Nothing good ever came out of those combination of letters. In fact it was the most unfair thing in the Mario games. The Goombas never stood a chance. But I'm talking about a different P.O.W. here. The periods after each letter make all the difference. It's my label. Not a label on a can that can be torn off. It's a permanent label, tattooed to me, free of ink, free of needles, free of charge. Works like a sharpie, permanent stains. Or kind of like soy sauce or blood if you don't happen to be carrying a Tide Pen on you.
I'm like McCain, but I don't necessarily see eye to eye with him. We're both P.O.W.'s. He's a Prisoner of War, and I, of Want. I want, and I want it all. I want everything from the valleys to the oceans. I want to be the King of the World, but that's a bit too much to ask. So I decided I might be praying for too much, so how about world peace? Battle world hunger? Free health care in the United States? Free train rides in New York? Free candy from the corner store in Astoria? Is THAT more realistic? Apparently not. Let me rephrase then, I'm not praying for it anymore. I'm begging for it. I want something, or someone to acknowledge that world peace is more important than the fact that President Obama's daughters might go to private school. Excuse me for stealing your line here, but I want change. Is that too much to ask? Why do Obama's daughters make it to front page news more often then important news? Why is it that we see catastrophes hit front page news more often then the words "Peace Talks in Consideration" or just "Peace"? Why do we spend our time stalking Obama's daughters fancy lifestyle, when there are plenty of daughters in Africa who can barely afford to eat? Chew on that food for thought.
McCain is a Prisoner of War, and I, a fellow P.O.W. A Prisoner of Want but also a Prisoner of Work. Whipped and tamed by society to spend grueling hours studying graphs of a function that can't even drawn a green line of peace between one country to another. Whipped and tamed by society to spend grueling hours learning the rate at which a ball falls to the ground when fired with x velocity at a y angle of elevation, when in truth the "ball" is just a nickname for the next missile we're aiming at our enemies. Whipped and tamed by society to spend our lives working, earning money, just to throw our salaries into tax dollars. A Prisoner of Work, and these handcuffs have no keys. The spare? I swallowed it.
The list doesn't stop there. A Prisoner of Want, a Prisoner of Work, a Prisoner of Wonder, a Prisoner of Wandering, a Prisoner of Words, a Prisoner of Woe. What I mean to say is I'm Prisoner WONDERING about the direction we're all headed, WANDERING around in attempt to find answers to our stupidity, only to hear the WORDS, "You're too young to do anything about it. Even so, you're only one person." Yeah, and with that point made. I'm a Prisoner of Woe.
It's not in my nature to be passive here. It's just not me to sit around and go with the flow. I might be young, but I'm not too young. I might be only one person, but that's one more of a person you'll ever be, you spineless thug. Learn to stick up for your beliefs, dammit. I'm a Prisoner of my own name, Will(iam). It's just not me to be passive, and I'll forever be a Prisoner of that. I'm a Prisoner of Will. Better yet, I'm a Prisoner of my own free Will.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
spring.
I recieved my exam grades last Friday and now I'm on Spring Break '09 until the 31st.
In the past couple of days, I haven't been thinking much, just living. I joined a Latin dance class at my gym. I finished a friendship bracelet. I window-shopped. I baked a cake. I slept 9 hours every night for the past 3 days. It's a nice change from my normal schedule of workeatsleep, repeat. I feel like life should be like this: calm, steady, and enjoyable.
I took my dog out for a walk today and realized what a relief spring brings: feeling the sun shine again, watching the grass turn a fresh shade of green, and shedding the heavy sweaters and boots. Knowing that summer is just around the corner. Spring is so wholesome.
As I go through high school, I realize more and more how focused I am on getting the grades and the extracurriculars to get into college while forsaking the time to actually enjoy my high school years. I see tourists on the streets of New York City, asking me for directions to a certain museum I realize I've never been to. I see old friends downtown strolling through streets with loads of shopping bags I rarely have the time to fill. I see groups of teenagers snapping pictures in the most random of places, outside stores and on the streets, capturing their experiences in one small compact camera. This upsets me as I am slowly realizing I lack substantial memories of such a great city, outside of school-related activities.
This summer is going to be a great one, filled with old friends and new ones, mindless shopping, dinners at random restaurants, trips to outer boroughs, late night karaoke, beach excursions, and buckets of sunshine soaking all corners of the city. I'm slowly realizing that I have to make the most of my childhood here in New York City, so that I can finally move on.
In the past couple of days, I haven't been thinking much, just living. I joined a Latin dance class at my gym. I finished a friendship bracelet. I window-shopped. I baked a cake. I slept 9 hours every night for the past 3 days. It's a nice change from my normal schedule of workeatsleep, repeat. I feel like life should be like this: calm, steady, and enjoyable.
I took my dog out for a walk today and realized what a relief spring brings: feeling the sun shine again, watching the grass turn a fresh shade of green, and shedding the heavy sweaters and boots. Knowing that summer is just around the corner. Spring is so wholesome.
As I go through high school, I realize more and more how focused I am on getting the grades and the extracurriculars to get into college while forsaking the time to actually enjoy my high school years. I see tourists on the streets of New York City, asking me for directions to a certain museum I realize I've never been to. I see old friends downtown strolling through streets with loads of shopping bags I rarely have the time to fill. I see groups of teenagers snapping pictures in the most random of places, outside stores and on the streets, capturing their experiences in one small compact camera. This upsets me as I am slowly realizing I lack substantial memories of such a great city, outside of school-related activities.
This summer is going to be a great one, filled with old friends and new ones, mindless shopping, dinners at random restaurants, trips to outer boroughs, late night karaoke, beach excursions, and buckets of sunshine soaking all corners of the city. I'm slowly realizing that I have to make the most of my childhood here in New York City, so that I can finally move on.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Barely scratches the surface...
I've been meaning to post about this topic for a while, in fact since the beginning of Senior year, but now feels like an even better time for it.
Recently, in fact it was yesterday, Ruben mentioned something about Facebook. The average amount of friends on Facebook is apparently 150-ish. Not THAT insane I guess. But we pull more random information out of Ruben. Of all the friends that we have on Facebook, we probably only communicate with maybe 25, on a consistent basis. Now by communicate, I don't mean the textbook or dictionary definition of communicate. I mean the Facebook definition of communicate. You know, the occasional notification here or there. A wall post counts, or maybe a graffiti drawing. Or the infamous poke. We probably only communicate with 20ish people on Facebook. Lines like, "Hey we should hang out some time during the break," or "Happy Birthday! Make it good! You're now --, older than me!" Yeah, that's my definition of Facebook-communication. Now Ruben pulls out more random information. The human brain has the capacity to establish and maintain about 100ish[?] decent social relationships. That means people you would actually talk to outside of Facebook and stuff. Actually hang out with, actually have a conversation with, etc. You know, actual people you would consider good friends. People you confide in and all that sappy stuff. And our response to Ruben's "snapple fact" [for a lack of a better term], "I think that's actually too much. I was thinking only like 20 people." Yeah, so my point, to sum up this paragraph? Out of my 435 friends on Facebook, and the probable 30ish people I communicate with on Facebook, I feel like there are only a handful of people I REALLY hang out with and talk.
Anyways, the point of my post? I realize how small I am. I see CLP people once a week, and I hang out with CLPers more than I do with most Stuy kids that I know, and I see those Stuy kids 5 days a week. Blah. So those handful of people I mentioned previously? CLPers fall under that. But now the question remains is who out there actually considers me to be part of THEIR handful? And back to my statement, I realize how small I am. I'm sure most CLPers have lives outside of their Sunday group. Their handfuls are probably consisted of Mr. Monday-Friday and Ms. Second Period Math Class Buddy. Now I go by a lot of nicknames, but unfortunately Mr. Monday-Friday isn't one of them, nor is Ms. Second Period Math Class Buddy either.
So who really considers me to be part of their handful?
Maybe I've traveled down a very unfortunate road. Maybe I "overextended" myself here. I have 435 relationships, 30ish of these bonds I reinforce occasionally with a Facebook notification, which means 405ish of these bonds are merely "Hey I'm in your class, let's be friends so I've got a higher friend count on Facebook." Maybe I should've been one of those quiet kids in school. You know, the quiet kid that's only got 30 friends on Facebook, but all 30 of those kids are his best friends. All 30 of those kids are his handful. Sure he's got less friends than Mr. 435, but he's better friends with his friends then Mr. 435 is with his.
So I started thinking about college a bit. When college rolls around my handful will probably become half a handful. Now 435 might be 285 more than the average 150-friends-Facebook-user, but I'm thinking about the people I DON'T know now. The people I DIDN'T get to know well enough to friend on Facebook. The people I never had a class with in Stuy, but I still know the name of. For all I know, they probably think I don't exist, but I know their name. Now I probably could've been best friends with that kid, or she could've been in my handful...if I only got to know her. Point is, I can't tell if I don't know enough people, or if I know too many people.
The friendships that are, the friendships that could have been, and the friendships that never will be...
So let me finish this post. I feel like someone out there, maybe SOMEONE in my 435, or someone in my handful, or someone I don't even know yet, is my inspiration. Someone out there will inspire me and motivate me. Someone out there will push this button and I'll suddenly be a new person. I'll be the next revoluntionary figure and be remembered forever. I'll be read about in history books, and this post will be published, photocopied and handed out in classrooms.
So be part of my handful. Be my inspiration, and maybe I'll be yours.
P.S.
By the way, random fact, there are so many ants in the world, that together, they weigh the same as all the people in the world. Now if I were an ant, I'd have a lot more trouble finding that inspirational figure. More incentive for me to start looking. Hey at least I'm not an ant...
P.P.S.
I realize I write WAY too much...
Recently, in fact it was yesterday, Ruben mentioned something about Facebook. The average amount of friends on Facebook is apparently 150-ish. Not THAT insane I guess. But we pull more random information out of Ruben. Of all the friends that we have on Facebook, we probably only communicate with maybe 25, on a consistent basis. Now by communicate, I don't mean the textbook or dictionary definition of communicate. I mean the Facebook definition of communicate. You know, the occasional notification here or there. A wall post counts, or maybe a graffiti drawing. Or the infamous poke. We probably only communicate with 20ish people on Facebook. Lines like, "Hey we should hang out some time during the break," or "Happy Birthday! Make it good! You're now --, older than me!" Yeah, that's my definition of Facebook-communication. Now Ruben pulls out more random information. The human brain has the capacity to establish and maintain about 100ish[?] decent social relationships. That means people you would actually talk to outside of Facebook and stuff. Actually hang out with, actually have a conversation with, etc. You know, actual people you would consider good friends. People you confide in and all that sappy stuff. And our response to Ruben's "snapple fact" [for a lack of a better term], "I think that's actually too much. I was thinking only like 20 people." Yeah, so my point, to sum up this paragraph? Out of my 435 friends on Facebook, and the probable 30ish people I communicate with on Facebook, I feel like there are only a handful of people I REALLY hang out with and talk.
Anyways, the point of my post? I realize how small I am. I see CLP people once a week, and I hang out with CLPers more than I do with most Stuy kids that I know, and I see those Stuy kids 5 days a week. Blah. So those handful of people I mentioned previously? CLPers fall under that. But now the question remains is who out there actually considers me to be part of THEIR handful? And back to my statement, I realize how small I am. I'm sure most CLPers have lives outside of their Sunday group. Their handfuls are probably consisted of Mr. Monday-Friday and Ms. Second Period Math Class Buddy. Now I go by a lot of nicknames, but unfortunately Mr. Monday-Friday isn't one of them, nor is Ms. Second Period Math Class Buddy either.
So who really considers me to be part of their handful?
Maybe I've traveled down a very unfortunate road. Maybe I "overextended" myself here. I have 435 relationships, 30ish of these bonds I reinforce occasionally with a Facebook notification, which means 405ish of these bonds are merely "Hey I'm in your class, let's be friends so I've got a higher friend count on Facebook." Maybe I should've been one of those quiet kids in school. You know, the quiet kid that's only got 30 friends on Facebook, but all 30 of those kids are his best friends. All 30 of those kids are his handful. Sure he's got less friends than Mr. 435, but he's better friends with his friends then Mr. 435 is with his.
So I started thinking about college a bit. When college rolls around my handful will probably become half a handful. Now 435 might be 285 more than the average 150-friends-Facebook-user, but I'm thinking about the people I DON'T know now. The people I DIDN'T get to know well enough to friend on Facebook. The people I never had a class with in Stuy, but I still know the name of. For all I know, they probably think I don't exist, but I know their name. Now I probably could've been best friends with that kid, or she could've been in my handful...if I only got to know her. Point is, I can't tell if I don't know enough people, or if I know too many people.
The friendships that are, the friendships that could have been, and the friendships that never will be...
So let me finish this post. I feel like someone out there, maybe SOMEONE in my 435, or someone in my handful, or someone I don't even know yet, is my inspiration. Someone out there will inspire me and motivate me. Someone out there will push this button and I'll suddenly be a new person. I'll be the next revoluntionary figure and be remembered forever. I'll be read about in history books, and this post will be published, photocopied and handed out in classrooms.
So be part of my handful. Be my inspiration, and maybe I'll be yours.
P.S.
By the way, random fact, there are so many ants in the world, that together, they weigh the same as all the people in the world. Now if I were an ant, I'd have a lot more trouble finding that inspirational figure. More incentive for me to start looking. Hey at least I'm not an ant...
P.P.S.
I realize I write WAY too much...
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