Friday, October 23, 2009

I kept the book for some reason

These day's I make my own hope. I cling to my idea of freedom and happiness. I hope that the path I've chosen is the correct one because I have devoted myself to it. I focus my life on my own hope. The hope that I know in my heart is mine and mine alone. Others try to give me hope but that's just not the way for me to actually achieve whatever I'm hoping for. God gives me hope, but God is a part of me. Gods will for me is mine and that gives me hope that I'm on the right path. In 2005 after the drugs lead me to the psych ward I was given a little book of hope. The women that gave it to me was a person who had a few years on me. She was a sever case of borderline personality. She was often found wondering the streets looking to get high. Looking back I'm sure she was a prostitute. She was in the psych ward. I remember telling her my drug of choice (Dexedrine) a potent pharmaceutical stimulant. She knew the drug. She talked about how she used to use it with her boyfriend. She told me that he has a big prescription too. Well anyway one afternoon while I was doing my craft assignment she came up to me and handed me a book "A little book of hope". I talked a lot about about God and Jesus when I was high. She must have sensed that, because the book is about become a Christian. I read that tiny little book and the last thing it did was give me hope. I wasn't allowed out side, Hope was the last thing that I possessed. I was truly dead at that point in my life. The doctors threw me out of the hospital when their treatment was found to be futile for me. I just was not willing to trade one powerful prescription drug (that I loved) for another one. The new drugs they insisted I take where mood stabilizers. Tegratol, Lithium, that kind of stuff. The type of drug that makes you settle for hope you don't even really like. The type of drug that makes you sit down and eat. The type of drug, that to me, killed my hopes and dreams. They kicked me out and diagnosed me as anti social. Funny, I got thrown in the dungeon for being in a severe drug induced psychosis and within a week everything was different.
How do I get my hope, where can I find it. I find hope in every step I take in my direction. When I see my Sun is living, and growing happily I know my hope is taking me in the right direction. The other day I was putting my Sun to bed with me and he found this little book it was called "A little book of Hope.' We read it together as his bed time story.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Suck it!

The writing seems to be taking a step back since I started school. i failed a soccer exam today. Rough, that just threw my grade point average out the door. The test wasn't hard. my terminology was just off. Instead of swerve kick its a swivel. Whatever Nevermind. I love that class and I always try my damnedest to play hard and have fun. I failed for whatever reason. School has been rocking. I have been falling for it for sure. Faculty are great, I even have a few teachers who like me. I also Have a few who don't understand me. That's life AI guess. Its probably one of the better parts of it. Diversity! I was plagiarized a while back. The Joyce essay, yep some person straight up stole the whole thing. They changed it up but the quotes had spelling mistakes, the other essay had the same quotes and the same mistakes. I don't think the person who stole the piece realized I was a student in the same class. The teacher asked me into her office. She was upset that because of the offense she had to do lots of extra work ensuring that I did not plagiarize either. The best part of this story is, right before we were suppose to hand in the essay I read this girls introduction paragraph. It looked like mine. I was even overheard saying "wow that sounds just like mine." I thought I was just a typical thinker. Because of that I thought my ideas weren't unique. When the teacher called me in to review the situation she mentioned that the ideas presented by me were unique. That put a smile on my face. The person being looked at for plagiarism probably thinks I ratted her out. That's not the case. The teacher saw the work was stolen. I'm not sure if the plagiarist is in any real trouble, but I hope she is. Just because she's a thief. She seems to be telling the rest of class mates that she was falsely accused. Yeah right! I hope she comes back to my blog to read this post. "the only reason I know who you are is because you let me read my introduction in your essay. I don't think you knew that you stole from me. It was an idiotic move. I hope you stay in school, but I hope you've learned your lesson. I have nothing to be ashamed of, you do."

Friday, October 16, 2009

Screw your hero!

I do have a hero. Growing up in suburban St.Albert was a great time in my life. I had it all, a big house, my family, friends and all the amenities that are part of a normal North American upbringing. Unfortunately on my 12Th birthday I was smacked in the face with reality. My mother left my father. She took me and my older brother out of our home and moved us out to the low income neighbourhood in St. Albert. We lived in a massive apartment complex. Not what I was used too. It happened on my birthday so the separation had a tremendous impact on my view of life and how thing seem to work out. I remember listening to the bare naked ladies as a child growing up in the house my father built. I remember singing songs like "If I had a million dollars" and thinking what I would do with that million bucks.
After the separation my life changed and life wasn't filled with the same happiness it was before. I got jaded and I remember looking for answers. This was about a year after Kurt Cobain killed himself. His music was still very much a part of main stream society. Before moving to the massive housing complex I was never exposed to cable TV, but after the separation Much music became a part of my existence. I lived for it. It was the 90's. Cobain was dead but his influence seemed to have stayed. The man was my hero and he blew his head off before I even knew who he was.
Curt Cobain was an addict. He shot heroin and did drugs. Unfortunately being so heavily influenced by him I desensitized myself to those types of things. I moved in the direction of substance abuse. On my 22ND birthday I decided to actually move forward and try to do what I wanted. I totally started to indulge in indulgences I wanted to. Just like i decided to love Nirvana when I was twelve. I was devoted to living my life like a punk start who just doesn't care, because that's what I actually wanted.
I found myself on prescription drugs locked up in a psych ward in Calgary a year later. I had dropped out of university of Wisconsin Green Bay and traveled to Florida and then all the way up to Banff where my car broke down. I tried to get my prescription refilled but the doctor had told me I was psychotic and needed help. I was trapped in a hospital against my will and still I was a devout Cobainist. I remember when I got out of the hospital what I wanted. The doctors took my drugs away and really forced me to look for different way to satisfy my needs. My girlfriend was with me at the time of release. She got pregnant.
Since then I realized what a coward Kurt Cobain was. He had a child, and for whatever reason he committed himself to an escape lifestyle, which is OK but he had a daughter and he abounded her. Even though I idolized the king of grunge I just could not abandon my child. I wasn't ready for what was coming but almost t immediately changed who I was. My child was a way out of the broken home. The best thing I learned from Kurt Cobain was to follow my heart to the death if I have to. Now I know my heart lies with my child. He is my new hero. Now my favorite part about growing up addicted to Nirvana is that I can rip a solid punk riff on my guitar.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Joyce isangry because Joyce Knows Love

James Joyce uses geographic, religious, and political metaphors to draw the reader through his dark perception of Ireland’s true reality. Ireland specific geographical position plays a role in the manner in which Joyce presents the story of "Araby". Religious undertones are used bring to light negative ideas that imply that the Catholic Church is losing its stronghold over the religious Irish people. Political ideals disguised by the immature nature of the main character help Joyce sculpt a dark and dreary picture of Ireland in its current state of nationalistic leadership. The author carefully takes the reader into the world of his innocence and describes how his perception of clarity turns day into night.
Joyce uses the house at the end of his street to portray the country of Ireland. It's a symbol, a representation of Ireland. "An uninhabited house of two stories stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours." (Joyce 1000). Ireland is found on the western coast of Europe, detached, isolated from the rest of the continent. Ireland is pushed up against the Atlantic ocean, a country removed from its peers, a global dead end. An island who's citizens have been split into two different religions, layering society like the two stories of the house. The reformers called the English Protestants, and the Irish Catholics. Joyce uses dark imagery to define not only the house on the dead end (Ireland) but all of Europe. "The other houses of the street, conscious of decent within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces." (Joyce 1000). This type of imagery can be construed as anti-Irish.
Joyce sees religion as the force that had possessed Ireland, but has died. Leaving Ireland a vacant run down house, open to exploration, and exploitation. "The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back."(Joyce 1000). This leaves the children of the neighbourhood as the new possessors of the home. The narrorator inherits the house in an illegitimate way. Joyce connects the main character to the house, giving us the impression that the child is the new heart of Ireland. An illegitimate heart, that is still too young to understand what it holds. The narrator’s experiences and their outcomes define what the narrator feels. The narrator is Ireland in the story, now that the old priest has died. The boy uses the house, the room which the priest died in to express his desires. " I went into the back drawing room in which the priest had died ... pressed my hands together until they trembled, murmuring O love! O love! many times. (Joyce 1001). The narrorator has a longing to be accepted and to be loved . Organized religion is set on the backburner to love in the story. This would have been viewed as anti Catholic meaning anti Irish.
The main character is exposed to a certain view on life politically. "We walked through the flaring streets....the nasal chanting of the singers who sang a come-all-you about O'Donovan Rossa or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. The noises converged in a single sensation of life for me." (Joyce 1001). Joyce is implying that the new keepers of Ireland (keepers of the house at the end of the street) primary outlook on life was a sensation of revolution. In other words instability and chaos were prevalent giving the impression that Ireland is on shaky ground. This could also be interpreted as anti-Irish.
Ireland is a house on a dead end road. The old Catholic soul that had been taking care of it has died. A young boy has replaced the Catholic priest as the head of the house, but the boy isn't ready. He inherited the house illegitimately. The boy’s goal is to be accepted, and to love. Joyce finished the story, "Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derived by vanity and my eyes burned with anguish and anger" (Joyce 1004), leaving the reader with the impression that Joyce feels Ireland is an immature child with high hopes that are destined to fail. "Araby" was written by Joyce to show the audience, the masses how he felt about the nation from which he came. Although he may have ultimately had loyalty towards his native land, his distain for Catholicism and the political, religious and socioeconomic status of Ireland is clearly evident in much of his work. "Araby" is no exception to this, even as it looks at alternate themes of love, innocence, and his character's epiphany of the futility of his idealism. This might have been seen as anti Irish.

Works Cited:

Joyce, J. “Araby”. The Harbrace Anthology of Literature 4th ed. Ed. Jon C.
Stott, Raymond E. Jones, and Rick Bowers. Toronto: Thomson
Nelson, 2006. 1000-1004.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Covenant talk

Israel can be defined by a few thing, there's Jacob, then the is the nation, and there are the Israelis. Why does the nation of Israel need a covenant? Well because the people of Israel believe in the God of Abraham, they understand all the relationships between God the earth and people were broken. To live life without constant fear of death God needed to create a relationship with is folk, one that would allow them to live life with order. The ten commandments are the basics to living in any community. At the time of the Exodus the Israelis needed a promise from god that he wouldn't kill them for breaking rules. So God allowed them a sacrifice. More or less a nice Goat or some grain for the poor people. This system allowed most people to live in somewhat of a harmony with God and the people around them. Except the rich abused this sacrifice stuff, but God sees through that. He doesn't send these rich abusers of sacrifice to hell though, God that is. Because Hell hasn't been invented yet, but its coming I can feel it.