The Latest Piece of Documentary!

Exhibition, The Process, and Powerful Women

Are the three seemingly unconnected ideas rushing around my head lately. Every activity seems to lead me back to one of these thoughts, somehow.

It started last week in AP Lit. We had read "A Rose for Emily" the night before, and were discussing the tone and mood of the story the following morning. And I realized, as people were talking, exactly what kind of creepy vibe I had picked up from the story. There was this kind of side show element to it. Only a few people nodded their heads--Mr. Kreft got it, but I don't know about the other kids. That's what I picked on. This traveling, dark, creepy exhibition--"see the home of creepy old emily rose, who slept with her murdered husband's rotting corpse for years before she finally died." Like her entire house should be between the bearded lady and the amazing batboy.

It continued in theater. When Jess asked us what kind of ideas and theme-y things we had been thinking about lately, I said that I've been thinking about processes. The process of applying to college, the process of putting on a show, putting on a show about a process. As I think more about my character (who finally has a name--Elsa! Thank you, miss Voytas XP), I realize that she too will be going through a process--the process of losing her mind, and, in her fantasyland, the process of turning into a plant. It wound up bringing me back to lit--the process of telling a story, whether in drama or writing, is really fascinating. The differences between the two are equally awesome. And of course, the whole exhibition thing in the theater realm is pretty obvious.

Last year at YAC, I played this pseudo-powerful woman--she was scheming, manipulative, always trying to get what she wanted. And she did, for the most part. Her character was fun--hard for me as I'm not always the "type A" kind of girl, but fun. But after today's discussion in Lit, I have to wonder--why is it so rare to see a powerful woman who isn't painted as, well--a bitch? Miss Havisham was awesome. The rest of my class thinks she was the ultimate ice queen. The Good Wife of Bath absolutely kicks ass. At least most of us agree on that--she was kind of a player, but honestly? What else can a woman DO for fun in the 14th century? All I'm saying is shoe shopping wasn't really an option...

It's funny. I'm really into reading about domineering women--not the absolute crazies, but someone like queen Elizabeth? So much fun! Shamelessly dangled European noblemen just about her entire life, wore some fantastic dresses, remained chaste (or at least pretended quite well) her entire life. She had this exhibitionist attitude too, though...ordinary events became productions. She was, at her own request, compared to Artemis (who, by the way, happens to be my favorite greek goddess). And boy, was she a force be reckoned with.

Not as strong as mother nature, though. In Enviro, we've been talking about nature's control over the animals that inhabit the earth. All of that organization, all of that dependency--yet nature, when she wants, can wipe out an entire ecosystem. And she has. She's a bit like Elizabeth--showy and strong, not afraid to show her power, which she does through her many complicated processes.

Once again, ladies and gents, it's all connected. I'm sure, given a few more days, there will be new common themes in my life, and I'll have to write again, offering new explanations for why my life--well, my public life anyway--seems to fit together so perfectly. I hope it's always this way.

Today Was

thoroughly atypical, even though it seemed routine on the surface.

After finishing my homework in Jackson's room, I had nothing better to do...so I wrote, and as I did, one person was reading over my shoulder, then another, and while Jackson didn't read what I wrote, she certainly knew what I was talking about. The wild thing is that I was suddenly uncomfortable. I wrote what I did with the very intention of posting it here. Here, I tell all. Well, mostly. This keyboard does have a backspace button, and I won't pretend I don't use it when I post. I guess the primary difference is that here, there is no face-to-face. I don't know who reads these and who doesn't--the only thing I ever know is who is affected enough to leave a response--generally, not many people. The computer provides anonymity, but that's the one thing I'm trying to escape with these entries. Attaching a face to my name isn't really enough. What I write here are my thoughts, and yes, I will be presumptuous enough to call them my philosophies. I think at this point I have the right. I write because I never seem to be able to speak the right way, to say these things in person. I would if I could. Or if the subject ever came up.

I doubt it would.

The moment of silence wasn't silent at all, nor was it long enough to even be considered a moment.

The response to his death could've been a recording, like the voicemails with someone's name awkwardly inserted in the middle.

Ellen DeGeneres talked about that once. "Somehow," she said, "you wind up sounding more like a robot than the robot."

"Hello. You have reached the personal voice mailbox of...ELLEN."

"Your attention please. A Souderton graduate, RONNIE POWELL, tragically died yesterday."

If you need help, get it. We've got people here. A small speech from Lozano and class goes on. Columbus. Dutch East Indies. The Incas. School goes on. AP Literature. B lunch. Physics. The day goes on. Dinner. Rehearsal. Bed.

Life goes on. (?)

It does, and we are left to interpret the events that shape and comprise our days, evaluate these "moments--" moments of silence, pivotal moments, and all of the moments in between.

Do we spend enough time evaluating our lives? Why should we, and how could we? Like a math problem--one step at a time, and eventually the answer is found? Or like a piece of postmodern literature--analyzing themes, trends, and the details--so many details! Imagine evaluating your life in terms of semantics. Word choice in every speech, conversation, and thought? Awful. That's no way to interpret an entire lifetime......Well, maybe there's some value to it. You can tell a lot about a person by what they say. Well, not just what they say--the words they pick. But that doesn't lead to an answer.

And that's what I'm looking for. When I examine my life, I want answers.

The wild thing is what Mr. Luck said in response to what I wrote. He said "don't be angry at him," referring to Varano. I'm not angry at Varano at all...Okay, maybe this is what's good about the blog. I don't have to explain myself to anyone. I understand. Varano is definitely hurting about it. But he can't afford to be that way in front of the whole school, because someone has to be strong...

Anyway, Mr. Luck said "Once you've done this long enough, you become desensitized to things like this." He turned away. Then he turned back and said "because you have to."

I think when we become desensitized to an event like this--especially by necessity--something is wrong.

I'm not that sensitive to it either. I hardly knew Ronnie. Death, when it doesn't happen to someone close, doesn't necessarily make you sad. It just makes you think. And that's what I do, the second I put my pen down, the second I stop pretending I'm capable of putting thoughts into spoken word, I think. For the rest of the afternoon.

As I walk home, the clicking of my heels provides a metronome, their sound echoing from the row homes across the street. Thoughts keep coming, keeping time with my footsteps. The question I ask myself when figuring out my life--What? Have? I? Left? That is to say, what is the impact I've made?

Who. Knows. I answer in time to the beat. The number of ways we affect others is incalculable--we can never know who we've touched, and how.

As soon as I allow myself a silent celebration for reaching this conclusion, I am startled by my neighbor. God, was I really this close to home without realizing?

How're you doing, I ask.
Keeping busy, he answers. A working father whose house repairs never seem to end. I believe him.
You?
Good, thanks...I keep walking. I'll spare him the truth.

I'm Feeling That

Beginning of year drop into the roller coaster of academia. Including slight nausea.

The pressure is on, and for some reason, I believe workload has been upped exponentially in about the past three days. Which is very strange--I haven't actually gotten more work, I'm just having more panic attacks. And I guess there's more going on at home, what with College applications and stuff, but not so much that I should be so outta whack. I'm actually pretty sure I'm just getting sick. There's been much tea and vitamin water drinking on my part, but I don't know if that's enough to counter the nasty cold that's been passed around school.

It kind of reminds me of a common theme in Euro and Enviro the past few days. Both classes have discussed population, its trends, its growing and shrinking in the name of balance. The context in Euro was the Bubonic Plague. In Enviro, we learned about how nature "corrects" an exponentially growing population by delivering some sort of 'plague' to the population that's too high. You know, disease or something. It's scary when you think about nature doing such a thing to human beings. I guess those peasants were packed pretty dense back in the 1300s when the Black Death came around.

My point is--is that what nature is trying to do to the students of Souderton Area High School--or mankind in general, perhaps? Think of it. One kid gets strep, or a cold, or a stomach bug, and almost everyone gets it. Sicknesses sweep through our little population so fast--I guess the teachers are more immune than any of us, because they've seen this kind of stuff for years. Is nature indicating that we're packed too close, or that there's simply too many of us? And what will she do in the name of balancing the population of mankind?

Not to worry, though. We humans defy nature. Now back in the 14th century, we didn't have the power to do so, but these days "progress" is practically defined by how well an object works against mother earth. And boy, have we progressed. Cold? Take NyQuil. Infection? Take Zithromax. Cancer? Chemo. But still...you have to wonder. Nature has always 'won' before. Will she win this time, or will we continue to defy her until the end of time?

I guess this is pretty heady stuff. All of my classes are connected--lit, euro, enviro. There are so many common themes just being passed from class to class. They've got me thinking at all times--it's wild. Maybe that's why I'm stressed--is my head just fuller?