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The Ruinous Manifesto

AM I DEAD? 

I hope not.

Throughout my time, I actively struggled with rapidly cycling bipolar disorder, where my moods lasted three to five business days and could reach levels of internal explosions or “excitement” attacks, which functioned the same as panic attacks, as well as spiraling suicidality.

While I am now on a contribution of medication that works significantly well for me, it shows in my past blogging experience the troubles I experienced. 

My photos most directly coordinate with this theme. They represent the tortuous experiences of hypomania, with its restlessness, impulsivity, and paranoia. I always felt like a stranger to others and I was somehow playing life on a “hard” difficulty. The colors/hues in the photos represent this disconnection from my peers as my emotions purely consuming my life. One of the other ideas I had for the photos was a box of hair dye as it represents some of the creativity I possess, but also how some of my dedications have longer impacts. Sometimes I’ll do activities for hours and hours straight, and that tendency isn’t very good for my physical health. I also considered showing a clean plate as it would contrast the typical dirty plate to show a relentless lack of appetite- either from constant mental distraction or overtaking emotional numbness.

Regarding my hobbies, I already mentioned that I dive too heavily into them at times. One of these pursuits was creative writing, in which I went headfirst into overly ambitious plots and near novels. During my parents’ divorce, I was especially unstable. and I wrote over 3,000 words every week and wrote over 150,000 words in the end before I burnt out. Before my bipolar diagnosis, I simply thought I was a great writer with extreme motivation that dimmed with my occasional depression, but now I see the patterns of overly dedicating myself then burning out on a loop.

While my playlist mostly contained upbeat songs, it had an underlying theme of sadness and nostalgia. The first song represents a lingering feeling about wanting to be a kid again in a Denny’s, which really connects to my overall mental health since the last time I can recall being happy (aside from very recently) was elementary school. Later on through the exploration in music, I later distracted myself with the Spotify mix of Frank Valli and the Four Seasons. Music and general art has served as a great distraction for my mental health, and sometimes these assignments offered that escape for me.

Though the exploration of experimental film, I discovered my disappointment to see a lack of violent gore. Considering that the video briefly had topics of violence, I assumed that there would be a dark dramatic twist. This idea comes from my past of watching similar videos, either by accident or on purpose. I’ll spare the details of what exactly I’ve seen, but I mainly watched that content in order to feel something new. Sometimes it made me paranoid and I wouldn’t sleep for a while, but it was better than crying in my bed for an hour or for no reason.

Overall, I would never dedicate my life and motto to my current manifesto. However, I overall believe the sentiment that “Life sucks until it doesn’t” or from an AJR song “God’s … fake until he’s not” (even though I’m not religious). I hope to stray away from my past mindset and towards a happier lifestyle as I pass through the rest of my high school career and into my college life as hopefully a different person. I never enjoyed high school as I always felt like my life was falling apart, but now I’m reasonably enjoying my hobbies, only going through the occasional depressive mood swing, and I feel less paranoia- which is great since I’ll be moving towards a more independent lifestyle. I still feel like I don’t know how to do things the way a normal person would, but it’s important that I’m doing life the best I can. My destiny in the future will be The Improving Manifesto, but that shall be written when it is not finals week.

Thank you for this course, genuinely.

(702 words)

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Ekphrasis

Since I saw that the background of the creation was about two dancers, I wrote an ekphrasis about drunken one night stands expressed through dancing and building metaphors.

Quiet, desolate Prague Avenues and streets swivel into bars and joints A drink is eye-catching and the second is talking The third is a kiss and the fourth is dedication Twisting, combining, conjoining Inseparable, irreplaceable Naive enough to be irresponsible Without caution, they move with grace Graceful enough for me Disorganized, blinded, enamored A quick, clumsy connection of chaos A twirl of concrete A dip of paint Clashing glass Crumbling asphalt Step one two three Repeated like a melody But when the song stops they do as well It wasn’t romance, not anything at all It was an ache that yearned to be replaced

I based this poem on the idea that the buildings were slanted, almost in a way that someone would stumble or lean against something if they were intoxicated. The right building leans heavily on the left, while the other stands taller, I felt as though this resembled dependency. Not to mention, the building on the left is very reflective, which has the potential for showing a lot of charisma and charms. 

The two buildings are intertwined just like the protagonist and their partners. Just like all things, bonds can be broken, and everything fades eventually, whether it be through erosion/time or disasters. 

The last line of the poem discusses “an ache.” This refers to a headache from a hangover as well as a heartache that desires another person to constantly be in their life.

(267 words)

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Not Seen on TV

For the assignment, I chose the Francis Alys and Rafael Ortega Re-Enactment. This piece of media showed a side-by-side comparison of the same story, but one was not staged, and the other was. The general plotline is that a man (Alys) buys a gun and then walks the streets of Mexico City while casually showing off his weapon. A few minutes after, the police roll down the street, and while the Alys makes a half-attempt to hide the weapon, he still gets put into a cop car and disappears within it.

One of the primary differences of the two clips is that the staged video contained numerous cuts and different angles. It made me feel disoriented and lost, however, I suppose it can show the angle that the man is exceedingly dangerous as he has nothing to hide (as proven from showing every side of him). However, I prefer the original footage as the long-drawn out angle made it feel more real, and the lack of added editing makes it feel more menacing.

This piece does not dramatically challenge the standards of today, but it does add an interesting contribution. Through offering the idea of a side by side comparison, it develops the feeling of suspense and intrigue. However, as a viewer, when nothing was noticeably different, I just felt disappointed and left out. Though, I suppose part of my expectation is based on the political climate today that highlights police brutality.

Overall, this kind of piece is worthy of more exploration as it can easily provide suspense through the lack of editing.

(267 words)

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Drama and Comedy

For my films, I chose the drama ‘The Perfection’ and the comedy movie ‘The Terminal.’ ‘The Terminal’ is about a man who travels to the United States through an airplane, and his country is destroyed almost exactly as he lands. With this, his citizenship in his old country is invalid and now he is unable to commute. With this crude understanding of English and unsympathetic surrounding people, he manages to live in the airport best he can through coupons at the food court and sleeping on the benches. Drama is shown primarily through the distress the protagonist experiences once he discovers the loss of his homeland. He quickly tries to read the captions of the news, and through the few words he is able to pick out, he feels completely overwhelming loss, as there is a zoom-in on him to emphasize how he thinks of nothing else.

‘The Perfection’ was produced in 2018 though I only watched it recently for this assignment. The movie follows Charlotte, a young cellist who had to retire her passion in order to take care of her mother. When he mother passes, she travels to an international cello event to follow up with her previous instructor. There, she also meets Elizabeth, a cellist who is only a few years younger than her, and they soon go out for a night of drinking and lust. There are three turning acts after the establishment of characters. After Elizabeth gets sick with bugs climbing all through her, she cuts off her hand to cope with the distress and with hope it will get rid of the issue, but it is revealed that Charlotte drugged her to hallucinate the entire incident. Next, Elizabeth is cut from the music program so she returns to the United States to kidnap Charlotte and bring her to the music instructor. Charlotte reveals that her actions are truly justified, as the music community he promoted was just a cult that sexually abused young girls. The instructor gets enraged and decides to knock her out and chain her to a chair in the music room. There, she is forced to perform one of the hardest pieces in front of her past three abusers and Elizabeth. This scene is hugely climatic, and it establishes this feeling through placing a bright spotlight on Charlotte. Just as it blinds her, it also blinds the audience, placing them both in distress.

This also highlights her past trauma and shows how she felt like she was always closely observed, as her experiences with rape would follow any kind of mistake made on the cello.

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FUCK THIS IS MY COLLEGE BLOG

tag chain ✨

Color scheme of your name?

:) mine

tags:

@just-another-lovesong @lukiverse @willows-woes @ultimatedisastergay @trashmeowcan @chanda-chamke-cham-cham @tiredandcaffeinated @angerycat @im-dead-still @stranglingfigs @skies-of-gray @theoculus124 @tesseract-s @gooseberry--fool @waitingforthesunrise and anyone else who wants to

sorry if I forgot anyone I love you all

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No surprises here sldfkjsfd

tag chain ✨

Color scheme of your name?

:) mine

tags:

@just-another-lovesong @lukiverse @willows-woes @ultimatedisastergay @trashmeowcan @chanda-chamke-cham-cham @tiredandcaffeinated @angerycat @im-dead-still @stranglingfigs @skies-of-gray @theoculus124 @tesseract-s @gooseberry--fool @waitingforthesunrise and anyone else who wants to

sorry if I forgot anyone I love you all

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Film Appreciation

The black and white still images in La Jetée provide for a grim feeling that is shared by the protagonists and the audience. Not to mention, it generally makes the film have a sinister feeling, which is appropriate for the subject matter. However, on the other hand, The Godfather uses point of view combined with colors/lighting to cast dramatic shadows over some characters, which establishes a powerful position of the characters without direct commentary. Additionally, color in general establishes the feelings of the scene, whether they be warm browns for comfort/familiarity, or blacks and blues to show melancholy.

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Photo Collection

My photo collection revolves around the theme of bipolar disorder because it is a mental illness I struggle with. I experience hypomania (periods of high energy, grandiosity, and restlessness), depression (low interest in things, lethargy, and pessimism), as well as mixed episodes where I experience both hypomania and depression at the same time. An example of the latter is when I get 4 hours of sleep because I’m hypomanic, but I’m completely exhausted because of depression, or on the other hand, I feel like I’m better than everyone, but I completely hate myself. It’s been tough to live with this illness, but I try to cope best I can, and part of that is through art, whether traditional or photographical. 

I have two pictures of my art, but they tie into different ideas. The first one, of realism, represents time blindness in respect to hypomania. I will hyperfixate on the littlest things and work on them with everything I have. I worked on that drawing of Rihanna for 40 hours in just one week, while I still had high school and a job. The other drawing is how I would represent hypomania at it’s worst. Too much is happening all at once, and I just want to scream and explode with everything that is happening. The scribbles show how disorganized it all is and the vibrancy represents the euphoria that often follows.

I have a photo of my purchase history to represent the impulsivity that comes with hypomania. I suddenly attach myself to new ideas and passions, and sometimes I make purchases that go along with it. For example, once I bought a diamond painting and I spent 15 hours straight trying to complete it. It’s scary how I didn’t even notice time passing until a family member came home. I ended up giving up because of the extensive back and neck pain, but I finished the following day.

While these flowers were originally much brighter, I used a filter to represent the dullness in life once depression takes over. Things that were previously interesting just mindlessly fill your day and it’s hard to strive for more when the bare minimum seems impossible. Not to mention, the flowers are also wilting to represent the intrusive thoughts that come with depression, the sudden impulses to do something reckless because it’s the only way to feel alive again.

The pills are here to show recovery as they are the ones I take every day, but the blue light on them cast a shade of sadness over the scene as having to rely on store bought serotonin leaves a bittersweet feeling in my mouth. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get off of these medications, and that idea is a bit rough for me.

(464 words)

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Playlist

My playlist theme is songs that I think would play in a Denny’s, because my mom was a waitress when I was younger, and when she couldn’t take a long break from work, she would pick me up from school and I would sit there for a while. I remember stacking up jelly packets, coloring menus, and eating hush puppies while listening to the same few songs. So, I made this playlist to resemble the feeling.

Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0CUOfCVYZquLmS024jJp95?si=472f9c4b4ba24e4e

Denny’s by Sugr? was never played at the restaurant, but I included it because of the name and relatable lyrics, it opens with “I'm a little old to be blackin' out at Denny's” which has a similar idea of the bittersweet feeling I experience whenever I drive by the restaurant. Not to mention, I generally enjoy the song as I have always been a fan of indie pop with electronic elements.

Next is 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton, while I can’t exactly remember if this song was played in the restaurant, it gives me such similar vibes. The little bell dings, the backing vocals, and the general quick pace of the song all connect with my experiences. Additionally, 9 to 5 reflects my mom’s work schedules at time. The song falls into the category of country pop.

Then there’s Sherry by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons because it has the classic sound of songs to play in an American Diner. Sherry is classified as doo-wop, rock, and soul, but it heavily influenced the pop world.

My fourth song is Uptown Girl by Billy Joel because for some reason I always hated this song so much. I think it’s because he says “Girl” like “Gerl” and it always got on my nerves, but now I like the song. The song is classified as doo-wop, pop soul, and pop rock.

The fifth song is We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel because I never understood the lyrics as a song, both to being a kid and the restaurant having some loud chatter, but I knew all the lyrics to the chorus, so I always sung along.

The final song is Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go because the restaurant was all about “go-go”ing, and on the weekends I sometimes wouldn’t see my mom before she went to work. It was somewhat hard to deal with the loneliness, but I coped as best I could. Sidenote, I also distinctly remember playing Just Dance to this song, I rocked at it.

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Plotting

(ps if you're not my college professor, don't look pls and thank you)

Here is my work of a situation A (dying) -> situation B (being stuck in limbo)

I did write over 4,000 words because I got a cool idea in my head, but if you want something shorter, here's something I posted that's just 2,000: Death Creates Enemies - RainbowButterFrosting - Minecraft (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own] (plot is situation A (dying) -> situation B (meeting your husband's boss who was a huge jerk to him) -> situation C (fighting with the person that you're probably stuck in limbo with probably forever)

Or even 700 words: You're Just a Fool to Keep Pretending That You Love Me - RainbowButterFrosting - Video Blogging RPF [Archive of Our Own] situation A (a new friend becomes friends with your best friend) -> situation B (platonic jealousy)

This also follows a universe you probably don't understand, but please look at the linguistic choices and style rather than the plot

“Tommy, you said it would be okay. You-” Ghostbur closed his eyes, his tears burning him. He tried wiping them away with his sleeves, but it didn’t seem to help at all as the burning feeling spread across his cheeks. He choked down another sob, trying to do anything to compose himself, yet, he didn’t feel better at all. He pulled his hands away from his eyes, but he didn’t see the obsidian he expected. His head whipped around in confusion. It took him moments of panicking to realize he was in a train car. One with dark green seats and dark oak walls.

The only sound he could hear was his breathing and the roll of wheels over the rails. His breath hitched as he looked through the train’s windows. There wasn’t a door Sam led him through or Tommy’s netherite axe, just darkness. A darkness that terrified him more than lying to Sam. Tommy said it wasn’t lying, yet he felt a bad feeling when he said that.

“T-Tommy?!” Ghostbur yelled, his voice shakier than he intended it to be. He had to find out where he was. Tommy knew how things happened, Tommy had been to the prison before, he knew how to get out as well. 

“Sam!” His voice bounced off of the walls, the air around him feeling more oppressive by the minute. He felt like he could barely breathe, his lungs getting constricted in a way that hadn’t before. He fiddled with his yellow sleeves, pulling them past his hands. The fabric on his body was too much. The sounds around him were too loud, and the lights seemed brighter at every moment. 

Ghostbur stumbled to a door at the end of the car. When he looked back, he realized there wasn’t a door at the other end. He must’ve been in the last car. It comforted him slightly knowing this. There wasn’t a wrong way to go. His hand shook as he turned the silver doorknob. The door opened, and he saw a chain that connected his car and another one together. It seemed to be black, but the empty void surrounding it could have been playing a trick on him.

“Tommy!” He called out. Tommy must’ve been in the other car. They were just a little far away. That’s why he couldn’t hear the response. He stepped on the black connector and felt his footing barely stay on. Ghostbur took a breath before leaning over and opening the other door. 

It thankfully opened with ease. Right away, he noticed that car seemed different than the last. The sight made him fall back into his original car, landing on his back. Before he would have laughed it off as he floated back up, but this time, the ground seemed more real than anything he ever experienced. 

A familiar voice taunted him, “Get yourself together, and come here.” Dream’s voice lingered in his mind seconds after it was said, yet he felt frozen in place. Dream sighed, but not in the way Ghostbur typically heard people sigh. It was long and drawn-out, easily resembling the sight of when someone narrowed their eyes. 

Ghostbur sat up slowly and crawled slightly away from the man in the orange jumpsuit. “Come here.” Annoyance filled Dream’s voice, yet he found himself almost robotically standing up in his train car, his legs shaking to the point where he thought he would fall. Yet, he successfully made his way to the other train car, all of his movements feeling strange to him. He walked with more precision than he ever had before, but no carefulness in his mind followed it. 

He took a shaky breath, “Where’s Tommy?” Tears filled his eyes again, as Ghostbur wiped them quickly, making sure they got onto his sweater and not his face. 

Dream laughed once, “Gone.” Although the mask’s expression didn’t change, it cut right through the ghost.

“Tommy was with me though. He just had an invisibility potion. He- he was there. Sam was yelling at him. Then- then I was gone, but he’s still here,” Ghostbur thought through the events in his head, all of them making him dizzy in different ways.

Dream hummed, “Well, he was with you.” Dream looked down at his body. He tsked at himself, “Where are my manners? I can’t believe I’m still wearing this thing.” Dream gestured to his orange jumpsuit. He snapped and his outfit changed at once. It was a green hoodie with black fingerless gloves. The mask stayed the same, yet it seemed more menacing this time.

“Wait- I mean that’s a nice outfit and all, but what do you mean was?”

Confusion slipped into Dream’s voice, “You didn’t see? I suppose that makes sense because you passed out.” Dream adjusted one of his gloves, pulling it a little more onto his hand.

Ghostbur’s breath hitched. He didn’t remember passing out. He didn’t feel faint, the situation still fresh in his mind, “I didn’t though.”

“I saw you. It all happened right in front of me. How else do you think you ended up here?” When he saw Ghostbur thinking, he softly added, “Tommy said you have some memory problems.”

The words danced around his mind and he nodded. He did have trouble remembering things, but he felt like he would remember something like this. At least a fade into blackness instead of the one he got when he closed his eyes. Perhaps he passed out then, his brain just trying to make sense of it. “Yeah, you must be right.”

A smile showed through Dream’s voice, “I always am.” The words sent a shiver to Ghostbur as the man in front of him continued, “I guess you didn’t see Sam kill Tommy then.” Ghostbur tensed as his world stopped. 

Tommy died? His mind flooded with images of a Ghostinnit and the shame he would have to admit that he didn’t even see how he died. Tommy died from Ghostbur not being able to follow through a simple plan. His thoughts shocked him more than the news itself. The thought wormed its way into his mind, slipping through the cracks of uncertainty. “He did that?” Ghostbur’s voice cracked on itself. 

“Wow, you really missed all of it, huh.” Dream shrugged, “I heard Tommy screaming at the end of it. I tried telling Sam to stop, but he… oh how do I phrase it…” Dream thought for a moment, looking slightly up before meeting Ghostbur’s gaze once again, “He’s killed all of my other visitors, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.”

Ghostbur furrowed his brow, “I- I don’t understand. Tommy came back from a visit before. He said he visited you before.”

“He did! Sam killed him though, beat him to death, oh the poor thing,” Dream’s pity showed near the end. It consumed the room, tugging Ghostbur’s heart along with it. “Luckily, I was able to revive him.”

“Tommy said-”

“It doesn’t matter what Tommy said,” Dream’s words turned sharp and jagged. He paused for a moment and took a breath for brief composure. “Kids lie, Ghostbur. You can’t trust everything they say. Think about it, I didn’t have any weapons in the prison and Sam just happened to be in full netherite with a sword and axe he clearly isn’t afraid to show off.” Dream took a step towards Ghostbur, “Even those contracts that say he’s allowed to kill you. You remember signing that don’t you?”

Ghostbur blinked slowly before nodding. He supposed the details made sense, but it didn’t connect to Tommy’s apprehension about Dream. Tommy didn’t seem like one to lie. Especially about something so serious. Although he hadn’t known Tommy for long, he knew his friend cared about how others felt. Even if it was under the exterior of making fun of them, he cherished them more than could be described in words. Would Tommy lie to him- to all of them?

“A shame really. He tricks everyone,” he spoke with such confidence that the words seemed true, yet something in Ghostbur held onto the moments he spent with Tommy right before the prison. The fear in his eyes along with the caution in his moments. The slight shake in his hands opposed Dream’s words, but the masked man seemed to know what he was talking about.

“The thing is, I have an offer for you.” Ghostbur’s confusion melted away at Dream’s words, “You and Tommy are both dead. You passed out and fell into the lava, and Tommy… you understand already.” Ghostbur nodded automatically. “I can’t revive both of you, resources are too thin with myself in the prison. So it’s simple, would you like Tommy or yourself to be revived first?”

The question took Ghostbur off-guard. He opened his mouth to speak, but not a single sound was made. He tried to swallow down any fear he felt, but it clumped up in a way he couldn’t. It felt useless to make any kind of objection- if the situation even called for one. He pursed his lips, “What’s the difference?”

“Well, the first time means you’re instantly back. The second somewhat depends on whether people want you back or not. And while I haven’t been revived myself, I’ve heard a postponed revival can be quite… lonely if you aren’t prepared for it.”

Ghostbur tilted his head, “I don’t think I’ve felt lonely before. I’ve waited for someone though! Is it like that?”

Dream nodded, “Mhm, it just lingers for a while.” There was something reserved in Dream’s voice that hovered over him, but he didn’t think past it.

Ghostbur nodded happily, “Okay! I can go through that. Cause Tubbo and Ranboo were worried about him a bit. Besides, Tommy would really want me to be back, he seemed a little worried about the whole prison thing.”

Hesitance took over Dream’s voice, “That might be true.”

“What do you mean?” “I mean- you can’t really be certain he wants you back. A lot of people don’t like you.”

Ghostbur thought for a moment. People liked him, didn’t they? He called them his friend, and the feeling was stated to be mutual. Did they lie like Tommy did? Tommy did say they were friends after all. “Yeah, I think I forgot about that.”

“But it’s no worries!” Cheeriness filled Dream’s voice, a smile most likely prevalent behind the mask. “If someone wants you back,” Dream snapped with his fingers. “You’re back just like that.”

A grin returned to Ghostbur’s face, “Okay! Do I stay on the train?” 

Dream chuckled, “Nope, we’ve got a whole train station just for you.”

Ghostbur clapped excitedly, “I’ve never been to one of those before!”

“I know! I built it just for you.”

Warmness filled Ghostbur, a homey kind of warmness that made him hug Dream. The masked man seemed stiff in his arms and it made Ghostbur realize something, “Wait, I can touch you! I wasn’t able to touch people before.”

Dream nodded, though his voice seemed sharper than before, “Yep, limbo works a bit differently than the real world.”

Ghostbur pulled away from the hug slightly, “Limbo?” Before Dream could speak, he continued, “Oh I’ve seen people play limbo before, it looks like so much fun! I tried playing it with Tommy, but the bar kept going through me.” Ghostbur’s voice dipped at the end, before quickly coming back up, “Does the bar hit me now?”

Dream quietly sighed, a passive annoyance filled his voice, “Sure.” Dream turned slightly away from Ghostbur as the train rolled to a stop. Ghostbur stumbled slightly from the stop as Dream spoke, “We’re here.”

Dream walked to the other train car and Ghostbur excitedly followed. Dream touched the wall of the train, opening a door that Ghostbur didn’t remember seeing before. 

He looked over Dream’s shoulder, his grin slightly dimming. The air smelled stale, the dull flickering lights only amplifying that. The floor and walls were made of gray concrete, with nothing else behind him. Before he could even comment about the dreariness of the place, Dream grabbed him by the back of his sweater and threw him on the floor. Ghostbur winced, tears forming in his eyes at the new sensation that covered his hands and knees. 

“Dream-” Ghostbur was cut off by the sound of someone entering the train. He shielded himself momentarily but still caught the gaze of the man eagerly leaving the station. He looked like him. Though, not exactly. He had more color than him, his gray skin differing from the man’s light tan. The man wearing a coat collapsed into the train. Before he could ask anything, the door closed, and the train pulled away faster than he left it.

He sat on the concrete for a moment. Confusion dancing around his head, the stinging feeling on his body only emphasizing it. Dream said limbo would be lonely if he wasn’t revived. Was this the loneliness he was talking about? The feeling didn’t seem to be from the dreary place itself, just the floor roughly hitting him. He thought the sensation was called ‘pain,’ but he hadn’t felt that before either.

He slowly got up, slightly wincing from the previous impact. “Tommy?” He called out, then remembered that the boy must’ve been revived already. He took a shaky breath and walked around the station. There wasn’t anything too interesting. Barely anything he could describe with a positive word. 

He tried to smile, but it came out slightly flimsier than he would have liked, “Well we’ll just have to make the most out of it.” There wasn’t anything to make out of it. There were simply some gray walls, gray floors, and lights that barely illuminated the place. Now that he looked back at where the train used to be, there was some metallic track that laid under it. 

Ghostbur kneeled down and ran his gently placed his hand on it, his hand burned at the touch and he immediately pulled away. He looked at his hand, seeing a slightly darker gray form where he touched the rail. He stood up and walked a little away from the area, almost afraid he would be burned again.

He tried touching the area to try and make the pain lessen, but he winced at the feeling that seemed to pulse in his hand.

A shiver ran through his body before he realized he was lightly shivering from the room itself. He didn’t like how cold it was. His sweater didn’t help at all as he balled up the ends of it around his hands and tightly held his arms against his body. He remembered something Phil said about how corners are always ninety degrees as he walked over to where two gray walls met. He tucked himself into the corner and put his legs up against his chest. The walls seemed warmer than him, though occasionally sending more shivers through his body.

He put his head down behind his knees, trying to push himself more against the walls. He squeezed his eyes tight. Tommy was coming back for him soon. Even if it slipped his mind, Tubbo or Ranboo or someone would notice he was gone. He sighed as he shivered again. 

Ghostbur hadn’t felt the cold before. It swirled his mind and overtook his body, a blue feeling took the ends of his fingers. All he could think of was when he went out in the snow with Tommy. 

It was a cold day. ‘Freezing’ in Phil’s words. But Ghostbur and Tommy had an adventure that day! He remembered it so clearly, they were going to see if they could find a polar bear and ride it. Phil rolled his eyes at the idea, but after seeing the two’s determination, he passed them a backpack with some potion and golden apples. The potions didn’t seem strong, just for slightly better speed and a bit of instant health.

They ran out the door, Tommy bundled up with three layers and Ghostbur with his traditional outfit. Phil told them to come back by some time, that Ghostbur didn’t pick up on as he ran with Tommy into the snow. They ran until Tommy was out of breath and gasping the cold air, white shaky breaths coming out of him. 

Ghostbur waited patiently before Tommy spoke through pants, “Fuck… this stupid… jacket…” He struggled to take it off, his shaky hands unbuttoning it slowly.

Ghostbur tilted his head, “Didn’t Phil say to keep that on?”

Tommy laughed, “Fuck Phil as well. Besides, it’s not really that cold out.” He managed to get the jacket off and tied it around his waist. Tommy rubbed his arms for a moment before looking back at Ghostbur, “Let’s continue this way.” He started walking towards the direction they ran to previously, taking long strides instead of sprinting. 

Ghostbur followed suit. “Do you actually know where we’re going or did you just say that to Phil?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “Why does everyone think I don’t know what I’m doing!?”

Ghostbur raised an eyebrow. Tommy looked away for a moment, before mumbling, “Okay… I might not know what I’m doing, but I’m a big man! I’ll figure it out.”

Ghostbur smiled, “We’ll figure it out.”

Tommy gently punched Ghostbur in the shoulder, not paying any mind that it went straight through him. “Fine.” 

The minutes of their banter turned into an hour and a half, Tommy’s voice was slightly hoarse, though neither of them really minded.

Tommy fished around in his backpack for something as Ghostbur filled in the silence, “The weather is nice today.”

“T- the weather is the same e- every day.” Tommy grabbed a water bottle from his bag. He frustratedly sighed when he realized it was frozen. He put it back in the bag and slung it over his shoulders. He slightly stumbled at the action. Ghostbur sent him a look of concern that was clearly unnoticed. 

“Are you okay?” He didn’t know how he didn’t notice the shakiness in Tommy’s legs along with the dullness of Tommy’s lips. Even the paleness of the younger’s face should have been a dead give away something was wrong.

Tommy shakily nodded as he tripped into the snow, “F- fuck.” Ghostbur reached to help him up, but Tommy shivered in response. No- he didn’t shiver in response, his shivering worsened for that moment, despite it already being intense. Tommy laid back in the snow, his shaky hands messing with the knot around his jacket. 

“Tommy, what’s wrong?” His voice was more serious this time, as he watched his friend shiver. 

Tommy shook his head. He forced himself to sit up as Ghostbur’s concern increased. When Tommy started to stand up, his legs collapsed from under him, making him fall into the snow once more.  

“F-fine. ‘M fine.” Tommy closed his eyes as he shakily tried to push himself back up again. He failed as he gave, up letting himself lay in the snow, his white breaths looking smaller than the ones from before. 

“Tommy, you don’t look fine, what’s wrong?” Ghostbur typically liked being a ghost. He didn’t get tired, hungry, and if he thought hard enough about a place, he was there. It made it easy to see his friends, making his daily rounds much more convenient. But he despised standing helplessly as Tommy needed someone.

“N-” Tommy cut himself off as he curled himself into a ball.

Ghostbur snapped his fingers, “Oh, you’re cold! Just put on your jacket again.”

Tommy nodded as he tried undoing the knot around his waist, his fingers shaking too much for any precision. Ghostbur reached for the knot but stopped when he realized it was pointless. Ghostbur didn’t like the hopeless acknowledgment in his chest. It made him feel the solid pressure behind him as he shivered. Ghostbur tilted his head, the pressure feeling strange and foreign before he realized that he was still in the train station. He raised his head, squinting at his surroundings. His shoulders went down in disappointment as there was nothing new around him. He put his head back down. 

All he had to do was imagine the snow falling around him a little faster and he would be okay. He just had to imagine going to Phil and telling him about Tommy. The concern in his eyes as he brought the ender pearls in a chest, telling Ghostbur to go to Tommy again. He nodded quickly and thought about the cold teenager. He was there within moments as the scene in front of him made his heart crumble slightly. The snow laid delicately in his hair, the boy shaking even more. 

“Phil’s coming,” Ghostbur stated. He wasn’t sure which one of them needed to hear it more. 

Tommy shook his head, his shivering seeming worse and worse by the second. Tommy mouthed a word, that Ghostbur didn’t see. His mind was racing as purple particles came from his left. 

He sighed with relief when he saw it was Phil. “I- I think it’s worse.” Phil nodded, kneeling down into the snow and placing Tommy’s head in his lap. Tommy squinted before closing his eyes again.

“Don’t close your eyes, mate.” He rummaged through the backpack that still hung from Tommy’s shoulder. He grabbed a crimson red potion from the bag, took off the cap, and placed it against Tommy’s lips. The boy gladly drank it, practically chugging the bottle. Ghostbur knelt down next to Phil, not exactly able to help, but still there nonetheless. 

When Tommy finished the potion, he grabbed a golden apple from the bag. When Phil held it to Tommy’s mouth, the boy weakly grabbed the apple in his hand and took a bite out of it. 

Ghostbur’s quiet voice interrupted the scene, “Is he gonna be okay?”

Phil nodded before asking, “Did Tommy ask you to get me?”

Ghostbur shook his head, his gaze returning to Tommy. He looked better now. There was a bit more color in his skin, his lips turning pink as well. He was still shaking, something Ghostbur frowned at, but he was grateful to see that it wasn’t as bad as before.

After a few moments, Tommy finished the golden apple, stirring slightly in Phil’s hold. He sat up, moving his legs around. He shakily stood up as Phil stood up along with him, wrapping his wing around Tommy’s back.

Tommy mumbled, “Phil I’m f- fine now.”

Phil let out a dry laugh, “That golden apple only lasts in your system so long.”

Tommy shrugged it off, “‘m good.” He took a step forward, his legs still shaky as he grabbed Phil’s arm to prevent falling again. 

Phil raised an eyebrow. Tommy avoided Phil’s glance.

As the tension between the two ran thick, Ghostbur hopped in, “I think we should go back. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really excited to see a polar bear! But-” Ghostbur’s voice dipped, “I don’t want you to… be cold again.”

Phil carefully untied the knot around Tommy’s waist, it slipping away with ease as he held it out for Tommy to put back on. Tommy sighed and put the coat on, though he seemed pleased with the slight warmth it brought. 

Phil’s voice softened, “You told me you would keep it on.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes for a moment before pursing his lips, “Wasn’t that cold when I took it off.”

Phil rolled his eyes as he gently rubbed Tommy’s back, “That’s cause the jacket might have been keeping you warm.”

Tommy mumbled, “I know, I know.”

“I don’t think you can walk.” The shakiness of Tommy’s legs was still present, but the boy gently pushed himself away from Phil, testing the waters of his own stability. It turned out to be mostly successful with some stumbling. 

Tommy pulled off a half-smile, “With the speed potion in there, I think I’ll be fine.”

“You shouldn’t use the potions to keep on going, you should use them to help get out of danger.”

Tommy mocked Phil, making his voice deeper in a way that was far from accurate but was distinctly an impression nonetheless, “Oh look at me, I’m Dadza. I do old man things like gardening, and- and- and nothing else. But wait, I do constantly keep Tommy from enjoying life!”

Phil laughed, “You can’t enjoy life if you die from hypothermia.” He pulled a few ender pearls out of his pocket. “This will probably get both of us back, just make sure to hold onto me.” Tommy slumped into Phil out of pettiness as an ender pearl went flying from Phil’s hand and into the sky. He met Ghostbur’s gaze, “Seeya back at the base?”

Ghostbur nodded, shivering again. He remembered the gray walls against him. The gray walls he despised. He didn’t bother to open his eyes this time as he squeezed them a little tighter, wanting to be anywhere but alone in a train station.

[mynewfancyblog]

Poetry

Link to the poem: Chemistry Anonymous by Claire Burch | Poetry Magazine (poetryfoundation.org)

“Chemistry Anonymous” by was a poem written in 1946 by the American poet Claire Burch. The literary piece represents morbid experiences, bonds, and distress.

Considering that the work was created just after World War II ended, it is not surprising that it is about that tragedy. Overall, the poet connects the war to chemistry with a metaphor, explaining that it is impossible to truly understand either without direct, often visual experience (“The chemistry of war is hard to know… I only saw its dark results one morning, there is a lot to learn; I am learning”).

Additionally, the poet connects soldiers in war to elements with the phrase “the… fiction that men are brothers.” Most elements will react with each other, but those bonds can be strong, weak, or even explosive. The war acts as a unifying cause that elevates nationalism, but irony is that the soldiers fighting are still not attached to each other in any specific way. This connects to how compounds can be formed and decomposed repeatedly as long as the conditions are right, and considering that this is regarding a morbid event, death could absolutely be the condition for separation. 

The next stanza states “Go find small comfort in the ground or in a greater chemistry! He dies…” This paints a picture of how poorly the people were coping, and how they only want answers, only to portray the harsh image of death shortly after. It doesn’t matter how much you know, or even how much you prepare, death could still be implement. This is specially relevant for the specific time period as the threat of a nuclear scare was becoming more common for the governments and the public. Even earlier, the haunting line “Mysterious. I never saw it grow” shows how quick the violent, gruesome actions happen, with or without us.

Finally, the poem closes with “There is no mystery but that of wrong on the long shadowed beaches of the young” which symbolizes two things. The first is that the deaths are happening at places that would previously be considered innocent, and the young men in the war go through improper funerals by being buried in the sand. Though alternatively, it shows the emotional detachment of the poet, as with how the tide comes onto the beach and almost resets it, the land being fought on is similar. There’s people there until there aren’t, and the cycle resumes over the desire for more territory. In the end, it connects back to a chemistry lab, no matter what is done during an experiment, all of the chemicals are disposed, the glassware is cleaned, and it seems like nothing happened there at all.

(447 words)

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Domestic Architecture

Domestic architecture serves to provide psychological and physical support to the common individual, whether they be by themselves or joined by family and friends. Physical support is offered through the purpose and functions of the rooms while psychologically, the best assistance is through open rooms and wide windows that effectively widen the room. Another method for expanding an area is the shade of paint used in combination with the potential patterns given to the walls. By simply using gray and white, one can shift visual perspective through the idea of implied shading. The image below shows a direct representation of what I mean.

My home, however, is only painted a solid, beige color. Functionally, parts of the home feel smaller because of the openness, which sounds slightly redundant. The picture below shows how one of the areas could have been separated into its own room, which would have been nice for a feeling of privacy and intimacy.

Overall, the home is generally bright, but in that one corner of the house, it tends to get rather dark. (The picture is the maximum natural brightness.) I often spend my time in the living room as my bedroom feels cramped with the size of the bed in ratio to the rest of the room, and the living room offers more general brightness through an accompanying sliding glass door. But overall, without much creative, stylistic choice, the home feels like it has been copied and pasted rather than being specifically planned. 

(Note, I was not allowed to take pictures of my school, so I found different shots through the school’s news channel) Though, I also frequently reside in my high school, where I converse with my friends and teachers as well as learn material that will be relevant to my later college career. The school feels relatively large despite having only 800 students. This effect is established by having the large open stairwell in the middle.

Additionally, the white long walls provided an elongated effect that was discussed previously.

Not to mention, the main building has very dark blue beams that line against the walls, which give a feeling of support and integrity to the academic center.

Also, the general gray bottom paint in the hallways provided a smooth feeling into the gray, textured carpet, providing a feeling of harmony and unity between the color scheme.

Overall, the two buildings serve vastly different purposes, and with more thought put into the school system, it shows more complexity and creativity as a result.

[mynewfancyblog]

Big John

(257 words)

The Big John Monument is a 55-foot statue of an American man holding two paper bags. Currently, one shows the town center while the other celebrates Cape Coral’s 50th anniversary. The artwork was originally created in 1986 to celebrate the opening of a grand supermarket. I searched through many articles, but I can’t seem to find the name of the builder, potentially because they already worked for the city and did not care much for credit.

Originally, Big John began in Montana, as a mascot for Big John Supermarket. When the chain business traveled across America, so did their sculptures. Though, when the supermarket behind Big John locally closed, the shopping bags were taken away from the structure, giving emphasis on the closure. Now, the bags are changed out ever so often to create a sense of freshness in the city. Seeing as though they are changed for special occasions, it sparks conversation within the community and encourages engagement.

The sculpture commemorates the growth of the supermarket as mentioned before, but it also indirectly celebrates the city’s success through being able to financially afford inviting new businesses. However, it also stands in the greater picture to promote nationalism and unity through the American flag present. The white shirt resembles purity and honesty while the blue jeans represent bravery that past veterans have had.

Overall Big John might have started as a marketing ploy, but it connects back to the average man who holds patriotism for the nation’s opportunities- including the opportunity of where to shop.

[mynewfancyblog]

Midsummer Night #10

Link: Marcos Grigorian | Midsummer Night #10 | The Metropolitan Museum of Art (metmuseum.org)

(563 words)

“Midsummer Night #10” is an art piece created by Iranian Marcos Grigorian in 1991. His creation consists of a canvas covered with black clay and small, speckled pieces of straw. His materials connect back to his upbringing as it represents the life he lived in his village, as the clay and straw were natural resources that surrounded him. Overall, the art falls into the Saqqakhana Movement, which is recognized as an era of modern art in Iran.

In the realm of abstract art, the concept of the materials used can be perceived through the physical attributes of the substance itself or the emotional resonance it carries. In “Midsummer Night #10,” the hay and clay both directly connect to the title as a representation of a calm scenery provided by nature. However, the juxtaposing textures provide a contrast of the roughness of the hay versus the smoothness of clay. One is easily breakable, while the other is easily moldable. This decision by Marcos Grigorian gives into the notion of the battle nature has with itself, otherwise known as the circle of life. The hay being more present through the bottom of the piece represents a dynamic system of leveling, which connects back to how within nature, there are levels of predators versus pray. 

Abstract art, with its rejection of realistic depictions and embrace of non-representational forms, has been and opportunity for exploring the concept of simplicity. In the case of “Midsummer Night #10,” the minimalism associated through the shapes, colors, and overall composition gives a challenge to the viewer to explore the deeper message provided by the deliberate choice of understimulation. At its core, simplicity in art involves distillation and reduction from modern ideas, which brings the visual elements back to their purest forms. In this case, it is through the use of simplified, real materials such as straw and clay. The opposition of using processed goods like acrylic paint or gouache feeds into the idea of connecting back with nature, for society has strained so far away. In a world filled with constant entertainment and oversaturation, Marcos Grigorian’s piece resembles what humanity used to be, and the remarkable difference compared to what it is today.

When art resembles boundless creativity, and abstract art shows how artists can break free from the constraints of realism and expression, it is a powerful and deliberate choice to use only two colors. The limitation of other pigments is essentially a liberation of expectations and norms. In “Midsummer Night #10,” the palette of black and brownish yellow fosters a sense of unity and coherence. This duality of stark contrast creates visual tension and suspense. With reference to nature, this represents the harmony of opposites and the struggle between conflicting natural forces. Additionally, the specific use of black and a lighter color feeds into the idea of day and night, with how it is constantly changing, but ever present. 

Overall, “Midsummer Night #10” by Marcos Grigorian represents the beautiful simplicity of nature, and how it is undervalued compared to the technology we have today. With anthropocentrism becoming more prevalent as society seeks more and more short-term technological solutions, nature suffers the invisible costs of economic growth- contamination and extinction. While presently, governments and organizations are trying to improve the economic state we are in, this piece was created about 30 years ago, where conservation was certainly not a priority. 

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Representative Work

(949 words, ironically I was trying to force myself to keep it short. I could go on about the portray of masculinity and sexuality for at least another thousand words, haha)

All great pieces of literature establish a main idea with corresponding undertones. “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” by Tennesse Williams is a complex play that processes the ideas of the American dream, mendacity, and the harsh effects those have on individuals.

“Cat” is a play that takes place in Southern America in the 1950s. There is a cast of 3 main characters, 3 side characters, and 2 minor characters; in which the main characters and side characters are part of the same family. Act 1 begins with Maggie and Brick, a couple that seem to be having issues with intimacy. Maggie desires children and attention, while Brick is distantly depressed due to a rough combination of his alcoholism and grief over his best friend Skipper’s recent death. Then, Act 2 discusses Big Daddy’s potential cancer, in which he is told that he is completely cancer free when the opposite is true. Big Daddy tries to talk to his son Brick, but it is unsuccessful before Brick reveals, in the heat of the moment, that his father actually does have cancer, and they just wanted him to have one last final good night. Finally, Act 3 is where tension explodes, where Big Daddy’s other son, Gooper, desires the inheritance because he has proven to have children and be very successful while Brick has not. In the spur of the moment, Maggie reveals that she is pregnant, which results in Big Daddy to settle on giving the inheritance to Brick. Later that night, Maggie tries to convince Brick to have a child with her once again, but this time, to not disappoint his father.

One of the details that shows complete significance is the setting. The entire play takes place in a singular bedroom. The lack of other settings in the story highlights how all the conflicts originate from the bedroom, which includes: Brick’s lack of sexual desire for Maggie, their childlessness compared to Mae and Gooper, and how in an off-stage bedroom, Big Daddy’s experiences crippling pains from his illness. The consistent setting serves as a reminder that the characters cannot run away from their problems, symbolizing the permanence of their issues. Additionally, it also underscores the theme of deceit, as old lies are replaced by new ones, such as Maggie lying about being pregnant after Big Daddy discovers the truth about his cancer.

Not to mention, lighting is employed as a powerful dramatic element, using fireworks and a lampshade to convey a new theme. The fireworks symbolize the allure of the American dream, appearing attractive and beautiful, yet none of the main characters admire it. The idea of the American dream was particularly prominent during this time, evident in the persistent shame on Brick’s crumbled career, and Mae and Gooper’s sense of entitlement to Big Daddy’s estate due to their many children and professional success. The playwright illustrates that the American dream remains an unattainable desire that does not benefit individuals fairly. This is exemplified when Big Daddy and Brick argue while fireworks burst in the background. Although the children’s laughter can be heard from a distance, the adults do not pay attention to the bright lights. This secures society’s false promise that the American dream leads to complete happiness. Big Daddy already enjoys the aftermath of his success through a life of luxury and a vast plantation with corresponding servants, yet nothing can cure his cancer and correlating depression. In addition, lighting is also present in Act 3, when Maggie tries to reconcile with Brick. She turns on a rose-colored lampshade, creating a rosy perspective for the audience, suggesting that everything will be fine in their relationship. The color pink often symbolizes intimacy and sexuality, as it is associated with areas like the lips and cheeks. However, the specific use of rose pink connects to the idea of seeing things through rose-colored glasses, an idiom that serves to further build up the theme of mendacity. While the rose color is for the audience to hope for a happy ending, it also connects to Maggie, with how she wants to pursue a family with Brick, despite how he only shows disgust or anger towards her.

Though, sound is paramount when highlighting the presence of deception. This is most evident through the persistent thunderstorms, particularly at the end of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3, coinciding with the highest tensions in the narrative. It is commonly known that lightning precedes the rumble of thunder, and the greater the time gap between them, the further the storm is. During Brick and Big Daddy’s conversation about Brick’s unhealthy drinking, Brick briefly contemplates revealing Big Daddy’s cancer, symbolized by the lightning, while his suggestion that Big Daddy won’t live long is the thunderous revelation. Big Daddy, unable to hear Brick’s previous thoughts, is taken aback when he hears the mumbled piece of news and asks many times for Brick to repeat it as a desperate, final act. Brick tries to avoid the request, but Big Daddy already heard him clearly enough as he hovers in a piercing layer of denial. Crucially, the entire revelation occurs indoors, and the characters cannot see the night sky, leaving them, and the audience, in suspense when the next collapsing sound will fall, mirroring the suspense around when the lies and relationships will also crumble. The use of sound heightens the tension and anticipation, emphasizing the disintegration of trust and honesty amongst the characters.

Overall, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” resembles a perfectly fractured family that is only held together by lies. Through the simple things, such as the setting, lighting, and sound, Tennesse Williams finely executes the breaking relationships through mendacity and toxicity.

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About Me

Hi! I go by Jade, and I'm a senior at Oasis High School. I've been completing dual enrollment classes for about two years because I want to obtain my Associates of the Arts as I graduate. Though in the long run, I'm going to major in chemistry and minor in math so I can be a professor.

I've been working at Mathnasium as a math instructor since February and I really enjoy my job! I tutor kindergarten to college, but I prefer working with the older kids a bit more as I find it easier to talk to them and keep their attention.

In my free time, I like reading books, playing videogames, and listening to music. I generally like to read thriller or romantic comedy as both tend to keep my interest pretty easily.

I hope we have a great semester!