Thursday, October 30, 2008

A Report By Jack Burden


My name is Jack Burden.
I am a reporter.
Information and dedication is the key to my success.
Anyone, anywhere, anytime.
Three stories are mine to tell,
My life, my world, my time.

Willie Stark is his name,
and boy, oh boy, is politics his game.
But as they say,
All good things must come to an end.
Some people have such a knack
For creating the best out of a bad situation
That they go around making bad situations
So that they can make the best of them.
Willie, oh, Willie,

Why'd you have to get involved?
Knowledge was your downfall,
And power was your tool.

Then there is the Scholarly Attorney.
His weakness disgusts me.
There was no way that he could have bourne me,
He was just too good.
To follow in his footsteps
Would be wasteful and useless.
Ellis, your holy ways consumed you,
after foulness had engulfed you.
Sweet and innocent,
Too innocent for my liking.

Next comes Judge Irwin,
A real swell guy he was.
Always there for me when I needed him,
Just like a father.
Not too corrupt, and not too shy,
The perfect balance amidst the chaos.
Friendly, yet serious;
Suttle, yet powerful.

Now it is I who must write my own story.
The Trinity put forth,
but who to follow?
Corruption, innocence, or somewhere in between?
That's enough for now,
I dug up too much already, and it's
Time to return to the present.
But don't worry, I'll be back.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

college essay

"Oh, come on, come with us!" my best friend whined as she confidently scribbled her name on the service sign-up sheet. As each one of my friends scratched their names on the list, I glanced hesitantly at the service site description: Soup Kitchen. Oh no. I had heard about that place, the grimy, filthy, diseased-filled soup kitchen. Bums and perverts filed in every day looking for a handout while greasily hitting on the volunteers. No way, not for me. But, before I had time to express a slightest complaint, my name was forged onto the list as the last space filled.

As I cautiously idled into the parking lot, my fears were confirmed. Outside, a line had already started to develop, and I considered reversing my car right back out of the parking lot, but before I could ponder the consequences, I saw my friend making her way over to where I was parked. She pulled me right out of the car and ran with me inside to where I was instantly handed an apron and a pair of latex gloves.


What I originally thought of as a headache ended up being a blessing. These people weren't perverts looking for handouts; these were ordinary people dealing with what life had issued them. Seeing mothers reassure their children that tomorrow they would return and consume one more meal that they might have not had; seeing fathers wrap up their own meal so that their child could have another meal that night; seeing the gratefulness in their eyes when families are asked if they would like another serving of mashed potatoes; seeing the heartache in parent’s faces when all of the extra bread is gone; and seeing the look of utter desperation when explaining to a child why they couldn’t eat like this at home. These are the observations that made me realize how much of life itself I take for granted, and ultimately allowed me to press forward to try to understand the human condition, and uncover a purpose behind life, beyond the basic need for survival.

I came to this conclusion: if the world and all its elements acted independently, with no other regard for anything else, there would be no hope or faith of a greater scheme. As I continue to learn from this experience, I intend to try to inspire the community around me, to reach out, as I have, and begin molding a better world for the remainder of this generation, and the ones to come.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Two-Face



Hey, you up there. Yea you.
You chip off the ol’ block.
Christ you were a smart guy,
With the sweetest little wifey,
And the swellest kids ever.
A good little bloke with a pure heart.
Can you hear the fluttering whispers of the faint angel voices up there?
Wow you left a jolly happy- brute creation down here,
But now you’re
como un santito.


Yea, well ignorance is bliss, and all good men hope for peace.
If your eyes get starry with tears again, I’m gunna have to puke.


Hey you down there. Yea you.
You
crazy, funny ol’ fat man.
Christ, you talk like a snot,
With your
little squirt- face.
You were as dumb as a
hoot owl,
And the stinkingist louse God ever let live.
You god-damned
sap with your thick wooden head.
You
stupid, stupid, stupid , good-for-nothing piece of sawdust.
But now you’re gone. I guess
God answered our prayers.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Escaping a "Long Day’s Journey into Night"

“The right way is to remember. So you’ll always be on your guard. You know what has happened before… That’s what makes it so hard- for all of us. We can’t forget” (45-48). Throughout Long Day’s Journey Into Night, author Eugene O’Neill offers temporary escape routes for his characters to indulge in. Some, even most of these agents, introduce corruption into the Tyrone family (Thiessen). Instead of directly dealing with difficult situations, all four Tyrones isolate themselves from each other to the point where a stifling sense of loneliness and despair envelopes them. In order to provide needed relief from the hysteria, O’Neil induces different elements, such as drink, fog, or transcendence, to protect his characters from reality.

Throughout "Long Day’s Journey Into Night", the use of whisky serves as a corrupted substitute for all pain, while unconsciously distracting the characters from the real pain they face. When drunken with his father, the poetic Edmund recites Baudelaire with complete sincerity, “Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question… be drunken continually. Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue as you will. But be drunken” (135). To enforce the effect of a temporary escape, O’Neill constantly has his characters interact while partially or completely drunken. This state of mind serves as a relaxing element. It seems as if these characters can only converse openly in the midst of whisky or some other form of alcohol. Instead of facing the true reality of their chaotic lives, the family, excluding Mary Tyrone, drink to subsidize turmoil. Another character, known for his dreaming, recalls a dream he once had of the sea. Edmund reminisces, “I became drunk to the beauty and singing rhythm of it, and for a moment, I lost myself- actually lost my life. I was set free! I belonged… within something greater than my own life, or the life of man, to Life itself!” (156) Just as being in a drunken state helps to “deny the reality of the present” (Thiessen), another element also allows for escape.

“Why is it fog makes everything sound so sad and lost, I wonder?” (123) Mary’s response to the fog creates a certain ironic twist that ultimately forms a wall around her and her family (Thiessen). While in one situation, Mary criticizes the fog for isolating her from happiness, the next she praises it for protecting her. “I really love fog… it hides you from the world and the world from you. You feel everything has changed and nothing seems to be. No one can find you or touch you anymore” (100). In a sense, Mary’s love-hate relationship with the fog parallels an oscillating vehicle of her “drug-induced escape”: morphine (Thiessen). Just as the fog acts as both a protector and a barrier, Mary’s morphine addiction ironically represents both relief and isolation. Mary’s family express their resentment towards her addiction by subconsciously alluding to her love of the fog. “The hardest thing to take is the blank wall she builds around her. Or it’s more like a bank of fog in which she hides and loses herself” (139; Thiessen). Along with Mary’s appreciation of the fog, her son, Edmund, also comes to love the feeling obtained when wrapped in its darkening hold. “The fog was where I wanted to be… Nothing was what it is. That’s what I wanted- to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue, and life can hide itself… [it was] as if I was a ghost belonging to the fog…It felt so damned peaceful to be nothing more than a ghost within a ghost” (133).

Rather than confronting the overwhelming pain directly, each Tyrone reverts nostalgically to a dream or some lost memory (Thiessen). “The past is the present, isn’t it? It’s the future too. We all try to lie out of that but life won’t let us” (87). Throughout the play, the members of the Tyrone family each desire to transcend in order to “escape the reality of the present time… and remove themselves from the community of the present” (Thiessen). To describe these characters completely, one might refer them to be ghosts of their own past. As the play unfolds, readers discover how truly unhappy these characters are by their constant desire to be somewhere or somebody else. Mary continually remembers her girlhood, at times reverting her behavior to that of a schoolgirl (Thiessen). She also reminds herself of her dreams before she married James Tyrone, “I had two dreams. To become a nun, that was the more beautiful one. To become a concert pianist, that was the other” (104). Although Mary seems to be the ultimate “ghost” in their lives, other family members also journey into their past to resurrect old memories of happiness. James reminisces his old acting days, where people respected him, “That young man is playing Othello better than I ever did”, and recalls it being one of the greatest events in his career. “I had life where I wanted it” (150). On the other hand, Edmund’s transcendental memory is solitary, “isolated not only from his family, but from each individual living person, so that he could be united with all people through nature, escaping his own human body” (Thiessen). “[I] became the sun, the hot sand, green seaweed anchored to a rock, swaying in the breeze… For a second there is meaning… It was a great mistake, my being born a man, I would have been much more successful as a seagull or a fish” (156-157).

Even though drink, fog, and transcendence supply the Tyrone family with a temporary escape, the painful reality is that it encourages a dependency on those reoccurring elements. Rather than immediately addressing the factors that “perpetuate their misery” (Thiessen), the family rotates through the dependency cycle, until it ultimately smothers and ruins them. So, in fact, the sources of escape do not aid their survival, but eventually lead to their destruction, isolating the Tyrones from all hope.


Works Cited
Alone in the Dark: Isolation in O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night. 1999-2008. Trinity Western University. Bryan Thiessen. eOneill.com. 21 Sept. 2008. <
http://www.eoneill.com/library/essays/thiessen2.htm>

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

You see me, but you don't see Me



I am Tired, I am Weary, I am Restless,
And I am Still.
I am Confined by Bars, I am Imprisoned,
And I remain Calm.

You see me, but you don't see Me.

Inside I have Hopes, Inside I have Dreams,
Inside I'm an Eagle, Inside I am Free.
I Soar over valleys, I Perch on Mountains,
I Dive for Prey, and Stand for Pride.

You see me, but you don't see Me.

Instead I am Here, I am Stuck behind Bars,
Instead I am just a Bird, I am just a Display.
I Climb on the Walls, I Perch on the Poles,
I eat when I am Fed, and Stand for Nothing.

You see me, but you don't see Me
.