Day 2: A Start

Day 2: A Start

Max was in the middle of trying to explain to his parents that he and Harold needed this trip.

“Mom you don’t understand, I am going crazy here, seeing the same depressing thoughts day after day, I need to see depressing thoughts of ALL shapes and sizes if I am going to do something amazing.”

“Max,” Said Claire (his mother), “you know that doesn’t even make a tiny shred of sense. You have a duty here, a responisblity.”

Max could tell she was not buying it, “what responsibility? I’m not Buffy and I don’t go around using my powers to save lives. Jeez you were my age once, all I am trying to do is get away for a bit, I’ll be back before school even starts and you and Dad can have the house for yourselves.”

Max’s father was part of the council dedicated to making sure that Max’s golden eyes were never put in danger. In retrospect it was not a good idea for him to leave without his father knowing, but Max was determined to find his heart out on the road. He had no idea how but he could feel his destiny calling to him. Like a soft breeze in a hurricane, just distinct enough for only him to make out. Later the next day Max and Harold piled into Harold’s old mustang and headed for the highway. They were headed for Nevada, for particular reason than to head for Nevada.

“Max promise you will call when you get where you are going.” Says Claire as she contemplates the stupid decision of letting her psychic son take a road trip with his best friend.

“I have no idea where we are going mom, but I promise to call you when something horrible happens,” Max smiled at his mother, who obviously did not appreciate his dark humor, and the two boys took off. They had nothing but the wind in their hair, and map of the states, and a collection of clothes and electronics stuffed into their suitcases in the backseat.

Harold was taking the first shift at driving and looked over at Max who was pouring over the map trying to get a feel for any place that stood out to him. Max look at the map imagine the lives of all the people living in the U.S. Their worlds all visible to him, their thoughts transparent and their minds open. He wondered if this is what God felt like, being able to look down knowing that any knowledge that others could possibly hide in the mist of their minds is yours.

“No,” He quickly thought out loud, “there’s no way god would ever look into anyone’s mind for no reason, too much dark shit amist all the fluff.”
           

Harold gave his friend a quick look over. “Jesus Max, can you at least wait until we are in the countryside to do the whole deep revelation thing? We don’t your brain exploding before this trip of ours even starts…”

Something New

The Micro Adventures of Maximus Eaves

(So during senior year of High School I had this plan to start a play…and well nothing exactly worked out. I had the idea but not the time or the skill. And now I am planning to write out a much bigger project. But I still love the idea I had, about a Boy named Maximus who has been gifted with the ability to see what others are thinking. It was a gift passed down through a royal bloodline and he is now the golden boy of his family. Only problem is, he feels incredibly depressed because he can see the honest version of the world around him and he hates what he sees. So along with his best friend/ semi-servant Harold West the two tackle everyday life through the lens of truth, in order to find so resemblance of Sanity in a dark world. So yeah, this is my writing practice. Bam.)

Day 1: Something new

          “two months…it’s been two months and is still have no idea what is happening”. Max stared out into the bay from atop the green bench that was at the end of a long walking path that started from Max’s local park. It had become his place of solitude when he was done pretending to be like other normal teens and could just rant about all the irrelevant details of life that plagued his mind on a daily basis. “Ernie,” Max said referring to the semi-polluted body of water he had grown close to, “Why is it that I can’t just be a superhero like other teens with powers? I mean I have no idea how useful I would be in the field as a mind reader, but granted im a go-getter, and I think given the chance I could be something more…dynamic than the ‘Golden Boy’.” In Max’s family line the Golden boy was chosen due to their ability to physically see the inner thoughts and intentions of others, and all of Max’s life he had been closely guarded so his power is not abused by some outside force.

“Ahh so here you are, I was starting to think that you had actually run off for good this time,” stated a mysterious voice that approached Max as he was horizontally laid out on the bench.

“Shove it Harold, if you were called to find me by my parents or some crap like that I’m not interested. Its summer and I plan on doing absolutely nothing as long as I possibly can.” Max shifts to make room for Harold on the bench, knowing full well his best friend would never sell him out.

“Well then I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in all this glorious junk-food I brought,” Replied Harold in a devilish voiced as he took out double-bacon cheeseburgers and curly friends from a large brown paper bag. Max turned to his friend, quickly taking a portion of the food for himself.

“Damn you Harold, my one weakness” Max sighed as Harold sat down next to him. “What are we doing man, two months into what will be our last summer before our final year of high school and we have done next to nothing.”

“Nothing?!,” Harold cried, “You know damn well that’s not true. In these past few months we have reunited a homeless man with his long lost daughter, helped the police find the hideout of a convicted serial rapist,  assisted our local youth center in creating a summer program that does not strain the city’s budget to heavily, and rescued a little girl’s puppy from the death of a speeding minivan.”

          “Ahh…yes the minivan, I think that may be my proudest moment yet, but we need to do more that. We need something bigger, something that will keep us occupied, something new..” Max said, lost in deep thought.

“Well my good sir what do you have in mind?” Harold was amused now, Max was not neccesarliy known for having thoughts on the level of a normal human being.

“Hmm…I think it is time for a road trip Harold, time to pack up and find something that will really wet our fancy, you have exactly one week to think about it.” Max then finished his food rapidly, jumped up from the bench, and proceeded to run home to inform his parents of his next micro-adventure.

Reflection For a Dance Class

So I did an Exercise where I just started writing, I tried not the think and just released how I felt into words. Hope it works.

     As we push along in the semester I find myself wondering am I actually improving in my dance ability and I question my own growth as a dancer. The class is wonderful but I have a tendency to interrogate all of my actions to the point where there are times that I completely ignore any talent that I might have acquired in a certain field. With Dance however it is different. With you are playing music and you miss a note, you know exactly what you did wrong and can correct the source of your error before you play again. With dance you can listen to a song for 3 hours straight trying to make a routine and nothing will click. This has always been my challenge. I am a very confident freestyle dancer but my skills do not hold when I am told to make a piece that requires structure. So throughout these two months I have imeresed myself in trying to make choreography without simply making stuff up. At first it was terrible, I could not adjust to the idea of structure and I hated myself for not being good enough. However after reading Art and Fear and starting Wild Minds I realized that I have been fighting someone else’s battles. In the words of the author of Wild Mind, “Some people are stalkers and some people are dreamers.” I have discovered finally that I am a dreamer.

            Structure is nice and what have you but when it comes to my mind I think in color. There is never a straight path in my life because there are so many things I want to do, and this is reflected in my dance. So I tried this. In class I did not think about trying to contain myself, instead I let myself go and do what I do best, but I simply did bigger moves at certain parts and smaller moves at other parts. To my surprise I could remember a dance better when I do not try and plot out everymove, for that is not how I learn in general. I have to shotgun information and stimuli and then choose whatever works best for me. This seems like common sense but nowadays our generation is not given enough room to creatively breath, we are told that the world is order and structure so we are taught in that fashion. Being a dancer who loves freedom but thinks in a foreign concept is extremely frustrating to say the least. Now for the first time I feel like I have a chance to make or make something beautiful, something worthwhile that tells people who I am and how far I have come as a dancer and a person. This is the reason I chose to study dance in college, this very class, so that I could be surrounded by people who have found their way, and also others who were still lost like me. It makes all the difference to not just be in a class where a professor lectures and occasionally makes jokes to keep the class awake. Hands on experience and the opportunity to be able to make a mistake without it affecting my final grade is just…unreal.

            We spend so much of our day just thinking. Thinking about work we have to do or the jobs we have to perform, and it seems we never take the time to just live. Not like partying your heart out and screaming YOLO at the top of your lungs, but just dancing or singing for the heck of it. The most creative things happen we do not want them too, because the world rewards those we take their time and do not try and force a masterpiece out of themselves for no reason. I am starting to see just how capable I am, not just as a dancer but as a human being. So I will continue to dance, and make pieces, and write, and enjoy myself, because that’s how my creative mind functions. Through my readings and the experience I have had in Dan 278 i have taken time to appreciate the little details that dancers cannot be taught. The feel of a certain move, the joy of making something unique, and the pain of a dance not being the way you wanted it fueling you to do better next time.

            I had no idea how this paper would turn out, I just started writing and let my expeience lead me, which is one of the greatest lessons anyone can learn. Let your experiences lead you, because they account for a lot more than you would think. All of your anger and disappointment at yourself as well as your joy and achievement’s are all wrapped up in your experience, so letting them guide you is a skill that is irreplaceable. I dance not to impress, but to express and give back to the world that has allowed me to grow into who I am. So as we push along in this semester and I question my abilities as a dancer I will allow myself to indulge in my past experiences and learn from them, so I can become the dancer and person I want to be.

Unfinished

one day I will come back to this and make a full story out of it.

Trials

No one knew when the trials were coming.

We stand around outside, waiting for Armageddon, not wanting to be forgotten but only wanting to let in.

Never once have looked forward, only backward into despair, for we fear once look back there will only be nothing standing there.

Fear consumes us as the trials we as humans must face bury deep into our soul, take our resolve and toss it up into the clouds forcing them condensate and rain down upon us, the very beings who once claimed the world.

We are prideful, arrogant, and terrified. We cling to power as the only source of confirming our own existence as the rest of the world accepts reality with no resistance.

We all must face trials

Depression, regressions, obsession to name a few, and only once we have conquered these trials can the things we call “dreams come true”. Everything we do, from the day we learn to take our first step to our first day in college is a test to our ability, it is a chance for us to grow and show how much we deserve the right to keep on living.

Keshana

So I had to write a little story for the child I am pared with and the local elementary school I work out and I figured, " hey why not share this with my thousands of readers (sarcasm)".

But seriously, enjoy =D

Keshana : The Worlds Biggest Pop Star

Keshana was a young and talented girl who loved music and dance.

She wanted to be a famous pop-star, all she needed was a chance.

She was smarter than your average bear, the coolest girl in school.

“I am going to be famous” She said, Keshana was no fool.

One day she saw a flyer for a show called “Rochesters Rising Star”

“This is my chance”, Keshana said. It was her turn to go far.

The auditions were fierce, there were many kids there. They could dance, sing, and spin.

But Keshana could move and groove with the best of them, she knew she had to win.

Her named was called she was the last to go, her family cheered her on.

And although she was nervous, once she did her thing her chances of losing were gone.

The judges cheered, Keshana took a bow, and her family and friends cried.

She had stuck to her guns and now she had proven her starry-eyed dreams never died.

Let this be a lesson to those with dreams of being the next big woman or man

Look to Keshana who now has Justin Bieber as her new biggest pop fan. 

A Little Story

Just a little story i wrote for my Psychology class. It is very random.

A Heated Session

Scene: Josh, his sister Louisa, and his mother Nicole have been called in for a mandatory family therapy session after Josh was found huddled over the body of his father whom he had just killed. He has been silent since that day. (From the viewpoint of Josh).

They are all looking at me…I can feel it; they think I am a monster, but I just did what I had to do. Louisa, my mom, and I are sitting in a white room across from a man named Dr. Summers who claims he is only here to help. I want to leave.

“well now let’s begin” exclaimed Dr. Summers, “I heard that you are responsible for killing your father, but I cannot possibly believe that is a the whole story. You are a bright kid who has his whole life ahead of him, what could have prompted this act of violence?”

I say nothing. I can no longer say anything, my judgment as a beast has already been carried out so there is no point in continuing to defend myself. This is just another therapist assigned to try and “fix me.”

“Please Dr. Summers, understand that my son has refused to say a word to me since that day we found him, I’m scared that he going to do this again. I-I’m scared for myself and Louisa. Please you are our last hope.” My mother explained.

Typical mom, she just does not understand, nobody does…

“Um Nicole was it?” Said Dr. Summers, “I assure you that I will do my best to help your son, I think I know what to do. Josh why did you feel threatened by your father?”

The question caught me off guard, so much so that I broke my silence.

“What?” I asked. In all the sessions I have been to never once has someone asked me that. Everyone in the room, save Dr. Summers, was shocked at my speech.

“Well the way I see it the only possible way for someone as smart as you to get so brutal and violent is for you to have no other choice. See when animals are backed into a corner that’s when they fight back the most. Humans are no different. So what exactly did your father do to make you hurt him?

Before I could speak up my mother interjected, “Nothing! My husband was a saint, the love of my life and all I had, why would you think that this is his fault?!”

“Nicole, please” Said Dr. Summers in an attempt to calm her down. “In all fairness this is not all about you, your son is obviously going through some sort of trauma and you need to try and be sympathetic toward what he is going through.”

“What HE is going through?! What about the fact that this family is now ruined?!” my mother gets up, starts holding herself and cries all at the same time.

I hate this. This side of her, she does this whenever things do not go her way. I’ve had to look out for her more than she’s done for me, and now that my father is…well gone, she has been even worse. I want to say something, to yell at her, to comfort her, but what?

“ENOUGH!!” screamed my little sister Louisa, who does not usually make a habit out of being loud. “Mom can’t you see that you are wrong?!” tears fill my sisters eyes “he was a bad man, daddy was…he hit you, he hit us, he didn’t care about us…and-and,” my sister could not continue. I quickly went over to take her in my arms, all that I felt I could do as her brother, shield her from the cruel world.

There was a long pause in the room; only the sound of tears could be heard. And Dr. Summers spoke up.

“You all have been through so much, but you cannot heal unless the truth is revealed and you are given time to properly grieve. Now I was given a file on your late husband Nicole, and he has quite the record. You three are a family and that means that you must work together in order to support each other at all cost. Now Josh, I believe now is the time for you to speak up. Do not worry about judgment, I am here to help you and that is all. I promise”

Finally I could no longer keep quiet.

“It was an average day... Louisa and I got home from school same as usual, and Dad was already drinking, same as usual. But today as different, he was complaining about not having enough for bills…and he saw us and lost it. He started screaming ‘you damn kids are sucking me dry’ and he charged at us. He pushed me out the way and struck Louisa across the face. I had no time to think, I had to protect her…so I tackled him. It all happened so fast, we struggled for a bit but I was able to push him off balance, right into the coffee table. I heard the worse snapping sound I could ever imagine…it was I could do to stop from vomiting, but I stopped him from hurting us again, I did what I had to do didn’t I?”

I was frozen in fear, I had never told anyone the truth before, and I was scared.

“Well now,” Dr. Summers started “you are not a monster at all are you Josh? When it comes down to the line we all have to do what it takes to survive in this world, and I think you made a noble choice in decided to defend your sister. Now that the truth is out we can start the road to recovery can’t we? I am mandating that you three attend weekly sessions with me for the next 6 months, so we can rebuild your relationship.”

My mother, finally knowing the truth that my father attacked first, could only nod her head in shock and disbelief.

 My sister, exciting about rebuilding her family, smiled for the first time since the incident.

And me? Well everything still felt like a dream, but if not for this therapy session things would have defiantly stayed a nightmare.

“Thank you Dr. Summers” was all I could manage to say.

Dr. Summers smiled “Oh Josh, my work has only just begun.”

The Star World

Welcome to the Star World, where nothing is perfect but everything is just.

Welcome to a world that was created out of pain and a lust  

For adventure, where we have evolved into beings who are now servants to love (un-indentured).

Here the only destruction is in the form of creation because this a world where we are truly trying to create the best nation, devoid of the temptation for devastation because we have stopped trying to drag each other down like crustaceans.

Welcome to a world where dreams are kept alive.

Here we do not see in color, we dream in it. The only black and whites that matter take the form of words on a page that lyrically phrase sentences and poems of beauty that in turn tase and stop ignorance dead in its tracks. 

Welcome to a world where the impossible happens everyday.

Here we craft stories. Not just bedtime tales, but imaginative masterpieces involving the rise of true heroes, the villains that try and stop them, and the darkness that is inside us all, fighting to break free and wreak havoc but we suppress it because letting evil out is a metaphorical strike three and  we cant have that.

Out stories cannot be contained by or be leather-bound, no our stories are star bound. With pages pale as moonlight, covers as bright and bold as sunlight, and forewords written by the GODS themselves letting readers know that it was OUR stories that kept them up thinking in THEIR beds at night.

Welcome to a world where the people know how to live.

Here children are taught to never lose faith within by parents who have felt the pressures of life and have come close to caving in.

Here single mothers and fathers balance work, a social life,raising babies, and holding in strife all in order to make sure their kids know what it means to work for something, to show them that nothing in this life worth having is easy getting.

Here all men are knights and all women are soldiers, but when it comes down to the line all knights would rather let their lights extinguish then let their soldiers fall because that's what distinguishes a weak man and a strong man. A strong man knows how to respect his soldier in ways that are not obscene so here ALL women are treated like queens!

Welcome to the Star World, a refuge created by a little boy who just wanted to live in a world where love and common sense rule as Royalty, and fear is not allowed anywhere near the throne.

Enjoy your stay.