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Thursday, June 14, 2012

Listening For That Sweet Tune-Chapter 9: The Tower of No End and The Beasts Within. Pt. 1



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If not then read it from the beginning
or
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Go to the beginning:



Previously on Listening For That Sweet Tune:




It didn't take a single thought more for me to continue my fast pace forward into the front lawn of the villa. I knew where the man went; there was not a single doubted thought within my head. You can call it curiosity or maybe even stubbornness but after all of these times that I have that same hooded figure, I only wanted answers—I knew this person had all of them. Strange lights, black corrupting vines, a hooded figure, a child, a vacant city, a black monster and the strangest of all, some sweet tune. 

All of these—and many more—events continued to bang within my head giving me headaches without reason. Questions can only be solved with more questions and with all this in mind, I could only feel satisfied but anxious at the same time. I felt just fine knowing all of these strange things but till I find an answer I will only be looking for more to ruin me. With all of that said, the sweet tune is what worried me the most. I don’t know why I call it that or even how it relates to me but it feels like it rules my mind. I hear it and all I can feel within myself is. Violence and anger yet, that makes me feel whole, the most satisfied I have ever felt in my entire life. I hear it and it talks to me. It tells me:

'You are listening; you are listening for this sweet tune. You crave it and it completes you. It gives you a home to live in, it grants you permission to live, it is your soul and you will abide to it till the day you die, that is when you finally become whole. Breathe it in, believe, this is your sweet tune.'  

I am listening for that sweet tune, it makes me feel good but sick at the same time, it is heaven and hell all the same. Listening to myself I could only think that I was indoctrinated to some being will but this was my own thought. I think it therefore it doesn’t exist. 

I was at the top of the knoll now. Looking down to the bottom was the entrance of the large building, which seemed to go on forever and behind it, some tower of no end. It. Of tinier up to the sky till I couldn't see it anymore. If you can't see the end, does it ever stop? An average man would say yes but witnessing this in all it's glory, I couldn’t even contemplate the meaning of an 'ending'. It became something like foreign language within my mind like I lost all sense to what was up and only now knew the meaning of down and nothing else. It was ridiculous to think about but with every hastening step I believed only more.

I was now at the base of the hill but before I crossed the row of various flowers and bushes I noticed two of them were rather torn up and partially stomped in within the ground. One of which was a small bush of white roses but the other being a lesser known but notorious to many. The other set of flowers are known as euphorbia milii or more commonly the crown of thorns. The name implies directly to what many will think and it is widely accepted that this plant was the crown of thorns on many martyrs—the most common being a Jesus Christ.

I examined both plants for only a short period of time to notice that a trail of blood followed from these plants to the front door. The man I was pursuing must have stumbled through these plants and received the cuts that they had to offer—a turn of bad luck if you ask me. I now knew that I could follow his trail with ease within the building before me but I currently could only feel a concern to these poor plants.

I looked to the white roses to only see one more stem and flower still hanging high with hope for better days. Looking closer to it I noticed a light spray and a few drops of blood on top of one side of it. It was a beautiful tragedy—something very few can express their condolences to. It was beauty at the stake, the love of a dying breed, happiness in a form of worthlessness and I wanted to become apart of it. I reached out my hand to the rose and twisted the stem it was on a fort or so down from the pedal. I had a handful of thorns but with a beauty like this, I could care less—the pain couldn't phase me. After a few more twists, a snap, and the tragedy was now within my fingertips. 

I briskly walked up to the door to the mansion like structure; the door was a solid wood that towered up to seven to eight feet high. I looked back down to the blood-trail to make sure that the blood did in fact head to the door but the blood from my hand now commingled with the rest. I put my ear against the door to see if I could hear anybody inside and to my surprise, there was.

I heard screams, screams from men and women but not just some ordinary screams; they were screams of anguish and pain. There was not a single quiet moment, the screams continued without end and in a desperate attempt to face my maker; I turned the old brass handle to swing the door wide open. It was no more than a fraction of a second of the door being open before the screams stopped abruptly. It was quiet; I stood at the doorframe looking within the house with a rose in hand, I was truly just a stranger in a strange land.


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Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Like The Rest Of Us


The waves crash, 
I am just a mortal son.
You spring from your bunker,
is the war won?
I can't stand the way,
you’re looking at me.

I know, I know, I can't,
will not understand.
A thought of the rest of us.
Can you handle this?
I know, I know, I cant, I know
how will you remember it now?
How can you not remember the doubt?

Nobody told you,
that your life's a one-night stand.
Nobody ever told you,
you're on a puppets hand.
Nobody said you,
live in a coffin of the man
So, change, change, change it,
full of pain, sorrow where you began.

It seems so simple now.
You're waiting for it.
You can wait here for it.
Waiting for your sons sun son.
Well I remember it though.
How will you remember it now?
How can you not remember the doubt?
How will you remember it now?
How can you not remember the doubt?

I need you,
more than the rest.
Forget about those fools.
Just call me selfish,
Or call me a liar,
I'll leave it for you to choose.

The planets are all aligned.
So will you savor this one last time?
Oh you look like such a mess,
please calm down,
put on your dress.
Let's go


Nobody told you,
that your life's a one-night stand.
Nobody ever told you,
you're on a puppets hand.
Nobody said you,
live in a coffin of the man.
So, change, change, change it,
full of pain, sorrow where you began.

It seems so simple now.
You're waiting for it.
You can wait here for it.
Waiting for your sons sun son.
Well I remember it though.
How will you remember it now?
How can you not remember the doubt?
How will you remember it now?
How can you not remember the doubt?













Remember me

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Marriage Is Dead


     

     I have been asked several times on my opinion about marriage, I can only respond that the traditional way of what it once was, is dead. Some argue that I need to look around and see many people married but I can only ask for how long? Divorce rates have heightened and I think several other things come into play as this new generation settles down. My research and sources follow.

“Sometimes I feel like Alice in Wonderland. But lately, mostly, I feel like an endangered species.” (Hekker 414).  Times change, as the years go by technology advances, morals change, and what your parents used to have on a regular basis no longer exists. Terry Martin Hekker was a stay at home wife. Therefore she cared for the children, cleaned the house, made the meals and made the house a home. Since the start of the world wars the ideal situation for women was keeping up the house and the man working to support the family, the traditional family has since diminished. Maybe this was expected. Maybe the only factor was time before women started to do what all men do, but in a way of speaking it is fair.

So where does that leave us now in society today? Everyone knows times change but it’s just a manner of words, what happens in the changing times? More and more marriages fail. They end in divorce and people don’t even want to get married anymore. Due to this, traditional marriages no longer can be successful. If you want a successful marriage you need to drop tradition and do things for the marriage that have never been done before.  So what are the causes of the changing times and the decline of marriage? It is said those who don’t know their history is doomed to repeat it. So it is only appropriate to know what has happened so far.

     Around 1892 a female author by the name of Charlotte Perkins Gilman wrote a short story of a woman slowly going into psychosis—this story was supposed to reflect her life currently. The title of this story was The Yellow Wallpaper. The story begins when she and her husband move into a house for a summer—reasons are unknown. Her husband is a physician and she is slowly starting to feel a nervousness come over her body.

Her husband—John–says that she is just a little sick and tells her that she will get better; all she needs to do is sleep. Feeling that her husband knows best she does all he says, but in all reality it only makes it worse. At this point I realized that John never really believed his wife and looking at the year I understand why. At this point of time men were dominant of society and women were just a mere luxury. Women had no voice in society so they were more forced to marry in order to obtain that voice. This became the “traditional” marriage—though it started way before this.

Here is when Charlotte’s character is starting to become mentally sick, her husband not willing to do anything because she is a woman. Told just to rest John has his wife cooped up in a room for most of the summer. She first just stairs out the window but then she notices something peculiar, the yellow wallpaper that is within the room she resides.    
 
“I never saw a worse paper in my life. One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic sin. It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate and provoke study, and when you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide—plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard of contradictions. The color is repellent, almost revolting; a smoldering unclean yellow, strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight. This wall-paper has a kind of sub-pattern in a different shade, a particularly irritating one, for you can only see it in certain lights, and not clearly then… But in the places where it isn't faded and where the sun is just so—I can see a strange, provoking, formless sort of figure, that seems to skulk about behind that silly and conspicuous front design.” (Gilman).                   
She soon sees a woman in the front design and at night it’s as if the woman is trying to leave the paper. She then tries to not have her husband think that anything is going wrong. She acts as if she’s getting better and sleeps during the day but watches the woman at night. The main characters sense of reality is now skewed and she starts to believe that she is the woman that is stuck behind the paper. At this point I start to realize that she is developing some mental disorders, mostly depression, schizophrenia and paranoia—but most of the time all these disorders come hand and hand.
On the last day within the house she pushes herself to tear off all the paper within the room to finally release the poor spirit locked within the walls. After doing this, her husband walks into the room and she claims that he can no longer put her back thus resulting in her husband to faint and go unconscious. Not everything was so peachy as we are led to think. The woman married “traditionally”—though at the time women really had no other choice—only to sacrifice her own sanity.               
A psychoanalysist by the name of Dr. Harriet Fraad explains that the American dream and stable marriages are failing because of four things. First is a transformation of economic life, second a transformation of the formation of families, third is participation in social groups and lastly we are numbing ourselves. She begins to explain roughly one hundred later the United States becomes stricken with an event that people know as modernization. In 1970 computers were introduced to the workplace thus increasing productivity and eliminating jobs for the working class. Because of this we were able to have others produce our products thus creating China to become the manufacturing leader. Women soon realize that because of the lack of income they too—along with their husbands—need to work too.    
Women soon had no time to do what they originally did on a regular basis—like maintaining the household and preparing meals—thus forcing them to purchase goods that could be made at home with no cost like fresh baked bread. This made the woman’s work outside of the house void so families then became dependent on credit cards. Knowing that you will be in debt no matter what hurt everyone emotionally, especially women. Women themselves worked their own job to go home to attend to children’s social lives and kept the home a comfortable place to live. Women soon became as anxious and depressed as they were before. “For the first time in American history, the majority of women are (now) abandoning marriage (Fraad 203).”
Today majority of women are now single thus creating men and children to become lonely, stressed and disconnected from day to day life.  “Men have depended on women’s emotional labor for their psychological sustenance. When men’s emotional relationships with women break down, they have little intimate emotional support (203).” Most social connections between Americans now have declined due to this loneliness.  In order to dull the pain—on both sides—Americans do one thing, which is to find anything to dull the pain.    
Women easily count on other women to maintain each other on such a level that they could form a sports team and they would never loose a world series—though they would never do that. Men on the other hand, is another case. Men find it hard to communicate with each other on a personal level whether it is our hard hearts or social norms saying we have no feelings. Either way we as Americans have lost a sense of a comfortable home. Women’s now increasing work time reduces all the free time for social participation. But what do Americans now do on their free time? On average every American watches up to eight hours a day watching television. “Extensive television viewing may be responsible for the largest part of the drop out rate (of social groups).  More people relate to their television sets than each other (204).”     
This excessive viewing of television leave Americans unsatisfied with themselves and is becoming a faulty way to escape from day to day life.  Thus forcing us to find other ways to numb our pain, psychotropic drugs. “In 2006, Americans, who are approximately 6% of the worlds population, consumed 66% of the worlds supply of antidepressants…The anti-depressant Zoloft is so widely prescribed, that in 2005, the $3.1 billion dollars in sales of Zoloft exceeded the sales of Tide detergent (205).” To add to that we are the only nation without a price cap on our drugs, which creates a bigger debt, which creates a bigger void.               
Eric Bartels lives in our present day marriage but there seems to be a complication in his relationship. It seems that women now are getting more and more prideful than in the past. No longer can everything be split 50/50 in a marriage. Though women do have to work a job along with maintaining a household, as long as the other partner does everything, nobody should have the superior complex that they are entitled to more in a relationship. Eric’s wife seems to think otherwise. “One night she stomped into the kitchen as I was cleaning up after a dinner that I may well have cooked and served and announced in angry tones that she needed more help getting the kids ready for bed than I had been providing, as if she had just found me drinking beer and playing video games (Bartels 438).”
From how Eric makes it sound it seems like his wife is an ungrateful bitch who doesn’t understand when someone is doing as much as they can. I would like to say that this is how all women are like in society today but there are always some exceptions—so we wont go with that stereotype right now. As far as I can tell, the well-mannered wife –who keeps to the house—and the hard working husband—who brings home all the income—is no longer what it used to be.
Fraad continues to make her points by switching to religion. Fraad explains that evangelical groups claim that a family’s success is through God but then they separate everyone into specific groups. Men’s groups, women’s groups and children’s bible study which defeats the point. Evangelical groups can show us economic and political ethics and morality for everyone, but that alone won’t save a marriage.
Now today, if we start to look at the other countries and we start to realize they are beginning to go through the same problems that the United States has been going through. Can you help but think that if you have a successful marriage, this would no longer happen? But us alone cannot just fix the problem, the problem all started with debt. Every country is in debt, so how can we solve it?                   
We can start to go back to our roots, since tradition always works right? We can start an excursion as men to put women back into their place, since women are better being barefoot and pregnant while we as men do whatever the hell we want to do. Just like the good old times that our fathers, fathers lived. That would soon create a civil war between males and females thus boosting our economy, again, and when everything is said and done we can all hold hands and sing Kumbaya around a fire and everything would be peaches and cream until we realize were just going to get ourselves back into debt because during the war we burnt all our books—due to the female Nazi party—because we never learned from history, going back to tradition would never work.                                            
What we need to do is something new, something that will keep us happy. The solution is right in front of our faces. First we need to get out of debt, as unrelated as it sounds this will affect all marriages and not just as a family, we need to obtain this as an entire country. Thus making us more social which fills our “void” that we have been filling with pills and meaningless objects, which, therefore, will get us even more out of debt.
As soon as we become happy with ourselves we then can be happy with a significant other, who will create a successful marriage but heading back to a traditional marriage will not help anything. Women are just as equal as man and if a man wants to stay home and a woman want to work then so be it. It never was written down that a marriage had to be just one concrete thing. Marriage needs to be full of compromise and as long as you both are happy, there is no reason to have an unsuccessful marriage.


References Page

Bartels, E. (2004) My problem with her anger. In L Behrens, & L. J. Rosen (Eds) Writing and reading across the curriculum (11th ed.) (436-442). New York:


Longman. Fraad, H. (2011). Economy and psychology: A marriage in trouble. The Journal Psychohistory, 38(3), 198-212. Retrieved from EBSCOhost


Gilman, C. (1892, January) The yellow wallpaper. The New England Magazine 11(5).


Hekker, T. (1977). The satisfactions of housewifery and motherhood/paradise lost (domestic division). In L Behrens, & L. J. Rosen (Eds) Writing and reading across the curriculum (11th ed.) (412-417). New York: Longman. 















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Friday, June 8, 2012

The Life Decision




There is a tale of broken hearts,
in every single being.
A feeling that is so useless,
and it leaves everything that way.
What all compels us to do such a thing?
Is it the feeling of nothingness,
is that all you have?
You sometimes even feel higher
than the never ending sky.
Then only to realize all your fears,
you go back and hide.
Living with the darkness,
that you keep within yourself.
Nobody is by your side,
so you don't scream for help.
Its all locked deep inside,
reserved for only you to see.
Will that feeling ever leave your soul?
Will you ever have the sense of being whole?
You lost everything,
you cannot hide.
You will only hold those thoughts,
till the day you die.
You feel only whiteness,
with the bloodstains of time.
It was never wrong,
it was never right.
Making your bruises to complete your cuts.
This is now beauty,
this is now love.
You will hold it down,
till the very day you die.
No significant other showed their face in your life.
They have only hurt you,
they have only played.
They stopped your life,
and put you within the grave.
Now you see,
why there will be no other.
You chose no fantasy,
you chose no lover.













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Wednesday, June 6, 2012

It Happened On A Tuesday-Pt. 1.0





Here is my new short story! Let me know what you think of it. If I get enough people to appreciate it I will continue it.




As I close my eyes I am offered images and movements in preparation for a relaxing darkness. Within the darkness, words are written. A sentence follows; It Happened On A Tuesday. Those simple five words raised anger within my stomach and I felt a crawling underneath skin of worms and various insects. I was sick; that was a solid fact and because of that I am institutionalized, living in my own room of soft materials and a locked door at all times.

When I opened up my eyes from my slumber I looked around to see myself in the oddest of places. I was in fact no longer in my room but in the morgue that was in my complexes basement. This is where people go when they die and I knew for a fact that I was not dead. Maybe I was still asleep but I pinched myself to wake me up and nothing happened other than a sharp pain in my arm. 

Looking around the room, I was on a gurney that was in the middle of the room with all of the cryogenic coffins around me. This place was built to look like some forensics laboratory but it was anything but. So many of my friends have been placed here after there passing and I cannot recall a single funeral for them, like they died before anyone even knew it and kept like some great secret.
Maybe I was dead?

I knew that couldn't be true either because I could feel the environment around me, see everything within the room and I could smell some damp odor of growing mold. I could hear and taste everything just fine but nothing reacted to those senses but my ability to speak is greatly reduced to that of an average person. You see, I have the inability to speak or as many people call it 'mute' I am still able to make sounds with my throat and give out an occasional grunt or yell but no words could be formed out of my tongue.

I haven't always been like this, it was only a few years ago that I could talk to my peers but since the events that occurred to me those many years ago, my body went into shock and my voice was taken from me. My lack of speech had no impact on my intelligence however, I could still read and write with such a professionalism that many call me a genius but with me not being able to speak my mind now and various mental diseases, many call me a threat to society. I do not see this within myself because I in fact believe that everything I go through is real and I am yet to prove it to people but everyone disagrees. One day I will prove myself right through all this time and people would finally understand me but till then I am only classified to be insane and in a morgue.

This room I was in would prove a shocker to anyone else to step foot in it but for me, I somehow feel responsible. Bloody handprints and various smears littered all of the pieces of stainless steel and ceramic tiles that were within the room but even worse, the blood was all over me too. Looking down to my body I was completely naked and covered in blood and as I looked to my left side there was a massive cut from my armpit down to my waist.

Looking closely to it I could tell that it was taken care of and had been sewn shut with a needle and thread—I knew this because the needle was still attached to the thread at the bottom of the cut still hanging out of my own flesh. I didn't know if myself or anyone else did this but I knew that the proper pain relievers were in affect because I didn't feel a single thing coming from out of the cut.

I got up off the gurney stumbling onto my feet hoping that the questions I had in my head could be answered but they weren't going to be for as long as I waited in this room. Looking around I could see a basket of various patients’ clothes; I wasn't picky so I picked up a shirt and pants to cover up all of the blood on me and to conceal my cut. If this was all real, I had to make sure nobody has seen what has happened and when they do, they don't think it was my doing.

I began to walk towards the main doors, which were a set of French doors with thick glass, and solid wood doors. The lock was on the other side and there was no lock on my side so when I twisted the handle and it didn't budge, my heart dropped to the floor and a twisting went through my gut. I was locked inside of this room with many of my dead friends and my thoughts that could very well kill me but before I knew it, lights turned on outside of the room and everything set up like a prologue to a movie.

The lights that were on in the room I was standing in turned off and the only light I could see was from outside of the room and peering through the glass on the doors. The light was too bright on the other end so I could only make out silhouettes but two people were walking alongside together as one walks in front of the other to stop directly in front of the door, I could only suppose they were doctors within the building, one of them spoke.

'What do you make out of patient 1421667?'

'1667?' The other doctor asked 'There isn't too much to tell because of the fact that 1667 is a mute. There’s no telling on the condition that is within 1667's brain because any examination or counseling towards 1667 is inefficient and ineffective due to 1667's stubbornness. I know 1667 is your patient but there is no helping 1667. I can see 1667 living here for a long time, maybe till death but if 1667 keeps acting out with severe behaviors, there’s no helping anything because the committee will take action before we could explain ourselves. If you want to keep 1421667, you have to make your move fast and find a way to communicate or to understand 1667. I think its a lost cause now but if you still believe in 1667, then act.' The other doctor nodded and took a couple steps away to turn back to the other.

'What if I use research method number sixty four?'

'That’s a long and dangerous stretch but if you are able to get the committee to accept that action, then you have made more time but if it doesn't work, well I hope you have another career option.'

'I know but I have been looking through Ritchford's papers and I think it would really benefit 1667.'

'Then do it if you are really confident about it but remember, yours and 1667's life is on the line.' The two men walked away and all I could wonder was what I could do to benefit my future and preserve my life. These behaviors they say I have are in fact what they say but I act out on the preservation on my own life. I may be seeing things but they do actual physical damage to me and everything around me, no one yet has seen these so called 'hallucinations' but I know they are more than just that. 

I didn't have another second to myself. Before I knew it, the lights from the other side of the door dimmed and then shut off as well as leaving everything silent. I was now in complete darkness and those itches—that I always seem to get under my skin—returned to crawl in my arms and legs. This could very well just turn me insane slowly, all the way up to my last dying gasp for air. A crash sounded from behind me and I turned to it immediately. It was on the other side of the room but it was a sound of breaking and bending metal vibrating through the airwaves. I stood my ground in anticipation to hear anything else within the darkness, nothing sounded but some emergency lights turned on in one of the corners of the room. The back up light lacked power itself; it flickered on and off from short to prolonged periods of time. 

I searched the room to see if I could figure out where the sound echoed from and it was from one of the cryogenic coffins that one of the bodies laid in. I couldn't think about anything else I could do to steer me away from the strange noises so I did what most wouldn't do. It was curiosity you could say, curiosity is what you can blame for my actions but by the time I reached the other side of the room, curiosity only raised more. A light stream of blood flowed out from the coffin and the body was poking out of it by about a foot or two. I got closer to look at the cadavers and it was shocking to see that it was myself. 

Out of every living thing in the world, I was the only thing that appeared to be dead—surely I had to be dreaming. I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes to put me into deep thought. I could feel, I had to be alive but what the hell could be happening to me? I reopened my eyes to look at my body again to see something crawling underneath my dead bodies skin. It crawled and twisted around my chest and another headed up an arm, before I knew it they all centralized to my left side.

I moved the sheet off of my body so I could see where they were and no cut lied within my side like the one I have currently. A little tare began on the side to become deeper and longer—whatever was inside of me, wanted to get out. I could see the creatures under my skin push themselves forward up to the surface. Tearing and cracking sounded in the air and just then the pain on my own side began but seconds before it was able to exit the body, it stopped leaving me in pain. I leaned back onto the gurney that was behind me in shock and in pain, I had to collect myself before I could make another move.      


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