Ism #3: You Were Talking About Music, Right?

A few weeks ago, I was talking to some of my friends, and we got into a conversation about different singers. My friends were saying stuff like, "You know the singer from Evanescence? Amy Lee? Man, she's hot!"

One of the guys bragged that they met the sister of one of the Barlow Girls, to which I exclaim, "Oh yeah, I love their music!" They all just stared at me blankly. I then remembered that we're all Freshman in college.

Meh... Their music is still awesome!

Simple Literature

You know, I've been hearing lots of comments about the types of books we read. The dominant quote is the following: "Why can't these people speak English and talk in a way everyone can understand?" After some thorough consideration, I have this to say: I couldn't agree more! I mean, what is the point of writing something if those who read it can't comprehend it! I mean, good modern writers should write something that appeals to the simplistic desires of the general public! It's an outrage to write a book if the average man can't even comprehend its meaning!
And during my thorough meditation of this concept, another thought occurred to me. Why stop there? Why should we simply criticize this vast flaw of literature without expanding our boundaries to include the more popular art forms, such as visual artistry! Take this photo for example.

Ophelia

Now, what's up with that? Is that a lady by a tree? Well, I suppose it is! But what's she reaching for? And what's up with those other branches? Gah! There's too much to look at! It's too confusing. I mean, why bother with all that detailed stuff anyway? It doesn't really affect the main theme of the painting as a whole, does it? It's not absolutely necessary. Let's see... as far as I can tell, it's a painting of a lady standing by a tree... oh, and birds. There's birds too. Well, then. How about this?

Simplified!

See? Easy to draw. Easy to understand! Everybody wins! Life's a lot better when it's simple, isn't it? Now if you'll excuse me, I have to finish reading Macbeth.

Ism #2: Soccer Slam

7th Grade. Every Friday during recess, we would have an all-school soccer game. It was middle school vs. elementary. Seemed easy enough. Unfortunately, the elementary kids outnumbered us 4 to 1. Most of them would huddle in a giant blob around the ball, making it impossible to kick.

So, one Friday, we had yet another match. As usual, the elementary kids huddled around the ball, and none of us could find a way through. I was diligent, however. With all the power I could rally, I pushed my way through the never-ending mass to the ball, getting within 10 feet of it. The mass was unrelenting, and they continued to push me back. My friend Douglas watched from afar, trying to encourage me. Remembering my love for candy, he shouts, “Charlie! Pretend the ball’s made of chocolate!”

Barely a moment passed when one of the older elementary kids got a foot on the ball and booted it up into the air, smacking me dead in the mouth and knocking me to the ground. Roland, witnessing the event, shouts back, “I don’t think he meant for you to eat it!”

I was laughing so hard, everybody thought I was injured.

Ism #1: Cool Kid in the House

I've decided to try something new here by doing short "isms", experiences in my life that I've either learned from or just found generally hilarious. This'll be the first one up!

So, this goes back to my years as a 4-year old in a daycare center. There were multiple kids, the oldest of which was 7. He was the "cool kid", the one everybody followed. Unfortunately, he never liked me, so I was never really considered "cool", to my ignorant dismay.

So, one day in the back yard, this great leader decided that the best way to entertain himself was to play a harmless little joke on me.

"Hey, kid!" he'd say.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna be cool?" My heart skipped a beat. Did I? YES! I'd love nothing more than to be cool! So, he hands me a broom and points up to the wall. Near the porch light was a large hornet's nest. "Take the broom handle and hit that thing as hard as you can! Think you can do it?"

I didn't know better. All I knew was, this kid said I could be cool. So, I grabbed that broom handle and gazed up at the nest. Mustering up all my strength, I rammed the handle up towards it!

Now God is a powerful deity. With his mighty foreknowledge, he blessed me from birth with horrible hand-eye coordination. So, instead of hitting the nest as I was supposed to, I rammed that handle directly into the porch light, smashing it to pieces! The daycare lady, hearing the crash, races outside to see a group of drop-jawed children backed in a corner and then me, surrounded by broken glass, and holding a broom handle with a heroic grin on my face.

She asked me why on earth I would think to break the porch light. Not holding back, I shouted triumphantly, "That kid told me to do it. Now, I'm cool like everybody else!"

God is good...

The Gateway

This is a short monologue I've been working on for the past couple of weeks. Hope you guys like it:

Who am I? I am an idea… a thought… a product of the imagination. I am every book you’ve ever read, every song you’ve ever heard, every concept that has ever come across your mind. I have no name, for I can be whatever you perceive me to be: your Great Adventure, your Wild Fantasy, your Frightful Thrill. Do you know who I am? I am the gateway to fiction.

There are those who embrace me, and yet there are those who despise my very existence. Many have passed by my door, not even sparing a glance, for their minds are set, and reality is their only home. It grieves me to see them, these dull minds who have forgotten how to imagine. Their souls are empty, and their labor bears nothing of true value.

And why hate me? I am not useless. There are many who come in and out of my door merrily, returning with the fruits of my world in order to nourish their own. I can offer you anything that your reality refuses to yield. So what do you request of me? Is it the warmth of a charming romance? Or perhaps a pulse-pounding journey through perilous lands? I even offer the comfort of escape for those who do not wish to linger on the troubles of their reality.

I have but one limitation: the ability to comprehend the mindset of another. You might try to imagine his experience, in happiness or misery, but when darkness shrouds reality, the true tortures of his own mind evade you. As I said, and I do not lie, I can only grant what you desire to see.

So this is my world. Are you interested? My door is always open and never hidden. Just one word of warning before you go. Be wary of how far you venture. For there are some, I regret to say, that have traveled far beyond my world’s horizon, where my gate is no longer visible. Do not follow these fools, for those who confuse my world with their own have found it a trifle difficult to find their way back.