knees shake. My mind may wrap around them for hours on end.

I sit here, feeling peculiar. I imagine a hand, doused with pure glimmering skin, emerging from a starry night sky. The hand is open, inviting. I want to grab it, but I’m not sure how. I now create a hand, birthed from my forehead like Greek Goddess Athena was birthed from Zeus. Full grown, and armored with my inherent qualities, the hand is sure of itself. It knows no boundaries, only desires. However, existing still in consciousness I am unsure of this unknown voyage. Will the connection of daily occurrences and nightly dreaming ever be more than tedious analyzing? Was Edgar Allan Poe right when he wrote, “Everything you see or seem is but a dream within a dream”?

It has been said for centuries, maybe even eons that those who dream, succeed. Although, what is success? Leaving out a societal standpoint, I believe it is achieving that in which we want most. What is the formula for this dream, what is its genetic makeup? How does one have a dream that creates something life changing, something not normative? Some say that truth and time tell all, but where does this fit into our complex state of dreaming? How can we find the validity and accuracy in something almost paranormal?

Whether awake or asleep, we dream. These images and visions come to us, either randomly, or fatefully. Sometimes, our dreams are like meeting a stranger, forever mysterious and enticing. In other instances, they’re like passing a familiar face on the street. You stop and stare in both scenarios, dumbfounded. We may pry with our fingernails at the “Pandora’s Box” of our alter dream world, trying to let out the secret of our dreams, the good and the bad.          

I believe the box is buried deep in a tomb, sealed shut. Only the wind, the earth, and the stars know the true being it bestows, and they keep their secret safe, inhumed in the depths of the galaxy, that holds the key that can unlock all of the confusion and perplexity of dreaming. The question is will this this inspiring key, ever be found? Or will the universe swallow it whole, before we have the chance?

Response to: This American Life - #1 Party School

          Waking up has never been more laborious. The draining vacuous light of day slices through my crudely obstructed dorm window. I look at the jail-like bricks that surround me, but don't see my Salvador Dali "Swans Reflecting" poster. I surmise I ended up on the bed below mine, unable to make it to the top bunk. I check the clock, it's one thirty in the afternoon. I begin to pick my head up, yet it seems this idea is unattainable, for it feels my brain is throbbing, pushing up against the barriers of my skull. I examine by feet at the end of the bed, still suited up in my newly ruined grey suede boots. This is a reasonably typical way to begin my Friday. Known by most, the university I attend, Plymouth State is a notorious party school. It's ranked number nine in the country, thanks to The Princeton Review.
          I lay, like a sack of potatoes, disheveled in bed. How productive my weekends are. I try to recall the events of the prior evening. It's as if tiny snippets of my night begin to appear, like small pieces of cloth you would use to patch your jeans, although there is never enough to cover the holes, your bare skin peeking through, unwanted and awkward. A vision looms in my mind. I vaguely remember pouring my Jack Daniels whiskey effortlessly into a red solo cup around five o' clock last evening. How the liquor flowed, with its poignant smell, making sweet harmonious splashes into the plastic bottom. I mixed in a relatively small amount of Coca-Cola. As the sun fades into the horizon line, and the moon begins to rise in these early winter months, warmth fills my being.
        The next few hours blur and fade. Comical moments, my comrade's and I find more funny than most. Dinner is but a dream, the mix of people, some I know, some I don't. All of whom I greet, and some I begin conversing with. It's time to go back to my current residence in the Pemiwagesset Hall, which I consider close to the word "home". Starting to get dry, like a feline going mentally insane over its cat-nip, we begin cascading our needy throats again. Carl Rossi Sangria, Absolut Vodka, and my Jack Daniels are now sitting admiringly on the weathered dresser. Clothes are flying everywhere in this intoxicated universe, cosmetics are being applied, and hair is being curled, our world still bound by feminity.
        We travel place to place, like nomads, offering nothing else than our company. We don't come bearing gifts like the usual drifter, our euphoric potions, hidden in our purses. Back to the reality of my dorm room I gaze upon the fresh red taint of skin on my wrist. Virgin cuts, only existent from my imbalance when the clock had past midnight. Recollections arise of the sensory, boreal ice under my skin, lightly piercing my flesh. Remnants of my warm blood must have leaked on the earth, along with my pride, or any I had left. My memories continue, coming and going in flashes throughout my day. The surreal atmosphere of it all, yet it's like a calendar, highlighted and routine. Everyone speaks the same language, academically fluent Monday through Thursday (day), inarticulately intoxicated Thursday (night) through Sunday. The world is in the selfish palm of our hands. It's still spinning on its axis, but we shift it as our weeks do. We re-align the stars and the planets to suit our needs. The chemical consistency of life itself is reborn, as if in a scientific laboratory, containing a poisonous, yet loving combination of the desires of someone in their youth.

Response to : The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved. By: Hunter S. Thompson

                    "But now, looking at the big red notebook I carried all through that scene, I see more or less what happened. The book itself is somewhat mangled and bent; some of the pages are torn, others are shriveled and stained by what appears to be whiskey, but taken as a whole, with sporadic memory flashes, the notes seem to tell the story.”-Hunter S. Thompson

                     Isn't this how all of our lives are? Hunter S. Thompson slipped in an unintended metaphor. Aren't we all like his big red notebook, disheveled imperfect creatures, living a life full of unplanned occurrences? We are somewhat bruised, but strong like the whiskey that stained his book. We remember bits and pieces of the most important and the most humdrum moments that shape our being.
                     It seems as though we find out the most about ourselves when we don't intend to. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, a film divulged in the strange yet extraordinary life of Hunter S. Thompson, and by far one of my favorites, ties in so well with the feeling of belonging. Raoul Duke, a character in the film says, "..No explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time in the world."
                     His words lead me to believe we are more than just monstrous products of society, we are the saviors of humanity, something so powerful, and something so dominant. It's as if we are Mount Everest, an entity so grand, we can admire and analyze the confusion around us. Even with everything that goes on in this constantly spinning world we call "home", the devastation and manipulation, we can fight the urge to conform and find our path, our journey. We may even be able to answer the age-long philosophical question, "Who am I, really?"
                    Raoul continues to say, "And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave." Even though Thompson and Steadman's drunken nights in Kentucky were blurred and jagged like the edge of an old, dull chainsaw, it still managed to slice through them and stir their insides. Even though so exhausted from their constant binge drinking, they were finding themselves, they were reaching their peak. Always exploring ways to depict people in pictures, Steadman, not particularly liked by many, created new images expressive of his own desires.
                   Self-discovery. Ugly, it's always ugly. Yet beautiful, it's always beautiful. The two men explicitly used illicit drugs and substances to find their inner light, or darkness, in their case. I personally feel both are important to know. I must know the darkest corners lurking in myself to find my lightest most heavenly qualities, and vice versa. It's like searching for the needle in the haystack. The soft golden hay crunching as you continuously prick your finger, drawing blood, in order to grab hold of the needle.

Response to : This American Life - House on Loon Lake

              The podcast of 'House on Loon Lake' was both eerie yet fascinating. The hypnotizing voice of the narrator, and real-life encounters with the neighors and family of the Nason's, gave me chills up my spine. The dim music playing in the background struck my fantasies of life in the 1970's. Life then seemed so much more original, something untouchable today. New Hampshire raised, I've always had my suspicions about the true mysteries that lie around every corner in this desolate state. I grew up relatively close to Freedom, N.H. the town which is the foundation of this tale. It both intrigues and frightens me to hear such strange unsolved stories. I pass through Freedom occasionally during my summers, and never have I taken more than a passing glance. From now on, I may do more than gaze out my window, anticipating my arrival home.

              The man who experienced everything first hand reminded me of the young boys in the movie "The Virgin Suicides". In the movie, a small group of neighborhood boys becomes infatuated with the lives of their neighbors, specifically a family called the Lisbons. The boys are obsessed with the five Lisbon girls, young women who are mysterious and beautiful. Suicide strikes, one by one, and the boys lives become nothing more than finding the clues to what put the girls on such a brink in life. What made them feel their ride was over? How do families detach so much that everything is a hazy blur? Or even a commonplace object, that seems so distant, and unwelcoming?

              Now that I know the unknown lies so close to me, I wonder what mysteries lie within my own town. What happens to the forgotten? Or, those who were never able to salvage their family's mark? Such a strange thought. I must consider the comptemplation of life after death, the surreal and the supernatural. Hearing this case certainly leads me to continue my skepticism, and curiosity about such events. I would have loved to at least drive by the house of the Nason's, as Adam, the man who discovered everything up close and personal, describes the frightening, yet charming mystique, that this property possessed.

              I am surrounded by questions and unsolved mysteries, that are calling for people, for the living, to unlock them. The more these stories begin to unrise from the bellows of the universe, the closer we come to distinguishing a more defined perception on the supernatural. It took something as small as a story, to make me feel as if I had been living eyes closed in such a truely interesting area. New England, New Hampshire specifically, is but a small glittering diamond hiding among cubic zirconia's.