I Want a Husband (Stylistic imitation of I Want a Wife)

I belong to the cluster of people known as husbands. I am a husband. And simultaneous, I am the head of my household.

       A few weeks ago I came across a young female who had just gotten engage. She spoke to me of her dream house, dream furniture, dream European china, dream silverware, dream diamond ring, dream children, and not to forget, dream marriage life. And as I stood there listening, it occurred to me that I too have dreams, and now, wouldn’t it be nice if I too was to have a husband? Why do I want a husband?

        I would like to relax in the comfort of a peaceful home, trade in my electric drill and screw guns for a comfortable magazine on a subject I find stimulating, become the intellectual I’ve always aspired to be and perhaps spend my days caring for my innocent children, supporting them with love and only love. I want a husband to be the head of the household. And while being the head of the household, I want a husband who will keep my children and me safe.

     I want a husband who will give my children and I all we need through his hard work and dedication. I want a husband who will sponsor my education through his part time six days a week. I want a husband who will encourage my path towards an enlightened future, regardless of the years of life he is working off.  I want a husband who will allow me to relax in my peaceful home by working 10 hours a day. And while I am at ease reading my comfortable magazine, he is 30 stories off ground level fixing the electric wiring of a comfortable hotel. I want a husband who will only care about my needs and also, my children’s needs. I want a husband who will get home from work with tired eyes and still have the energy to compliment my fresh out-of-the-spa body. And as he compliments me, I want a husband who will tell me that he loves me more than anything, no matter how aphonic his voice is from exposure to the cold.  I want a husband who will live and breathe love. And this love will be of course for me and my children.

     I want a husband who will pay for my social gatherings with friends. I want a husband who will pay for the expensive china I serve my hors d’ouvres in at my social gatherings. I want a husband who will pay for the pearl necklace and silk skirt that will make me the envy all the wives at my gathering. And while paying for all, my husband will be happy at the fact that I’m happy, and like it.

  I want a husband who would rather stay home with my children and me, rather than go out with his friends on a Friday night after a long day at work.

And I want a husband who will be the envy of all my friends for his strapping body and dashing physical features. And my husband will do all he can to maintain his body as I like it and thus continue to be the envy of my friends. I want a husband who will listen to what I have learned through my magazines and books, and thus continue to be the envy of my friends. I want a husband who will kiss me passionately, and thus continue to be the envy of my friends. I want a husband who will please me in all aspects of a relationship, and in doing so, be the envy of my friends.

 And my husband will not give me reasons to doubt his word. I want a husband who will be faithful to me. I want a husband who will only have eyes for me, no other woman.  My husband will make me the happiest human in the world through his good deeds and selflessness.

And there will be no chance whatsoever that I would ever contemplate the idea of leaving him for another man, as well as he contemplate the idea of leaving me for another woman. For my husband will be the perfect man, supporting me in all aspects of a relationship, and see me as the perfect woman, supporting him in all aspects of his life.

My God, who wouldn’t want a husband?

Feminist Analysis of The Scarlet Letter

         In The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne creates a world that is a reflection of the Puritan values and ideals. In this world, we are introduced to characters that can be classified into two groups- male, and female. The reader follows a number of relationships, each a product of the other, coming together into what is The Scarlet Letter.  Hester Prynne, a puritan woman forced to wear the letter ‘A’ on her chest for an act frowned upon by all levels of society, adultery, sustains most of these relationships. Hawthorne touches upon her relationship with Dimmesdale, Roger Chillingworth, young Pearl, and most importantly, society. The fact that Hester Prynne is a woman, plays out on how the Puritan society treats her throughout the novel due to her sustained relationship with Dimmesdale (who is kept anonymous as her lover); society also holds perceptions on Hester’s lack of ability to make a good Puritan out of little Pearl at one time in the novel. This can be linked back to the ideals of the bible, taking into consideration the fact that the Puritan society was built upon godly ideals, thus, evokes a godly society.  These biblical principles are the direct roots of society’s attitudes and perceptions towards women. Hester Prynne is an example.      

    Hester Prynne is put to shame and scrutinized by malicious whispers and opinions on behalf of members of her society. Her crime of adultery is vivid through her conception of Pearl. Being the woman in the relationship, Hester is unable to hide her act of adultery unlike the male, who easily blends back into society as if nothing.  Due to this, Nathaniel creates a Hester who is forced to pay for her crime on behalf of society. Hester is put to endure the penetrating and skin flinching glares as she stands on the town scaffold. Not only this, but society brands her as a “hussy” (pg 55, The Scarlet Letter), just like our modern day society brands underage pregnant teens as “sluts”. Skeptics may claim that there is a line between the society in the world of The Scarlet Letter and the reality that is our modern society. However, Hawthorne writes from what he knows, and he writes specifically about the reaction of a godly society (that is the Puritan’s) when challenged by what is believed to be sin (the fact that it originates from a female, makes it even worse). This can be related back to the concept of the role of women in original sin. Hence, one is able to state that there is reality in the ideals of Hester’s society. It is not a society that originates from the depths of Hawthorne’s mind. The fact that Hester, a woman is caught up in adultery worsens the shame and the degree of sin. Hester is ostracized and seen as an embodiment of all things sinful in a woman, much like the scarlet women of the Bible who represented dangerous qualities that caused the downfall of men (such as lust, seduction, deceit). One can see how the attitudes of puritan society on a woman such as Hester, is a reflection of the negative association of women in the Bible. Eve was easily deceived into taking a fruit from the tree of knowledge (the fact that she, a woman, was deceived, portrays women as the weaker sex); she influenced Adam to do so too, causing his downfall.

    The fact that women are portrayed as the downfall of men makes it clear that the bible takes men’s side. And so, the woman, not the man, is punished for eating from the tree with childbearing as written in Genesis 3:16 of the Bible. Does this mean that Eve’s scarlet letter for original sin are the children she bears? Isn’t this the same with Hester and her scarlet letter? Hester is publicly shamed/punished for her crime at the beginning of the novel, but no man stands next to her, even though they both are equally guilty. Society demands to know who her lover was in order to ‘punish’ him, but after Hester’s silence, the lover is no longer mentioned by society. He is easily forgotten. If it weren’t for Dimmesdale’s guiltiness eating him up, Dimmesdale, the male, would have gotten away with it because society mainly focused on punishing Hester. 

   And while society ostracized Hester, Dimmesdale was admired and seen as a man sent from heaven. There was a time when Dimmesdale declared to the public that he was “altogether vile, a viler companion of the vilest, the worst of sinners”, the public’s reaction did not condemn him for a sinner, but sanctified and grew with admiration.

      In our modern day society, this behavior where society thinks less of woman in comparison to a man, is still alive today from time of The Scarlet Letter. If a man commits adultery, he is not frowned upon by society as much as a woman. A popular modern day example is Tiger Woods who had intimate relationships with women outside marriage. This did not ruin his career as a golf star and in a couple of months; his life was back to normality. Does this mean that society believes that fidelity tests for women only, and not men? This believe can be linked back to examples in the bible where heroic/saintly figures such as Lot had 700 wives, as mentioned in Numbers 5:11-31.

   Nathaniel Hawthorne creates A Scarlet world based on the ideals of the puritans, where the sinning woman is ostracized and plagued with cruelty at first, but then aspires to ascend from the lowest level in society to something higher. The ideals of the puritans towards women were not accurate, but precise as can be. This says much about the role of women in our modern day society. However, the fact that Hester was able to live her life helping out others in society and thus gain some respect, changed the meaning of her scarlet letter. It stood for ‘able’. Thus, this book overall did not devaluate women. The negativity towards Hester came from the godly society itself. The same attitudes towards women goes on today in our society. And, if not is coincidence, society’s attitudes towards its women can be linked back to the Bible’s attitude towards women.

  

 

Rip Van Halo (Stylistic Imitation of Rip Van Winkle)

     Whoever has made their voyage down the cascading Laramie River is sure to have been embedded in blue, gray and green at the midst of breath-taking mountain ranges pleasurable to the eyes and the senses.  The Snowy Range and the Laramie Range lie resting at peace, radiating beauty and serving as the shelter of small birds and other creatures of warm and pleasant nature that breathe in the fresh scent of grass and feel the soft embrace of the cool wind. One has most likely witnessed the wild coloring of the sky due to the hundreds of fluttering little pixie wings that chirp sweet lullabies to the trees, adorning the sky with their lively presence.  But on the inside of this scene is a city that is most likely familiar to the voyager, whether seen from atop the mountains or seen on TV. This city located in between these two mountain ranges is the home to a large population of sweet and innocent human-beings that share the same nature of the charming little birds that fly gracefully throughout Snowy and Laramie Range.  So much is the delightfulness of these pleasant human-beings that one cannot help but keep a smile when witnessing their passionate and good-hearted engagement in jolly activities that give meaning to the human soul. There lived years ago in this spirited city, a lovely fellow by the name of Rip Van Halo. Among the inhabitants of the city of Paramie, he was a prime example of the heart-warming spirit and accepting ideals of Paramie.  There are no words that can ever come close to describing the awe-inspiring good nature of Rip Van Halo. He was a quiet, but lovable fellow with a tight grip on the world of knowledge and a dislike towards liberal Thomas Jefferson for his ridiculously lenient proposal of a law that would mandate castration for gay men and the mutilation of nose cartilage for gay women. 

          Rip Van Halo was considered the smartest among them all, and the most sensible and caring, for he lifted the hearts of others. If one of his friends was feeling sad, then Rip Van Halo would do the most valiant and noble act known to the Christian man, receive a passing young boy with gay slurs, drowning the boy’s fragile heart in an intense pain, and branding his equally as fragile body, the product of the laceration of the flesh.  Now Rip Van Halo was a truly remarkable individual with a beautiful soul. He was always sure to assert his benevolence every second of the day.  At the funeral of young boy by the name of Matthew Leppard, Rip was present. He held a large sign on his hand that said “God Hates Fags”. He served as the light in the midst of all the darkness and pain, the pillar of all the good men. And Rip whispered majestic words into the crowd like a passionate individual, “Rot in hell Matthew Sheppard”. This sure lifted the spirits of many of his humble followers, setting a fine example.        

           After gracing everyone with his majestic presence, and carrying out God’s will, Rip walked home with his companions, where he was welcomed by a woman who radiated sin and lack of morals. This woman was his aunt who was an avid believer of the human rights. In defending the gay men and women, her soul was tainted with vile colors. She was a sinner, an evil and perverse woman who tortured and tempted innocent Rip. She tried brainwashing him to leave his path of infinite goodness and devotion to the human race. And so, Rip escaped her vile words intended to penetrate his saintly soul, and ran away from his right will to inflict pain on her. He took his car and drove out into the wilderness where he breathed in pure air and danced among the deer and rabbits, just like Snow White. And after all the jolly frolicking, Rip came to a rest and laid down on the grass, gazing at the sundown and thinking of new ways to persecute young men and women with queer tastes. It was then that he heard a macabre cry strike the silent air, “Rip, Rip!”

         He was sure this was his aunt, Dame Van Gruesome. He felt a presence hover over him, and at a blink of an eye, he saw a short man with a halo over his head and a magical tool on his hand. The short man pointed his jigsaw that said “I Hate Fags” towards a gully. And having seen such a delicate handling of such a majestic tool, Rip knew that the short man was trust-worthy and followed him. They made their way to an amphitheater in the middle of the wilderness. There, Rip gazed at a group of adolescents sharpening other tools in the jigsaw family. They were dressed in an unfamiliar, but acceptable style. There was no queerness in them, for the jigsaws that said “I Hate Fags” and the books of faith resting on the table, were a token of their fair-nature. They all shared these magical drinks throughout the night, one after another. Rip was surely enamored with the fine taste and sensation of the euphoria inducing drink that he drank and drank so much that his senses were overpowered, his head was inclined the direction of gravity, and he fell into a deep sleep.

             Upon waking, he slowly stretched his arms and found that he slept the night in the wilderness. He recalled the men and the majestic jigsaws, but it all seemed illusory, as if it was a fragment of his imagination, a dream. And so, Rip concluded that it was a dream and walked towards his car happily to start a new day of good deeds. Yet, he was surprised to see a rusted and worn down car covered with moss and vines. A strange thing, Rip thought.  He removed the clutches of nature upon his car and drove back home. Upon entering Paramie, he was surprised to see people unfamiliar to him. The houses did not hold the same appearance he had last seen, and upon arriving at his house, he learned that he no longer lived there for the house was abandoned. Confused at the sight of the unfamiliar surroundings, Rip walked towards his best friend’s house where he found a newspaper dated September 2010.

           His eyes widened at this ghastly fact, it had been 12 years, and what had happened? He turned the page to find an article on the Democrat president Barack Obama. And he was outraged at the fact that the immoral Democrats still controlled the house, Clinton and now this new man. How he detested this, for the Democrats supported gay rights, and thus, they were instruments of the devil, just like his macabre aunt who supported humanism, religious freedom, and individual freedom and did deeds such as helping out single mothers, showing compassion towards the adolescent lost in an eerie world of drugs. He could not stand this. He read an article about the progress of Gay Right, becoming ware that Bill Clinton had signed the Executive Order 13087 in 1998, and that in 2004, Massachusetts had legalized gay marriage.

              This irked saintly Rip and it caused a deep pain, for his lifelong work and support of a godly society had been shattered at the hands of Democratic sinners in the government. And just as his eyes started to drown in liquid, and a tear ran down his cheek, Rip turned the page to find an article that lifted his heart, “Tormented to Death”.

              He had been asleep for 12 years, but his ideals and methods lived not only in him, but in others. And although times had changed, and there was ‘progress’, Rip regained his place in the sector he had once lived in, and was once more loved by his aged friends. It was as if he had never fallen asleep.

Analysis of Ethos in "An Inconvenient Truth"

    An Inconvenient Truth is an unforgettable and awe- evoking documentary. It uses facts, quotes, statistics and graphical data along with a variety of anecdotes and juxtaposition of images in order to prove its thesis on the subject of Global Warming. An Inconvenient Truth is highly effective in combining the three elements of rhetoric. In doing so, it emerges as a haunting revelation of our planet’s future. The exposition of the film is cleverly crafted.

     The first scene appeals to Pathos through the visual and audio element of nature. It then jumps into Ethos, in doing so, it strives to answer the why a political figure such as Al Gore is the most indicated to present  information that does not ideally relate to politics . Through the use of footage of Al Gore speaking to large crowds and being the subject of camera lenses, his credibility is somewhat established. The fact that he is addressing the public and getting positive feedback from them (this is clearly shown through the fact that his audience is listening to what he has to say and stampede to take pictures with him). However, this is not enough to show Al Gore’s credibility. This is when Al Gore is shot speaking to the audience about the 1^st picture of Earth taken from outer space. He is juxtaposed next to the picture of Earth, to imply that he cares about the planet. If this is not enough, he states, “Isn’t that beautiful, this image is a magical image”.  Through this, he is fortifying his ethos by showing that there is a connection between him and the planet.

     As stated in the New York Times’ Warning of Calamities and Hoping for a Change in 'An Inconvenient Truth' movie review, “He is, rather, the surprisingly engaging vehicle for some very disturbing information. His explanations of complex environmental phenomena — the jet stream has always been a particularly tough one for me to grasp — are clear, and while some of the visual aids are a little corny, most of the images are stark, illuminating and powerful.” Indeed, Al Gore is the medium by which the logos is distributed. The information itself is hard news, and in order to get it across, Al Gore’s relation and motivation is embedded within the introduction of his college professor, Roger Revelle, into the film. Al Gore talks about his professor’s research and how he showed him and the rest of his class, the results on the increasing levels of CO2. This contributes to Gore’s background, for it implies that his knowledge is rooted back to 1^st hand experience, accomplished through his college professor’s research. This is highly effective in linking Gore to the issue of the environment.  “Gore's commitment to reversing global warming had its origins in his student days at Harvard and continues as he takes his multimedia show (a blend of scientific data, startling photographs, statistics, cartoons and humor) all over the USA and abroad.”, the USA today. This proves the fact that the ethos was successfully established. The three elements of rhetoric come together so perfectly, giving life to this film.

I Will Never Refuse in Spoken Words (Writing for English Class)

      Many refer to it as the day France fell; I refer to it as the day hell executed its will on my homeland. It is not a mere fall in which one can get back on its feet in a matter of seconds, it’s a fall in which one’s bones are shattered at contact with the concrete floor.  This was an invasion of our safe haven, and now we are within the reach of the savage inferno that has unleashed throughout Europe. The chains held within the hands of Hitler’s army have slashed the jugulars of the innocent, waiving a brutal flag threaded with blood. We live in fear, fear of the reaction of the Nazis at our refusal to bathe in the blood of the innocent, fear of being strangled slowly with these chains until we can no longer breathe in the putrid air. And so, I will never refuse in spoken words, and neither will my children. These perceptions only exist in my mind, for as long as they’re not spoken, they don’t exist in the real world.

  Yet this real world feels more like a purgatory to me. We are all trapped within the ductless, airtight walls of Hitler’s army.  And every time our brothers and sisters are taken away at gunpoint, it feels like the ceilings collapse over us, revealing the darkness in what is beyond these four walls.  We are all one, one for all and all for one. But these chains have classified us into two distinct groups and penetrated the necks of one.  They pay for their believes, yet when I see them, they are people whose hearts beat as fast as mine, and their children are as gullible to the world as my children are. There is not a day where one can live with serenity, for there is always the fear of being victims of bombings or getting caught up in a day like July 16, 1942 when many Jews were taken away to be exterminated like rodents. This hell my children and I live in is indescribable, for as a family we are broken ever since the day that Jean Pierre was forced to work for Germany on the basis of terror. No force was able to stop this, for it was never opposed in spoken language. As of today my children and I struggle along the days, tolerating the hunger we feel and the censorship placed upon us like heavy shackles.

       The day France fell was the day France slowly began to die. For this invasion was like cancer. It multiplied up to a point of mortality. They usurped our government, hanging those vile flags that represented glory to them over the walls of our city.  They say our government isn’t dead, that it is under the hands of Philippe Petain, but we all know that this is not true. All hope is dead, freedom is dead. This government of ours is just a puppet; it no longer lives nor breathes freedom. These repugnant monsters have destroyed not only our government, but our land and unity.  The day France fell was the day we fell onto the verge of death. That day feels like it was so long ago. Today we are no longer living on the verge of death, we’re way past that, we live within this inferno where only the flames can be heard and nothing else.

It's All Within My Mind (Creative Scene for English Class)

   He sank his jaws deep into her skin, and slashed her flesh apart, admiring and rejoicing at all the gore surrounding him. The screams, the stark and utter horror enriched him. Her guts splattered in the floor, the dirt tainted red, it was all so appetizing to him, and so he licked the blood off his hands and consumed all within his reach.

“I’m done here”, it echoed from tree to tree.

And he stood up, his shirt stained in red, his nails the color of wine, lying shirtless admiring the night sky.

“Mary if we don’t leave now...Mary give me the other half of the key. If you don’t, we will be next”, I whispered frantically.

“Mary, give it to me.”

No response. Mary left to a place far, far, away.

“Give me the key”, I urged. “Give me the god-damn key!”

 The words ruptured like an explosion at the tip of my tongue.  They echoed from here to there.

“Mary is gone.”

I heard a whisper.  It’s all in my mind.

“Is this the key your precious Mary held?” he asked, mocking my sanity with his snickering, “Come get it little one”.

The tone of his voice changed from high to low; there was so much instability in him as in the rest of his macabre world.

“I need to escape this. I need to go back”, I cried silently from within the shadows. “This is not who I am, this is not my world.”

“No matter how low you cry, I will always hear you, I will always see you, I will always feel you, I live within you”, he laughed maniacally, drowning me in his words, sinking his cold jaws deep into my mind, destroying all hope for my sanity.

It’s all within my head. I fight these battles day to day. It never ends, the outcome never changes.  He haunts me at night. His sick presence I feel as he lies beside my bed, touching my skin with his dirty hands, laughing like a beast at the sight of my fear and horror. All I wanted was the other half of the key, and that half he will never yield. For it holds my sanity, but also his life.

Alternate Ending: The Secret Life of Bees

I got up and opened door.

T. Ray grinned at me. But it was a grin of hatred, a grin accompanied by darting eyes that made me feel frost bitten, as if I was his target, his prey. I acted on impulse, making an effort to jerk the door shut. But instead, I triggered the rage inside him when the door squeezed his fingers in a mere attempt to stop those hungry eyes from consuming my all. With this force so violent, appearing to come from the very pit of hell, he smashed the door vigorously, to then come to his senses and realize that I was there.         

T. Ray made his way in.  “So you thought you could just run away and leave me like that,” He yelled.

 He grabbed me by the arm, his fingers sinking deep into my skin, so deep that it felt like he had dug into my bones.  I could feel the physical pain but underneath was the aching of a heart, the pain of realizing that perhaps what Rosaleen had said that night was true.  Had my dream world shattered at the hands of T. Ray?

He whispered cynically “I’m taking your ass off to Sylvan and when we get there, oh Lilly not even that dirty shit there will save. .” 

“Shut up. I’ve had enough of your crap,” the words rolled off my tongue. How dare he refer to Mary like that? 

T. Ray grabbed my chin “Oh you ungrateful bitch,” slapping me. His chapped hands felt hard like the rocks that made up May’s wall. But these rocks can never compare to T. Ray in any other level but texture. For these rocks take on the pain, and T. Ray inflicts it, just as he had done once more.                        

I watched his shaking hands forage through his pocket to take out a piece of paper with black lines that I could not put together for my vision was blurred by the tears that I kept trying to hold back.  “Where’s Rosaleen?” He demanded. “I will not let her run off just like that after ruining my reputation in town. You don’t know how I’ve been humiliated by everyone because of you and that filthy nigger. She’s leaving with us or at the mercy of Franklin Posey.”

 Rosaleen was surely not here, neither was August. If so, they would’ve heard T. Ray. Of that, I was glad. “What is that in the paper? Franklin Posey’s number?” I asked. He smirked at me in return.

 “She is not here. We took separate paths after leaving Sylvan. I came here to Tiburon, and she went…to some other god-damn place,” I said.                                                                                                                     “You sure?” he asked, grasping onto my arm violently. “You better not be lying to me girl, for if I find out, you’re dead.  I swear.  Now let’s get going and you better not yell or scream. ” He slapped me once more, this time he kicked me onto the floor. I could tell he got a joy out of hearing my faint voice begging him to stop, begging him to leave me alone. “Shut up. Now you see that you walk out of here quiet and calm or I will beat you until you feel the need to keep that mouth of yours shut”.

“Please T. Ray. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I’m staying!” I started out weak, but some force grew in me. It was like if Mary was standing right next to me. As if my hand had freshly touched her heart and woke her up. “I’m staying. I will not go back there to live with someone who doesn’t love me.  You don’t even know my favorite color. It’s because you don’t care about me.” I was angry at that moment. “I was a mistake in your life you see, an unwanted child who was the only reason why my mom stayed with you.  You made her life miserable and that’s why she left you!” Right at that moment I felt him fall deeper into wrath.  His hands clutched onto his own skin with deep fury and his eyes radiated intense hatred. This was not T. Ray. He could’ve been a poor excuse for a dad, but his eyes, his eyes were unrecognizable. At was almost as if the devil himself had taken over his body ready to mutilate all that stood in his way.

His hands unclenched and he gripped my throat.  I felt the pressure of his body pushing me onto the wall. I grasped for air, but could not breathe. My feet began kicking uncontrollably, trying to get at T. Ray and miraculously reach his weak spot in order to set myself free and make a run out the door.

Close your eyes Lilly. I struggled to think. Hail Mary full of grace, our lord is with thee. Mary, I need air.

I felt T. Ray’s hands slowly drift away, followed by a violent crash. My bones cracked as they came in contact with the raw cement, or at least the pain was as if. “T.Ray, where are you going? What are you going to do?”, I tried yelling, but the words irritated my throat, leaving my lips as faint, pathetic whispers.

 He was walking towards the kitchen, enraged. “You’re going to get it Lilly. I’m going to make you regret ever bringing up your mother into this, god damn it. How dare you.” He yelled as he walked away, clenched hands, with a target in mind.

Lilly you have to leave. Listen to me, leave. Run Lilly, run.

 I tried to get up, but my legs felt shattered. Gravity kept pulling me back onto the floor. I could not move.  My eyes rummaged around the room, I was flooded with thoughts of what was, what could have been, what never was, Rosaleen, June, August, Zach, May and my mom. It all pierced my mind at once-all the painful memories, my miserable past.  My body went back to that day.  I was there, watching my mother unpack, my small self helping her.  She was beautiful.  All this was shattered by the rushing sound of heavy footsteps dragging onto the floor. I heard mother, “Lilly, hurry”. But all went by so fast that my eyes shifted from here to there, from T. Ray to mother arguing, to my small self reaching for the gun.

Words straight from my lips echoed onto the room. “Stop, you can’t do this. Mother, forgive me. You can’t do this”

T.Ray walked over, and snatched the gun. He aimed it straight at my mom as if she was an animal. She was at his mercy, and I was laying there, oblivious to all.

Blood spilled onto the floor. T. Ray’s hands, the cause of it. Although his hands were clean, they were really tainted red. The color of blood, the tint of wine lay on his hands.

I closed my eyes once more and snapped back into reality, my reality. Once more I felt the rush, the anxiety. I heard the clashing sound of silverware triggered at the hands of T. Ray. All went by so fast,; T. Ray and I stood face to face, just as he stood face to face with my mother years ago. And so, young blood spilled tonight as shattered pieces of glass collapsed from the sky.

"OhMyGawd, I hate my life" And I Laugh At Your Existence.

What ever happened to the whole concept of keeping one’s private life in private? One’s private life is called private life for some reason isn’t it? The definition of what privacy is should be enough to let an individual know that one’s private life (or sometimes referred to as “personal life”) should be kept in private or confidential; that’s common sense. Today, in our current society, the average person has shifted from this believe and now sees it normal to let the world know what they did last night, who they did last night or what’s going on with them health wise or personal wise. The truth is, I don’t really care. And is it wrong for me to not care? Absolutely not.  I find that one of my biggest pet peeves are people who rant and complain too much about how much their life sucks and people who bring out unnecessary personal issues to public.

        That really annoys me and it’s not because I’m insensitive and inhumane, but because I really don’t feel like listening to someone cry over the smallest insignificant thing. Most of the time people who complain about how much their life sucks, have no idea what it is like to live a miserable life. The majority are ignorant little individuals who are oblivious to the fact that somewhere in the world there is a child who has been emotionally scarred due to abuse of any kind, that somewhere in the world a mother is weary of battling against malignant cancer for the sake of her children, that somewhere in the world people are suffering and dying because of starvation and drought. Everyone goes through things, life is about conquering challenges; yet some challenges are unconquerable and I’ve given examples above.

      Most of the people who approach me with complaints and rants have it easy. Their problems can be easily fixed with patience and perseverance, yet they fail to see this in the middle of their chase for attention. In most of these cases, the individuals I’m referring to are teenagers. One thing that I experience daily is one girl’s daily rant. I’m sick and tired of it; I’ve just learned to tune her out. I know it’s rude, but I’d rather tune her out then flame at her. She usually comes up to me or my best friend when I’m changing for gym looking all depressed and being like “Genesis I hate my life so much” or “Genesis, I wish I wasn’t here today in school, blah, blah, blah”. The part that always makes me laugh is that she really has no reason for “hating her life” or “not wanting to be here” or “feeling sad”. She really doesn’t, she just speaks nonsense for the sake of opening her mouth.  I have addressed her indirectly by telling her that she really has no reason to complain and that she should just cheer up. I don’t want to be any more mean because once I’ve started, I behave like an arrogant and sarcastic asshole. I’ll save that for someone else who is high in their throne.

    About a year ago in health when we were playing a game in which one had to write down on a piece of paper something no one else in the class knew about you. Each student then put the paper in a container and each paper was read aloud and the class guessed who had written it. Two individuals (whose faces I don’t remember) wrote down that they secretly liked to burn themselves. I remember hearing this in health and saying in my head as I laughed, “are they serious, they’re actually going to put something like that down on an identity guessing game and then admit that it’s them with a sense of happiness and normality”.  The idea of this is just so unbelievable that you have to stop and laugh, because there’s nothing better to do.  As a person who’s gone through things, I’d be embarrassed to admit something like this. I know people who have done this and wouldn’t ever think about letting a group of people know that they do such and such. In this case, I consider this personal and if they’re going through this then what they should do is tell their parents or their doctor or guidance counselor rather than telling the whole class in a game. This ruined that class period for me, not because it was sad, but because I really didn’t want to hear that they enjoyed burning themselves. A real person who is going through troubles and burns himself/herself as an escape, wouldn’t admit this, instead, they would hide it. This proves that either they did this for the attention or that their minds are just not well developed to know what is socially acceptable and what is not.

    Last year, the day after Valentine’s in one of my morning classes. This loud kid sitting next to me was telling his friend how he had apparently invited his girl friend to his house to a Valentine ’s Day date. He was obviously saying this aloud to either be funny or sound interesting, but he came off to me as an obnoxious and immature kid. He was saying that his date had been “sucsexful”. That’s obviously not a word, but he tried making it into one. I threw up a little in my mouth, but was left with an amusing aftertaste.  

     I’m tired of angsty teens in general. Some want others to feel sad for them and rant about the “miserable” things they’re going through. I laugh at this, because they fail at it. I don’t think they’re aware that it’s bothering others. If they were, then they would stop and think of what they say obviously. But the whole nature of exposing one’s personal life to public and ranting about what is unnecessary is useless. These people will get nowhere; all they’ll gain is being labeled off as an attention starving individual, or most commonly known as an “attention whore".  I think that if I tried to further explain through words how irritating and amusing this can be, I’d fail miserably. Things like this leave one speechless, there is no worthy rebuttal that can show one’s true feelings on this subject, and in this case I believe that sometimes a plain and simple laughter speaks louder than words.