Saturday, November 24, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Picking The Crosses Up
My hometown doesn't have much. We don't have amusement parks, we don't have iMax theatres, we don't have waterparks, and we definetly don't have an ocean. We have mountains that take an hour drive to reach the cafe/resturant at the top to sip your hot chocolate and marvle at the mansions built over the charred remains of house destroyed from the last big fire. From 7pm-2am downtown owns Tucson, we have 3 rockin ass clubs (Rialto, Congress, The Rock) and a plethora of bars an tattoo shops. 2am-9am are the hours spent finishing off a "raging" party or falling into bed with your girlfriend or a one night stand.
From 9am-10pm the biggest hangout spot (on my side of the town) is the Park Place Mall. It's not much, but it contains the stores I love and is conveniently located accross the street from a Best Buy. This mall isn't 8 stories or anything, just one plain level. It has a food court and a Century Theatres, and I love it there.
I visited this Mecca today with family to see American Gangsters. It was a long, artistically filmed movie that wasn't boring but still had me asking my sister, "is this EVER going to end?" After the movie ended and the room was clearing out I watched as an old lady tripped on the stairs and started to fall. Before she could hit the ground the young man in front of her heard the ladies sorrowfull gasp and turned around just in time to catch her, whacking the girl who had been in front of him with his wings (he didn't have real ones, but the way the old woman looked at him, he may as well have). The woman thanked him graciously, offering him money for basically saving her aged, fragile, life just like old folks do. He declined laughing and everybody went on with their life.
The moral of this story?
Angels walk among us, their cardboard wings duct-taped to the backs of their Metallica shirts or their buttoned-up polos. You can't deny this, it's right in front of you. If everybody took a day to sit in a crowded place like a mall or a park, they'd see a myriad of angels doing good deeds. Chivalry isn't dead.
-D
From 9am-10pm the biggest hangout spot (on my side of the town) is the Park Place Mall. It's not much, but it contains the stores I love and is conveniently located accross the street from a Best Buy. This mall isn't 8 stories or anything, just one plain level. It has a food court and a Century Theatres, and I love it there.
I visited this Mecca today with family to see American Gangsters. It was a long, artistically filmed movie that wasn't boring but still had me asking my sister, "is this EVER going to end?" After the movie ended and the room was clearing out I watched as an old lady tripped on the stairs and started to fall. Before she could hit the ground the young man in front of her heard the ladies sorrowfull gasp and turned around just in time to catch her, whacking the girl who had been in front of him with his wings (he didn't have real ones, but the way the old woman looked at him, he may as well have). The woman thanked him graciously, offering him money for basically saving her aged, fragile, life just like old folks do. He declined laughing and everybody went on with their life.
The moral of this story?
Angels walk among us, their cardboard wings duct-taped to the backs of their Metallica shirts or their buttoned-up polos. You can't deny this, it's right in front of you. If everybody took a day to sit in a crowded place like a mall or a park, they'd see a myriad of angels doing good deeds. Chivalry isn't dead.
-D
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Brunch With My Future
I'm not like alot of people. I don't panic about what my grade on my latest test was. I don't glare at the trampy girl who's hitting on the cute guys. I sit in the library at study period worrying about my future.
Because I don't know what I want anymore.
Since childhood I knew what I wanted: I wanted to live in San Diego as a marine biologist. But, as time wore on, I realized how much I hated math and never wanted to harm a single sea creature. So I decided to do the opposite of harm--help! I wanted to be a veterinarian. This was a much more realistic ideal, until I came to grips with the fact that I would either adopt every sad animal I saw, or couldn't help the animals because I'd cry any time their sad eyes met mine. Scratch that one off the list.
In 8th grade I was the lead in a crappy little play, and it dawned on me that my true love was the theatre. I've been so involved in my drama classes that every ounce of me knew that it was my future to be drowned in the arts. But this year changed my mind. I'm seeing the forrest for more than the trees (see 'D Is For Drama'), and I'm quickly realizing that my lack of involvement in the drama clique is a good thing!
And I saw it, sitting with my friends, doodling on my assignment: art. I've been obsessive about drawing and painting since I was little. If it wasn't for my dad talking me down, I would have really wrapped my mind around graphic art. But is it too late? Should I have signed up for art class in 9th grade INSTEAD of drama? Am I so far behind with my future that I'm ahead?
Or am I going to change my mind again?
Is going to Art School in San Francisco overly presumptuous of me, or am I finally right on the mark? My head is emploding, breaking my marrow cage slowly. Shattering my now with my later. My eyes have stopped leaking tears, they now leak ballpoint-ink. My flakey skin looks less tan than grey like my pencil lead. I blow my nose and the tissue fills with watercolors. I'm a mess and I'm hoping for someone who could actually say to me something around the lines of, "you have a future and you know it." Not the usual, "you can talk big about your plans, but it all comes down to your grades!!"
I'm just me, and I'm...
-D
Because I don't know what I want anymore.
Since childhood I knew what I wanted: I wanted to live in San Diego as a marine biologist. But, as time wore on, I realized how much I hated math and never wanted to harm a single sea creature. So I decided to do the opposite of harm--help! I wanted to be a veterinarian. This was a much more realistic ideal, until I came to grips with the fact that I would either adopt every sad animal I saw, or couldn't help the animals because I'd cry any time their sad eyes met mine. Scratch that one off the list.
In 8th grade I was the lead in a crappy little play, and it dawned on me that my true love was the theatre. I've been so involved in my drama classes that every ounce of me knew that it was my future to be drowned in the arts. But this year changed my mind. I'm seeing the forrest for more than the trees (see 'D Is For Drama'), and I'm quickly realizing that my lack of involvement in the drama clique is a good thing!
And I saw it, sitting with my friends, doodling on my assignment: art. I've been obsessive about drawing and painting since I was little. If it wasn't for my dad talking me down, I would have really wrapped my mind around graphic art. But is it too late? Should I have signed up for art class in 9th grade INSTEAD of drama? Am I so far behind with my future that I'm ahead?
Or am I going to change my mind again?
Is going to Art School in San Francisco overly presumptuous of me, or am I finally right on the mark? My head is emploding, breaking my marrow cage slowly. Shattering my now with my later. My eyes have stopped leaking tears, they now leak ballpoint-ink. My flakey skin looks less tan than grey like my pencil lead. I blow my nose and the tissue fills with watercolors. I'm a mess and I'm hoping for someone who could actually say to me something around the lines of, "you have a future and you know it." Not the usual, "you can talk big about your plans, but it all comes down to your grades!!"
I'm just me, and I'm...
-D
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