Persona

The sun was rising above the charcoal roofs in splashes of oranges and purples. Several street lamps hung above the roofs like globes of light, guarding the sleeping children in the houses, making them feel safe. I leaned against the wall, letting the breeze run its fingers through my long strands of chocolate hair. It was going to be a peaceful day.

Every person has more than one side to them: an array of personas, so to speak: Things that we keep hidden from the rest of the world. I am no exception. Some of mine are buried so deeply under a mess of other emotions that I am not even aware of their existence.
However, I have accomplished a feat of wonder and intrigue. Whether it is a good thing or a bad thing you have no right to decide, but listen to my tale weary traveler and you will perhaps find out something about yourself.
Persona: optimism
Traits: Smiles
Stubborn Innocence
Small capacity for deep intellectual conversation if it at all delves into the darker part of human nature
Easily hurt
Silly
Unrealistic


I was vulnerable in this state. Even though it was my natural state, the voices of those smarter than I, the jokes, and the looks began to wear down this rare persona of mine like waves against a tall rock. I did what any self concerned optimist would do: I created a sharper, smarter, wittier, edgier persona that I wear like a mask in order to protect the innocent persona below. The problem? When I try and tear this worldly mask away from me, I find that it sticks. Every time I put it on it becomes harder to take it off. It’s molasses stuck to a silver spoon, hardening, crystallizing. Will I be able to manage the two or will my new persona devour my old.
Curiouser and Curiouser

Movie List/ Epiphany

As with every important life discovery moment, I was driving. The sound of a voice next to me hummed softly as she spoke of the various activities she had done that day, her feelings, her list of exciting news, and I was listening as a dutiful friend should; that was the moment that life decided to tell me something important:
I was done messing around. I was going to take life seriously. Could I become an adult in the span of three seconds?



In other news, here is my list:"Almost 100 Favorite Movies of All Time (I left room for a few more)"

101 Dalmations
A Knight's Tale
All Dogs go to Heaven
Beauty and the Beast
Big Fish
Bourne Series
Bride and Prejudice
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Catch me if you Can
Cowboy Bebop
Enchanted
Fantastic Mr. Fox
Fight Club
Finding Nemo
Finding Neverland
Fried Green Tomatoes
Fruits Basket
Get Smart
Girl Inturrupted
Gone With the Wind
How to Steal a Million
How to Train Your Dragon
Howl's Moving Castle
Inception
Into the Wild
It Happened One Night
Jane Eyre
Kabluey
Kate and Leopold
Lady and the Tramp
Leatherheads
Life or Something Like It
Little Women
Martian Child
Mary Poppins
Meet Joe Black
Meet the Robinsons
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day
Miss Potter
Monsters Inc.
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
Mr. Holland's Opus
My Fair Lady
Narnia
North and South
Northhanger Abbey
O Brother Where Art Thou
Oceans 11
Oceans 12
Once
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Paper Heart
Peter Pan
Pheobe in Wonderland
Pirates of the Carribean series
Ponya
Pride and Prejudice
Ratatouille
Robin Hood (Disney)
Roman Holiday
Saawariya
Searching for Forrester
Seven Pounds
Signs
Singin' In the Rain
Spirit
Spirited Away
Stranger Than Fiction
The Adventures of Milo and Otis
The Brothers Bloom
The Cat Returns
The Darjeeling Limited
The Fall
The Fox and the Girl
The Fox and the Hound
The Jungle Book
The Lion King
The Little Mermaid
The Muppets
The Phantom of the Opera
The Princess Bride
The Pursuit of Happyness
The Sound of Music
The Sting
The Truman Show
The Villiage
The Wizard of Oz
Thumbelina
Titanic
Treasure Planet
Two Brothers
Up
Up in the Air
Where the Wild Things Are
Whispers of the Heart
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
Winnie The Pooh


I'm sure I'm missing some. If you have any suggestions, let me know

Fuel - Ani Difranco

They were digging a new foudation in Manhattan
And they discovered a slave cemetary there
May their souls rest easy
Now that lynching is frowned upon
And we've moved on to the electric chair
And I wonder who's gonna be president, tweedle dum or tweedle dummer?
And who's gonna have the big blockbuster box office this summer?
How about we put up a wall between houses and the highway
And you can go your way, and I can go my may

Except all the radios agree with all the tvs
And all the magazines agree with all the radios
And I keep hearing that same damn song everywhere I go
Maybe I should put a bucket over my head
And a marshmallow in each ear
And stumble around for
Another dumb-numb waiting for another hit song to appear

People used to make records
As in a record of an event
The event of people playing music in a room
Now everything is cross-marketing
Its about sunglasses and shoes
Or guns and drugs
You choose
We got it rehashed
We got it half-assed
We're digging up all the graves
And we're spitting on the past
And you can choose between the colors
Of the lipstick on the whores
Cause we know the difference between
The font of 20% more
And the font of teriakiyi
You tell me
How does it... make you feel?

You tell me
What's ... real?
And they say that alcoholics are always alcoholics
Even when they're as dry as my lips for years
Even when they're stranded on a small desert island
With no place within 2,000 miles to buy beer
And I wonder
Is he different?
Is he different?
Has he changed? what's he about?..
Or is he just a liar with nothing to lie about?

Am I headed for the same brick wall
Is there anything I can do about
Anything at all?
Except go back to that corner in Manhattan
And dig deeper, dig deeper this time
Down beneath the impossible pain of our history
Beneath unknown bones
Beneath the bedrock of the mystery
Beneath the sewage systems and the PATH train
Beneath the cobblestones and the water mains
Beneath the traffic of friendships and street deals
Beneath the screeching of kamikaze cab wheels
Beneath everything I can think of to think about
Beneath it all, beneath all get out
Beneath the good and the kind and the stupid and the cruel
There's a fire just waiting for fuel

Old

Turnip mewed softly then began purring, a small motorboat in the form of a white petite cat. She stretched then slid herself into the lap of a girl. The girl sat cross-legged on a queen sized bed, her laptop precariously set on top of a white feather comforter. Her blue fingernail polish made designs as she tapped slowly on the keyboard. She wore a grungy oversized green t-shirt, glasses, and her hair in a sloppy pony tail. Every once in a while she would pause typing, lean over, and plant a kiss on the forehead of her white cat, who would look up at her and meow plaintively.

For awhile, nothing. She couldn’t get her mind to focus on the task at hand. She was thinking in half sentences, the words barely registering in her head, “I’m not old…” she hummed. She did think she was old. She was twenty one, but sometimes age has nothing to do with it.

She wanted to create a successful blog, but she was out of practice. The book she had been writing sat half written shoved inside her bookshelves between two empty notebooks. That meant that she had writer’s block. This blog might be good for her. This blog could also be a horrible idea.

Her right leg was beginning to fall asleep and the house was silent. She wiggled her toes only slightly concerned. “I wonder what makes a blog successful. Plot, maybe. Insightful reasoning could help. A goal of some sort is also a must along with interesting characters.” Her blog had none of those things, yet. In fact, her blog was currently being written in the third person. Maybe she should just give up before someone actually reads it “I have to keep going now. This is good for me. I just need to keep telling myself that. What else would I be doing, anyway?”
She sighed lightly and stretched her neck from side to side. Her fingers drifted from the keys and she moved her mouse to the bottom toolbar and clicked the small blue box that said Facebook. Still, nobody was on. She clicked on the homepage link. Nothing had been updated. She frowned then clicked back onto the Word document and began typing again.

She liked the sound of the keys being pressed with a purpose. It was a rhythm, music. It was the sound of progress. She glanced at the clock. 1:15. She should be sleeping. She liked to be sleeping by 10:30. She was old.

Nighttime Drive

Imagine: a dark, starry night. I drove silently down a long dark road, the curves gently rocking me into a state of semi-paranoia. I slowly rolled all the windows down and the wind smacked into my face. The road I drove was empty, and again I realized that only Here could I feel comfortable. Dismiss the thought of a busy city sidewalk; it never existed in my perspective. Streetlights lined the side of the road, washing the scenery in an awkward orange glow and I glanced at them as the car slid through the air, my hand guiding this machine of speed and power. Have you ever listened to the chirping and buzzing and whirling of bugs as you drove; if you did you would hear a distortion. The sound would rise then drop as you sped past, the sound distracting me from my trance. I was going too fast; I slowed.
I think well when I drive. I don’t know why; control of something, freedom, speed, the feeling of leaving something behind or perhaps the knowledge of moving towards something. I have often seen dogs shoving their faces out of a car window, tongue lolling and rippling in the air, a look of ecstasy on their faces. I think it’s the same feeling.
Last night I felt something different. I was peaceful, but I was lonely.