You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2008.
Cakes have influenced me a lot over the years. I still remember my third birthday cake, it was shaped like Barney, and it was the most delicious cake I’ve eaten, to this day. Cakes have a special place in my soul, but so do a few people, who have also contributed to the construction of my sense of self and outlook on life.
Of course, my parents, through good and bad have probably had the most influence on me, but no one wants to be like their parents.
Back in the summer between grade 7 and grade 8 I discovered a movement so powerful, so extremely life changing, that it changed me life. It was called, Pop Punk. Yes, this sugary main stream stab right into the black heart of a retro musical phenomenon, was to me, an open window, just waiting to be leapt out of. The first band to spark my interest was Good Charlotte, their heart felt songs of rebellion and the good old times combined with their dreamy looks soon ignited a wild fire of obsession.
It wasn’t just me, there was a select group of us who finally felt understood, and we took to the trend like tight pants on a lead singer. It just seemed to fit. We began basing our entire existence around these bands, Good Charlotte always being center stage was surrounded by bands like Blink-182, Simple Plan and Avril Lavigne. We dressed like them, we talked like them, we would’ve started to cry in the invent of actually meeting any of them.
Of course even at the height of the GC frenzy we knew they had no street cred, they weren’t musical geniuses and they were music critic’s favorite punching bag. But that didn’t matter, because we too felt like nothing more than cynisized punching bags. They were widely popular across the continent, however within the confines of our own little Junior High School, our obsession with the band made us the freaks. We wore black, sometimes highlighted with red. Our heavy eyeliner dripped down our faces and our hair was unconventionally bright and unbelievably tall. This was also the time when our interest in poking holes in our faces began. Little metal studs garnished our pimply little faces, and the increasing diameters of our earlobes shocked our grandparents.
When I look back now, I realize this fad, trend, phase, was more than just superficial. Through Good Charlotte, my love of music truly began to blossom. They introduced me to the real punk of the 70′s and 80′s, to genres I didn’t even know existed, and to silverchair, who I still think is one of the worlds most talented and groundbreaking trios. However they infused us with even more than just fashion and music, they were the first voice we actually felt compelled to listen to. When they talked about their absent father, it helped me deal with the death of mine. When they stood up for animal rights we followed in step, and many of my friends are still vegetarians. And when they advocated peace and acceptance towards everyone, we tried to apply this to our own lives.
So in reality, it wasn’t just a pre-teen phase. The Good Charlotte phenomenon was what ignited the fire inside me, it caused my sense of self to extend its curious mind and explore new ideas, thoughts and contemplations. Through following a craze, I found myself. I wouldn’t call it conforming, but growing. They showed us that being different, being socially conscious, being accepting, was being relavent. This time in my life began to shape the person I want to become. However, just being part of a crowd, united for a single purpose, would have been enough for me.
• Have you been diligent and productive in your use of class time?
Well…in a way. You see I can’t just sit and write at a computer because I find it very uninspiring. However our little discussions are somewhat inspiring and I’ve filled up quite a few journal pages from them. Except then when it comes to posting this stuff on my blog I’m like, THATS HORRIBLE! So then I don’t.
• Have you shown steady progress in writing skills?
I think I’ve made some progress in my writing skills. I think it’s impossible not too to make progress if you’re doing something regularily. I think I’ve expanded my topics and I’ve written about things I probably wouldn’t have in the past, some sort of abstract ideas…some Burroughs inspired ramblings.
• Do you write at home three to four times a week?
I write in my notebooks fairly often, but not long stories and stuff, just ideas and thoughts that then lead to stories later when I’m bored. Theres a lot of stories in my notebooks that I’ve written while traveling, they’re my favorite because its usually things that don’t happen in every day life. Such as, visiting the police station in one of the richest areas of london, hiding from the NAVY in Mexico, chasing reindeer in Lapland ect.
• Do you actively initiate conferencing with peers and the teacher about your writing?
Yes, when there is something I’m proud of or just want an opinion on. In fact I had Alesha read an old piece of my writing this weekend. We decided it would be best not to post that on this blog though.
• Do you actively participate in discussions and group share?
No less than I usually do in other classes. Except half the time when I have something to say, someone else says it first so then I get sad. But I did volunteer for the very first share day.
• Have you completed work for your portfolio?
I’ve completed a few things, and theres a few things I could complete in the near future. Theres just a lot of stuff I have to get around to typing and prefecting.
Today, while staring blankly at the sunny YVR tarmac, I had an epiphany. It happens sometimes.
It circled vaguely around thoughts I’d thought once or twice before. The idea that once we are born, we grow a bit, and then spend the vast majority of our insignificant little lives, decaying. I sat there all smugly and smiled at my own intellectual ingenuity.
But then I began to listen closely to the ear tingle of a familiar song my little thinker box speakers were speaking. “Teen Angst” by one of my most favorite modern philosophers, Placebo, the trio.
“Since I was born, I started to decay” as the song goes.
Well fancy that. Not only am I unbelievably wise beyond my years, reaching great spiritual realizations in everyday mundane moments, but I’m on the same thinker train with the likes oh a great modern poet and international rock star.
There was a hollow thump.
I looked out through the dirty sliding glass door to see a small brown bird hanging from the rosemary bush sitting on the porch, on the other side of the door.
It fell.
Its sitting on the weathered grey deck now, breathing rapidly. blinking, trying to open it’s eyes. It hasn’t moved from the place where it fell. It’s awkwardly placed feet don’t as much as twitch, and its neatly folded wings are motionless.
There’s birds chirping, unseen. Maybe they’re calling it, the little brown bird is silent.
It’s breathing doesn’t slow, but gets heavier. It makes a small movement with it’s head, as if swallowing, and turns it’s head. Eyes closed.
I wonder if it’s scared. When I touch it’s delicate body it shows no signs of recognition. It is still.
A tiny shiver runs through it’s body.
I feel cold.
