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Showing posts from February, 2014

The search for success

I was told since my childhood to search for success
right at the moment when understanding
curve balls and intertwines strands by strands with competition.
My eyes squint and my stomach reels at the thought that someone okaying
my decisions is all that should matter. It doesn't seem like it matters if the totality
of my belief says that life

should be worth more than a few crumbs or that a baby’ life
is worth more than a woman working 9 to 5, beating success
at its game. Maybe I need to retrace my life in order to grasp the total
chaos that striving for literal understanding
has brought into my life. Okay
maybe, the answer lies in some competition–

Last night at the public relations student meeting, I froze at a competition
the question, whether interning should be scrapped from being life.
All I could think of was fuck! I was blank. Okay!
I also thought about successfully
showing I understood
the words that spewed out. I lost the election because I was blank. Totally.

Success has me knotted…

#Arrow's Nyssa al Ghul: Beloved League of Assassin

Hell hath no fury than an assassin scorned ...

So, I returned to watching Arrow this week. I had stopped at this season's first episode and worked my way up. Love seeing Black Canary and realizing she's Sara Lance. Love that she's Oliver's equal. They both have the same story line, the shipwreck sent them into arms of people who taught them to fight and both have seen enough deaths. Hence they're both strong and damaged.

But greater discovery was this week's episode where the show reveals Nyssa al Ghul. I love love her.
The first scene we see her in, I never have cheered on a villain as much as I did after seeing her pick up the pen. I knew what was coming and I pushed myself into the moment, without a care.

A Portrait of the Artist as a young Man

“The Modern novel mainly began with new efforts to explore the depths of the human mind” (Matz 53). Authors began to deviate from the classical norm in quest of achieving the present “reality.” One of the features of classical novels dealt with, most especially in A Portrait of the Artist as a young Man, is the presentation of plot as a keystone for fiction. Plot has for ages, been used as a tool for separating fiction from reality. Fiction, since it is not reality, tends to leave out all the unexciting phase and traits of the fictional character’s life. Also all narration and action slowly builds up to the climax and then the resolution/end. However, James Joyce downplays the evidence of plot in his narration, to almost an extent of non-existence to showcase explicitly the process of life: from being a child, to losing one’s innocence, to doing things to change the status quo, and to succeeding or not.

Tina Fey’s Prayer For Her Daughter

I plan on buying Bossypants. Planned on it before but forgot. Love, love it. I recently stumbled upon this prayer from Bossypants and it wreaked havoc on my emotional. I knew I had to share. 
First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be beautiful but not damaged, for it’s the damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the beauty.

When the crystal meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with beer.