Novel Outline Matt Steel
Overview
This story is going to be based around a nineteen year old man who attends university. The man goes by the name of Jon, he lives in an apartment with his friend and girlfriend, and is in university to get a degree in english and history, in which he will then hopefully become a teacher. The story revolves around his increasing drug problem and the stresses of growing up in our society.
Character Description
John - John is the protagonist. He’s nineteen and attending university(later in the novel), looking to become a teacher. He’s athletic, standing six foot even. He’s always been what teacher’s call an underachiever, always feeling like he’s got something better to do. He inherited seventy five thousand from deaths and is left with little family. Friendly but quiet, short dark brown hair, and cold, silver green eyes. As john enters university, his soft drug use quickly changes in to a clear addiction.
Steve - Steve is best friends with John and Ormr, living in an apartment with john. He’s six two, with a relaxed but almost sad face, coupled by large brown eyes and shaggy red hair. Steve’s physically large, but not fat. He’s twenty years old and works as a mechanic in a small garage near a popular surfing spot. He’s very quiet, but calm like a bomb. Most people don’t know him very well, which is unfortunate as he’s a great guy who would do anything for his friends. Steve had past problems with his parents whom he no longer speaks to, but he’s happy getting on in life alongside his friends. He’s always doing whatever John and Ormr are, leading to his eventual drug addiction.
Ormr - Ormr’s best friends with steve and john, the three being inseparable. He was born in india but is of mixed african-indian descent. As the youngest of the group, He’s 5'9 but physically well built standing at 185 pounds. His parents are quite wealthy and thus afford him a small apartment, tuition, and funds in california so he can go to school as a programmer. Unlike his friends, outside of the occasional party does not take part in hard drugs, although he is the only member of the group who smokes cigarettes. Ormr's lighthearted, the guy who everyone gets along with. Despite his size, he's the most relaxed of the group but won't turn down a scrap if someone's getting out of line.
Laura – Laura is eighteen years old and lives with her parents in the same city as the three amigos. She's 5''6, with an average build topped by long, light brown hair. She will have graduated by the time she meets John inside a local coffee shop, but is completely at a loss for what she'd like to do for a living and feels lost after exiting highschool. Although a little confused and more than a little misguided, laura is a person of extreme good will, having a guilty conscience and a strong distaste for her parents. She spends most of her time at the beach where she sells oranges for a way to make an income.
Setting
The year won’t be discussed in the novel, but it will be set in the present times. The novel will start in February and will progress through the summer, moving in to winter during the university semester. It will take place in Long Beach, california
POV
I'll be using a first person perspective in the present tense from the view of John. I find that fictuous novels told from the first person have a more in depth feel, a way to touch base from the story to the reader. We don't experience life through the third person, a book about ones life feels more "hands on" done through the first person. A significant portion of the book will take place in john's kept journals, which will be used as a way to further explain and define john as the protagonist while adding another level on the personal mental degredation. An example will be included in the sample chapter.
Chapter Outlines
Chapters of the book will not be particularily small or large, but are not explicitly linear. Chapters may break out of a situation in to another point in time depending on the way the story develops.
Chapter 1 Chapter one will start the book off around the first third of the story, where John's addictions are in full force. It will be short, mostly entailing john explaining his situation to the reader through his journal entry and will end with a transition back to the start of the story.
Chapter 2 Chapter two will be short and the real "Start" of the story, taking place inside and around the the apartment complex of john and steve, introducing a more stable john and another major character, steve.
Chapter 3 Chapter three will be the first large chapter of the book, involving a brief scene of john at the end of his highschool day. Ormr is introduced to the story through a phone call with John as he heads his way to meet Steve at work. The chapter will end at the beach where steve, john, and their regulars spend the night on some drinks and surfing the beach. Quick journal entry.
Chapter 4 The chapter will revolve around the weekend where Ormr is introduced for the first time in person at a house party the three attend, where john makes the decision to try cocaine for the second time.
Chapter 5 Chapter 5 will be short and take place the day after chapter four, inside ormr's apartment where the three discuss the happenings of the party over drinks and smokes. Journal entry revolving around cocaine use.
Chapter 6 At school, john buys a bag of ten oxycontin pills that a friend of his offered for a dirt cheap price. The chapter will end after john and steve had spent the night doozing inside of john's car, driving around the town playing pool and good times.
Chapter 7 Chapter seven will be a large and important turning point in the story. This is where john's addictive personality starts to manifest in a drug dependancy. Steve gets a call through which he is to about his mothers heart attack and death. This leads to his taking his vacation pay and one week off from work, john tries to comfort his friend by his company and chemical influence. By the end of the week, john begins to understand his situation but ignores it. Journal entry before the week long drug binge starts.
Chapter 8 Skip ahead a few weeks and it's april. Ormr gets his monthly cheque from his parents, doubled due to his birthday in which he uses partially to throw a party in his apartment. He confronts steve about john's open drug use at the party, but little progress is made as john has kept his vices quiet.
Chapter 9 - Chapter 1's insetIt's may, and John's school problems are explained through his drug use and declined grades. This chapter will focus on john and his realization of the gravity of his addiction and it’s effects on his friends, including the degredation of his mental state. Loopy journal entry.
Chapter 10 Laura will be introduced in chapter 10. John will be alone all day, strung out and headed in to a local favourite coffee shop where he is confronted by a girl he's never met before, laura.
Chapter 11 A transition chapter that will shift the focus from partying to john’s thoughts of laura and his frequenting of the coffee shop in hopes to see her. Both under a clear case of infatuation, they agree to continue their talks at the café. Journal entry, laura situation.
Chapter 12 It’s the middle of June and John’s about to finish his last year of school, and although he almost dropped under the average mandate he’s managed to keep his acceptance to California State University. John comes home to see Steve snorting an oxycontin, the first time he’s seen him do any hard drugs without him around.
Chapter 13Laura is introduced to Ormr and Steve at a small end of the school year celebration party at their apartment. She is aware of the groups drug use and although she disproves she accepts it. Chapter end with Ormr and laura taking care of John and steve who are both heavily intoxicated. Journal.
Chapter 14Takes place the next day, Ormr and laura, along with the rest of the group, are gone, leaving john to wake up to a mess with an extreme hangover and what he suspects to be the first serious signs of withdrawal. He proceeds to consume more oxycontin, disregarding his apartment to end the chapter by passing out.
Chapter 15 Ormr and john go surfing on the beach where they talk about how things are going. John continues to sip out of a flask he’s started to carry, alarming ormr. Within a couple hours, john’s too drunk to surf and ormr drops him off at home, clearly angry. John recieves a call from laura and is too intoxicated to speak to her on the phone, leading to a breakdown.
Chapter 16 John comes home sober and with laura to find steve, yet again, passed out on the couch with the remnants of his oxycontin binge on the table. Short journal.
Chapter 17 It’s late July and university has nearly started, john and steve make the decision to live out the rest of their summer partying with disregard to their conditions. During the chapter there’s a disturbance at John’s dealer’s house, where john gets in to a fistfight with a junkie0.
Chapter 18 University has started, and john is still abusing chemicals on a daily basis. He’s spent a respectable portion of his inheritance over the summer and is left with just overget through his university term with. Luara has also started to abuse oxycontin occasionally as an excuse to spend time with him. The chapter will focus on john’s inner conflict over his drug use in a journal entry.
Chapter 19 - Major turning pointIt’s the third weekend of August and two weeks of school have passed. Steve and John both have the Saturday off, coming to the decision to do mushrooms. They spend the evening walking around the beach and streets, observing all the slum life that long beach has to offer. They have an emotional experience where they both come to terms with the fact that their drug use has twisted and begun to destroy their lives, they both end up swearing off hard drug use to get their lives back on track
Chapter 20 Two days after the mushroom trip, the two are going strong in their break of habit, declaring to their friends, Ormr and laura in particular, that they’re done with the hard drugs and will refrain their chemical use to alcohol and bud.
Chapter 21John’s picked up on his university subjects and finds his thoughts are more clear than he can ever remember them being. He’s picked up a gym membership and starts to spend more time with Ormr pumping at the gym and hanging out in bars. Steve is absent in this chapter. Journal entry.
Chapter 22 Three weeks after their pact, it’s September. Laura is living with steve and john while working at a local telemarketing company. John and ormr start to suspect Steve’s oxycontin relapse.
Chapter 23 Steve is confronted by john, ormr and laura about his drug use. He admits to have been using it on and off since he had claimed to be sober but claims to have it under control. Steve-based journal entry.
Chapter 24 - Climax John and laura are out for the evening at the movies followed by a bar run. On their way home, steve isn’t answering the phone , something he’s not known to do. They find him in the bathroom overdosed on a combination of valium, whiskey and oxycontin. The answering machine’s last message depicts Steve’s aunt letting him know that his father and sister were both fatally injured in a car crash the same morning. By the time the ambulance arrives, steve is no longer breathing and dies on his way to the hospital.
Chapter 25 John enters a bout of depression and is disgusted by the drugs effect on his and his friends life, and thus refrains from continued use. Laura has been and continues to be his saving grace, helping him get through. They make the decision to change apartment buildings and move in with ormr while they await a new apartment.
Chapter 26 Skip two weeks ahead, laura and john have moved in to a complex located near the university, john’s still clean and is clearly void of a chance for relapse. Laura has happily agreed to stay away from the pills to help john stay clean, and it works. Ormr and steve start to surf together on a competetive level.
Chapter 27 A short chapter taking place in december, consisting of john’s journal entry in which he finally, after 20 years of confusion, found real peace and happiness in the life he has been leading, ending the book in a quote from his favourite band.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Journal 16 - Freewrite
When we’re born, we are fulfilling a role. Our parents (usually) have us in mind to be at least moderately “successful”, or at least happy. Being north american, we’ve all generally accepted the same common goals in life. Get old, make money, buy a house and have a family. For the most part, the way people go about doing this is getting an education and acquiring a career that will afford us all of the great material goods we’ve become so addicted to. Some careers build, design, improve our world. Other’s are simply entertainment, and these, ironically, are the most well paid. Sports players, actors, etc. One who is a major league anything player is looked up to as a star figure in our society, a role model and an idol. They get paid millions upon millions to simply play what they enjoy. Of course there’s more to it, travelling, time away from home, extreme training and practice regimen, etc. The reason people who are star players get paid so much in comparison to something useful, say, a carpenter, is because although the carpenter is probably more valuable to our society, it’s much easier to perform the carpenters job than it is to be a sports god.
Football, hockey, all major sports were at one point simple recreational activities. Games people played and started to organize in to competitive levels are now our national pastimes. This leads us to today’s up and coming claim to fame; video games. Many people view video games as childish and simple, just something to do in one’s spare time. To others, these people are morons. The average video gamer is not eight, ten, or twelve years old, but thirty-three. Unlike what most people would imagine, 38% of video gamers are female, a number that’s been rising steadily over the past decade. There’s only a handful of professional level sports players, with millions of people playing the game on a recreational level. What separates a player from a pro is the extent of knowledge and skill of the game, the huge gap in performance. One can easily distinguish the difference between a “Childish” game of four on four and a “Professional” , ruled and restricted game of NBA basketball. Unfortunately, unlike basketball, not everyone has witnessed a properly organized video game match. Players are praised for their skill at otherwise inane tasks, such as throwing a ball in a hoop, smashing into eachother, etc. Each sport has it’s own set of “duties”, shooting, passing, field awareness, teamwork. Anyone who has ever seen a legitimate MLG (Major League Gaming) match of any variety, halo, gears of war, or warcraft knows that it is much, much more taxing to keep your shit together in proper videogame environments than any court. Take an FPS for example, a player must not only learn how to master the subtle controls of shooting, dodging, throwing (The list goes on), but learn how to detect seemingly nonexistent signs at every angle. It’d almost be impossible to explain to someone not familiar with competitive tier play how much is really going on all at once and needs to be micromanaged on one screen. The speed at which some player’s minds operate is simply on another level than that of any rugby pro.
There are already several large videogame organizations, CAL, CPL, and MLG being the leaders. These hot tournaments for players from around the globe, with prize money, hotel accommodation, and a huge fanbase following, yet still videogames have failed to gain a proper sense of respect from the average non videogamer. It frustrates me how someone who is adept at smashing a ball with a stick of wood is looked at as a king, yet someone who needs to make more on the spot, instantaneous decisions than the entire baseball league is made out to look like a fool.
Fortunately, North America’s ignorance towards gamers is not world wide. In much of Europe, café’s have proper internet connections and computers that many people pay hourly to use for gaming. In germany and the Phillipines, DotA (A Videogame) has become a common pastime for the student body. Korea has adapted Blizzard Entertainment’s “Starcraft” in to their national pastime (No, really.), where star players live in all inclusive, specially designed homes where they spend the days with their teammates and coaches, simply “Training” day in and day out. As of recent, a few select individuals have started to earn their keep off of professional gaming via sponsorships, a good start to a lengthy , well needed change.
When we’re born, we are fulfilling a role. Our parents (usually) have us in mind to be at least moderately “successful”, or at least happy. Being north american, we’ve all generally accepted the same common goals in life. Get old, make money, buy a house and have a family. For the most part, the way people go about doing this is getting an education and acquiring a career that will afford us all of the great material goods we’ve become so addicted to. Some careers build, design, improve our world. Other’s are simply entertainment, and these, ironically, are the most well paid. Sports players, actors, etc. One who is a major league anything player is looked up to as a star figure in our society, a role model and an idol. They get paid millions upon millions to simply play what they enjoy. Of course there’s more to it, travelling, time away from home, extreme training and practice regimen, etc. The reason people who are star players get paid so much in comparison to something useful, say, a carpenter, is because although the carpenter is probably more valuable to our society, it’s much easier to perform the carpenters job than it is to be a sports god.
Football, hockey, all major sports were at one point simple recreational activities. Games people played and started to organize in to competitive levels are now our national pastimes. This leads us to today’s up and coming claim to fame; video games. Many people view video games as childish and simple, just something to do in one’s spare time. To others, these people are morons. The average video gamer is not eight, ten, or twelve years old, but thirty-three. Unlike what most people would imagine, 38% of video gamers are female, a number that’s been rising steadily over the past decade. There’s only a handful of professional level sports players, with millions of people playing the game on a recreational level. What separates a player from a pro is the extent of knowledge and skill of the game, the huge gap in performance. One can easily distinguish the difference between a “Childish” game of four on four and a “Professional” , ruled and restricted game of NBA basketball. Unfortunately, unlike basketball, not everyone has witnessed a properly organized video game match. Players are praised for their skill at otherwise inane tasks, such as throwing a ball in a hoop, smashing into eachother, etc. Each sport has it’s own set of “duties”, shooting, passing, field awareness, teamwork. Anyone who has ever seen a legitimate MLG (Major League Gaming) match of any variety, halo, gears of war, or warcraft knows that it is much, much more taxing to keep your shit together in proper videogame environments than any court. Take an FPS for example, a player must not only learn how to master the subtle controls of shooting, dodging, throwing (The list goes on), but learn how to detect seemingly nonexistent signs at every angle. It’d almost be impossible to explain to someone not familiar with competitive tier play how much is really going on all at once and needs to be micromanaged on one screen. The speed at which some player’s minds operate is simply on another level than that of any rugby pro.
There are already several large videogame organizations, CAL, CPL, and MLG being the leaders. These hot tournaments for players from around the globe, with prize money, hotel accommodation, and a huge fanbase following, yet still videogames have failed to gain a proper sense of respect from the average non videogamer. It frustrates me how someone who is adept at smashing a ball with a stick of wood is looked at as a king, yet someone who needs to make more on the spot, instantaneous decisions than the entire baseball league is made out to look like a fool.
Fortunately, North America’s ignorance towards gamers is not world wide. In much of Europe, café’s have proper internet connections and computers that many people pay hourly to use for gaming. In germany and the Phillipines, DotA (A Videogame) has become a common pastime for the student body. Korea has adapted Blizzard Entertainment’s “Starcraft” in to their national pastime (No, really.), where star players live in all inclusive, specially designed homes where they spend the days with their teammates and coaches, simply “Training” day in and day out. As of recent, a few select individuals have started to earn their keep off of professional gaming via sponsorships, a good start to a lengthy , well needed change.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Journal 15
Journal 15 - Digital Education Matt Steel
Blogging was completely foreign to me until this semester. Blogger turned out to be a great classroom tool, being easy to use with an interesting plus - feedback that can be read at any time. I find I’m - far - more organised while working on computers, I’ve always been the guy with the loose paper monstrosity known as my binder.
Unfortunately, school PC’s are absolute trash and are a huge sufferance to productivity. The school’s bandwidth isn’t fit for a seniors’ online banking, let alone having a hundred kids trying to get whatever they’re doing done at the same time. I’ve legitimately typed ewcfall2009.blogspot.com, waited unsuccessfully for a minute for it to load, put my head down for a ten minute nap, looked up, and had it not loaded. For real. School software is starting to look ancient. IE7? Really? A combination of needing to reinstall proper software due to a poorly preset Deep Freeze and an underfunded internet connection result in a mind numbing amount of time lost every day clearing up the necessities, plus fifteen minutes a day in waiting for “Thesaurus.com” to load.
I’ve had a great time with our blogging, and I would tell the next symester students not to screw around and let work build up like I did, and to bring in an ipod if they need music to work properly. Between finding unblocked sites and mind numbing load times, your equilibrium will be sent for a trip.
Blogging was completely foreign to me until this semester. Blogger turned out to be a great classroom tool, being easy to use with an interesting plus - feedback that can be read at any time. I find I’m - far - more organised while working on computers, I’ve always been the guy with the loose paper monstrosity known as my binder.
Unfortunately, school PC’s are absolute trash and are a huge sufferance to productivity. The school’s bandwidth isn’t fit for a seniors’ online banking, let alone having a hundred kids trying to get whatever they’re doing done at the same time. I’ve legitimately typed ewcfall2009.blogspot.com, waited unsuccessfully for a minute for it to load, put my head down for a ten minute nap, looked up, and had it not loaded. For real. School software is starting to look ancient. IE7? Really? A combination of needing to reinstall proper software due to a poorly preset Deep Freeze and an underfunded internet connection result in a mind numbing amount of time lost every day clearing up the necessities, plus fifteen minutes a day in waiting for “Thesaurus.com” to load.
I’ve had a great time with our blogging, and I would tell the next symester students not to screw around and let work build up like I did, and to bring in an ipod if they need music to work properly. Between finding unblocked sites and mind numbing load times, your equilibrium will be sent for a trip.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Journal 14
Journal 14 - Nurturing Your Inner Writer
I can’t see anyone being a "born writer". Some people are born with higher intelligence, some with strength, some with speed, etc. These traits will effect what said person excels in later in life, but someone who is born with a strong set of legs and good coordination is a "Born runner", as these both directly influence the persons’ performance. Writing is something different altogether. Any baby learns to walk regardless of assistance eventually, it’s what we’re built to do. Writing on the other hand is something we teach our children how to do, it’s got almost nothing to do with our natural build. No six year old child is a novelist savant who pumps out top sellers at ten, how we write is almost completely in relation to how we were taught how to write.
This of course brings us to the obvious question of "Well, nobody taught the first person to write how to write, did they?". No, but there’s a difference between being born with a set of writing skills and thousands of years of human experimentation and development. Someone of higher intelligence or creativity may have an easier time writing later in life, but they still need years of teaching and reinforcement before being able to make anything worth mentioning.
The writer I am now is mostly a result of schooling, there’s probably some books I’ve read that have effected my writing level or style.
I’m not particularly motivated to continue the development of my writing, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write something of value, and If I were to spend time developing a skill of mine I’d probably see better progress on something else
I can’t see anyone being a "born writer". Some people are born with higher intelligence, some with strength, some with speed, etc. These traits will effect what said person excels in later in life, but someone who is born with a strong set of legs and good coordination is a "Born runner", as these both directly influence the persons’ performance. Writing is something different altogether. Any baby learns to walk regardless of assistance eventually, it’s what we’re built to do. Writing on the other hand is something we teach our children how to do, it’s got almost nothing to do with our natural build. No six year old child is a novelist savant who pumps out top sellers at ten, how we write is almost completely in relation to how we were taught how to write.
This of course brings us to the obvious question of "Well, nobody taught the first person to write how to write, did they?". No, but there’s a difference between being born with a set of writing skills and thousands of years of human experimentation and development. Someone of higher intelligence or creativity may have an easier time writing later in life, but they still need years of teaching and reinforcement before being able to make anything worth mentioning.
The writer I am now is mostly a result of schooling, there’s probably some books I’ve read that have effected my writing level or style.
I’m not particularly motivated to continue the development of my writing, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write something of value, and If I were to spend time developing a skill of mine I’d probably see better progress on something else
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Journal 13 - Writing as a Lifestyle
Journal 13 - Writing as a Lifestyle Matt Steel
A writers lifestyle is completely unfamiliar to me or anyone in this class, unless there’s a hidden novelist I’m unaware about (Amy perhaps?). From what I can imagine I believe a writer would spend a lot of time in their house simply writing, or trying to write. Book tours would be a pain, catering to happy go lucky fans, signature times ten thousand. Many people put more than simple sentences in to their writing, subtle meanings, hidden or disguised thoughts amongst a story. This is true for all types of artists, but the idea of being a writer who puts something of value in his or her writing only to be overlooked by a good story would be frustrating.
Of course the notion of making room fulls of money would be appealing, the physically laid back work and (for the most part) making my own schedule would be dope, travelling, drinking, having a good time on tour. Being a famous writer, as being a famous anything, would have it’s problems. Anyone with significant amounts of money or fame has instantly put their entire life in the hands of chance. If I’ve written five number one books in two years, all over the radio, TV, a sensation, I’ve got millions. I now also need to worry about my wife actually loving me for me, all my friends credibility, all the relationships I make with people from that point on will always have that lingering alienation of normality. Not that every person is inherently conniving, but the thought of “what if” would probably drive me to be insane or depressed. Trying to churn out books that my fans and new readers will both get on with, sensitive stories that wont offend sensitive readers, etc. I honestly don’t think I could see myself being a full time writer, or even a successful part time writer, not only from the lack of skill or creativity but the content of my writing probably wouldn’t appeal to a mass market. The only way I can picture myself integrating writing in to my long-term lifestyle is writing for personal use, journals, logs, etc. This is a little unfortunate as if I get myself in the mood, writing is a great pastime. But hey, maybe I’ll have some crazy realization and turn in to some god-tier writer.
But hey, probably not.
A writers lifestyle is completely unfamiliar to me or anyone in this class, unless there’s a hidden novelist I’m unaware about (Amy perhaps?). From what I can imagine I believe a writer would spend a lot of time in their house simply writing, or trying to write. Book tours would be a pain, catering to happy go lucky fans, signature times ten thousand. Many people put more than simple sentences in to their writing, subtle meanings, hidden or disguised thoughts amongst a story. This is true for all types of artists, but the idea of being a writer who puts something of value in his or her writing only to be overlooked by a good story would be frustrating.
Of course the notion of making room fulls of money would be appealing, the physically laid back work and (for the most part) making my own schedule would be dope, travelling, drinking, having a good time on tour. Being a famous writer, as being a famous anything, would have it’s problems. Anyone with significant amounts of money or fame has instantly put their entire life in the hands of chance. If I’ve written five number one books in two years, all over the radio, TV, a sensation, I’ve got millions. I now also need to worry about my wife actually loving me for me, all my friends credibility, all the relationships I make with people from that point on will always have that lingering alienation of normality. Not that every person is inherently conniving, but the thought of “what if” would probably drive me to be insane or depressed. Trying to churn out books that my fans and new readers will both get on with, sensitive stories that wont offend sensitive readers, etc. I honestly don’t think I could see myself being a full time writer, or even a successful part time writer, not only from the lack of skill or creativity but the content of my writing probably wouldn’t appeal to a mass market. The only way I can picture myself integrating writing in to my long-term lifestyle is writing for personal use, journals, logs, etc. This is a little unfortunate as if I get myself in the mood, writing is a great pastime. But hey, maybe I’ll have some crazy realization and turn in to some god-tier writer.
But hey, probably not.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Poem 5 - Narrative
A sublime man.
There was once a man
Brad Nowell his name
Long beach he grew
Great music he played
bud and eric
on the drums and bass
Everywhere they jammed
their tunes destroyed the place
But as all men have a vice
Brad had times twice
Pesky writers block impedes
He had a well known fix indeed
At first, if he couldn’t think
He’d sit down with a drink
One gin lead to four
and by the end of the day he needed more
So to the needles he took
his family and friends
shook
“Just a music experiment” He said
“You really think I’ll wind up dead?”
For two years, the music genius flowed
“Be careful with the opiates” he was told
But sobriety just isn’t that fun
when you’ve got songs to write
and shows to be done
Shortly after his newlywed wife had born
A baby boy too young to mourn
the death of his father, too far in
Should have stuck with the bud and gin
So here he lies
the late and great
A gift to the world too quickly dies
a self constructed, self assured fate.
There was once a man
Brad Nowell his name
Long beach he grew
Great music he played
bud and eric
on the drums and bass
Everywhere they jammed
their tunes destroyed the place
But as all men have a vice
Brad had times twice
Pesky writers block impedes
He had a well known fix indeed
At first, if he couldn’t think
He’d sit down with a drink
One gin lead to four
and by the end of the day he needed more
So to the needles he took
his family and friends
shook
“Just a music experiment” He said
“You really think I’ll wind up dead?”
For two years, the music genius flowed
“Be careful with the opiates” he was told
But sobriety just isn’t that fun
when you’ve got songs to write
and shows to be done
Shortly after his newlywed wife had born
A baby boy too young to mourn
the death of his father, too far in
Should have stuck with the bud and gin
So here he lies
the late and great
A gift to the world too quickly dies
a self constructed, self assured fate.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Poem 4
Dramatic Monologue Matt Steel
There he stands, hands in chains
A dangerous criminal, or so the judge claims
Metal links, metal sinks, paper cups for cafeteria drinks
Not his wife’s cooking, no his daughter’s crafts
Not there to see his son’s draft
“Go long dad, catch!” he would say
So they’d just sit and throw the ball around all day
They grow up quick, that’s how the old saying goes
In a cell feeling sick
at the thought of the life he chose
Everyday he sees the faces of his family and friends in the back of his eyes
As the days go on, apathy quickly dawns
as he knows in the end everyone dies
stuck in a box, day in and day out
But why? Something vile and evil no doubt
Rapist, insane? Killer, disturbed?
A good man, a foreman, just sold the herb.
A friend,
now foe
let the corrupt police know
his name
his phone
so they would let him go
back in to the streets
a second degree murderer, now free
You must think “This is absurd, a murderer?! This can’t be!”
In the eyes of the stupid, murder just ‘aint as vile as fifty pounds, you see
They say he’ll be free,
with good behaviour indeed
in a high security hell
violence is a need
So there he stands, not ignorant, he knows
twenty fife to life’s just not a joke
Why wait until sixty, surely end it quick
A shoelace and a bunkbed should do the trick
One more soul not helped, not told
Left to “live”, rot, and grow old
To die and be removed from that sick, gray little room
be replaced with another husband, father, son
to be left to his life of gloom.
There he stands, hands in chains
A dangerous criminal, or so the judge claims
Metal links, metal sinks, paper cups for cafeteria drinks
Not his wife’s cooking, no his daughter’s crafts
Not there to see his son’s draft
“Go long dad, catch!” he would say
So they’d just sit and throw the ball around all day
They grow up quick, that’s how the old saying goes
In a cell feeling sick
at the thought of the life he chose
Everyday he sees the faces of his family and friends in the back of his eyes
As the days go on, apathy quickly dawns
as he knows in the end everyone dies
stuck in a box, day in and day out
But why? Something vile and evil no doubt
Rapist, insane? Killer, disturbed?
A good man, a foreman, just sold the herb.
A friend,
now foe
let the corrupt police know
his name
his phone
so they would let him go
back in to the streets
a second degree murderer, now free
You must think “This is absurd, a murderer?! This can’t be!”
In the eyes of the stupid, murder just ‘aint as vile as fifty pounds, you see
They say he’ll be free,
with good behaviour indeed
in a high security hell
violence is a need
So there he stands, not ignorant, he knows
twenty fife to life’s just not a joke
Why wait until sixty, surely end it quick
A shoelace and a bunkbed should do the trick
One more soul not helped, not told
Left to “live”, rot, and grow old
To die and be removed from that sick, gray little room
be replaced with another husband, father, son
to be left to his life of gloom.
Journal 10
Journal 10 - What is Poetry?
My entire collection of experience with poetry comes directly from school english classes. I’m sure I’ve ran through some in reading novels or just through cruising through my eighteen years, but it’s never really been a conscience effort of my own to get into or learn more about any kind of poetry. For the most part it frustrates me when people shut a whole category of something out simply because they don’t like it or because they have difficulty with it, but as there are exceptions to everything there are hypocrisies to delve in to. Poetry holds a special place in my heart as a boycott and a frustration. I look at it, and I’d like to think I understand most of it, but it just doesn’t matter to me. I’ve tried and tried with different poetry icons and I just can’t make myself give a damn about poetry. With thought out assurance I can claim with almighty arrogance that when most people look at poetry and claim brilliance or poetic art, they’re goofs. How many times in class I’ve witnessed people trying to dissect the words in a poem only to end up with some generic, half baked tripe about some deeper meaning behind something, usually starting with “Well, when I read X, I think it’s a metaphor for Y, at least in my mind anyway”, or something of the like. Poetry to me is taking nothing and making it in to more nothing and labelling it as a something.
The study of poetry to me is wasted time that could be used for studying something of “value” (When I say this, I don’t mean to extend the notion that poetry is without any value, simply that it lacks apparent value to me). I know there are plenty of people out there with a far greater understanding of poetry than me, but the idea of spending curriculum space on anything more than a brief run through for poetry is jokes. Yeah, it may open up some newfound poets to the genre, but how “useful” it is to teach our children poetry instead of say, painting or welding.? Carpenters 1, poets, 0.
My entire collection of experience with poetry comes directly from school english classes. I’m sure I’ve ran through some in reading novels or just through cruising through my eighteen years, but it’s never really been a conscience effort of my own to get into or learn more about any kind of poetry. For the most part it frustrates me when people shut a whole category of something out simply because they don’t like it or because they have difficulty with it, but as there are exceptions to everything there are hypocrisies to delve in to. Poetry holds a special place in my heart as a boycott and a frustration. I look at it, and I’d like to think I understand most of it, but it just doesn’t matter to me. I’ve tried and tried with different poetry icons and I just can’t make myself give a damn about poetry. With thought out assurance I can claim with almighty arrogance that when most people look at poetry and claim brilliance or poetic art, they’re goofs. How many times in class I’ve witnessed people trying to dissect the words in a poem only to end up with some generic, half baked tripe about some deeper meaning behind something, usually starting with “Well, when I read X, I think it’s a metaphor for Y, at least in my mind anyway”, or something of the like. Poetry to me is taking nothing and making it in to more nothing and labelling it as a something.
The study of poetry to me is wasted time that could be used for studying something of “value” (When I say this, I don’t mean to extend the notion that poetry is without any value, simply that it lacks apparent value to me). I know there are plenty of people out there with a far greater understanding of poetry than me, but the idea of spending curriculum space on anything more than a brief run through for poetry is jokes. Yeah, it may open up some newfound poets to the genre, but how “useful” it is to teach our children poetry instead of say, painting or welding.? Carpenters 1, poets, 0.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Journal 9
Journal 9 - “Lockdown” Matt Steel
To be entirely honest I don’t pay attention to any issues in any media unless I’ve heard significant word of mouth. Many issues in any form of media are either overinflated, skewed, or dramatised for the desired result. Murders, rapes, 9/11, SARS, Swine flu, people love to hear about all that shit. People just absolutely love to finish a nine to five and return to a trashy living room, sit down, and think “Oh wow, isn’t it terrible that those six thousand people were raped and killed while their houses were torched to the ground. Sure glad it wasn’t me!”. I mean, what’s the point of living an empty, uneventful, 25 thousand a year life when you can’t turn on channel-who-cares and have an all american pity party? I don’t agree with the notion of our world being a different place simply because a couple kids snapped. We’ve always had guns and we’ve always had angry, confused teenagers to abuse them. In school I’d say I feel very safe. As safe as one could reasonably be in a public area. I’m not on bad terms with anyone that goes to this school, I’m not the kind of person to abuse some kid, and I’m not worried about anyone injuring me in a fight, let alone one starting. I guess I could catch a shell from some psychotic shooter but the chances of that happening are so slim that if it happened then hey, at least it’d be a good way to go.
I don’t have a legitimate way for our society to become more peaceful and if anyone in a grade 12 class claimed they did they’d be stoned. The first things that come to mind are the simple, fix everything solutions like “Teach our children to be more peaceful” or “increase violent crime penalties” or “reduce the availability of firearms” but honestly I’ve got few means to administer said solution to our society nor a way to prove any of them right. Hell, I think we should be able to carry firearms regardless, taking away a lumberjack’s saw only keeps the trees standing until he finds his axe.
This “lockdown” business is absolutely ludicrous and makes me fume at just the thought. Let me get this straight, there’s a violent threat of some sort so we are -
Locked in our rooms protected by 3cm of borosilicate, curtains, and a wooden door fastened to the wall with screws, window included.
Not aloud to leave
Not aloud to use our cellphones/internet
Must sit in pre-determined “safe zones”.
This is laughable. Being locked in a room with such flimsy security measures against a -violent- threat doesn’t even need it’s stupidity explained. Our RIGHTS to FREEDOM are withdrawn when we are threatened with repercussions such as expulsion. The reasoning behind the cellphone business has been justified because “The threats may have access to cellphone detection devices including GPS abuse”. Oh, the bloodthirsty murderer armed with technology allowing him to pick up a random cellphone GPS location and track it not to a general area such as the school, but to a specific location. The sociopath with government level technology will be stopped of course by two inches of wood hanging off it’s hinges with a couple steel screws. Jokes.
To be entirely honest I don’t pay attention to any issues in any media unless I’ve heard significant word of mouth. Many issues in any form of media are either overinflated, skewed, or dramatised for the desired result. Murders, rapes, 9/11, SARS, Swine flu, people love to hear about all that shit. People just absolutely love to finish a nine to five and return to a trashy living room, sit down, and think “Oh wow, isn’t it terrible that those six thousand people were raped and killed while their houses were torched to the ground. Sure glad it wasn’t me!”. I mean, what’s the point of living an empty, uneventful, 25 thousand a year life when you can’t turn on channel-who-cares and have an all american pity party? I don’t agree with the notion of our world being a different place simply because a couple kids snapped. We’ve always had guns and we’ve always had angry, confused teenagers to abuse them. In school I’d say I feel very safe. As safe as one could reasonably be in a public area. I’m not on bad terms with anyone that goes to this school, I’m not the kind of person to abuse some kid, and I’m not worried about anyone injuring me in a fight, let alone one starting. I guess I could catch a shell from some psychotic shooter but the chances of that happening are so slim that if it happened then hey, at least it’d be a good way to go.
I don’t have a legitimate way for our society to become more peaceful and if anyone in a grade 12 class claimed they did they’d be stoned. The first things that come to mind are the simple, fix everything solutions like “Teach our children to be more peaceful” or “increase violent crime penalties” or “reduce the availability of firearms” but honestly I’ve got few means to administer said solution to our society nor a way to prove any of them right. Hell, I think we should be able to carry firearms regardless, taking away a lumberjack’s saw only keeps the trees standing until he finds his axe.
This “lockdown” business is absolutely ludicrous and makes me fume at just the thought. Let me get this straight, there’s a violent threat of some sort so we are -
Locked in our rooms protected by 3cm of borosilicate, curtains, and a wooden door fastened to the wall with screws, window included.
Not aloud to leave
Not aloud to use our cellphones/internet
Must sit in pre-determined “safe zones”.
This is laughable. Being locked in a room with such flimsy security measures against a -violent- threat doesn’t even need it’s stupidity explained. Our RIGHTS to FREEDOM are withdrawn when we are threatened with repercussions such as expulsion. The reasoning behind the cellphone business has been justified because “The threats may have access to cellphone detection devices including GPS abuse”. Oh, the bloodthirsty murderer armed with technology allowing him to pick up a random cellphone GPS location and track it not to a general area such as the school, but to a specific location. The sociopath with government level technology will be stopped of course by two inches of wood hanging off it’s hinges with a couple steel screws. Jokes.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Journal 12 - Freewrite
It’s Friday, November 6’th 2009. It’s the past of the present and it’s also far too late in the evening to be writing a journal but here I sit, and the present is all that’s on my brain, or anyone’s brain at that. I look around my room and I can recall everything, the dust covered jet black moniter, the shine of light reflecting from the hardwood floor. The way I look, the way I think and the way I feel. I can remember thirty seconds ago, ten minutes even. The feel of my shuffling, tired feet up the soft carpet-covered stairs. But the past, last week, last weeks last week, that’s when it starts to slip.
I’ve spent eighteen years, probably a third of my life on this planet and from that eighteen years if I actually sat down and thought about how much I could remember, took all my memories about everything and threw it into a non-stop film, it’d probably be about three or four hours. All the days spent concerned with all of the trivial insignificancies of the past’s present we call “problems” result in the people we are today. Not to say I’m some all wise being of worldly experience, the things I think are problems right now are probably going to be things of laughter down the road, but the recent past has provided me with a strange change in how I feel about the things going on around me and the excess behind them. Tomorrow’s got a strange new appearance and it’s leaving me anxious.
I’ve spent eighteen years, probably a third of my life on this planet and from that eighteen years if I actually sat down and thought about how much I could remember, took all my memories about everything and threw it into a non-stop film, it’d probably be about three or four hours. All the days spent concerned with all of the trivial insignificancies of the past’s present we call “problems” result in the people we are today. Not to say I’m some all wise being of worldly experience, the things I think are problems right now are probably going to be things of laughter down the road, but the recent past has provided me with a strange change in how I feel about the things going on around me and the excess behind them. Tomorrow’s got a strange new appearance and it’s leaving me anxious.
Poem 3
Lyric poem- Cars, Matt Steel.
In our cars we ride
Quicker than our foots stride
More gas, more gas,
We’re strapped for time!
Smiling wide for the ride
For the weather is gray and hot outside
Gliding home, where we reside
To sleep
To rest
So tomorrow we repeat
And slowly kill the rest
Smiling wide for the ride
In our cars we ride
Quicker than our foots stride
More gas, more gas,
We’re strapped for time!
Smiling wide for the ride
For the weather is gray and hot outside
Gliding home, where we reside
To sleep
To rest
So tomorrow we repeat
And slowly kill the rest
Smiling wide for the ride
Poem 2- Sonnet
A forced Sonnet, Matt Steel.
The sun outside has gone inside today
So here I sit in this dark dingy room
With little candlelight and not a ray
Of bright renewal for this lonely gloom
Day after day I sit, sit and just wait
For tomorrow may provide a bright light
And here I pray for a sunnier date
When strength can be drawn from and used to fight
Eyes still sealed tight while the curtains are moved
By something strange, warm and friendly, no doubt.
Quiet, silent, for it’s point to be proved
So strong, so loud, I must wake up to shout
“Oh night, why have you left, why have you gone?
You were my reason to not mow the lawn!”
The sun outside has gone inside today
So here I sit in this dark dingy room
With little candlelight and not a ray
Of bright renewal for this lonely gloom
Day after day I sit, sit and just wait
For tomorrow may provide a bright light
And here I pray for a sunnier date
When strength can be drawn from and used to fight
Eyes still sealed tight while the curtains are moved
By something strange, warm and friendly, no doubt.
Quiet, silent, for it’s point to be proved
So strong, so loud, I must wake up to shout
“Oh night, why have you left, why have you gone?
You were my reason to not mow the lawn!”
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Journal 8
Matt Steel
Journal 8 - Free Write: Zombie Apocalypse
Through all the movies and video games and folklore, at one point everyone has had the thought; What if it really happened? What if mankind was legitimately facing extinction due to an infection that renders the victim vicious, mindless, and hungry? It seems silly, of course, but the notion of a widespread infection isn’t something altogether foreign to us as a people. The scepticism in this scenario is having people who have already -died- come back to life, teeth bared and blood-covered hands swinging.
The bit that all those great zombie movies miss is it actually being able to happen. I’m fully convinced that a "zombie" infection is not only possible but at some point down the road, assured. For example, look at rabies. Rabies has a couple traits that on their own are quite normal, but paired together result in something altogether more deadly. The fallowing is a brief list of rabies symptoms - Anxiety, insomnia, confusion, agitation, abnormal behavior, paranoia, terror, production of large amounts of saliva, and "hallucinations progressing to delirium". There are two different things worth noting here. The first is a variety of negative, aggressive mental traits and a mouth filled with infectious bodily fluids. The mode of viral transportation is as frightening as it is efficient.
Diseases and infections are constantly changing and adapting just like any other form of life, new symptoms and conditions develop all the time, so what’s stopping our current form of rabies adapting to keep the host alive longer? If the infection didn’t turn people in to brain eating monsters immediately after being bitten, a week of delusional paranoia with no sleep on an already insane mind could easily lead to the beastly freaks we call "zombies".
We live and treat our lives not as the gifts they are but as assumed rights, how prepared are we for an apocalyptical event? If we started hearing moans right now as we tap, tap, tap on our plastic keyboards drinking our twelve-servings-of-fruit-in-one-bottle syrup, if the windows started smashing and a rabies-infected south America started rushing over our borders, through our schools and up our stairs, would we be prepared for it? People keep themselves in piss poor physical shape, people smoke cigarettes and sleep three hours a night to accommodate their homework addictions. People can’t sprint a hundred metres without huffing and puffing by the eighty mark, because when you’ve got a car to drive to the store and a video game and a cigarette to keep you occupied, who care’s about what ifs? I’ve got what I think to be a clever escape plan formulated in my brain including every variable from friends to family to guns to long term raids reconstruction, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t overlooked some other silly, fiendish cult monster looking to take over the world. Zombies are no problem, but if Cthulu or aliens start slapping us around I’m on the same probe boat as everyone else.
Journal 8 - Free Write: Zombie Apocalypse
Through all the movies and video games and folklore, at one point everyone has had the thought; What if it really happened? What if mankind was legitimately facing extinction due to an infection that renders the victim vicious, mindless, and hungry? It seems silly, of course, but the notion of a widespread infection isn’t something altogether foreign to us as a people. The scepticism in this scenario is having people who have already -died- come back to life, teeth bared and blood-covered hands swinging.
The bit that all those great zombie movies miss is it actually being able to happen. I’m fully convinced that a "zombie" infection is not only possible but at some point down the road, assured. For example, look at rabies. Rabies has a couple traits that on their own are quite normal, but paired together result in something altogether more deadly. The fallowing is a brief list of rabies symptoms - Anxiety, insomnia, confusion, agitation, abnormal behavior, paranoia, terror, production of large amounts of saliva, and "hallucinations progressing to delirium". There are two different things worth noting here. The first is a variety of negative, aggressive mental traits and a mouth filled with infectious bodily fluids. The mode of viral transportation is as frightening as it is efficient.
Diseases and infections are constantly changing and adapting just like any other form of life, new symptoms and conditions develop all the time, so what’s stopping our current form of rabies adapting to keep the host alive longer? If the infection didn’t turn people in to brain eating monsters immediately after being bitten, a week of delusional paranoia with no sleep on an already insane mind could easily lead to the beastly freaks we call "zombies".
We live and treat our lives not as the gifts they are but as assumed rights, how prepared are we for an apocalyptical event? If we started hearing moans right now as we tap, tap, tap on our plastic keyboards drinking our twelve-servings-of-fruit-in-one-bottle syrup, if the windows started smashing and a rabies-infected south America started rushing over our borders, through our schools and up our stairs, would we be prepared for it? People keep themselves in piss poor physical shape, people smoke cigarettes and sleep three hours a night to accommodate their homework addictions. People can’t sprint a hundred metres without huffing and puffing by the eighty mark, because when you’ve got a car to drive to the store and a video game and a cigarette to keep you occupied, who care’s about what ifs? I’ve got what I think to be a clever escape plan formulated in my brain including every variable from friends to family to guns to long term raids reconstruction, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t overlooked some other silly, fiendish cult monster looking to take over the world. Zombies are no problem, but if Cthulu or aliens start slapping us around I’m on the same probe boat as everyone else.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Radio Play
Radio Play Assignment Matt Steel
Jack: Did they give you guys ketchup?
Ormr: Man, you didn’t even get fries.
Jack: Yeah dude, but the lady serving me didn’t bag it, why didn’t I get ketchup?
Ormr: Does it matter? You still don’t have fries to put ketchup on, stop whining.
Jack: Stingy old bag.
Steve: Hey, pass that ball bro. Who’s down on some Bump?
Ormr: Shot second.
Jack: Third for sure, I’ll be back real quick.
Ormr: Smoke before he gets back?
Steve: Yeah for sure, five says you’re going to bum one
Ormr: you know it, the five’s you know where.
Steve: Lucky we’re in the smoke pit ‘else I’d beat it out of you.
Ormr: Keep that up and we’ll have a deja vu of last week, scrub.
Steve: Man, I had my cast on.
Ormr: Jokes.
Ormr: You know where Jack ran off to?
Steve: He’s inside somewhere, maybe he’s grabbing food in the caff or using the washroom or something.
Ormr: Bump’s trash with two’s, how ‘bout that butt?
Steve: Yeah man, you got a spark?
*Nearby shouting*
Ormr: You heard that too, right?
Steve: Yeah man, something’s going down in the smoke pit. Let’s go find Jack and check it out.
Jack: What's wrong with you guys?
Ormr: Nothing's wrong, hurry up dude. Everyone’s watching something in the pit, we gotta' go check it out.
Jack: Watching what?
Ormr: I don't know dude, looks like everyone’s circled around a fight. Look.
Jack: There's no fight, people are throwing shit at someone.
Ormr: It looked like one, not everyone can be a giant.
Jack: I'm not a giant, you're just a gnome.
Ormr: Yeah alright Godzilla, let's push through these juniors and see what's happening. 'Scuse me guys.
*Laughing, shouting*
Steve: Why's that old broad picking up that change? She looks decrepit.
Dylan: The crazy bitch is up three fifty!
Jack: What are you sayin' dude, really throwing change at that hurtin' lady?
Dylan: She's nuts and I've only got another two quarter's left so chill, watch when I toss it at her, she’ll go crazy and run for it.
Jack: This is ridiculous, tell your scrub friends to cut the shit before I do.
Steve: You kids are brutal.
Dylan: You're jokes buddy, huge kid's all talk.
Jack: Call me huge again you goof and see what happens.
Dylan: I don't want to fight you dude, you need to chill.
Ormr: Dude called you a goof and you say he's all talk, do something about it.
Dylan: I'm not fighting you dude. I've got to go to class early, no beef.
Jack: That really puts me off man, kid's a joke. Honestly, who throws shit at poor people.
Steve: It's good, he looked like he was going to pass out when you called him a goof.
*Bell*
Jack: I've gotta' get to horticulture, someone hit me up after school.
Steve: Will do. Oms, skip third and grab some subway?
Ormr: I've skipped science three times since Monday, I've gotta' go at least once.
Steve: I'll buy your broke self a subway melt.
Ormr: And a drink?
Steve: Stingy goof.
Ormr: Alright, sounds like a plan dude - But I'm drivin'.
Jack: Did they give you guys ketchup?
Ormr: Man, you didn’t even get fries.
Jack: Yeah dude, but the lady serving me didn’t bag it, why didn’t I get ketchup?
Ormr: Does it matter? You still don’t have fries to put ketchup on, stop whining.
Jack: Stingy old bag.
Steve: Hey, pass that ball bro. Who’s down on some Bump?
Ormr: Shot second.
Jack: Third for sure, I’ll be back real quick.
Ormr: Smoke before he gets back?
Steve: Yeah for sure, five says you’re going to bum one
Ormr: you know it, the five’s you know where.
Steve: Lucky we’re in the smoke pit ‘else I’d beat it out of you.
Ormr: Keep that up and we’ll have a deja vu of last week, scrub.
Steve: Man, I had my cast on.
Ormr: Jokes.
Ormr: You know where Jack ran off to?
Steve: He’s inside somewhere, maybe he’s grabbing food in the caff or using the washroom or something.
Ormr: Bump’s trash with two’s, how ‘bout that butt?
Steve: Yeah man, you got a spark?
*Nearby shouting*
Ormr: You heard that too, right?
Steve: Yeah man, something’s going down in the smoke pit. Let’s go find Jack and check it out.
Jack: What's wrong with you guys?
Ormr: Nothing's wrong, hurry up dude. Everyone’s watching something in the pit, we gotta' go check it out.
Jack: Watching what?
Ormr: I don't know dude, looks like everyone’s circled around a fight. Look.
Jack: There's no fight, people are throwing shit at someone.
Ormr: It looked like one, not everyone can be a giant.
Jack: I'm not a giant, you're just a gnome.
Ormr: Yeah alright Godzilla, let's push through these juniors and see what's happening. 'Scuse me guys.
*Laughing, shouting*
Steve: Why's that old broad picking up that change? She looks decrepit.
Dylan: The crazy bitch is up three fifty!
Jack: What are you sayin' dude, really throwing change at that hurtin' lady?
Dylan: She's nuts and I've only got another two quarter's left so chill, watch when I toss it at her, she’ll go crazy and run for it.
Jack: This is ridiculous, tell your scrub friends to cut the shit before I do.
Steve: You kids are brutal.
Dylan: You're jokes buddy, huge kid's all talk.
Jack: Call me huge again you goof and see what happens.
Dylan: I don't want to fight you dude, you need to chill.
Ormr: Dude called you a goof and you say he's all talk, do something about it.
Dylan: I'm not fighting you dude. I've got to go to class early, no beef.
Jack: That really puts me off man, kid's a joke. Honestly, who throws shit at poor people.
Steve: It's good, he looked like he was going to pass out when you called him a goof.
*Bell*
Jack: I've gotta' get to horticulture, someone hit me up after school.
Steve: Will do. Oms, skip third and grab some subway?
Ormr: I've skipped science three times since Monday, I've gotta' go at least once.
Steve: I'll buy your broke self a subway melt.
Ormr: And a drink?
Steve: Stingy goof.
Ormr: Alright, sounds like a plan dude - But I'm drivin'.
Journal 5
Journal 5 Matt Steel
Education in North America has become a standardized mandate, education is monitored on federal, provincial, and municipal levels. We’ve actually made it illegal for people under X age to -not- go to school, and for the most part we try to make it easier for kids who have trouble making it. School isn’t thought of as an option or a privilege anymore, but as a chore. The way our lives are set up as children in Canada make it hard not to hate going to school. When you’re a kid you’re not at work or out labouring in a field, you’re in a house with parents to pay for and take care of everything. All there is to do is run around and have some good times doing as we please, the only interruption is a six and a half hour school break. As soon as we’re old enough to go to school we learn to hate it. It’s not as if school is that bad to begin with. You go to a room filled with kids your age and learn about everything under the sun, for free.
Unfortunately, people love to hate, and when you’re a kid you don’t know anything really worth hating so you fall back on the only thing we do know to complain about - school, parents, etc. In other areas of the world where it’s not normal to be pampered and have whatever you want, it’s a lot easier to appreciate the luxury of a well managed school system. Even if one were to drop out of school and pick up a life doing whatevers in wherevers in our society, their life would be much more relaxed than someone who needs to look at school as an eventual aspiration and not a pain in the ass.
Education in North America has become a standardized mandate, education is monitored on federal, provincial, and municipal levels. We’ve actually made it illegal for people under X age to -not- go to school, and for the most part we try to make it easier for kids who have trouble making it. School isn’t thought of as an option or a privilege anymore, but as a chore. The way our lives are set up as children in Canada make it hard not to hate going to school. When you’re a kid you’re not at work or out labouring in a field, you’re in a house with parents to pay for and take care of everything. All there is to do is run around and have some good times doing as we please, the only interruption is a six and a half hour school break. As soon as we’re old enough to go to school we learn to hate it. It’s not as if school is that bad to begin with. You go to a room filled with kids your age and learn about everything under the sun, for free.
Unfortunately, people love to hate, and when you’re a kid you don’t know anything really worth hating so you fall back on the only thing we do know to complain about - school, parents, etc. In other areas of the world where it’s not normal to be pampered and have whatever you want, it’s a lot easier to appreciate the luxury of a well managed school system. Even if one were to drop out of school and pick up a life doing whatevers in wherevers in our society, their life would be much more relaxed than someone who needs to look at school as an eventual aspiration and not a pain in the ass.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Journal 4
Journal #4 Matt Steel
Twelve plus years of education teaching me the intricacies of our language, and it's still a stretch to "Free write" on the spot. One could write pages upon pages about anything if it's a conscience destination. If this journal had been to write about my opinion on instant coffee or recycling or something we've become accustomed to throwing out on demand, a page journal would've been chopped in twenty minutes. Writing about a given topic is simply a matter of time and skill, but this free writing business is what starts to build up that mental block. What to write about? The idea of free writing on a computer is overwhelming to me, I've got the option to choose anything I'd like and the tools to provide me information on anything the human race has ever known, while simultaneously deciding to write about how I had some pseudo-profane thought I had or some stupid thing. So here I sit at an embarrassing time trying to grind out a page of something passable and be done with these journals, and the best I can throw down is an explanation for the lack of quality in said assignment. Looking at it like that is a bit ambitious I guess, it's not as if every highschool writer's craft assignment needs to be built up in to some dazzling piece of art based off of an innovative topic. Hey, maybe my bunk journal entry won't be so trashy after all.
When I'm just sifting through my mind for another reason to write I feel almost as if someone has robbed me of my proper thought process. How does one describe the subtleties of their brain processing? Perhaps one day down the road we'll have a machine to let us look in to the minds of each other and learn from the way we see their brain doing its' work, but until then I'm stuck in the blank room upstairs, looking out and wondering what would be a suitable topic to write about, and how to write about said topic. If one had the power of mind reading, I think they would find it to be a double-edged burden. We stay happy and secure in our ignorance, if that were dissolved in the all knowledge of mind reading it would result in a quite unhappy superman. Most of those superpowers we daydream about would probably end up being a drag. Breathing under water would be a blast until you notice you’re the only one in the ocean, invisibility would get you hit by a car, and far-sight would probably result in psychosis or suicide. I’m content with my five senses of mediocrity.
Journal 3
Journal #3 Matt Steel
When it comes to my writing, I usually end up spewing about people. How people think, act, whatever. I usually have some trouble writing anything if I’m not in a particular writing groove, my self absorbed mind always seems to drift around someone or something that’s happening to someone and such. From experiences usually related to school, I find that writing can be an extremely useful tool for debates or conflicts. If I’m looking to prove a point about something that holds any amount of importance, it’s extremely helpful to have a pre-written set of points, or something more thorough like an essay. When you’re having an argument or a debate with someone about a topic, people love to talk out of their ass and pull out some false "fact". This will usually go back and forth until someone decides to drop it, resulting in little progress. I don’t know why, but having some concrete facts on paper usually garners a certain amount of respect from the opposite side and results in a little more open-mindedness.
Changing anything usually brings some complications, but as long as the ends outweigh the means, changes are almost always worth being made. Most changes are better described as improvements, and those that aren’t are the ones not worth making.
When it comes to my writing, I usually end up spewing about people. How people think, act, whatever. I usually have some trouble writing anything if I’m not in a particular writing groove, my self absorbed mind always seems to drift around someone or something that’s happening to someone and such. From experiences usually related to school, I find that writing can be an extremely useful tool for debates or conflicts. If I’m looking to prove a point about something that holds any amount of importance, it’s extremely helpful to have a pre-written set of points, or something more thorough like an essay. When you’re having an argument or a debate with someone about a topic, people love to talk out of their ass and pull out some false "fact". This will usually go back and forth until someone decides to drop it, resulting in little progress. I don’t know why, but having some concrete facts on paper usually garners a certain amount of respect from the opposite side and results in a little more open-mindedness.
Changing anything usually brings some complications, but as long as the ends outweigh the means, changes are almost always worth being made. Most changes are better described as improvements, and those that aren’t are the ones not worth making.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Journal 2
Journal #2 Matt Steel
I’ve been putting some thought in to this question a lot recently, and my idea of a legacy has come to be pretty average. There’s quite a few people who want to leave a mark to be remembered by, to be the next Shaq or Davinci. I’d like to say I don’t care what people remember me by, but that would be some arrogant and a solid lie.
People come, people go, and there’s not a whole lot of people that stick around through the whole ride. There’s been a lot of people I associate myself with by calling them friends and family that I know won’t be here in ten or fifteen. These are the kind of people that aren’t on my brain when it comes to how I’d like to be remembered. People are going to remember me for a whole lot more than one single event that decides the outcome of how they think about me, and I can’t help that. At the same time, how people remember you doesn’t decide how you did live your life, so to hell with them. On another level, those people that I know I can call my real friends or people down the road that become those real friends, those are the people that I’d hope remembered me in a good light.
My reason for being is to have some good times with people who want to have some good times with me. This is the question I guess I’m supposed to raise some half baked pseudo-intellectual enlightened reason behind my being but I don’t have one, and I think there probably isn’t one. I don’t plan to be mad wealthy or cure cancer, and I could care less if I was in some textbook fifty years from now about how I conquered South America, but if I had the opportunity to live a decent life in a dope country, and if the people that stayed true the whole way through thought I was a good guy, than I think I’d die a happy dude.
I’ve been putting some thought in to this question a lot recently, and my idea of a legacy has come to be pretty average. There’s quite a few people who want to leave a mark to be remembered by, to be the next Shaq or Davinci. I’d like to say I don’t care what people remember me by, but that would be some arrogant and a solid lie.
People come, people go, and there’s not a whole lot of people that stick around through the whole ride. There’s been a lot of people I associate myself with by calling them friends and family that I know won’t be here in ten or fifteen. These are the kind of people that aren’t on my brain when it comes to how I’d like to be remembered. People are going to remember me for a whole lot more than one single event that decides the outcome of how they think about me, and I can’t help that. At the same time, how people remember you doesn’t decide how you did live your life, so to hell with them. On another level, those people that I know I can call my real friends or people down the road that become those real friends, those are the people that I’d hope remembered me in a good light.
My reason for being is to have some good times with people who want to have some good times with me. This is the question I guess I’m supposed to raise some half baked pseudo-intellectual enlightened reason behind my being but I don’t have one, and I think there probably isn’t one. I don’t plan to be mad wealthy or cure cancer, and I could care less if I was in some textbook fifty years from now about how I conquered South America, but if I had the opportunity to live a decent life in a dope country, and if the people that stayed true the whole way through thought I was a good guy, than I think I’d die a happy dude.
Journal 1
Journal #1 Matt Steel
As a seventeen year old Canadian, there’s a reasonable boundary to "What I know". There’s probably also a conflict between what I think I know about and what I actually do. I’d say I’m pretty ignorant to writing about most topics in general. Going through school you learn the basics of how to write, but that’s quite different from writing. That being said, there’s not a whole lot of settings, topics, issues etc. that I’d be "uncomfortable" writing about. Anything I’m being serious about writing merits a bit of beforehand research. The things that make me a little edgy to write about are things that I might have a misperception on. When people write stories about someone with Autism or a single mother living in the ghetto, they themselves have a responsibility not to send out an image through their writing that would warp the minds of the readers. Not only is the writer giving people a false picture of something foreign to them, but is making an ass of himself as people will presumably be reading the piece of writing and noticing the ignorance. After writing this piece I’ve got half the mind to say I’d like to stay away from as much non fiction as possible, as fiction is almost a ‘safe zone’ to write in and around.
As a seventeen year old Canadian, there’s a reasonable boundary to "What I know". There’s probably also a conflict between what I think I know about and what I actually do. I’d say I’m pretty ignorant to writing about most topics in general. Going through school you learn the basics of how to write, but that’s quite different from writing. That being said, there’s not a whole lot of settings, topics, issues etc. that I’d be "uncomfortable" writing about. Anything I’m being serious about writing merits a bit of beforehand research. The things that make me a little edgy to write about are things that I might have a misperception on. When people write stories about someone with Autism or a single mother living in the ghetto, they themselves have a responsibility not to send out an image through their writing that would warp the minds of the readers. Not only is the writer giving people a false picture of something foreign to them, but is making an ass of himself as people will presumably be reading the piece of writing and noticing the ignorance. After writing this piece I’ve got half the mind to say I’d like to stay away from as much non fiction as possible, as fiction is almost a ‘safe zone’ to write in and around.
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