The World and Something Like It

I know no one is asking for my opinion on this sort, but I think it’s high time someone out there said we should stop comparing artists to describe music. I guess that goes into the argument to what is original today. No one can ever be The Beatles because at the time, it was revolutionary. There wasn’t a sound like it. Today we’ve heard it all. It’s hard for a band to reach a large fan base like they did because everyone is too busy saying that this one band sounds too much like the other. There are words to describe sound, but no one can have the nerve enough to use it. A perfect example would be the recent album review for CAMP by Childish Gambino. The review holds two artists side by side and shows the “apparent” fails that Donald Glover does to achieve the same likeness of Kanye West. I think to hold a pedestal for every artist out there would make everyone quit all together. 

The Soft Pack at Do-Division festival.

I never had a inkling to get sad about ending senior year. I was always confused about it, so I wrote a poem. My girlfriend had just broke with me last night, and I guess it strikes me now that I’ll probably never see a bunch of my classmates ever again. I was friends with a number of them because of her. But, honestly characters are a dime a dozen and if you read one of the last lines of the poem, there is something important. It’s the stanza where i give a toast.

College Excursion

Is it time I realize

I’ll miss my home?

Months down the road,

how will I feel?

Will I be alone?

I’m counting down days

as they pass me by and thinking,

what impression will I leave?

Do I seem like a nice guy?

I’ll tell you now.

I’m happy to leave.

I don’t know why but,

this city annoys me

It’s like my pet peeve.

But, I have to think.

What will I leave behind?

My friends,

my family,

they’re all one of a kind.

I remember when I was young

I’d try my best to perform magic,

and my mother was so patient

She’d be waiting for my best spell or trick.

But, it was never her card.

Whenever she looked at my hand

Her glare was hard.

You should’ve seen my dad

on the Fourth of July…

He placed the mortar in the wrong launcher

and there goes my eye.

Everyone was worried,

but I was left unscathed

My eyebrow on the other hand,

looked like it had been shaved.

My friends from school,

are something special

They’re really cool

And all have great potential.

I guess the one’s I’ll miss the most

are the ones I’ll never lose.

So here’s a toast,

To the ones I didn’t choose.

So, What should I be feeling?

On one hand, I’m sad.

I love these people.

and they’re super rad.

On the other hand,

I can’t complain

I’ll be in New York.

It sounds like my domain.

I either have everything a boy could want

Or nothing left to lose.

Time’s running out,

I guess it’s time to choose

It was prom not too long ago, but today is Graduation!

Mine are white,

Inanimate,

but full of words

waiting to burst from their receivers.

We’re a team

against the larger world.

They rest on my shoulders

like my future child

at a carnival or county fair.

They sometimes get in my way

but, are useful nonetheless.

*

They fit almost

perfectly

but it’s entirely situational.

It’s a matter of knowing

Left and Right.

Others frighten me by

their size

And how they encapsulate one’s head.

Mine are perfect

and my head is unscathed

*

It’s like we understand each other.

At the perfect time

they alienate me from

the outside world and

my seemingly sociable character

that was a social construct

is now a switch.

There are now

two settings:

On and Off

*

Some may fear your

Existence,

but I know what you really are.

You’re a boy scout.

Who else ties knots

that can’t be unwoven?

It may be your only flaw,

but at least I’m busy

And not maniacal like

Bluetooth users.

*

There are also the obsessive compulsives

When there is a threat of insertion

A fake sense of melophobia

Presents itself.

And, when there’s a

Slight possibility

of a drum being pierced,

it makes sense

to fend

against a frenemy.

*

Whst more can I say

Other than the touch of it’s

String is like silk smooth hair

that I myself was never able to grow.

Although, they don’t fill a void

my ideas do,

and where else do I find them

From the music

my headphones

make me listen to.

What’s on my mind?

How about it’s all anyone can talk about?

I’m in a complicated relationship with it.

I went to extreme measures once:

I deleted my profile,

hold your gasps.

It’s funny.

When I was trying to do it

I had to find a how-to video.

No one else no one knew how to do it.

Hey, so I just posted a short story I wrote about a sloth. I’m going to be posting more things up soon. Most of this is from my Creative Writing portfolio. I have some poems and a script. There is also a nonfiction piece of my father, and my love for quinceañeras.

The following story is about a sloth named Cole.

            Everyday, children come to see the wonders of the world famous Tulsa petting zoo. Lines stretch a mile for admission. This excites no one more than Cole, a vane sloth. Despite his lethargy, Cole wakes up every morning, bright and early, to put on his best fur. He even practices his cuteness by being extra bashful on his climbing stick. It wasn’t too hard; he was the only one in his cage. After an hour of practice, Cole walks up to his mirror.

            “Today, you’re going to shine like no other,” said Cole.

He quickly turned his head to the sound of gates opening. People were starting to purchase their tickets. As Cole tried to fix his hair with the droplets of water from his bottle, children already started to enter. Cole turned and made an expression fit for a ringleader at a circus. His face had collapsed into a frown. He noticed that all the children were wearing the same shirt: Larry The Llama.

One can imagine how saddened that Cole had become. This wasn’t a new occurrence, and it happened daily. The reason Cole had felt confident that day was that he thought he overheard some of the humans that run the zoo say a shipment was going to be made. Who else would get shipped to a big fancy zoo in San Diego? Cole was mistaken. After brooding for what seemed like a fortnight in sloth time, Cole escaped his cage and began to contemplate leaving the grounds. Before he could reach the gate, someone approached him from behind.

            “Hello,” said a female creature that was silhouetted in the shadow.

            “Woah, OY!” screamed Cole.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

            “What, me scared? Girl, I’m fine.”

            “Oh, all right then. Could you help me by any chance?”

            “Well, That depends. What’s the need?”

            “I’m supposed to find my cage. The workers left me during their lunch break.”

            “Where are you supposed to be?”

The female emerged from the darkness and revealed herself as a beautiful female sloth.

            “The Sloth Cage”

Cole’s eyes were as shiny and moist as a petal on a flower soaked by the rain. He had a new tomorrow ahead of him.

I’m real excited to listen to this entire album. It’s Dead Man’s Bones featuring lead vocals by the famous Ryan Gosling!

This is the last weekend I’ll be participating in a high school production. We’re doing the Crucible, so I won’t be ending it on a happy one, but this has been such a great experience. Four years of Harlequins has made me reflect, and really has changed me into the character I am today. I might do one at Sarah Lawrence, but that’s a while from now.

*I dedicate this post to everyone I’ve met through Harlequins.