Begun - writing a childrens story, steve the bean farmer, reading All the Pretty Horses
Done - seeing avatar
Avatar actually opens an interesting discussion on the nature and value of reality for which I'd like to voice my opinion. It's impossible to actually define the concept of reality and the more technology advances the more blurry the line becomes. For me and my generation the boundary has barely existed at all, every hour there has been a new virtual life for any of us to assume at any given moment. Like phosphorescent bookworms, our entire concept of reality has been shaped through experiences and messages contained in worlds unrelated to our own present situation. Worlds created entirely out of imagination, and catered to our convenience.
As a child I was practically raised by video games, television, and movies as a third parent, I value the experiences of characters contained within these mediums on an almost equal level with that of the physical world. They have allowed me to live many different lives, many of you may even know me solely as an Avatar, I've had many names, MeltdownX, Altimax, Raj, Link, Ness, Etzio, etc. and each of them I directly connect with myself. By engaging in these imagined scenarios, stories of glory, triumph, hardship, love, betrayal, we are able to catharsize without any actual reprecussions. Well... when me and 39 of my closest online friends slayed the dragon Vaelstrasz (an idea of how complicated some of these worlds are) for the first time I was sweating profusely with about a 200bpm pulse, may or may not have release my bowels. Perhaps spending so much of my life virtually has put a damper on my sympathy and my ability to connect with the real world, but I don't really think so. Virtual worlds have simply provided me a point of relativity which I can learn of the potential consequences of my actions in the real world. They also can provide a sense of purpose external to the systematic and often nonsensical reality, and with enough passion you can translate what youve learned and felt in an alternate space to your psyche. Avatar really exemplifies all of these things. In the wise words of Colonel Quartrich it's all about "taking the initiative".
Clearly everyone is willing to accept alternate realities as something worth throwing money and time at. In that sense we all speak to their value. The understanding achievable with the assistance of modern media expression is something worth writing science fiction about ;)
29.12.09
20.12.09
Off to Killington
goin big but tryin not to die
its a tough balance
when you wanna fly
the trees become rails
no biting fingernails
nerves are forgotten
hit the jump!
no return.
longest second
painless wind burn
spinning and grooving
the flow is soothing
IMPACT!
OH GOD!
Wipeout!?
I think not.
stay centered, feel the potential.
speed here comes at no cost.
the weightless have landed
the moment is through
carve out your future
only powder ahead of you
its a tough balance
when you wanna fly
the trees become rails
no biting fingernails
nerves are forgotten
hit the jump!
no return.
longest second
painless wind burn
spinning and grooving
the flow is soothing
IMPACT!
OH GOD!
Wipeout!?
I think not.
stay centered, feel the potential.
speed here comes at no cost.
the weightless have landed
the moment is through
carve out your future
only powder ahead of you
19.12.09
Power
Too often, though, the revelation that nothing is true undoes them. They lose their morality, certainty, security. Many are driven mad. We must guide them. Help them to heal. Their minds must not be filled with more fairy tails, but with knowledge instead. Let them have answers - and let those answers be difficult and complex. Such is life.
Anatomy of a fairy anyone? my next painting perhaps...
Anatomy of a fairy anyone? my next painting perhaps...
18.12.09
17.12.09
Winter
Break is upon me, which just means my inspiration is preparing an offensive in the absence of work's wards. My notebook is finally full so for portability and practicality I'm transitioning to the full keyboard on my phone. I have come to literally carry around poem drafts everywhere I go, working on texts to no one. I do hope I get a new notebook for Christmas though since nothing beats the intensity and intimacy of scribbling by candlelight outside in a whiteout.
On the plane back to jers I started a short story peering out of the window. It began reminiscent of my last short story, published below, but criticism from friends, colleagues, and myself led me to take a new direction, steering away from my poetic comfort. As if rhyme and alliteration give me more credibility. This new approach is an expression of my sense of humor and befuddlement with the world in the same sort of limited-life landscape where everything that is there becomes that much more significant. Anyhoo here's that old story posted up in the spirit of the wasteland outside. I've never written anything quite so dark and pessimistic but that was my full intention. It is followed by a commentary of sorts because I admit it's hard to interpret.
_________________________
Slate colored skin, his arms cross his chest, between his hands and his heart he huddles his words. Charred lashes and hairs against the whites of his eyes, the inferno rages inside.
Quaking horrors fill a dark space, screams of birds unseen. The growl of the omnipotent bleeds into the black. An uneasy laughter echoes, angry one moment and the next moment mad.
This is the opacity of his mind.
A crow lands outside his window. The man’s vision is unchanged, he stares at the ceiling where the shadow of his yard’s one tree paints the wall at dusk.
There is no comfort here.
A grove of gray dogwoods once stood where this cabin lies.
The crow flaps onto the shadow of the only tree left unsawed. Its cry brings forty black birds to the branches. These souls of the fallen find solace in the shadow. At this late hour their feathers make the only noise.
Together they fly.
Veiling the trunk and its bare branches in a torrent of dark fire, circling, engulfing, as an avian insect swarm. Like gnats in the air, the crows cluster, feasting on the energy of their brother’s shadow in a ritual of ashen arbor.
A crack resounds as bird and branch fall motionless to the ground.
Like a pack of matches, one strikes, a chain reaction, all the air aflame.
The cabin has no way to understand, but let it be a witness. It contains the man’s world, as large as it grows, and from its logs the crows were born. A box in a field, the birds found their fathers’ bodies stacked in columns and rows. An ancestry of souls. The cabin moans in the wind of the vortex, the birds blur into black.
Windowpanes crack.
Man clutches tighter to the words at his breast, his eyes torn open, he holds his last breath. The book dissolves into the crows’ flame.
Death has destroyed its own name.
____________________________
It is supposed to speak to the futility (working title) of everything that we do. huMANity has built a legacy of enslavement, especially now through the written word. The crows are the sons of the free minds (trees) we've destroyed to build our comfort zone and concept of reality in which we find shelter. They also act as the wardens of time. They ensure that all is eventually erased and forgotten. Our consciousness is completely malleable, evident in diversity of tradition which we've made hobby of eradicating.
We (man) wish we could control what we think we wish we could be happy in our ignorance forever, but there comes a time when justice is dealt or nature runs its course. In thinking of the nature of humans as curious but insecure explorers, we will naturally be afraid of what is on the other side of the ocean, of the monsters deep inside our heads but we also have to think about the possibilities. It is important to face this fear and recognize our ultimate power of reason and our ultimate transience simultaneously. Life is designed to end. Like a sailor from the 1300's I imagine that the sea of time too has its monsters and they have their rituals of chance, destruction, creation, and maybe even a sense of justice. Our minds are more subject to complete annihilation than most people understand. I can't help but imagine a creature who perceives a million years in a second. Death doesn't exist save in our words and when we're all dead it won't exist at all. HOORAY!
OKAY that was heady I'm sorry if you hurt. I know I do.
Done - fifth semester at UM
Begun - a period of intensive writing and drawing. no reason to stop.
On the plane back to jers I started a short story peering out of the window. It began reminiscent of my last short story, published below, but criticism from friends, colleagues, and myself led me to take a new direction, steering away from my poetic comfort. As if rhyme and alliteration give me more credibility. This new approach is an expression of my sense of humor and befuddlement with the world in the same sort of limited-life landscape where everything that is there becomes that much more significant. Anyhoo here's that old story posted up in the spirit of the wasteland outside. I've never written anything quite so dark and pessimistic but that was my full intention. It is followed by a commentary of sorts because I admit it's hard to interpret.
_________________________
Slate colored skin, his arms cross his chest, between his hands and his heart he huddles his words. Charred lashes and hairs against the whites of his eyes, the inferno rages inside.
Quaking horrors fill a dark space, screams of birds unseen. The growl of the omnipotent bleeds into the black. An uneasy laughter echoes, angry one moment and the next moment mad.
This is the opacity of his mind.
A crow lands outside his window. The man’s vision is unchanged, he stares at the ceiling where the shadow of his yard’s one tree paints the wall at dusk.
There is no comfort here.
A grove of gray dogwoods once stood where this cabin lies.
The crow flaps onto the shadow of the only tree left unsawed. Its cry brings forty black birds to the branches. These souls of the fallen find solace in the shadow. At this late hour their feathers make the only noise.
Together they fly.
Veiling the trunk and its bare branches in a torrent of dark fire, circling, engulfing, as an avian insect swarm. Like gnats in the air, the crows cluster, feasting on the energy of their brother’s shadow in a ritual of ashen arbor.
A crack resounds as bird and branch fall motionless to the ground.
Like a pack of matches, one strikes, a chain reaction, all the air aflame.
The cabin has no way to understand, but let it be a witness. It contains the man’s world, as large as it grows, and from its logs the crows were born. A box in a field, the birds found their fathers’ bodies stacked in columns and rows. An ancestry of souls. The cabin moans in the wind of the vortex, the birds blur into black.
Windowpanes crack.
Man clutches tighter to the words at his breast, his eyes torn open, he holds his last breath. The book dissolves into the crows’ flame.
Death has destroyed its own name.
____________________________
It is supposed to speak to the futility (working title) of everything that we do. huMANity has built a legacy of enslavement, especially now through the written word. The crows are the sons of the free minds (trees) we've destroyed to build our comfort zone and concept of reality in which we find shelter. They also act as the wardens of time. They ensure that all is eventually erased and forgotten. Our consciousness is completely malleable, evident in diversity of tradition which we've made hobby of eradicating.
We (man) wish we could control what we think we wish we could be happy in our ignorance forever, but there comes a time when justice is dealt or nature runs its course. In thinking of the nature of humans as curious but insecure explorers, we will naturally be afraid of what is on the other side of the ocean, of the monsters deep inside our heads but we also have to think about the possibilities. It is important to face this fear and recognize our ultimate power of reason and our ultimate transience simultaneously. Life is designed to end
OKAY that was heady I'm sorry if you hurt. I know I do.
Done - fifth semester at UM
Begun - a period of intensive writing and drawing. no reason to stop.
14.12.09
12.12.09
to think that I believed
there could be something better
and the best way to achieve
was to try a little harder
that would make entirely too much sense
so instead I think I'll build a fence.
a practical application of exclusivity.
in the new bordered lightgarden of eve
all of our weaknesses grow on the trees.
warding the imminent temptation to feed
is as meaningless as the need to say please
there could be something better
and the best way to achieve
was to try a little harder
that would make entirely too much sense
so instead I think I'll build a fence.
a practical application of exclusivity.
in the new bordered lightgarden of eve
all of our weaknesses grow on the trees.
warding the imminent temptation to feed
is as meaningless as the need to say please
6.12.09
4.12.09
30.11.09
29.11.09
4/29/05 - A Day Beside Myself
After reading Thoreau in Sophmore year I meditated, wrote this, and read it to the class.
I began my studies of myself and the world around me lying in my bed listening to music spending time thinking about the vastness of the universe and how much there is that we do not know. But as I continued on this track I recognized that I would never know the answer to those questions and that thousands of people have thought a great deal more about it than I have and have not found the answers that I sought. I recognized within my first few days of study that people always search for boundaries and finite solutions to many questions that cannot be answered by such simple forms of response. It is similar to trying to answer a complex question with a yes or no answer, only the question is so complicated that it cannot even be expressed through the languages that we have created.
This idea holds the majority of people back from the understanding that their capacity for knowledge is only as extensive as the faculties of their society. History has shown this, but in the study of the diversity of cultures of the world through time, our own faculties grow. Even still, a great deal of concepts are unexplainable through our practical but petty forms of communication.
As I began to escape my body in an attempt to abandon conventional language and converse with the world around me in its purest form, I came to appreciate the incongruity of the universe. Disorder is natural and nature is beautiful. I realized that difference is the only reason we exist to this day, however, it is also the only reason people are killed. Hatred and resentment of fellow men as well as creatures merely takes away from their beauty as pieces of this great whole we call existence. Without random chance we would become jaded by the similarity of all things and it would sicken us. I have recognized and embraced how necessary and gorgeous all things in the world are.
During one of my sessions I thought of a place where there was a basic female and a basic male, and all the creatures in this place were identical, all the trees, all the grass, all the humans. I realized that while this place may in theory be static throughout, time and chaos would erode this consistency, the grass would become different heights, the trees would collapse and evolve, and the humans would long for independence and would most likely discover ways to do so. Thus it is the way of existence, a constant pattern of change and disorder.
As my period of reflection comes to a conclusion the chaos within my head, the cloud of confusion and frustration has been lifted and my mind continues to be full of outward and optimistic thoughts on the future and the present. I would like to continue to free my mind from the ruts it has been driven into by society and encourage you to spend at least an hour a week simply relaxing without modern conveniences appreciating what we have been given.
I began my studies of myself and the world around me lying in my bed listening to music spending time thinking about the vastness of the universe and how much there is that we do not know. But as I continued on this track I recognized that I would never know the answer to those questions and that thousands of people have thought a great deal more about it than I have and have not found the answers that I sought. I recognized within my first few days of study that people always search for boundaries and finite solutions to many questions that cannot be answered by such simple forms of response. It is similar to trying to answer a complex question with a yes or no answer, only the question is so complicated that it cannot even be expressed through the languages that we have created.
This idea holds the majority of people back from the understanding that their capacity for knowledge is only as extensive as the faculties of their society. History has shown this, but in the study of the diversity of cultures of the world through time, our own faculties grow. Even still, a great deal of concepts are unexplainable through our practical but petty forms of communication.
As I began to escape my body in an attempt to abandon conventional language and converse with the world around me in its purest form, I came to appreciate the incongruity of the universe. Disorder is natural and nature is beautiful. I realized that difference is the only reason we exist to this day, however, it is also the only reason people are killed. Hatred and resentment of fellow men as well as creatures merely takes away from their beauty as pieces of this great whole we call existence. Without random chance we would become jaded by the similarity of all things and it would sicken us. I have recognized and embraced how necessary and gorgeous all things in the world are.
During one of my sessions I thought of a place where there was a basic female and a basic male, and all the creatures in this place were identical, all the trees, all the grass, all the humans. I realized that while this place may in theory be static throughout, time and chaos would erode this consistency, the grass would become different heights, the trees would collapse and evolve, and the humans would long for independence and would most likely discover ways to do so. Thus it is the way of existence, a constant pattern of change and disorder.
As my period of reflection comes to a conclusion the chaos within my head, the cloud of confusion and frustration has been lifted and my mind continues to be full of outward and optimistic thoughts on the future and the present. I would like to continue to free my mind from the ruts it has been driven into by society and encourage you to spend at least an hour a week simply relaxing without modern conveniences appreciating what we have been given.
28.11.09
Cold Sun
the breeze is a whip, lashing frozen trees
should have brought my sunglasses she said
squinting to see if we could still be
composure as cool as the wind
orange brown and gray
a touch of gold from the suns reflection off her skin
watching dying grass, remembering where we've been
morning sun warming two hearts of hair
leaves crumble, animating the air
blue of the sky
meet my clouded eye
pale silver carving stone
hammer and nail
chip away apathy
ice sculpture of a head
melting
should have brought my sunglasses she said
squinting to see if we could still be
composure as cool as the wind
orange brown and gray
a touch of gold from the suns reflection off her skin
watching dying grass, remembering where we've been
morning sun warming two hearts of hair
leaves crumble, animating the air
blue of the sky
meet my clouded eye
pale silver carving stone
hammer and nail
chip away apathy
ice sculpture of a head
melting
26.11.09
beauty.doc
A thunderstorm, a living painting rolling across the canvas in my personal gallery. Above me, the most stellar view anyone has ever witnessed. Below me, the most unique landscape Earth has to offer, free of gravitational limits, a seemingly alternate plane of existence. Unadulterated roars above the surface travel hundreds of miles desperate to be heard. Muffled below the surface, these roars become bellows, and the bellows become groans until they are replaced by the songs of the underwater world. A group of dolphins coordinates a feast fifty miles west. A pack of belugas sing a symphony of hope as they return from their annual mating grounds. Deeper still, a rumble emanates from below as a school of salmon suddenly collides with me. I become encased in an envelope, a sort of bubble, each fish on the meniscus always managing to keep a foot of water between my appendages and them. The moonlight ignites their scales, and it is as though I’ve been swarmed by shooting stars, raining down upon me in a glorious luminescent hail.
The most incredible displays of beauty are those incapable of being recreated. The images of perfection, derived naturally for billions of years. Each unique unto itself, irreplaceable, and like wine, get better as they age.
The most incredible displays of beauty are those incapable of being recreated. The images of perfection, derived naturally for billions of years. Each unique unto itself, irreplaceable, and like wine, get better as they age.
24.11.09
From Atop the Soapbox - UMTV
This is an E-mail I wrote today to my boss at University of Miami Television, Natalia Crujieras, Dean Sam Grogg, and the station manager Justin Leiser. It is an depth exploration of my opinions regarding University education and my drive to create as they try to suppress me and take my resources away.
The two resounding reasons cited for my dismissal as Executive Producer of UTunes were a lack of respect and leadership potential, so I will voice my opinion on them in relation to myself, UTunes, UMTV, and the Com School in general. Respect the fact that I'm a student who has been behind a camera for under a year just trying to make an entertaining show and get the most out of my tuition. Respect the fact that I'm not getting paid. Respect the fact that I'm actually a customer in this situation. Realize that the university payroll in charge of UMTV and the Com School in general are, unfortunately for the student body, former industry employees with business and production backgrounds. They really are not educators with an understanding of students' needs. Mine in particular is independence and experience. I feel all the staff involved in the UTunes broadcast have a love affair with the dollar bill, something I will never respect the value of (perhaps because it has none compared to what every human being has inside their self). In my dismissal it is also apparent that they don't respect my right to create what I want to, or have any tolerance of my freedom to make mistakes, the only real way I learn. I am proud of what I've made so thank you for the opportunity but please respect how ignorant this student feels you'd like him to be.
Craig Weierman is not a teacher, and since I've been involved in his productions I've often felt he has no interest in the quality of the broadcast, his apathy is reflected in how he treats my crew and myself. My understanding of his interests are to keep the equipment and students safe and to get home as fast as possible, admirable enough for a paycheck, but does he have to be exercise his power whenever possible? He admits he doesn't watch the shows he helps us make and gets paid no matter how they turn out, the nature of creating student broadcasts I suppose. In the Com School I feel there are many people I call my superiors lacking in aspiration and inspiration. If they weren't they'd be out working on things they actually enjoy. A smile is something consistently absent from many staff and faculty faces. I do respect the fact that they are here instead, teaching a new generation, but their dismay shows.
Serona Elton was invaluable in connecting us with the music school, I'm unsure of her exact involvement, since I perceived Joe Abbati and the Dean as the more critical characters. But she was my lady on the ground, she was very responsive and responsible making reservations and connecting me with people I couldn't touch over there. But as the season wore on, her interest in promoting the things she's involved in, no matter how irrelevant they were to UTunes, got incredibly irritating to me as director and producer. I should have had more dialogue with her because I felt used. I'm really not here to prove her worth to the University and the people she got to sign on as judges. Did the Miami Music Festival even give us anything we didn't already have?
I'm the only one looking out for the bands, the essence of the show, and my crew, as well as the final product. I may be quiet but I steer this ship with my actions. My crew does respect me, and they respect and trust in everything I do and understand where my interests lie as an artist and a peer. It is one thing to make people do things for you, say by dangling a wad of cash in their face, and another entirely to go out and do them with people you love. I am free to say what I want, and sure, maybe you don't agree, maybe I'm as ignorant as you want me to be, maybe I don't care what anyone's opinions about my show end up being because I'm being true to myself and I am happy. Respect the fact that I built this with my heart, my hands, my time, and my friends.
Thank you for supporting me, but you gave up, dropped my baby UTunes on its head. Lessons are to be learned in experience, you can't teach production, creativity, or the value of hard work in a book. Some things aren't meant to be monetized. When you allow what people do, what they produce, to be what defines them, to be the truest form of speech. You will see with the clarity of a school boy. If UTunes has been a disappointment to you and the school, I'm sorry, it was ambitious, I never asked for this. I simply wasn't afraid to try.
The two resounding reasons cited for my dismissal as Executive Producer of UTunes were a lack of respect and leadership potential, so I will voice my opinion on them in relation to myself, UTunes, UMTV, and the Com School in general. Respect the fact that I'm a student who has been behind a camera for under a year just trying to make an entertaining show and get the most out of my tuition. Respect the fact that I'm not getting paid. Respect the fact that I'm actually a customer in this situation. Realize that the university payroll in charge of UMTV and the Com School in general are, unfortunately for the student body, former industry employees with business and production backgrounds. They really are not educators with an understanding of students' needs. Mine in particular is independence and experience. I feel all the staff involved in the UTunes broadcast have a love affair with the dollar bill, something I will never respect the value of (perhaps because it has none compared to what every human being has inside their self). In my dismissal it is also apparent that they don't respect my right to create what I want to, or have any tolerance of my freedom to make mistakes, the only real way I learn. I am proud of what I've made so thank you for the opportunity but please respect how ignorant this student feels you'd like him to be.
Craig Weierman is not a teacher, and since I've been involved in his productions I've often felt he has no interest in the quality of the broadcast, his apathy is reflected in how he treats my crew and myself. My understanding of his interests are to keep the equipment and students safe and to get home as fast as possible, admirable enough for a paycheck, but does he have to be exercise his power whenever possible? He admits he doesn't watch the shows he helps us make and gets paid no matter how they turn out, the nature of creating student broadcasts I suppose. In the Com School I feel there are many people I call my superiors lacking in aspiration and inspiration. If they weren't they'd be out working on things they actually enjoy. A smile is something consistently absent from many staff and faculty faces. I do respect the fact that they are here instead, teaching a new generation, but their dismay shows.
Serona Elton was invaluable in connecting us with the music school, I'm unsure of her exact involvement, since I perceived Joe Abbati and the Dean as the more critical characters. But she was my lady on the ground, she was very responsive and responsible making reservations and connecting me with people I couldn't touch over there. But as the season wore on, her interest in promoting the things she's involved in, no matter how irrelevant they were to UTunes, got incredibly irritating to me as director and producer. I should have had more dialogue with her because I felt used. I'm really not here to prove her worth to the University and the people she got to sign on as judges. Did the Miami Music Festival even give us anything we didn't already have?
I'm the only one looking out for the bands, the essence of the show, and my crew, as well as the final product. I may be quiet but I steer this ship with my actions. My crew does respect me, and they respect and trust in everything I do and understand where my interests lie as an artist and a peer. It is one thing to make people do things for you, say by dangling a wad of cash in their face, and another entirely to go out and do them with people you love. I am free to say what I want, and sure, maybe you don't agree, maybe I'm as ignorant as you want me to be, maybe I don't care what anyone's opinions about my show end up being because I'm being true to myself and I am happy. Respect the fact that I built this with my heart, my hands, my time, and my friends.
Thank you for supporting me, but you gave up, dropped my baby UTunes on its head. Lessons are to be learned in experience, you can't teach production, creativity, or the value of hard work in a book. Some things aren't meant to be monetized. When you allow what people do, what they produce, to be what defines them, to be the truest form of speech. You will see with the clarity of a school boy. If UTunes has been a disappointment to you and the school, I'm sorry, it was ambitious, I never asked for this. I simply wasn't afraid to try.
23.11.09
22.11.09
MeTube
Got my YouTube channel and Vimeo Account up and running
Done-
Utunes and working with UMTV for now - not a politician just a producer.
Peace and Love concert was great.
These are the last videos I'll shoot in the Weeks Studio, Enjoy!
Begun-
Work on igKnite journalism projects.
Done-
Utunes and working with UMTV for now - not a politician just a producer.
Peace and Love concert was great.
These are the last videos I'll shoot in the Weeks Studio, Enjoy!
Begun-
Work on igKnite journalism projects.
Home
Its forests and its fields roll on and echo of New York City. An hour long train ride away from the steel and concrete, the smell of a hot dog stand, the shade of a skyscraper, and the honks of a thousand impatient minds. Home to me is New Jersey, on a nugget of green land, the hills of Chester.
Created in peace, and a loving family, no unique struggle marks my younger life. I may tell stories of my youth and drama will be an exaggeration. Growing through mistakes, I've been a quick learner, but my persistent need for independence is one of my main sources of grief.
I'm willing to throw away everything I've worked for because I'm convinced everything that will matter in the long run could never be held or even pointed at.
Within my insular upbringing lies an unsatisfied curiosity, a fostered need for exposure. Studying and living has shown me such a diverse but xenophobic world. In our ethnocentrism I see humanity's biggest problem, an inability to accept our common nature as mortals, flawed.
I have always sought escape and have a natural drive to resist. In the basement of a church for twelve years in respectful silence I battled indoctrination. Inspired by the diversity of culture and perspective that television, films, reading, my friends, and the internet made me conscious of, I have become imaginative and reactive.
In this column, I hope to get personal, share my reactions and experiences of myself and the planet Earth I've lived.
Spoken in my voice and created in my mind, a little ambition and a mission weave these silk strands of the web. Riding the jCurve you can find the entertaining escapes and imaginative insights which I either produced or simply regard as especially beautiful.
I am a student, aspiring storyteller, geography and electronic media major, today I call the University of Miami my home and you my friend.
Thank YOU!
Created in peace, and a loving family, no unique struggle marks my younger life. I may tell stories of my youth and drama will be an exaggeration. Growing through mistakes, I've been a quick learner, but my persistent need for independence is one of my main sources of grief.
I'm willing to throw away everything I've worked for because I'm convinced everything that will matter in the long run could never be held or even pointed at.
Within my insular upbringing lies an unsatisfied curiosity, a fostered need for exposure. Studying and living has shown me such a diverse but xenophobic world. In our ethnocentrism I see humanity's biggest problem, an inability to accept our common nature as mortals, flawed.
I have always sought escape and have a natural drive to resist. In the basement of a church for twelve years in respectful silence I battled indoctrination. Inspired by the diversity of culture and perspective that television, films, reading, my friends, and the internet made me conscious of, I have become imaginative and reactive.
In this column, I hope to get personal, share my reactions and experiences of myself and the planet Earth I've lived.
Spoken in my voice and created in my mind, a little ambition and a mission weave these silk strands of the web. Riding the jCurve you can find the entertaining escapes and imaginative insights which I either produced or simply regard as especially beautiful.
I am a student, aspiring storyteller, geography and electronic media major, today I call the University of Miami my home and you my friend.
Thank YOU!
Begin LifeLog
In an effort to organize my thoughts, my creations, and ultimately myself, the space above this post will be a growing gallery of understanding. A column of my life, it will stretch taller day after day, hopefully naturally, like a tree as I continue to produce. Chop it down and call it a blog. Maybe I'll be able to build a house with it some day. Worst comes to worst we can burn it and it will keep us warm for a while.
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