la vie est belle.

i watched pan's labyrinth today. i tried not to cry, half because i was embarrassed to cry in front of sean. otherwise, i would have. it's tragic, but it's amazing. one of the best movies i've seen in my entire life. it is a beautiful film, though its message is deeply morose.

if i could link it to anything it would be life of pi, because at the end it is up to you to decide what you believe. the main disparity between the two, though, would be with life of pi your faith leans you toward the animal story...and with pan's, your humanity leads you towards its equivalent of the murder-cook story... i want to believe the magic so much...it almost hurts.

"CARMEN: As you get older, you'll see that life isn't like your fairy tales. The world is a cruel place. And you'll learn that, even if it hurts.

She throws the mandrake into the fire.

OFELIA: No!

CARMEN: Ofelia!! Magic does not exist!

She grabs the girl by the shoulders, shaking her.

CARMEN: Not for you, me or anyone else!"

i opened my lovely copy of Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, read parts, as inspired by miss harley, and discovered the map of the universe. what's particularly special about my copy when it comes to this map is the writing in pencil that takes me by surprise every time i run into it... a couple of stars are named, the galaxy becomes my galaxy, my love, my life. anna, eric, leslie, anna, jamie, me; we're all named. i suppose i should take the liberty of adding more stars...

when i found myself at this page i cried. because that page is beautiful.

gogo loves didi; didi is beautiful.

it's cute to be square

:)

i know i've posted this before, and that it was not even very long ago, but this poem is, possibly, the only good poem i have ever written in my life. i don't remember writing it, and that only convinces me more; it must have been just a burst of light. (allusion)


Somewhere,
inbetween the unattended spatter of a masquerade,
truly lay scenes of
shivering fortitude kneeling
or quivering lips delving
deeper
into cerulean melancholy.

but, in (y)our somnolent world, those with postmodern bodies direct (y)our sentiments

-using cleverly, witterly-designed, redundant [but who notices?] rhetoric -

towards believing that those
em ty pl ys
aresolidoutright

and are what we
exist
to mock.

i want and need college so much.

that statement isn't fair. nor does it accomplish anything. it is nothing but a wisp on the air, manifested by all sorts of feelings of doubt, weariness, pain and curiosity. i say it and i say it and i say it; i hear it and i hear it and i hear it. it's nothing new.

it is never spoken as if it's unexpected. it is never spoken to explain emotions. it does nothing. it does not bring may close. it does not cut february short. it does nothing. in that way it is empty.

it is not fair to reach out for what's out of reach and not first for what's reaching out to you. it is not fair to my friends, my loves, and my family to have my eyesight so focused out on the distance. it is not fair to be so absent. in that way it is harmful.

high school is as transient as life. it is as fleeting as life. sand through the sieve, sand through the sieve; therefore i need grab for handfuls and pray that the flow doesn't yet cease... it's not fair to point my finger at it and call it the past, i'm not time, i'm not god, i'm not even outside of its current.

it's only fair to embrace what's close and give it respect by protesting as it's torn from me, by wailing, crying, and screaming as if i'm losing my life itself, because i am, and i shouldn't treat it as if it were any less.

i've decided that i have two major flaws. i'm not suggesting that they are my only major flaws; these two have just made themselves considerably apparent over the past few days. they both deal with love; emotionally, platonically, and also intellectually. i suppose my statement of realization implies that i must take action to correct them, but i doubt it's really possible. rather i find that my statement here is simply comparable to a recognition of the works of the world, of the gaps in the scenery and the blocks missing in the sky. i'd walk under it even if i could see through the holes; i'd fall into the ditches as well as if i hadn't seen them. i am outside my own life and i'm merely describing what i observe.

i fall in love through the transitive property. sorry; you were right. it's not right. i shouldn't fall in love because i love you love him. but i do. and it's not fair. but, as i said, this isn't completely about men. i love you love books. i love you love music. i love you love opinions. there's just an obvious problem with those sentences: they leave no sentiment within me. they leave me empty, and maybe that's why i'm so dead to feel. apathia, aphasia, athambia, all are me; i'm full of for reasons unknown but time will tell as uttered forth in the public works of Puncher and Wattman quaquaquaqua the skull fading fading fading...

i fall in love from behind glass windows. my mind is behind my eyes, my thoughts are behind my perceptions, my passions are behind my fear. i've literally felt myself in love through a window; i've felt myself watch and wish, watch and wish. oftentimes if i look through the glass hard enough, i can eventually see myself looking through the glass at myself looking through the glass at myself. it's like emotionally standing between two mirrors: when you look at the infinite reflections, you start to wonder which is the real one and doubt that it might be you. this is me in love. one reflection loves one, one reflection loves another, one reflection loves another, and one reflection dies. parts of my soul fall to the ground every time one dies, until half of my face is missing, half of my heart is missing. with each one gone, my capacity for love diminishes, as if fate itself was imbibing my liquid captivation. once again i'm empty. i'm a drained vessel, a soulless observer, as transparent as the glass i look through. perhaps the windows look through me, and i'm the unnecessary middleman.

these are my flaws laid out as plainly as i can offer them. the deepest hope that resides within me is the hope that i can fill the gap they create with existential meaning someday, that maybe in that landscape with holes in the sky and ditches in the earth, i can walk in mid air, therefore nullifying any troubles from above or below. maybe, though i said i recognize that this is only a statement, not a resolution. this is no promise to grow, this is only as understanding as to why i falter, why oftentimes my soul shatters or my body caves in, why i am not yet a real person.

so i'm a coward.

this weekend proved it to me. don't get me wrong, it was great. it was amazing. i learned so much, whether it be politically, socially, psychologically, or emotionally. i know how to dance better. i'm more comfortable speaking in public. i know who aaron jabbarri is. i know more about the many issues currently plaguing our nation. i got to see ralph nader, nancy snow, and that other guy. i was surrounded by hot gay guys. i was hit on and checked out numerous times. i got spanked by a stranger. i had caucus with my friends.

(i love anna, eric, yvonne, james, tina, and ms. epps.)

but some of these things brought to light some of my own flaws:
i was hit on but i did not respond
i was checked out but i got no names
i was surrounded by gay guys but i made not a single new gay friend
i can speak in public, but i didn't enough
i love JSA, but this might be the first/last convention i attend
i love JSA, but i should have loved it for the past 3 years as well

i've made a huge mistake. and a bunch of huge little mistakes. and now i hit myself over it.

even my own feelings on my sexuality have taken a turn. i'm head over heels for someone i shouldn't be. what's worse is, i probably make that person uncomfortable. my friendships and my lovelife can be summed up as the consistent need for comfort. some part of me refuses to open myself to comforting. therefore you can see the tension within myself at causing another discomfort. especially someone i fell for.

this weekend was a success for my mind, for my experience, for my entertainment. but my internal happiness had been unconsciously weeping...something's wrong inside me and i can feel it surfacing, like the fish out of the mirror. i'm a coward. a coward.

no, not even the name of coward is left for me on earth. the curtain is down.

i posted this a long time ago on my myspace blog (but who reads those?) and then realized that, since anna posted her horses essay, i should post my analysis on the proof of witches. i can be clever, too! a clever.....clever...clever albatross!

{proof} of witches.

i will now analyze the validity and soundness of the well-known proof of witches.

there are four main syllogism's in this proof:
1. all that burns is wood
witches burn
witches are made of wood

2. all that float on water weigh equally
wood and ducks float on water
wood and ducks weigh equally

then, implied is:

3. wood and ducks weigh equally
witches are made of wood
witches and ducks weigh equally

this proof, then, is applied to situation:

4. witches and ducks weigh equally
the accused weighs as much as a duck
the accused is a witch

now; is this argument valid?
well the first three syllogisms are, indeed, valid. assuming both premises are true in all three, the conclusions must then also be true. however, in the fourth case, assuming both premises are true, can one truly infer the conclusion? was it ever stated that all that weighs as much as a duck is a witch? indeed, this was not the case. what would have been valid could only be:

4. witches and ducks weigh equally
the accused weighs as much as a duck
the accused weighs as much as a witch

could this be remedied? i'm afraid not. for if one tried to correct the proof with a statement such that all that weigh as much as a witch are witches, that surely would create confusion, because the duck, then, would also be a witch and therefore defeats the purpose of any of the previous syllogisms because one could only discover a witch by weighing it alongside a fellow witch. the duck was also not prosecuted, so this could not be the case.

so we have arrived with our understanding that the 4th syllogism is not valid, therefore automatically making it not sound. but are any of the arguments sound?

the answer is no. for the arguments to be sound, each premise must be true. in fact, only one premise of each of the first two syllogisms is true. it is not true that all that burns is wood, because candle wicks burn and ducks burn and cakes and muffins burn.

(i can assure you that none of the preceding are, indeed, made of wood. for example a wooden muffin would indubitably taste horrid, be hard to chew, and give us splinters in our mouths. we all know that this is not the case, because muffins are light, fluffy balls of goodness.)

the 3rd argument is far from being sound since it uses two premises from previous unsound arguments.

this, therefore, invalidates the entire proof and, therefore, that young woman was prosecuted unfairly and Sir Bedevere should not be revered as a great logician; he is flawed.

as citizens burnt the innocent, the mistreated duck quacked silently in memory of a woman murdered by false logic.

tell me how fair this is:

-that my efc is over $20,000, and he got $0.
-that all of my schools are going to see my D in my college class even though it didn't count.
-that we have, once again, a lit review due in a week, a lit project due in two weeks, and another lit review due in three weeks.