arguement

 

Scott Christopher Ellison

5363 W Elk Horn Peak Drive

Riverton, UT 84096

 

Dear Father:

 

As you know, people need to live in a sheltered area with appropriate temperatures, food, and living conditions in order to survive. This is the way we have established our lives in society and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to change anytime soon. It may seem obvious, but I live at home, which fits the description of one of these kinds of places. And, although it has never failed to serve me well, I think I would greatly benefit if you allowed me to move out in the summer.

 

You see, we teenagers like to feel independent. We like to prove ourselves capable of surviving in the real world. It excites us to be surrounded by new environments, holding within them opportunities to test our capabilities, which we have acquired over the years of experiencing how a functional living facility works and operates. I am merely curious to see how I would handle myself in this situation.

 

Now, I know this is a lot to ask of parents of a 15-year-old girl, which is why I do not propose to move to some outlandish location, but rather stay close to home, just far away enough for me to get an adrenaline rush and all. I’m talking about moving in next door, into our trailer. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about that trailer that we own- the trailer that you spent well-earned money on that usually just sits in the corner of the driveway, collecting dust. I’m suggesting we give it a new owner that would love and appreciate it to its fullest ability.

 

There comes a time in every person’s life where they must learn to take care of themselves. Having to adjust to a change like this would be to my advantage because it brings the opportunity to see consequences play out before my very eyes, and if I ignore them, I will see those consequences play out. It’s like that game, Life, with myself, in the trailer with no career choices and no competitors. I have a feeling that this kind of isolation would really help me direct my focus, as it would decrease the chance of getting distracted from the things I really should be or want to be doing. I would be much more intimately involved with everything I’m doing because it will be completely up to me to do those things. Ultimately, this would cause me to take more pride in my accomplishments. Plus, this is a temporary thing, like I said, I’m just curious to see how this would work.

 

Even I, an ignorant teen, know that there are certain expenses involved in such tasks, such as the cost of air conditioning, pivotal in times of certain heat waves, since the summer can and will be an excruciating beast at times. And not only that, but there’s the issue of running water as well. Both of these amenities I would have to ask you, my responsible parent and guardian, for assistance with in exchange for my allowance. Of course I would maintain my chores around our house, as well as the trailer, when I move in.

 

Should you grant me this privilege, I would love to establish a weekly gathering in which the family comes to my place for dinner, when I will so graciously cook for you. I’m open for Monday nights, since that’s your day off. I also recognize that summer is the one season we are most likely to use the trailer for its actual purpose. In any case, I would be happy to adjust to your company, and temporarily suspend my claim on the trailer as my personal home. Overall, I think this is an excellent opportunity, and we should be taking advantage of it. This is the perfect time of year to try this sort of thing because school will no longer be an obstacle. I appreciate your taking the time to consider me and my interests.

 

Sincerely,

 

 

Christina Ellison

 

Crime of Passion

               Why, it must have been the spring of my fifth grade existence that my days held the promise of a young man who is called Zachary Ford. It must have been his lizard nature and lips with the likeness of stale marshmallow that kept the idea of him burning in my mind for such a long time, but I can’t really say.

                What can I say? He was a year older than I was, and therefore the whole thing was a little risky, and not to mention dangerous. These are the things a girl is looking for at the age of eleven, and that’s what I wanted. And besides that, he was “one of my brother’s friends,” and being a young lass, that kind of thing is sort of impressive.

                As thing progressively started to ease into more of a crush and then the somewhat pathetic foundations of a relationship, we could no longer hide the feelings that were dancing in our hearts. Even a small spark is a lot more like an explosion when you’re not used to anyone “loving” you but by obligation. We wanted to explore the likeness of another person in an innocent, little kid kind of way, but it had to have the sense that it was exclusive. This does not usually appeal to other little fifth grade girls because there’s that sense of always wanting to be a part of everything that’s going on. So naturally, my friends were mad at me, and teased me pretty relentlessly about our “flirting,” if that’s what you would call it. So my feelings went underground, and became a secret thing I was harboring to in some portion of my mind.

                Fifth grade flirting is the best kind of flirting, because there’s still that purity- that innocence kids have before they realize they have been tainted by the world’s influences. But they’re not completely unaware. They’re dealing with the confusion, and they’re not discouraged about it yet. They try to channel that confusion into relationships with other people so they can feel like they are a legitimate part of society. Society tells us you can’t have anything real with anybody unless you hold the title of “going out.” But it’s just one of these phases.

                My friends’ distance led me to a certain detachment with the outside world, and my solution to this problem was simple—run away fast. My fifth grade desires offered me the promise of something else to temporarily involve myself with that seemed tangible.

                However, hanging out with Zach definitely had its… pros and cons. The one part of me was still satisfied, entertaining the idea of blissful young love, and the other part of me was starting to see the effects our “relationship” had on other people. My friends rejected me, acting betrayed by my wavering loyalties (?). And along with that, Zach’s sister also showed some strange signs. She took an immediate disliking to me, and would often hang around us and share her disapproval of just about everything anyone said or did, unless she was favoring one person in order to make the negative impact in another person’ direction just a little bit stronger. I kind of excused her behavior, not really thinking it was significant or reasonable. Now I realize that she was just protective of her brother, and felt hurt by his lack of attention. She blamed it all on me because that’s where  his interest was expressed, as far as she could see.

                One day as we were gazing into the night sky in a grassy field (can you even imagine?), his little sister, fuming in the dimming light of day, came chasing after me with a wooden stake. She had a twisted, vicious expression on her face, and I could see in her eyes (which were literally protruding out of their sockets) that she was thirsty for blood. Drool spewed down the sides of her mouth and, as she screamed, saliva, like forceful little cannonballs, began to pelt me in the face. She just kept screaming “Idiot!” at me over and over, mixed in with a string of profanities, until she started to cry. She was driven mad with rage, and I couldn’t tell between the shrieks and the tears if I should feel bad for her or if I should fear for my life. Zach took turns hovering over me protectively and trying to hold his sister back, trying to keep the law on their side, I imagine.

                To tell you the truth, I felt a sort of connection with her, like we both just wanted something to hold onto. At the time it might have seemed we wanted the same thing, but we didn’t, which is why the relationship never really went anywhere. She suddenly appeared so vulnerable to me, despite the fact that she had the piece of wood in her hand and only moments ago was thrusting it toward me with poor (but violent) accuracy. I think it was vital for me to see and understand the important differences between the love for a sibling and a school girl crush. I guess what it boils down to is that she needed him, and I didn’t. This was just a wake up call. Coincidentally (or incidentally), his family moved to Montana in the following weeks and I was granted a clean break. Go me.

 

“Alas, that love whose view is muffled still

Should without eyes see pathways to his will!” (1.1) Romeo and Juliet

uno

          Seth Speaks: The Eternal Validity of the Soul is one in an extensive series of books associated with the ‘Seth Material.’ All of these books contain information conceived by Seth, who refers to himself as an “energy personality essence” no longer focused in physical form. Sharing an intense psychic connection with Seth, Jane Roberts is able to speak for Seth during weekly trance sessions. Her husband, Robert Butts, took notes during these sessions, which made up the manuscript of the book(s). This book communicates as best it can with our limited understanding the true nature of reality and consciousness as a spontaneous exercise in creativity.

          Perhaps the most important concept to grasp is that consciousness creates form, not the other way around. No, we are not held captive in these physical bodies, bound by our flesh, hopeless to escape it. We are not cast unmercifully into existence in this place and time, as most of us strongly believe. Our environments are the reflection of our psychological structures, and all of this is created at a highly unconscious level, or so I am told to believe. Upon creating our physical reality, we create the glories and terrors of our earthly experience, and we do this for a reason. Physical existence is highly experimental. We set up a variety of conditions in which to operate in, and develop in ways that would not be possible otherwise. We try out different attitudes and behaviors, and set up challenges, some doomed to failure, in our terms, but only so we can create the events and experiences in which the solution is then acted upon. We are constantly learning from these experiences and changing with them. It is only because we focus in this particular role that we identify our entire being with it.

          Time and time again throughout the course of the book, Seth refers to the ‘framework’ of this particular system of reality (inferring that there are many). These are the general agreements we made prior to entering physical existence, we use these as basic assumptions in our lives, though we are capable of exceeding them. These include:

Ø        Time is a series of moments, one after the other

Ø        The objective world exists quite independently of our own creation and perception

Ø        We are bound within the physical bodies we have donned

Ø        We are limited by time and space

We have readily accepted these limitations because we fear our subjectivity will drift. We try to maintain a relatively constant and permanent subjective self in order to maintain a relatively constant and permanent environment.

                I think this is a good read because it has a lot of valid and relevant information, and communicates it in a way that allows us to understand it better than we would if our preconceptions weren’t taken into consideration. I think all people can get something out of it, despite whether or not they really believe in the basic foundation of it. I was highly influenced by it because it reminded me of the freedom that is completely mine. I think oftentimes we get so caught up in feeling hopeless that we forget that we are a constant source in the world around us, and that we actually help create the things all around us. This is the end of the last bit. I mean, Right Now!!

Don’t let me forget…

I have wings.

Note to self

The pictures, the memories
The fickle permanence that lingers behind each promise, each word
As the river of impact starts to drain,
the rocks licked dry
What lies in the depths of this empty barren,
Besides what was and what could have been?

I Don’t Care How it Sounds

                They’ve always told me it’s good to know where you’re going before you start walking. Though I’m not sure I want to know and my legs won’t stop moving. I want to change with the seasons. And suddenly I want to remember everything. I want to open the channels in my mind so I can access the place(s) I seem to have left my heart. The filmstrip would stay in tact, the music still playing while I’m still convincing myself that it’s important.

                The world is unknown to me. There are so many things I haven’t seen, done, or heard. Knowing that I have so much left to learn is what motivates me to let go and make mistakes. I get to taste the crisp air and hear the birds sing. I get to try new things, I get to watch people grow, and watch people fall. I get to smell the oranges and say I’m sorry. I get to take advantage of it all. I get to mess up and start over.

                I’m starting to grasp what’s in my own hands. I realize that trying to fill the gap between things I can and can not control is only weakening me. And that this is something no one else can really help me with. Of course your reflection’s a lot harder to face when there’s not someone sitting next to you, stroking your hand, telling you how beautiful you are. But I think I’ll take the chance. I’ve dug long enough to find something ugly, but I’m not going to run away from it anymore.

                      I don’t think I was able to see any of this before because I didn’t really want to know. I wasn’t really looking. I was looking for more places to dwell on the frustrations of life, somewhere to fit in. And each time I caught a glimpse of this, I held onto it for all the wrong reasons. I’m sure this isn’t the first time I’ve said all of this. And I’m sure this isn’t the first time I’ve really felt or believed it. I’m sure I’ll say it again. I’ll mean it again. I’m sure I’ll remember, I’m sure I’ll forget. I’m sure I’ll move on.

I’ve actually decided to give up on the brain spews for now and become a professional yo-yo player.end transmission.

Another 5-paragraph essay

        Ever since mankind walked the face of the earth, we have constantly been trying to figure out ways to be more time and energy efficient. Which is why I propose that we change the school schedule from a 5-day week to a 4-day week with longer class periods. Not only is it a good way to limit transportation, but the class periods are longer, thus more work can be achieved. Especially because once you are in class, it takes a certain amount of motivation before you can really make any major headway in your schoolwork. 

        One of the reasons I feel so strongly about this is because I am one of those people who spend roughly an hour getting to and from school each day. Obviously it’s worth the trip to get a better chance at an education, and in a much more comfortable environment, although I think it’s safe to say that the issue of convenience gets in the way of many students who would like to come to this school. Because this is one of the only film schools in Utah, focusing on things many kids are actually interested in (and not things people tell them they should be interested in) students come from a much wider variety of places, without the natural school boundaries to enforce that transportation is as short as it should be. It goes without saying that changing the school’s schedule would definitely benefit many parents, who devote time to getting their kids to school, and many kids who have to spend an hour riding the bus.

        An additional reason I promote this suggestion is due to the fact that the class periods are often too short to accomplish anything. Once you arrive to your class, it often takes a certain amount of time (among other things, including strain and prayer) before you can really get in the learning zone. I think longer class periods would definitely promote students to achieve work that they would ultimately take more pride in. At times, I have found myself getting so discouraged by the lack of time we have in class that I don’t actually use the time, figuring I’ll focus too much of my energy on something I won’t be able to finish, so I reserve it all for homework which doesn’t usually get done. Not for a couple of weeks, anyway, and that’s only after my grades drop increasingly. (I’m allowed to stretch the truth a little, aren’t I?)

        So there you have it. Two perfectly good explanations as to why we should change the current school schedule to benefit not only teachers and parents, but students as well. Time efficient, energy efficient, gas efficient. Besides, who wouldn’t enjoy an extra day off? These simple accommodations could really go a long way… for everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oreily Never Dies… or Does He?

       A hero: Bold, blessed with the power of super speed, his seed planted in the depths of South America, where he can fight crime with his magical wand and stay undiscovered, using his powers for good. A place he called home was among a native tribe of Indians who worshipped him much like a god. Until one day when his people discovered a new food source, as well as a new scene. As they led him to the underbelly of the land, he was quickly convinced and sent his people to collect the rest of his tribe. While he was alone, he started to play around with his magic and happened to drop it somewhere (Gabby) where it fell into the hands of a sea lizard, pregnant with mischief. And so it would be… that the hero, named Oreeeiley, would travel far and wide to reclaim his magical temple, strictly intended to do good in this world and not to be tampered with by the minds of the curious. For that could only lead to one thing… destruction.

       The world saw into the face of pure evil for the weeks to come. Where there once lay rescued victims and imprisoned criminals, there now lie tortured sea creatures with their guts clinging like hell from their remains. He spent his days bathing in the vines of trees as he ran– ran like a jaguar with pure agility and speed through the jungles of his homeland and far in between– looking for that one thing that might make his heart sing again. An evil veil fell upon him: laziness and discouragement at the problem which had not a quick fix as he might have hoped for… but you know how these things go.

       One day as he mourned in the sheer tragedy of it all, a thought struck the surface of his mind. He could find his way out of this mess, and for a small price, too. Nothing compared to the hopelessness he now felt upon his unwilling shoulders. A train ticket to Baghdad. One way, no obligations, and no more of this self-loathing. The foreign territory excited him and had many things to offer, including dancing ladies, unrelenting sunlight, and drinks to soothe his conscience. One peaceful night in his sleep, Oreily’s thoughts were stirred by a visitor. It was Martha, a sea nymph, telling him exactly how he might get his hands on it. But once again, his memory failed him and he woke up to a shaky voice he hardly recognized as his own screaming the words, “…That’s because she’s an octopus!! You have to put a leash on her, and cut off all her legs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Bits of his dream scattered to the surface and melted away. For the second time, he had failed the world, and worse, himself.

       All of a sudden, he jumped up and ran at an alarming rate to the nearest phone booth, which was about 2 blocks away. Purely on instinct, he called up an old friend, Michaelis Jonas, for he had the power of GPS. Like everything in life, this too had a price. A price Oreily struggled with for a few moments before mustering the strength to dial. The price was… his soul.

       Doing the honorable thing, he sold his soul for the location of his wand. And although he would never feel charm in the graceful songs of old, or angst when his cds skipped, it would be worth it. Worth the gift he had to give to the world… justice. (Although I’m not sure if forced justice is really justice at all, but you know the drill.)  So he spent his days, fixing the mistakes of the unwilling and redeeming himself from his own simple mistakes. And they all lived….

 

(Insert Profound Title Here)

            A dead body lies in the middle of the paved road. All blood and guts, his lifeless temple remains clutching at his sides, overturned by the pain, the life-shattering consciousness that his life would drift away from him, much like a faraway dream he may never come close to again. He lies solemnly—the concluding words left to blind intent. The one held accountable speaks sincerely to the police, the family of the deceased, filled with unquestionable guilt, remorse, and confusion. Meanwhile, the rest of the cars in line, full of people who undoubtedly have some better place to be, honk at the inconvenience. Life is fragile. So why is it that people are so unwilling to appreciate it until it’s gone? Is it because people are prone to selfishness, or is it because they’ve seen it all one too many times?

            I think one thing that sets heroes apart from your average people is the fact that they’re not jaded by everyday life. I could make this interesting, or I could tell you that a hero is courageous, wise, and strong. I could also tell you that the only people I’ve ever really looked up to are not only subject to question when it comes to the possession of these attributes, but it’s their mistakes that make them honorable. Heroes are entitled to their flaws, as we all are, but heroic people constantly grow from their experiences and are actually empowered by their mistakes. It’s very easy to be bitter and spiteful towards another’s mistakes, and even easier when it comes to our own. I think we all have far too much experience blaming… Finding fault in other people never really gets you anywhere except further from them, as well as yourself. That being said, you can see how patience is such a vital part of heroism. Our willingness to throw something away at the sight of its unworthiness is something that takes away from our potential to make something great out of it.

              In polytheism, things aren’t measured in terms of right or wrong, as they often are now. Polytheists have to take into consideration the effect of a god’s mood on a person. Your willpower can be easily swept away at the influence of a proposed mood, and you are indifferent to your normal attitudes and opinions as you are completely consumed by it. Polytheists are concerned about doing what is appropriate in any given situation, which coincides with life itself, where compromise is often necessary, making it harder to determine whether something is good or bad, right or wrong. In my opinion, you lose too much when you are looking at just the black and white. In this world, you take what you have and you run with it. I don’t mean literally, I just mean there’s a lot of room for gray.

            Now that I’ve understood that idea about morality I can more accurately assess Odysseus and determine whether or not he is worthy of heroism in my eyes. Odysseus possesses a lot of human characteristics for a leader. He reacts purely on impulse, as all people should be allowed to, but you can see the consequences and negative affects it has on his small army. It’s hard for me to say he’s good or bad, judging between his hunger for recognition and willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good of his people. At least he is willing to accept his mistakes and have patience through adversity.

             My personal hero is none other than the Great Frodo (I’m keeping great capitalized to emphasize just how cool he really is) from The Lord of the Rings. I look up to this character so much because of his admirable endurance and passion. He overcomes so many obstacles to destroy the Ring, many of which he walks away from in loss of his companions. And for who? For the very people who would likely steal the ring from him themselves.( I’m not going to lie about the couple of times I have found myself weeping at the sheer purity of it all… that’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I am leaving myself vulnerable to your judgment in my saying so, but that’s besides the point.) In his quest, fits of selfishness overcome him, where he questions his ability to ascend above the humanity in him that the ring is so good at shoving down this throat. But eventually, he is able to see past the shallow desires he is plagued by to realize what he is doing and why he is doing it.

             Now I am forced to ask myself: Frodo or Odysseus? Passion or honor? I think the line that draws itself between them is recognition. If people only did good things for the sake of being acknowledged for them, then nothing much would be done at all. Should Odysseus’ ability to claim his mistakes excuse his fits of selfishness in the first place? If I was significant enough to be in a squad marching toward the betterment of mankind, I’d have to say I’d rather have Frodo on my side. Something about his ability to walk into the face of danger without expecting anything in return is a lot more heroic to me… especially because he could just take the ring and run if he wanted to. To be able to resist the promise of all the power in the world takes a lot of willpower, and for that Frodo achieves my unwavering loyalty…