The United States has had 45 presidents in the span of over 200 years. And each has had to face a number of challenges and came out with scars, but a number of accomplishments for the country.
But that doesn’t mean that this country hasn’t faced hardships.
The history of this nation is far from perfect. We’ve had our significant share of violence, and discrimination. And that isn’t going to go away just like that. But we’ve come far since the times when we were all separated just because the shades of our skin was different from each others.
We’ve become a diverse community that can support each other and heal when rough times come. It seems so dark, with how much has changed. But look at how far we have come since last March.
We are currently in the middle of a raging pandemic, struggling through learning and working from home, making sure our more vulnerable family and loved ones are safe and okay, and simultaneously juggling life in such an insane, and sometimes unbearable time.
And yet we have gotten through it.
We are going through this together, supporting each other together. We’ve lost so much but we’ve kept our spirits close. We’ve found ways to work around the obstacles that this past year had set out for us.
And the last few months of 2020 showed just how much power the lines “We the people” holds.
The days leading up to the first week of November were hectic with anticipation and preparation to vote. But with Covid-19, new measures were taken to ensure that people could still vote, but in a safer manner. Which also increased the time in which votes could actually be counted.
When Election Day rolled around, it morphed into a series of days(due to the aforementioned internal conflicts) in which votes kept trickling. The numbers on the glowing television would change as a tired reporter would guide us through an unprecedented plight in our presidential election. That entire week was a push and pull between red and blue.
Everyone was watching the results of the election with the same vigor as someone expecting their final exam test results. And it seemed like all eyes were on the United States with bated breath. But if anyone deserved a break, it was Steve Kornacki from MSNBC and John King from CNN.
Every time I passed by our television with the news on, one of the two men was always pointing at a digital map of a state and breaking down numbers like human calculators. Neither seemed to lose their drive or composure. Especially Mr. Kornacki, who barreled on with his analyzations of each step in the election.
But it got me thinking how he was managing to keep track of all of his notes, stay one step ahead of the voter counts, AND calculate numbers onthe fly. I think this man deserves a prize of some sorts because I’m barely able to function properly for a my Geometry class(on Zoom) in the mornings.
As crazy as those few days had been, it had also proven to bring a hilarious situation into our home that I was tempted to turn into a meme.
My dad.
Or as I would like to refer to during that brief period:
Appa the Hermit Crab
During those couple days my dad had started evolving from a human being to a hermit crab.
He waddled around the house wearing a shirt, two sweaters, and night pants(it’s winter here in Cali and my parents can barely handle the weather below 65 degree).
But I can’t say I can really blame him when it’s winter, we can’t go outside, and the fate of our nation was being monitored with every passing second , my dad was completely immersed into the election, even breaking down what was going on to my mom and I.
I’m sure most Americans, and quite a few people around the world, were in a similar state. Watching intently as history happened right before our eyes.
And it did.
The results of the election were announced on a gorgeous Saturday morning, I usually sleep in a little late on the weekends so I took my time getting up and starting the day. After a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, I smooshed my glasses onto my face in a haste to get to the living room.
Since the beginning of the Presidential Election, the television was always on in the morning, afternoons, and nights, or kept in the background as well buzzed about the house. Today seemed no different. I tucked myself next to my mother and sister on the couch, staring dazed at the numbers that didn’t seem to have changed since the night before. My dad wasn’t in the house, but of playing tennis, so it was only my siblings, my mother, and I monitoring what position the two candidates were in.
The broadcast seemed to go on just as it had been the days prior, so I wasn’t really expecting results to come until later that day or even later.
I looked out the window, gray clouds covered the winter sky, people walking their dogs briskly made their way towards the field. It was another hazy day staying inside. I thought about various things as I stared out the window, unbothered.
Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted with a reporter saying
“-And it looks like Joe Biden is projected as the 46th President of the United States.”
I ripped my gaze away from the window and toward the television and lo and behold, the results of the election were plastered onto the screen, the news running on the bottom of the screen in large, capital letters.
I stared wide eyed at the television before telling my mom, who was distracted with tending to my sister.
I frantically patted her shoulder and directed her attention to the television.
“Amma, look!”
I almost started screaming right then and there from pure joy and disbelief. I felt light and overjoyed, and the atmosphere changed from tense to airy in less then a second.
My mother called my dad and told him the news while I scampered off to my room to grab my phone and scream at my friends through very enthusiastic text messages to which they responded with the same amount of vigor.
It was a momentous day for America, and an Election that no one would forget.
On November 7th, 2020, Joseph R. Biden was projected to be the 46th president of the United States.
On November 7th, 2020, Kamala Harris was elected to be the first Vice President of African-American descent.
The first Vice President of South Asian descent.
And the first Vice President –
That is female.
The fact that she’s the first female to take the position of Vice vice president brought me so much pride. But to learn that she is half India made my heart burst. It felt like there was someone, finally, someone who was like me. Someone who’s skin was just like mine, who addresses her aunt’s just as I do, who was tied to the same country, the same region that I was from too.
And that makes me feel immense pride, to be represented in such an incredible way, and to be lead by someone who grew up just like me.
Inauguration Day was January 20th, just a few weeks ago. But it was a historic ceremony.
I couldn’t watch the entire thing due to the fact that I had to attend my morning Zoom class, but even then the Inauguration always surfaced amongst conversation during my lessons.
That night, my family and I had watched the Inauguration performances and it truly made me feel like after everything we had gone through.
We were going to be okay.
The execution of each performance was stunning(my personal favorite was John Legend singing “Feeling Good”)and it was wonderful to be in a state in which it felt like the nation was truly united as one.
I hoped you all enjoyed reading my recollection of the past few months and their events.
I’ve had this post drafted since the day of the Inauguration but school work has left me severely burnt out and unmotivated if I’m being completely honest. But I felt that this was an extremely important topic to write about because we’ve been in the midst of history in the making.
The time we are living in right now is one that none of us will forget. For all of it’s good, and it’s bad. But we will always remember that we will always be brought together under the influence of kindness.
(The image presented above is not mine, credits to the rightful owner.)
So, I realized that I haven’t done a post focused entirely on music. Except for one or two entries from the early stages of my blog(that I now cringe at while reading). And quite honestly, I feel like a complete nitwit considering that there is a separate categoryfor music on this blog. And after three(soon to be four)years there’s barely any music related posts.
Goodness, I anticipate blogging and making posts; and I want to make quality content, but it’s hard.Especially when there’s about 200+ rough drafts waiting to either be deleted or posted.
So.
Um.
Yay, procrastination!
About a month or so back, I had taken my final exams for the first semester. And let me tell you, that week and the two weeks before were just filled with unnecessarily high levels of stress and anxiety.
That entire week was just me studying till I felt like there was a dozen encyclopedias stuffed into my cranial cavity. All I was thinking after I finished an exam for a class was:
I WANT EAT
I WANT SLEEP
I’m the type of person who doesn’t show my intensive anxiety on the outside; but it always eats me up on the inside. To the point where I physically can’t stop thinking about it. So the only way I was really able to have some peace at school and while studying, was by listening to the music I liked best.
And that included K-POP.
Unfortunately, I belly flopped into the K-POP boat a wee bit later than everyone else did(about six to seven years late to be exact, but that’s okay). Now those of you out there who are cursing me out for this horrendous mistake, I’m sorry, forgive my ignorance; and please don’t lash out on me with posters and ridiculously merchandise featuring your bias(for those K-POP fans out there wondering, my bias is everyone. I love everyone. There are a few from BTS that I love especially but still. I love everyone.)
To be fair, I didn’t figure out that K-POP stood for KOREAN POP until late into last year so hear me out all of you hardcore K-POP fans.
For those of you who are left in the metaphorical dust in regards to what in the world I’m talking about(trust me if you asked me a few years back I wouldn’t have known either)here’s a little background:
Korean pop, or better known as K-POP, is essentially Korean pop music that was popularized in the early 2000s but in my opinion(meaning that these facts may or may not be accurate, so don’t take my word for it)took the world by storm a few years back when the popular Korean boy band BTS, made their debut in 2013 with their music. The stars who sing and dance in this genre are often called “idols.” (Don’t ask me why cause’ doing the “research” just confused my little brain to a pulp.)
Now, I’m of Asian descent, like 100%, so you would think that I would stay up to date on this kind of stuff, but being a hermit, I have no knowledge of what people find interesting on the world wide web. And that’s due to the fact that I don’t have any social media whatsoever(Which I’m immensely grateful for). And no, I don’t necessarily think YouTube counts. Anyways, I was too busy listening to my instrumental and EDM to really throw a glance to the K-POP genre. But it started to blossom interest in my mind.
I listen to music constantly. While doing homework, studying, working out, drawing, walking through the school campus, between passing periods, during study hall, reading at home, or- alright I think you get the point. As you can see, I have a great love for music, and all types of it. And it’s a major outlet for me, so I’m open to listening to lots of genres. So it was inevitable that I started listening to music I wasn’t engrossed in at an earlier time.
And boy was that the best decision my Spotify account could make.
(This work is not sponsored).
So, I’ve heard of BTS a lot, always seeing their well-dressed persons on the suggested bar on YouTube, and their songs always popped up in the suggested category of my Spotify. Ironically, I was never invested into boy bands in the first place, so I was skeptical that I would actually like them. But it came as a pleasant surprise(and a punch to my musical ego)and I instantly got thrown into the K-POP hole and into the arms of the waiting International Armys(“ARMY” is the name of BTS fans)
The amount of time it took for me to speed through nearly every BTS album in current existence is absolutely insane. Their music just caught me instantly and I don’t think I’ll be able to be pried out of the grips of the BTS fandom anytime soon so sanity nice knowin’ you.
I would absolutely suggest listening to this group because their music has so much heart, so much passion put into it, and each member of the group came from a different background. And what’s so great about them is that you can personally relate to them in ways that not a lot of celebrities can, where they feel untouchable because of their accomplishments and social status. But instead, they are humble and don’t put themselves above others because of their fame. Because they’re just regular people too. All of them young, extremely talented musicians who create music than anyone can enjoy. And it’s incredible that you don’t need to understand Korean in order to understand the vibe of the music they release.
Their music isn’t circulating around relationships and things interconnected with it. But things that everyone goes through but don’t usually like talk about; like mental health, self-esteem, family, etc.
Needless to say, about 85% of my Spotify playlists are now overpowered by K-POP. And hey, that isn’t entirely a bad thing.
And to keep the fire kindling on the topic of music, I would also like to switch to a musical genre that has a bit of less spunk but beautiful nevertheless; as well as honor another musician that has had quite the impact. But not recently, no, but I was introduced to his compositions very very early into my life and grew up listening to his songs, humming along to them, and being the background music to my childhood and now.
And before I end this section of the post, I’ll leave some of my favorite K-POP songs down below for you to indulge in if you are so willing.
“Perfect Man” by SHINHWA “Good to Me” by SEVENTEEN
And here are some of my personal favorite songs by BTS:
“Lie” by BTS “Airplane Pt. 2” by BTS “Go Go” by BTS “DNA” by BTS “Don’t Leave Me” by BTS “I Need U” by BTS “Serendipity” by BTS “Intro: Singularity” by BTS “Intro: Boy Meets Evil” by BTS “Save Me” by BTS “Blood Sweat and Tears” by BTS “Run” by BTS
Call me cliché but, deep down, nearly every older sister or brother would testify to the fact that no matter how much our younger siblings will grow, we would still love the little munchkins to the point of oblivion. I mean, older siblings struggle with a lot of things with the watchful eyes of not only your parents and peers, but the little ones who look up to you for guidance. Where nearly everything you do circulates around not only succeeding in life and for yourself; but to also be a responsible voice of reason, a role model, a teacher, a protector.
And it goes the same exact way for parents and guardians. They will try their absolute best to influence their children in the most positive ways so they can be successful and happy when they are older. And they become better people in society as they grow up. So, like many people, they share what they find interesting to they children.
From when I was a little girl until now, Tamil music always dominated the soft lull of our household. (Okay, “soft lull” meaning the constant screeches of small children, and bickering between siblings.) We don’t necessarily listen to the more recently released Tamil songs from movies and stuff. But the classics from the 1900’s. I guess I personally prefer the old Tamil stuff from the new because it just sounds like there’s much more effort and soul put into it, than what’s produced now in movies and such.
But a specific contributor to these works of art, is from a Tamil composer, singer, songwriter, conductor, arranger, and a bunch of other things that I don’t remember the names of; Illayraja.
Talk about high-status.
Those of you who are readers of this blog, but also relatives or close friends of our family, would probably know my dad’s ocean deep appreciation for Illayraja. And his infatuation with the maestro’s music So, in honor of him,(and my dad’s relatable mild obsession), here is a bit of a backstory to those of you who are unfamiliar with South India’s household musical name and how he came to be the legend he is deemed now.
(Just so none of the Illayraja super fans lash out at me in the comment section, I would like to point out that I’m most likely not spelling his name right since I’ve seen so many variations of it through my reading. Which didn’t help at all to further remedy my confusion, so forgive me if my misspellings have provoked you.)
Illayraja was born on the second of July in 1943, but was born under the name of Gnanathesikan in Pannaipuram(not pani puri, no that’s a food)of the Theni District in Tamil Nadu, India.
So I’m just gonna add a little tidbit in here and then we can continue onto the background portion of this post. Cause’ I think this applies to more than just Illayraja.
What I’ve learned over the years from personal observation, and being attentive to other peoples actions; is that the place(s)you grow up in, and who brings you up, can heavily influence who you are and how you perceive the world. I was born and raised in California; but I have abundant South Indian influence because both of my parents are Indian, making me 100% South Indian by blood. So many of my views of the world, the things I do, the people I talk to and befriend, is all from what I was taught, what I was exposed to, and what I know about the world from the position I was put in when I was born. So there are the things I do and don’t know, which affect my actions and opinions.
This applies to quite literally, anyone.
What I mean by that, is everything that you do, writing, drawing, or participating in discussions. Your views and view points are solely influenced by what you’re being surrounded with.
Music for example, I prefer foreign music rather than Western music because I grew up listening to songs that mostly weren’t in English. Though I didn’t realize this maybe two or three years ago, it still came to be that I’ve become more opinionated with musical dialect. Not that I have anything against songs in English, I just don’t listen to them as much as I listen to foreign genres.
And this goes for everyone, your personal likes and dislikes can and are manifested by what you have been exposed to throughout your life. And keep in mind that it can be anything.
So don’t underestimate the power of what you usually overlook everyday as something that doesn’t need to be acknowledged or accounted for; because it can easily find it’s place in your own mind.
Alright, psychological lecture over; moving on.
Illayraja was exposed to a lot of traditional village music, folk music, and you know all that jazz(no, not actual jazz, that was just an expression). Making his music and compositions have many traditional elements to them. Most of his songs have a fusion between common Indian instrumentals, and lead Western instruments like flutes and saxes. With this interesting combo of stylistics, it creates a kind of seamless bond between long-established South Indian folk tunes, and classic orchestral pieces that one would usually find more popular in Western canonical music.
With this unique blend, listening to just one of these compositions is whimsical in the experience of hearing the highs and lows, the dips and caresses of the violins to the higher instruments. Even though I only have eight to nine years of musical exposure, it was obvious that Illayraja has a keen eye for dolce(sweet, delicate)in his music. And he managed to bring that sweet swell of the music and put it perfectly on sheet music.
Illayraja’s music was also one of the earliest forms of Western and Tamil fusions in music. Combining traditional orchestral and strings with Tamil folk music which usually consisted of hand-made, authentic instruments with deep, woody sounds. Fuse both of them together and bam, you have an intricate masterpiece in your hands.
Here is a bit of an article from NewWorldEncyclopedia.Org(THIS IS NOT MINE, RIGHTS GO TO THE PROPER OWNERS)
“The use of an orchestration technique that is a synthesis of Western and Indian instruments and musical modes characterized Ilaiyaraaja’s music. He pioneered the use of electronic music technology that integrated synthesisers, electric guitars and keyboards, rhythm boxes and MIDI with large orchestras that also featured the veena,venu,nadaswaram,mridangam, and tabla.[28][29] His flair for catchy melodies, and to his employment of subtle nuances in chord progressions, beats and timbres accounts for the popularity of Ilaiyaraaja’s music.[30][31][32] Ilaiyaraaja’s songs typically have a musical form where orchestral preludes and interludes layer vocal stanzas and choruses. They often contain polyphonic melodies; the lead vocals interweave with supporting melody lines sung by another voice or played by instruments. Polyrhythms, particularly in songs with Indian folk or Carnatic influences, have prominence. The melodic structure of his songs demand considerable vocal virtuosity, and have found expressive platform among some of India’s respected vocalists and playback singers, such as K.J. Yesudas, S.P. Balasubramaniam, S. Janaki, P. Susheela, K.S. Chithra, Malaysia Vasudevan, Asha Bhosle and Lata Mangeshkar.[33] Ilaiyaraaja has sung his own compositions for films,[34] recognizable by his rustic and nasal voice. He has penned the lyrics for some of his songs in Tamil and other languages.[35][36] Ilaiyaraaja has become famous for his evocative film themes and background music,[37] and examples of those include his work for Pallavi Anupallavi (1984), Punnagai Mannan (1986), Mouna Raagam (1986) and Geethanjali (1989).”
Of course, all this Einstein-level musical awareness didn’t come with a snap of his conductor’s baton. Like everything in life, it took time and effort. And it would be an understatement to say that he worked hard.
At the age of 14, he joined a traveling musical group(led by his elder brother). Which honestly takes so much guts, I mean you would have to give me a really good reason to drop everything I’m doing in California, pick up my instruments, and start parading across the country while playing music with a group I don’t know well.
Yeah, no.
Anyway, our buddy Illayraaja spent most of his time performing throughout South India, spending the next decade traveling to perform. Eventually writing his own composition.
Personally, when I read that his first musical composition was a musical reworking of an elegy written by a famous Tamil poet who dedicated this specific piece to India’s first prime minister(sorry, I was very confused with how to write this entire sentence properly without sounding stupid, forgive me). I was pretty amazed that his first ever written work was based off poetry. An elegy at that.
An elegy is a form of poetry that is often a piece that is dedicated to a person who has passed away. Note: Not to be confused with a eulogy.
You see, the thing about poetry is that words are embodying the emotions that tie together the entire spiel, rather than using a slew of words to only describe things. Poetry is essentially the artistic way of writing and it’s common for the words and expressions used in poetry to be ornamented.
Not to mention that it’s already hard enough to use words and string them together to make something whole and beautiful. And there are plenty of people out there who struggle with writing poetry and get frustrated in the process, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t one of those people.
I mean sometimes it’s hard to just talk like a normally functioning human being and sound sane.
Yes, yes, it’s very difficult.
But the interesting thing about poetry-that sets it off from other styles of writing-is that you can be describing the most desultory thing, like, I dunno, microwaving a bowl of pencils(which I don’t recommend doing by the way)and you can make it sound like a Shakespearean Sonnet.
Observe:
The metal gleams as the door opens,
Ceramic against glass a tinkling sound of conscience.
Ash coloured particles foreign against pristine white
Blush pink rubber like a crown of a person pleasing an audience.
Although this particular treat will not metabolite.
See! The magic of poetry can make the most horrid things sound beautiful!
And my poem wasn’t even good!
（；^ω^）
My point is that capturing poetry and putting it into another form is exceptionally difficult. Imagine putting that particular poem into melody form.
Well.
From my experience anyway.
Okay back to Illayraja.
As you could’ve guessed(from my unnecessary rant about poetry) Illayraja obviously showed from a rather infant like time that he had capability that a lot of people wished they had but didn’t. When you grow up as a musician, you have to be exposed to nearly every basic thing in music if you want to go onto big things. I know this because it’s drilled into our brains constantly by our band directors.
Illayraja went under Dhanraj Master(a famous music teacher from Tamil Nadu as well)to learn as a music student. Eventually attaining the name Raaja from his esteemed teacher. And from these lessons were where he became acquainted with Western music stylistics. Some time later becoming a very adept classical guitarist by taking a distance course in Trinity College of Music, in London.
As he grew older, there were more opportunities for him as a musician. Slowly getting more high-end. Playing as a guitarist for bands, composing for movies, etc. Many people have called him the “demigod” of music, holding him to a very high esteem that he certainly deserves and his accomplishments are certainly held to a very high stature.
He was recruited as an assistant for musical directory, and had worked on 200 film projects. And as a musical assistant, he was set to writing the sheet music for of the melodies and musical outlines. Which again, is a very ambitious task. Especially under such pressure and watchful eyes of his seniors. And on top of all that, he started writing his very own scores and compositions as he worked under the legendary director G.K Venkatesh.
Eventually, in 1975, he was called after to compose a film score for Tamil film, proceeding to apply the variety of music he had become thoroughly aware of. And if you have forgotten, it was a mixture of folk melodies, Western, and Tamil poetry.
Illayraja has received a multitude of rewards and honours, including five Indian National Film Awards, and the National Film Award for Best Musical Direction.
I’m hoping that in the near future I can make longer individual posts about both BTS and Illayraja. But I thought I could combine the two into one mega-post about music. Obviously to make up for the fact that I haven’t posted anything since New Year’s Eve. Which technically speaking, was last year.
I’m a pathetic high school student. I know. ¯_(◕ヮ◕)_/¯
A lot of the time, I lay awake in the middle of the night thinking.
Overthinking really.
Everyone else in the house will be asleep, occupied with their own dreams. My own thoughts keeping me company. The light in the hallway would pool into the doorway of my bedroom, though it stayed languid. Eventually I would fall asleep but only for a couple hours until it’s early into the morning. I’d say around four, or even six am at the very least. I don’t exactly understand why my body does this, nor if my current age and sleeping times are the exact cause of this consuetude. I would usually go back to sleep and wake up much later into the day. Cause’ the odds of me waking up early is very low.
The gaps between me and sleep are usually filled with peculiar thoughts about the future, my art, or something completely out of the ordinary and just weird as heck. I mean, what do you except from a girl who is half asleep, completely alone, and thinks senselessly way too much. Let alone a girl who is me. Sure, I end up pondering a lot of things all at once. But one thought always stays in the back of my mind, surfacing at miscellaneous moments that usually lead to a longer endeavor of thought. And those thoughts circulate around each other like a swarm of mosquitoes or wasps. And that is;
One’s past life.
*dunH duNH DUNH
(O . o)
SO SPOOKY.
Reincarnation was a process I came to truly learn last year. After reading various books in which my history teacher supplied due to our lessons mostly rotating around the history and philosophy of Buddhism, at the time.
According to various texts, reincarnation or rebirth is the philosophy in which a living being, after death, takes on a new form, in a new life. Their physical body itself can take on the form of any living animate object. For example a human being, or a creature of the wild.
I feel that reincarnation has a direct connection to the doctrine of past lives; thought same may disagree that it’s an outlandish reverie based of off convictional metaphysics. Some may fancy the idea of having lived multiple lives under different personas in times before their current state.
Me, well. I guess I’m a little bit of both. I like hard-core facts, scientific reasoning, you know to make it all the more true. But I also relish some good mythology and allegorical stories. And what do you get when you put the two together?
YOU GET BAM.
A MESS.
YEAH.
The theory of past lives are sought out by many people seeking different explanations. But if you think about it, the philosophy behind rebirth takes a different turn on everyone. Depending on who you talk to, these can be based of religion, or just good ol’ belief.
For a while, ever since it had been released I’d been wanting to get the book Becoming, a memoir written by Michelle Obama and originally published in November. And while going through the book, I thought back to my night time pondering and the little past lives shebang. Reading about the life of Michelle Obama, it felt like she was living multiple different lives. But as the same person, though her soul was evolving just as her body. She was the same person going through completely different scenarios she never dreamed she would go through. A more mental form of bodily revival, rather than the said theory of reincarnation.
The main reason why I wanted this book was because she’s such an inspiration to all women out there. A fighter at heart with a burning fire and encouraging us females to never, ever, let ours die out. In my mind, she is one of the countless women who has revolutionized the way we see our own dreams and goals. I’ve read one or two of her husband’s books before, and plenty of books circulating around his eight years in office. As commander in chief, and so on. But it’s even better to read from the perspective of the person who is experiencing everything her husband does. But feeling emotions you won’t be able to read when they take the podium and give a speech, emotions you won’t be able to feel even when you’re watching them live. Just like millions of other people in the country.
Writing and books are probably the closest thing to magic we’ll ever have. Each one can hold and entire universe so unlike your own, and yet still be right at your fingertips. Books can give you an intimate tour of someone else’s life itself. So instead of standing up in front of a bunch of cameras and mikes, and a teleprompter in their face; people can just sit down at home and write their entire life story as a narrative for the world.
This era of women have broken down barriers that were held against them because of gender, and or by race(s). And in my opinion, these are only a handful of thousands out there who did just that.
Michelle O b a m a
Emma W a t s o n
Amanda L o v e l a c e
Maya A n g e l o u
Ellen D e G e n e r e s
Lupita N y o n g ‘ o
Malala Y o u s a f z a i
Oprah W i n f r e y
J.K. R o w l i n g
Alexandria O c a s i o-C o r t e z
And can we just take a second to just appreciate the absolute brilliance of all of these women? And not only women; just human beings in general. I mean teachers, scientists, firefighters, policemen, men and women serving in the army. And just the people who have been so crucial in building the foundations of not only this nation, but all around the world.
Now here’s a little background on how I actually got my hands on a copy of Becoming. Or rather, how the book managed to find it’s way towards yours truly(aka ME).
My parents got me a copy for Christmas.
It was really simple, not a complicated affair of course. My parents have just accepted the fact that I would take a book over anything. Including food and basic hydration. Courtesy to the stack of books that always end up in my grasp at the dinner table. And then a thorough scolding afterwards. If you don’t believe me just picture me hiding out in my bedroom cuddling in a bundle on my couch near the window and reading with no other light except for a simple lamp to my right side. A steaming mug of tea and earbuds in my ears with music washing over me through my phone. Sketchbook always beside me in the constant scenario in which an idea will spark from my brain to my hands. Happens everyday and takes up the gap of time between almost every meal or homework session.
*Cue another meticulous scolding from my parents.
It’s quite hilarious after a while and even my parents get a good laugh out of it.
Anyway, Christmas morning, I woke up to the sounds of my little brother bounding from his bedroom to mine and whispering with a light in his eyes;
I swear I would’ve been convinced my kid brother was a snake whisperer if I hadn’t fully opened my eyes and stumbled out of bed; just in time to see him leap military style into my parent’s room and proceed to clamber on top of them in his ecstatic state of happiness. Letting the same message he delivered vocally to me and then to my parents. Which led to a series of irritated groans and choking sounds from my dad. And a tired nod and smile from my mom.
The whole process to get my parents up and out of bed on Christmas morning is something that all of us kids dreaded. Nice to see gifts under a decked out tree with my name on them. Everyone’s happy and candy everywhere! Who wouldn’t be absolutely ecstatic to see that!?
Well my parents apparently!
(It took at least a half hour to get them up and out of bed, which is less than what it usually takes mind you.)
Anyway, I got various presents that I liked, but one of my favorites was definitely the brand new hardcover copy of Becoming. With a nice baby blue background and Michelle Obama beaming in the cover. As my siblings opened the rest of their presents, I started pouring of the pages of the book and refused to put the book down for a few days afterwards.
Michelle Obama didn’t want to just be the wife of a politician with a large title. Always smiling, living a life that gave her a direct title right above her head. No, she had plans of her own that she wanted to set forth. To get her own podium and stand on it. Say what’s on her mind and let it set forth.
If the possibility of her husband becoming president was close of course. Michelle Obama revolutionized the persona of the FLOTUS(First Lady of the United States) role. She shattered the mold of a smiling, loyal spouse that only spoke when told to. She smiled when she wanted to, she spoke when she wanted to. She wasn’t just the First Lady; she was a respected women who had power and used it graciously. Using her voice with intense purpose that defied the behavioral aspects of past First Ladies.
And throughout the book she uses a style of writing that doesn’t sound regal or formal. She writes as if we’re talking over some lemonade in a nice little cafe or something. Like good friends just having a seat under the sun.
Being born and raised in the South Side of Chicago, a place in which one(at the time)would never expect a graduate of Princeton and Harvard to be brought up. Gender and race was a massive spectacle in her life. Especially since she was African American, and a women. She gives a firsthand look into her life as she grew up. Showing the ambitions and everyday occurrences of her life in a neighborhood populated mostly by African American citizens.
Her family lived in the second floor of a brick bungalow. The house itself being owned by her great-aunt and her husband. Her great aunt being a piano teacher; the constant plinks and plunks of the piano keys would be a musical constant in the afternoons. A normalcy in the life of young Michelle LaVaughn Robinson; dubbed “Mich” by her family. Her father worked for the city, working with boilers in a water filtration plant. Her mother stayed at home with Michelle, and Craig, her brother. Her father suffered from multiple sclerosis. A disease in which the immune system eats away at protective coverings on the nerves. Though, I don’t think suffered is the best way to put it.
Like most parents/guardians out there, Fraser and Marian Robinson both made sacrifices, pouring their whole being towards their children and making sure to raise them to be a set of decent human beings to inhabit the busy workplace of adult life. Michelle’s father rarely said anything. If he was feeling pain, he most certainly wouldn’t show it.
Michelle and Craig were both extremely close, growing up, they shared a bedroom, which was basically their living room but with a partition for privacy. Reading of this sibling relationship, it honestly reminded me of my own.
Of course my siblings and I have a more rigorous interrelation.
I’ve come to realize that no matter where you’re from, sibling relationships are all almost the same. Disagreements, backstabbery, getting questioning looks from parents, teaming up in certain moments against a duo of power(aka our parents)sticking up for each other etc. Just one glance and we suddenly have this homologous kinda thing going on in our minds. Thinking in a kind of silent understanding.
Now when my parents read this their gonna be like Ha, silent understanding my face. But seriously when my brother makes something and ends up showing me, or is geeking out over someone television show, he’ll obviously look to my opinion. And one of two things will happen;
“Oh my gosh that’s so(insert melodramatic adjective)!”
or
“Lol noob!”
Either way, both statements are the sibling equivalent of I love you; in any case really. It’s like the secret code of not losing our dignity. But hey all siblings out there are Birthright Besties y’all.
Michelle Robinson in front of her father’s Buick Electra
I would say that Michelle and Craig Robinson had a relationship similar to that. Just less. . .
Morbid.
Their parents trusting them to the point where there was no need to fight. But there would be occasional verbal brawls here and there. Especially at stages of distress. But Mrs. Obama made it clear that she had a childhood that was simple and golden, leading up to the happy memories that kept her going when she was down as she grew up.
In that portion, it kinda gave me a sense that she didn’t want her life to be singled out just because she was the First Lady. I knew there were going to be other signs similar to that one. Possibly for multiple reasons. And it can be interpreted differently. But I like the way she inadvertently emphasized the fact that her life wasn’t like the ones of the previous wives of the president. And not just because she was a African American women.
With leading figures, every movement, word spoken, any basic action; can be taken extremely seriously. With her writing style, she emphasized the fact that she was just as human as anyone else. That her and her husband’s lives shouldn’t be written with bold and italicized. That every simple obscenity shouldn’t be taken as a massive scandal sweeping the internet like an unruly riptide. Of course that seems almost impossible in the dawn of technological advancements and sensitive minds.
One thing I found a little interesting was, the fact that Michelle wanted absolutely nothing to do with the mess that was politics. But instead she would admire the men and women she would see walking the sidewalks in their blazers and suits, walking briskly and carrying themselves with purpose. And Michelle was ambiguous about this as well. To carry herself with the same look of purpose. But what I also learned was that she was a good student and always tried hard, but there would be moments where her grades could be slightly saddening. And I can agree wholeheartedly on that. And ironically, one of my favorite lines that she said(not in the book though, sorry). Is:
“If my future were determined just by my performance on a standardized test, I wouldn’t be here. I guarantee you that.”
And I can agree on that too. I mean look at Walt Disney, Steve Jobs, Gandhi, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Bill Gates. Some dropping out of school, some fighting to protect their country or their rights. Now look at what impact they’ve had on the world! Mickey Mouse now embodies the happiness of children and adults alike, look at any piece of tech in your house and look at the ground breaking changes between the twenty and twenty-first century. You a history nerd? Well the name Alexander Hamilton should be more familiar. Michelle Obama has gone through some hardships of her own, but that never stopped her from being ambitious and setting goals for herself to reach. Especially in school.
While her study in Harvard she was an associate attorney at Sidley & Austin in Chicago. And oh man, this love story I’m about to tell you is literally going to knock you off your feet.
She hated him.
Okay, maybe hate is a strong word.
I think a more suitable adjective would be unimpressed.
Michelle first met Barack Obama when he was taking a position over the summer in the law firm she worked at. And her first impression of the dude was a geek with a massive smile. And cute in a skeptical kinda way. I mean c’mon, a girl’s gotta have her standards. Michelle even attempted to get Barack together with some of her friends. But like most unlikely loves, romance just refused to leave Michelle Robinson without a fight.
Michelle thought he had a peculiar name, he was laid back, maybe even too laid back if you will. He was late to his first interview, and his most casual outfit for an outing( see what I did there?)looked and I quote, “directly out of the closet of Miami Vice.” But as most romances go, they slowly grew closer and enjoyed the minor qualities each one had. But one of my favorite parts in this portion of the book was when Michelle was up late at night with a skeptical looking Barack.
He looked vaguely troubled, as if he were pondering something deeply personal. Was it our relationship? The loss of his father?
“Hey, what’re you thinking about over there?” I whispered.
He turned to look at me, his smile a little sheepish. “Oh,” he said. “I was just thinking about income inequality.”
Income inequality.
INCOME INEQUALITY.
I’ve said some pretty odd things when I’m sleep deprived, *cough*overseas travel*cough*. But it never went to the point where I was having a mental existential crisis.
But it also goes to show just how far their relationship went. I mean look at this adorable picture:
And you could tell just from the looks on their faces. Those are looks of sweet satisfaction from gaining someone in the world to balance you when you’re in a dark state of mind. For example, when Michelle was coping with the death of her father. Or when Barack needed someone to turn to when he was politically stressed out.
And do you know what else this metaphor reminds me of?
Weeble Wobbles.
I remember seeing television commercials of these things when I was a kid. They were these little egg thingies that could literally-NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY-get knocked over. I used to play with them in my kindergarten classroom too. And while everyone else found it absolutely hilarious when they would just wobble around, I would be furiously trying to press them down hard enough so they wouldn’t just teeter back up again. Just thinking about the trauma of that gives me a migraine.
*shudder*
Anyway, the only reason they reminded me of Michelle and Barack is they didn’t always have a steady relationship, they could always depend on each other. Morale of the story is,
Find someone to be the weeble to your wobble.
That is the end of my TED Talk.
Here’s a short excerpt from Becoming, in which Michelle circulates in the early stages of her marriage with Barack.
“It sounds a little like a bad joke, doesn’t it? What happens when a solitude-loving individualist marries an outgoing family woman who does not love solitude one bit?
The answer, I’m guessing, is probably the best and most sustaining answer to nearly every question arising inside a marriage, no matter who you are or what the issue is: you find ways to adapt. If you’re in it for ever, there’s really no choice.
Which is to say that at the start of 1993, Barack flew to Bali and spent about five weeks living alone with his thoughts while working on a draft of his book Dreams from My Father, filling yellow legal pads with his fastidious handwriting, distilling his ideas during languid daily walks amid the coconut palms and lapping tide. I, meanwhile, stayed home on Euclid Avenue, living upstairs from my mother, Marian, as another leaden Chicago winter descended, shellacking the trees and sidewalks with ice. I kept myself busy, seeing friends and hitting workout classes in the evenings. In my regular interactions at work or around town, I’d find myself casually uttering this strange new term – “my husband”. My husband and I are hoping to buy a home. My husband is a writer finishing a book. It was foreign and delightful and conjured memories of a man who simply wasn’t there. I missed Barack terribly, but I rationalized our situation as I could, understanding that even if we were newlyweds, this interlude was probably for the best
He had taken the chaos of his unfinished book and shipped himself out to do battle with it. Possibly this was out of kindness to me, a bid to keep the chaos out of my view. I’d married an outside-the-box thinker, I had to remind myself. He was handling his business in what struck him as the most sensible and efficient manner, even if outwardly it appeared to be a beach vacation – a honeymoon with himself (I couldn’t help but think in my lonelier moments) to follow his honeymoon with me.
You and I, you and I, you and I. We were learning to adapt, to knit ourselves into a solid and for ever form of us. Even if we were the same two people we’d always been, the same couple we’d been for years, we now had new labels, a second set of identities to wrangle. He was my husband. I was his wife. We’d stood up at church and said it out loud, to each other and to the world. It did feel as if we owed each other new things.
For many women, including myself, “wife” can feel like a loaded word. It carries a history. If you grew up in the 1960s and 1970s as I did, wives seemed to be a genus of white women who lived inside television sitcoms – cheery, coiffed, corseted. They stayed at home, fussed over the children, and had dinner ready on the stove. They sometimes got into the sherry or flirted with the vacuum-cleaner salesman, but the excitement seemed to end there.
Personally, as a kid, I preferred The Mary Tyler Moore Show, which I absorbed with fascination. Mary had a job, a snappy wardrobe, and really great hair. She was independent and funny, and unlike those of the other ladies on TV, her problems were interesting. She had conversations that weren’t about children or homemaking. She didn’t let Lou Grant boss her around, and she wasn’t fixated on finding a husband. She was youthful and at the same time grown-up. In the pre- pre- pre-internet landscape, when the world came packaged almost exclusively through three channels of network TV, this stuff mattered. If you were a girl with a brain and a dawning sense that you wanted to grow into something more than a wife,
And here I was now, 29 years old, sitting in the very same apartment where I’d watched all that TV and consumed all those meals dished up by the patient and selfless Marian Robinson. I had so much – an education, a healthy sense of self, a deep arsenal of ambition – and I was wise enough to credit my mother, in particular, with instilling it in me.
She’d taught me how to read before I started kindergarten, helping me sound out words as I sat curled like a kitten in her lap, studying a library copy of Dick and Jane. She’d cooked for us with care, putting broccoli and brussels sprouts on our plates and requiring that we eat them. She’d hand sewn my prom dress, for God’s sake. The point was, she’d given diligently and she’d given everything. She’d let our family define her. I was old enough now to realize that all the hours she gave to me and my brother, Craig, were hours she didn’t spend on herself.
My considerable blessings in life were now causing a kind of psychic whiplash. I’d been raised to be confident and see no limits, to believe I could go after and get absolutely anything I wanted. And I wanted everything. I wanted to live with the hat-tossing, independent-career-woman zest of Mary Tyler Moore, and at the same time I gravitated toward the stabilizing, self-sacrificing, seemingly bland normalcy of being a wife and mother. I wanted to have a work life and a home life, but with some promise that one would never fully squelch the other. I hoped to be exactly like my own mother and at the same time nothing like her at all. It was an odd and confounding thing to ponder. Could I have everything? Would I have everything? I had no idea.”
Reading her book, she also emphasized herself in a way that didn’t make you feel like she was on a whole different level on the social scale. She is just as human as anyone else. She accentuated that by giving us a detailed verbal tour of her everyday life when it came to balancing family and her career.
Her daughters, at the time of her husband’s campaigning; were both young and had needs only their mother could provide. And in the early stages of her husband’s campaign trail Mrs. Obama was advised by her husband’s team to spend time with Democrats in specific states. I believe her first mission was to go to every corner of Iowa, and win over leaders, address groups of citizens, etc. Basically having to fly to Iowa every week and talk to a bunch of strangers and kiss other people’s babies. On top of that, she had her own career as a the Vice President of Community and External Affairs for the University of Chicago Hospitals.
And aside from all of that, there was always one question running through her head;
“Am I good enough?”
This is a question a lot of other people my age ask too. Everyday when we pass a mirror, when someone gets a higher score on a test, when someone is more likeable at school. But also because of the way society depicts us. She would ask this question in her head when she was in different job positions, when she became First Lady of the United States.
I’m willing to talk to a lot of people and I find satisfaction in stating my opinion to everyone with a spunk and pride. But, I’m not the most social person either. And when reading this area of the book, I could relation on a personal level every time she questioned whether she was good enough for a high position in society. But look at the pride in her face. That all of the questioning and struggling was worth it. The sigh of relief when you realize Hey people actually like us for who we are! and the look of And if they don’t? So what?
I’m going to stop right here and say that Michelle Obama has become and even more admirable person to me ever since I finished reading her book and I hope you can have the same experience by at least skimming a copy or a PDF of it. Glancing over the book jacket would suffice! Reason I’m stopping here is because the rest of the book gives insight on her life in the White House and things she had to live with and learn in her time as FLOTUS. And if I typed it out here, in the open for everyone to read. It was spoil the joy of reading it for yourself. So one last thing before I sign off.
(All lyrics typed into this post belong to Lin Manuel Miranda and Mr. Miranda only. I can only aspire to have the incredible talent he has in lyricism. That being said, the musical Hamilton shall be mentioned in this post but does not belong to me. All rights go to Lin Manuel Miranda.)
You have no idea.
My friends always tease me every time a writing or drawing opportunity is brought up in any class. If I am lucky both combined. Sure I pay attention in class, heck my eyes never leave the teacher’s unless an instruction was said to do an activity that consisted the opposite. But every time we have an opportunity for free writing and/or drawing, no boundaries, no direction. I will instantly perk up. To my embarrassment my friends know me too well to understand that this will happen anytime, anywhere.
I’m teased by my friends in an affectionate way, obviously, due to this one little perk. I mean my friends are such amazing individuals that each have earned my respect and we would do anything for each other. We are all diverse and I love that. They make everyday incredible and leave me smiling every time. But I can never deny that we tease each other. We’ve all got our inside jokes, definitely. I mean playfully tantalizing is basically our groups version of acknowledging the other in a humorous version of our own basically.
Okay story time;
So early last year my friends and I were discussing ideas for an essay we had to write and I was basically writing furiously on a piece of paper and sketching ideas for the additional part of the project. My friends and I all shared one laptop outside to play music and do bits of research for our projects. We obviously decided to play Hamilton. But unexpectedly this line came along one of the songs featured:
“How do you write like tomorrow won’t arrive? How do you write like you’re running out of time? How do your write like you need it to survive? How do you write every second you’re alive, every second you’re alive, every second you’re alive?”
Both my friends gave each other knowing looks, both smirking at me while I just gave them a look between confusion and wonder. This was around the time when I was just discovering the musical itself so I had only listened to a couple songs. The line was so intriguing and I saw why they pinpointed the lyric. This one lyric always keeps me going when I have given up. Because it makes me start thinking why I’ve started in the first place. And for some reason, after hearing that lyric, I felt like I could do my essay ten times better. Make it a worthwhile piece to read.
I have done posts where I fan girled about the musical Hamilton multiple times. But I never explained to you where it came from. Well the scene I wrote for you on the previous paragraph told just that. It took me at least a week to figure out that it was a line from a musical. It took me another week to listen to all forty-six songs. Listening intently to all 20,520 words non-stop.
Needless to say, It has earned the title of the best musical theater performance I have ever listened to in my life.
I have never, in my entire life, ever heard such a brilliant composition of song, of rap, of a historical and nonetheless undermined story. Each line a work of art itself. I mean it took Lin Manuel Miranda six years to write the entire thing. I don’t blame him though. I remember in one post, I added a URL to one of the songs, that song being Non-Stop, that song contained the lyric that my friends mentioned as well. So I hope some of you took the time to listen to it, but if you didn’t that’s okay, I’ll just go to that corner over there and cry now.
*sniff*
I’m just kidding.
Maybe.
You have no idea how much I just want to transport every song into every one of your brains and let you all listen for the next four and a half hours, but since that is physically impossible for me to do I might as well just describe the musical to you all.
*Major Spoilers Ahead*
(well technically these aren’t spoilers, I’m basically explaining history to you guys. So this isn’t spoiling. This is a history lesson. A slightly edited history. With legit rap lyrics . Anyway don’t blame me if you end up crying halfway through this post.) (0 – 0)
Alexander Hamilton was known historically to be an American Founding Father, a supporter of the American Constitution making him a Federalist. He founded nation’s financial systems, the coast guard, the New York Post newspaper, and the Federalist Party itself. But not many people seem to know his true life story. His tragedies, his loves, friendships, allies.
No one knew how much the eyes of history wanted him.
At the early age of ten, Alexander’s father fled and left him and his mother to stand for themselves. Ten years later, Alex and his mother became sick with the Yellow Fever. Alexander survived of course, but his mother. She easily found her deathbed and went.
She was buried in Christiansted, Saint Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands.
This left a damaging impact on Alexander, seeing his mother die right in front of his eyes in a stage of such adolescence. But he kept moving onward. Alexander found a temporary home with his cousin, but his cousin committed suicide. I’m sorry, I just hate saying that phrase but I had to do so for this case. I’m sorry for those who detest the phrase just as I do. Anyway, this led to Alexander realizing that he had no choice but to fend for himself. Alexander did nothing but read. He read everything and anything he could find. He worked for his mother’s previous landlord. Trading goods that he himself could never afford alone for himself. He would desperately find any book to bore into his mind, finally deciding to board a ship heading to a new land. New York.
Thus represented in the first song in the entire musical by this line:
“There would have been nothin’ left to do for someone less astute. He would’ve been dead or destitute without a cent of restitution. Started workin’, clerkin’ for his late mother’s landlord, tradin’ sugarcane and rum and all the things he can’t afford. Scammin’ for every book he can get his hands on, plannin’ for the future. See him now as he stands on the bow of a ship headed for a new land. In New York you can be a new man.”
Sidenote; Something else that happened before he departed his birthplace, an awful hurricane had hit and yet he still survived. But there is this line in the musical that is sung multiple times, a prevailing lyric at that.
“I imagine death so much it feels like a memory.”
This was such a brilliant line that I spent days poring over it. I mean, here is Alexander, multiple times in his life has overcome becoming a victim in the unrelenting jaws of death. And this line was always sung in a song where he was on the brink of death. But when I think about it, without that hurricane, Alexander Hamilton would never have immigrated to America. Never would’ve been such a huge part of our history. We never would be in the place we are in today in modern day America.
Just imagine that.
Alexander Hamilton, only nineteen but he already had his entire life goals splayed out in front of him like a map with too many pinpoints to count. And boy calling him smart was an understatement. I mean if you made him take a modern day test on any subject besides U.S. History(because he didn’t witness some history for himself that happened ahead of his time)I bet you he would have beat almost every Stanford or Harvard student or any university in general. Plus get like 700% out of like a 100% test. Okay I may be stretching the exaggeration too much but I’m just tryin’ to state my claims here.
A line establishing this in the third song being:
“I’m only nineteen but my mind is older.”
Alexander docked in New York and couldn’t help noticing that a certain prodigy of Princeton College was crossing paths with him. A mister Aaron Burr. And what better way to introduce yourself by bantering them about how to be successful in life?
Keeping up?
No?
Me neither.
There conversation went a little something along the lines of Alexander basically being a little over excited, therefore ending up with a very traumatized Aaron Burr. But Burr seems to find this, fire in Hamilton that could be cultivated. Even giving the advice of;
“Talk less, smile more.”
“Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”
This line is exceptionally inspirational for me because I don’t think before I speak and if you let me I can ramble and lecture for as long as I could. Hours upon hours on one topic until everyone else in the room is waiting for me to stop. And I have this habit of being so focused on doing whatever I’m working on that I just have this serious look on my face and everyone thinks I look mad. No, that’s not the case so it’s nothing personal. I’m just not aware of whether or not I’m glaring or smiling or doing a poker face for that matter. My facial muscles don’t send signals to my brain saying that I’m practically staring down my paper or screen while I’m giving whoever is in my company break into a cold sweat.
From that moment onward, Alexander’s life was a vivacious whirl of battle, intense wars including the American Revolutionary War. He was then well known as General George Washington’s aide- de- camp. Eventually receiving the ranking of leutenent colonel.
But throughout the various songs, each one introduces a new character body who was extremely important in American history.
First, off, the trio themselves; John Laurens, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette (aka just Marquis de) Lafayette), and Hercules Mulligan. Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan are in awe of Alexander’s quick wit and buoyancy, as well as the undying ambition that was constantly pumping in his veins. So There they were, Alexander Hamilton, fast friends with John Laurens(his best friend)Lafayette, and Mulligan. The Fall Out Boys of the 1780s and 1800s. An incredible quote Alex sand was;
I’m just like my country—I’m young, scrappy, and hungry, and I am not throwing away my shot.
Describing his hunger to fight for America and build success for himself. Along with this line that I fell in love with:
The plan is to fan this spark into a flame.
I just want to add a side note that I was left speechless. Absolutely speechless at the brilliance of Lin Manuel Miranda. I know of no one who could cultivate words in the ways he does, manipulating them to create a bewitching new story that makes you feel so many emotions almost all at once. I strive to be just as talented as him in my writing and music. Just reading one of his speeches, songs, raps, anything, makes me swell with this passion and a fire burn in my eyes. The influence he has put upon me is indescribable and yet I have a thousand words.
John Laurens was completely against slavery and fought immensely to abolish it. Lafayette was extremely helpful in Revolution and was the key reason as to why France and America became allies against Britain. Mulligan was a tailor’s apprentice and was a spy in the Revolutionary War, as well as a member of the Sons of Liberty. These three men are historical figures that I have come to admire and become immensely inspired by since I first learned about them through the musical, and then once again in history class this year.
Now the Schuyler sisters. Descended from General Schuyler these three were born into a wealthy family and was well known in New York. Women envied them, men wanted to charm their way to earn their hearts. These three incredible woman who each in miscellaneous ways contributed to the war and the men more than most I had read about. The eldest, Angelica Schuyler, was spunky and quick minded, very beautiful and emanated a confidence that stole all attention just from the action of walking into a room. Elizabeth Schuyler, the middle sister had inherited her eldest sister’s way to bite back at any comment, a bookish woman at heart who cared deeper than both her sister’s combined in the acts of the war. Margarita Schuyler( known as Peggy to her family members and close friends, as well as the name portrayed in the musical itself)was underestimated due to living in the shadows of her two older sisters but proved herself just as vigorous and abundant as her two sisters.
Even in the song title The Schuyler Sisters in the musical is proof of this if you will read vivaciously Angelica sang:
“You want a revolution? I want a revelation. So listen to my declaration: “We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.” And when I meet Thomas Jefferson, I’m ‘a compel him to include women in the sequel!”
Elizabeth adding on with:
“Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now!”
Even when women were often underestimated, these three sisters back lashed and it clearly showed that those stereotypes had backfired beautifully.
Oh but my my, it seems that Caroline Schuyler,their mother, decided to throw a ball to finally find suitors for her dashing daughters. And it just so happens that Hamilton, Burr, and the rest of Alex’s friends went. And it seems that a romance was blossoming between Elizabeth Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton. Like a deep wound that could never be mended, Alexander’s love for Eliza grew with each beat of his heart and the throb of his temples. Though it took a while to cultivate that love with Eliza’s end of this wheel of affection.
Alexander Hamilton, the man who bowed to no one, gave his heart and soul onto a silver platter and placed it in front of Eliza to intertwine into one beautiful thing. Alexander’s love for his dear Eliza grew until he practically went mad with the mere thought of seeing his Betsey with someone else.
But wait
tHeRe’S mOrE.
Angelica Schuyler seems to have developed a yearning as well.
And that little voice in her head has developed a love forMr. Sassy McSmarty Pants himself; Alexander Hamilton.
The tables have turned!!
*gasp*
The songs Helpless and Satisfied were both back to back in the audio and musical and both are incredible songs that portray the emotions either sister felt. Helpless is sung by Eliza and shows a sequence of events, from Angelica introducing her to little Hammy Ham, Hamilton addressing Philip Schuyler for Eliza’s hand in marriage and so on and so forth. The song ending with Eliza and Alex being bonded together for life through the act of marriage.
But then Angelica is singing Satisfied, and I don’t even think I can explain this properly so I’ll just put the link to the audio below (ALL RIGHTS GO TO LIN MANUEL MIRANDA THEREFORE I DO NOT OWN THIS SONG OR THE MUSICAL FOR THAT MATTER WE HAVE BEEN OVER THIS PEOPLE)
Now T H A T was a lot to process now wasn’t it? Her sister is already married to the one man she will truly love and she had to live with that. Can you put yourself in that situation for a second? I mean the one thing you can never let go, you can’t live or breath without, is taken away unintentionally by a person you equally care about. And you live the rest of your life pretending you never wanted it in the first place.
Will the tables turn once again?
Probably.
Will our blood pertinaciously flee south from the intensity?
Can’t confirm that but its a possibility?
Will we all pass out from the almost ridiculous amount of suspense and drama in this one love triangle that only goes multiple directions let us prevail and cause further conflict that will lead to our own hearts breaking and wish people could just love the people they love and don’t fight over and live happily ever after like in children’s books instead of mentally grabbing each other’s throats without even realizing that they are thinking just so and you regret it instantly afterward but feel even worse realizing that it was your instincts to read this post in the first place and now your probably blame me for this sudden jerk of emotions plaguing your senses further worsening your mental conditions?
. . . . . . .
Maybe.
Well okay then.
Now all we need is a super dramatic cut scene that includes a fight between the protagonist and an unexpected villain that throws of the entire plot line. And some weird lookin’ part of their body that is the equivalent to a deformed taco. But that didn’t happen in American history(I wouldn’t be surprised if it did but anyway)that didn’t happen soooo;
we’re movin’ on people keep up with the program!
Okay so, wait hold on, where was I again? Hold on let me just scroll up a little bi- ah! Angelica is talking about how she loves Alex but he already married Eliza and she just wants her sister to be happy and blah blah sadness blah depression blah blooh blah blah.
Jeez, I really doubt the fact that I don’t have ADD or ADHD. I have the precision and memory of a goldfish mongoose hybrid, if that exists. Which it probably doesn’t, but-
Okay moving on sorry,(not sorry).
But one thing I wanna point out is a line that Alexander says directly to Angelica upon there first meaning that basically defines my life to me:
“There’s a million things I haven’t done. Just you wait, just you wait.”
This line is so simple, but so straight forward. And I have never heard anything like this. Gods I, I can never be able to explain the emotions and the raw, animalistic passion that I felt listening to the line. His passionate voice truly replicating what he wanted to do in the world. As Alexander Hamilton in his role. But Lin Manuel Miranda also described his own lust.
I have never connected more with any lyric like that before.
And I don’t think, I ever will again.
There is so much I want to do, so many dreams. And there’s always this sense of urgency, this growling need for something I just can’t describe myself. I have so much of it that pumps constantly from when I wake to when I fall into the trance of sleep. I want to show people that I’m not just a girl who just writes and draws and plays some instrument. I don’t want to just be that girl you’ll see in the hallways at school. The girl you only see in person every few years since we’re so far apart across the globe. Not just the girl that has so many plans but can’t carry them out. I don’t want to just be
that girl.
A minority in the universe that hasn’t made an impact and never will.
I’m sick of being underestimated for what I can and can’t do.
But this lyric makes me feel like I have a chance, a chance to contribute in something huge. Something that will affect everyone. Let that fire consume everyone. This gives me a hope that I can. So
there’s a million things I haven’t done. But just you wait.
just you wait.
Now there seems to be a minor hurricane stirring in side Aaron Burr here. In the song after The Story of Tonight Reprise, the song Wait for It, focuses on Burr’s irritation toward every succession attacking Hamilton. But Hamilton and Burr are polar opposites if I haven’t cleared that already. Hamilton takes his chances and is outgoing, whilst Burr is willing to use is own philosophy and well, wait for what is to come that is in storage for him. The song included this spectacular lines as well;
I am the one thing in life I can control. I am inimitable, I am an original.
Burr lost everyone he had ever loved, his mother, father, grandparents. Therefore he claims that Hamilton has something to prove, and that he has nothing to lose. As said in this line:
Hamilton faces an endless uphill climb. He’s got something to prove, he’s got nothing to lose.
So, well there really isn’t much you can say about this portion of the musical until you actually heard the song so. Yeah, listen to the musical. You’ll understand way more.
Once again Laurens, Lafayette, Burr, and Hamilton go marching off being the brave soldiers they are,
to there death.
No surprise, Hamilton leaves an anxious Eliza to fight for his country. The soldiers are struggling immensely, no food or water, forced to eat their own horses. Merchant’s denying them equipment. If I am correct, Hercules Mulligan eventually leaves to continue his apprenticeship, leaving Lafayette, Laurens, and Hamilton in the war. Laurens and Hamilton write essays and letters to fight against slavery, whilst Lafayette sends for French aids to send a ship or two to assist the American troops.
Hamilton is reluctant to be chosen to command, but each time he is denied his constant requests. Instead assigning a Mister Charles Whee- I mean Lee, Charles Lee for the job. This pisses of Hamilton pretty bad. Especially since during every single battle leading on with Charles Lee in command, goes awry because Mr. Lee is basically having a mental heart attack of fear. Finally, the Battle of Monmouth takes place and George Washington has had enough, so instead of having Hamilton lead and command, Lafayette is assigned to take the lead.
Hundreds of thousand soldiers died from fighting in hundreds of degree’s of heat. But the battle was won nonetheless in my knowledge of chronological events. Charles Lee was left behind by the troops, but that didn’t stop him from saying some pretty nasty stuff behind General Washington’s back. This snaps Hamilton’s last vein and therefore tells Washington his concerns. Washington waves him off and tells him to focus on the war and move along. Laurens however convinces himself and Hamilton that Charles Lee needs to be put in his place. And what better way to do that than invite someone to a duel to the death?
*jazz hands*
How a duel works, is to solve a conflict. the two opponents must meet at the spot chosen, go 20 paces(or in the musical 10 paces)backwards and face your opponent. Your pistols are loaded and its inevitable that someone could get killed or severely hurt. I mean, it’s a bullet what do you expect? I’m pretty sure no one duels anywhere, anymore. I mean this is basically murder so technically it’s illegal right? Well anyway this is the 1700 and 1800s get over it.
Charles Lee and Laurens are the opponents, whilst, Aaron Burr and Hamilton are the seconds. Hamilton is obviously on Lauren’s side on the situation, while Aaron Burr tries to patch up the conflict by talking some sense into Hamilton.
That obviously didn’t work.
So I conclude this portion with this line that Hamilton sings towards Laurens as he steady’s his position:
“Look ‘em in the eye, aim no higher. Summon all the courage you require Then count., One two three four Five six seven eight nine Number Ten paces Fire”
Laurens shoots Lee on his side and Burr is vigilant to quickly get him to the medic. While Laurens and Hamilton bask in the satisfaction of leading the last straw and plucking it, Washington storms into the situation and boy is he furious. He ends up sending Hamilton home temporarily and Alexander thinks it because the general is mad. But no, there’s a reason behind it.
ELIZABETH SCHUYLER HAMILTON IS PREGNANT YO
Hamilton is ecstatic for the arrival of his first born but fears he won’t be able to provide for an unborn child and his wife. Him being a poor man who came from no family and had no income. He worries himself scarce and rethinks every accomplishment that he had placed behind him on an unstable shelf of self doubt. But Eliza a being the incredible woman sings this instead:
“Look at where you are. Look at where you started. The fact that you’re alive is a miracle. Just stay alive, that would be enough. And if this child. Shares a fraction of your smile. Or a fragment of your mind, look out world. That would be enough. I don’t pretend to know. The challenges you’re facing. The worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind.”
But then, time passes and George Washington needs Alexander, his right hand man, back on the battle field. Eliza knows in her heart that Alexander is needed but still seemed hesitant. Alexander is with the same but before he can think to much, he finally comes back to George Washington and meets with him once again. But he wasn’t scolded, he wasn’t pleaded with, he wasn’t being given orders. Washington merely had valuable advice to give to the frivolity of the soldier before continuing on with a life of his own to cultivate and nourish:
“I was younger than you are now When I was given my first command I led my men into a massacre Witnessed their deaths firsthand Oh, I made every mistake I felt the shame rise in me And even now I lie awake Knowing history,
has its eyes on me.
Let me tell you what I wish I’d known When I was young and dreamed of glory You have no control Who lives, who dies, who tells your story
I know that we can win I know that greatness lies in you But remember from here on in That history, has its eyes, on you.”
This is one of the most powerful lines I have ever heard.
This is so true and absolutely brilliant if you think about long enough. And trust me, I have. This is the kind of lyric that keep’s me awake at night, the score running in my head as the song repeats in my head. This sums up perfectly just how much Alexander Hamilton was valued in Washington’s mind, and the heads of everyone else who valued him.
Its the Battle of Yorktown guys! The adrenaline is driving inside everyone with Hamilton back. Laurens is in South Carolina fighting against slavery. Lafayette is waiting at Chesapeake Bay when the British scurry away from the battlefield holding a white flag. Hercules Mulligan is spying on the British for inside info regarding the British Government so the plan was absolutely perfect. Alex is completely okay with sacrificing himself for the birth of a new nation, but then he drives of the fact of coming home to Eliza, better yet to his son. Represented with this line;
“I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory This is where it gets me: on my feet The enemy ahead of me If this is the end of me, at least I have a friend with me Weapon in my hand, a command, and my men with me Then I remember my Eliza’s expecting me… Not only that, my Eliza’s expecting We gotta go, gotta get the job done Gotta start a new nation, gotta meet my son!”
What better way to motivate yourself in a hostile situation than think of the people who love you and you love just as much.
This was, no doubt the most important battle in the Revolution War of the United States. George Washington leading 17,000 French ally troops along with the American Colonists battling in troops against the 9,000 troops lead by General Charles Cornwallis. A week of fighting passed before a man in a redcoat stood frantically waving a white handkerchief. The joy is contagious as the soldiers are hollering in their victory, Alexander joyous to bring a new nation along with his son. Lafayette finally bringing freedom to America and France. Laurens questioning what this means for slaves and citizens alike.
Oh my god,
I
have
made
a most
terrible
mistake.
i forgot to mention king george the third guys.
Okay long story short, King George the Third was the dude who decided that he could do whatever the heck he wanted and be a tyrant and control the American colonies like a toddler playing with a spindle toy with a string. He is adamant and refuses to accept the fact that America doesn’t need him or want him. My history teacher even described the Declaration of Independence to be like a “breakup letter” from America to King George. Remember that rap song I even put on my last post towards the end? My assignment was based of an argument between someone who supported King George and a person fighting against him.
So basically what I’m tryin’ to say is King George basically went insane when America declared itself a new nation of independence.
Okay moving along
Aaron Burr serenades us with a song, accompanied by Alex, about his daughter and his son. Both singing of just how much they cared for these lights in there lives. Theodosia Burr was Aaron Burr’s daughter, and Philip Hamilton was Hamilton’s son. Hamilton’s son is a very important character towards the end so stay tuned. Er, I mean keep reading, I mean this isn’t a podcast or anything. It would be cool if it was though!
Hamilton sets of to study and practice law with Burr doing the similar. And Hamilton, coming to no surprise, quickly rises to the top. Now this is the song that truly shows that Hamilton is an exuberant little cinnamon roll of death you should never ever mess with. I mean god this guy went from a living war machine to a living war machine with an ink bottle a quill, and a lifetime supply of paper. I mean this guy is super human when it comes to brains and diligence. Step aside Einstein cause Hamilton’s in the house.
But Hamilton’s- uhh- excitement, seems to be a tad bit too exuberant for the mellow lawyers and other people who must associate with him almost everyday. an example of these frequent outburst of ideas and excitement regarding his contributions for the country are above what anyone thinks a normal human being could do. Aaron Burr tries to help his friend out and calm him down to make the man a little less rash, a fruitless attempt.
Alexander tries to recruit Burr to clean up the government by writing a series of anonymous essays and articles. But Burr refuses with every attempt Hamilton places in front of him. So Hamilton takes in James Madison and John Jay. The three men working endlessly to write only 25.
They ended up with 85 essays in six months.
John Jay wrote five before becoming quite ill.
James Madison wrote twenty-nine.
Hamilton wrote,
the other fifty-one.
Fifty-one essays, in six months. I honestly didn’t now how to react when this information bled through my earbuds and into my ears. I mean this dude, was underestimated almost all his life and then did this. I don’t think he wrote this just for it’s exact purpose.
He wrote fifty-one because he wanted to prove himself even more,
He wrote fifty-one essays because he wanted to prove that he was more than enough for people to be convinced that he was capable.
He wrote fifty-one because history had its eyes directed on him like a spotlight that will never fade away.
Nothing, I swear, nothing, will convince me that Alexander Hamilton is anything but a brilliant man who had an ambition. His worst fear was being forgotten, for not leaving something on this Earth that will stand forever and onward. A fire was burning in every vein and artery. Flowing like ambrosia from his heart and searing anything it touches like the river Plegethon.
Someone else wouldn’t agree.
Thomas Jefferson was in France for, a while.
If you call 1,825 days a short while.
Yeah I counted.
He was in the midst of the rise of American politics. Shining opportunity for anyone(well except women, and slaves, and you know what I think you get the point)Him and mister James Madison were already heading for New York for George Washington called for them. And you bet little Hammy Ham is gonna be there. And the instant they did it was as if tiny battalions were going off in both there brains.
of hatred.
Its a whirl of different perspectives. Eliza is anxious for her dear husband to just spend some more time with her and there family, Aaron Burr wants more opportunity, and Washington, well, he has to make sure Jefferson and Hamilton don’t slit each others throats with butter knives and various other cutlery. As all of this unfolds and Hamilton basically roasts Jefferson on a daily basis, Angelica and Eliza try convincing him to take a break, get away from the work and spend time with the children and them. Hamilton declines innocently obviously.
That’s probably the worst decision he could ever have made.
Maria Reynolds, wife of James Reynolds, comes sauntering in and basically attempts to bewitch Hamilton to do something he’ll regret later. Course that worked out pretty well for her but not for him. This ended up with Madison, Jefferson, and Burr finding out through James Reynold’s bank account somehow. Hamilton ends up thinking with a brilliant idea. So instead of having others release info he didn’t want out in the world, he decided to just do it himself. Thus ending up with him releasing, The Reynolds Pamphlet. Need I say more?
Eliza is absolutely heartbroken and extremely mad, leaving Angelica absolutely furious. Philip is appalled by this information and struck heavily. Philip is about 19 by the way and he is just as smart as his father, leaving every professor and teacher with nothing to teach him because if you have the blood of Alexander Hamilton, circulating in your body I think you’ll be fine on your own. George Eacker seemed to have been saying some bad stuff about Philip’s father. This basically led to Philip getting really mad and than challenging Eacker to a duel. Philip goes to his father for advice about his duel and though he isn’t confident, he takes pride in his father’s words to him and is content. But then, George Eacker only had counted to seven, before shooting Philip.
He died in the arms of his mother and father.
I sobbed in this portion of the musical because it showed so much emotion, even if it only was an audio through my ears.
I sobbed for Philip because he was only nineteen but he already lost his life,
I sobbed for Eliza because she lost her own flesh and blood.
I sobbed for Alexander because he lost a fraction of his heart.
I just I know how they must’ve felt. It’s absolutely heartbreaking.
That is all I can muster myself to type on this topic.
Alexander tries to get Eliza to speak to him once again. She had gone through so much, losing her son and having her own husband in an affair. I can’t imagine what she was going through. I personally think she had the right to want to stay silent, I mean after all that? Deftly! Finally Eliza breaks, she and Alex mend their love, because a love like that can never be fractured forever.
Meanwhile Jefferson and Aaron Burr are butting heads in the Election of 1800 both desperate for the presidency. But it’s up to Alex to finalize who wins because its a tie. He was starting to think that Aaron Burr had now beliefs, merely because he never chose a side to stand. Alex even said to him face to face
“If you stand for nothing Burr what will you fall for?”
in the third song of Act 1 of the musical. Hamilton votes for Jefferson, which infuriates Burr.
Burr wanted to be where everyone else worked and strove for a large cause. An infant nation. He wanted to lead. With each opportunity that sported just that, Hamilton took it away. This anger bubbling inside him to no end, until he had enough. He invites Hamilton to duel.
Hamilton points his pistol upward expecting Burr to cease fire. Burr shoots forward expecting Hamilton to have the buoyancy to shoot. They were both wrong. Hamilton was wounded and there was no going back. He died on July 12th, 1804. The age of 47 or 49. He passed with Eliza and Angelica beside him.
Lin Manuel Miranda is one of my idols and I look up to him so much. He is someone I wish I could meet someday, converse with him. I want to peer through that brilliant mind of his. How did he come up with such brilliance? We all have the same amount of hours in each day, the same amount of day in a week, the same number of weeks in a month, the same chronological order in a year. How does one do such things like this? He is a person that truly inspires me and I will never stop admiring every step of success he takes. He spreads love and beauty with each step and I can only strive to be in that place.
So in the brilliant words of his emanated through John Laurens;
Rise up When you’re living on your knees, you rise up Tell your brother that he’s gotta rise up Tell your sister that she’s gotta rise up
disclaimer: the image used for the thumbnail is not mine,all rights go to the rightful owners.
Imagine you were overlooking Earth from a new perspective from above. Not from a space module. Not from a ship.
Just you.
The only things surrounding you, are the stars disseminated across the black sky. Your hair askew from the lack of gravity, your legs fighting their way to follow suit. Imagine that, but instead of just seeing the Earth as a whole, you see different fragments. Shards driving themselves towards you like fish propelling themselves away from one predator now haunting the waters. Each bit shooting by, giving just enough time to let you view each one.
A millisecond.
That’s all it takes.
They cut you, leaving any part that was exposed, with a thin crimson slit. Warm, carmine liquid slowly seeping out of each one. But they don’t hurt, they don’t sting. They feel like every single bit of happiness you have ever felt in your entire life, is attacking you and your heart. A warm feeling spreads throughout each cell in your body compiles in approval. Your veins are pumping and the adrenaline never leaves. Your eyes creases in the corners as your mouth forms a grin that is seen throughout the entirety of the cosmos.
Only seconds later, fragments of laughter are encasing you. Caressing your body like a loving mother to her child. Your drowning, with each new particle, a new smile, a new laugh, a new light added into your eyes. The joy you have caused emanating back at you.
This is the feeling I get when I can make people happy. Leave them wondering who they are, leave them with the biggest grin on their faces. I think, no, I know
it’s the most amazing feeling the the world. I bet my father, my mother, and just about any comedian, artist, musician, actor, anybody. They would all agree with me. I have no doubt that you guys do either. When your own happiness if drowning you it’s incredible. I mean don’t get me wrong, I can’t get enough of it. But when you’re the cause of someone else’s happiness; that’s when I agree to disagree. No matter how minuscule the moment, no matter how prolonged the hours. That feeling, you can’t it’s just impossible to describe. But at the same time I have a thousand words ambushing my mind about this feeling and its overwhelming yet true.
Now, I remember posting a couple months ago, in late December actually, my dad introduced me to Jim Carrey. I was familiar with his face and the eminence his career offered him. I mean even the drama teacher at my school talks about the guy. I mean he’s like the Starbucks of educational theatrical performance. I also have this simple knowledge due to my dad’s quite indulgent words towards the esteemed male actor. I mean if my dad respects the man, than I can assure myself that he’s a person worth my own attention and personal appreciation. But this man. He is absolutely
insane.
Insane in a way that he is willing to take risks. Insane to be able to have the guts and the grit to do what he does everyday. Insane that he is one of the human being’s in the universe that understands the value of life.
I’m not saying I do, because I’m only thirteen. I have a long time to figure that out. I’ve barely brushed the surface of looking in different lines of everything. But Jim Carrey, he’s fifty six years old and figured out what he wants for himself. And other people.
The ability to laugh until you have tears glistening in your eyes.
Smile until your cheeks hurt and maybe even feel like you won’t be able to even speak anymore because of it.
Feel happiness bubbling inside you. A warm pit in your stomach that can’t be described, and yet a thousand words can portray it.
Butterflies fluttering along each artery in your heart and drinking the sweet passion your heart has to offer.
Jim Carrey has a lot of butterflies. I don’t need to watch hundreds of his movies at a time to find that out.
You may be rejoicing to hear that I was in the mood to do exactly that a few weeks previous of today. And that day’s selection consisted of me scrolling through Netflix for the first fifteen minutes before actually picking something.
I’m really picky with the things I watch and listen to. Don’t judge me.
I saw a bunch of movies from the late 1990’s and early 2000’s so I decided to give one a go. The one I decided to pick obviously ended up being a Tom Hanks movie.
I’m just messin’ with you guys, it was obviously a Jim Carrey movie. I mean do you seriously expect me to be writing a super deep and heartfelt introduction based off Jim Carrey and then swerve on over and completely change the topic to Tom Hanks? I admire him just as I would anyone but I was just making a joke. Sorry Tom Hanks but you have to wait for your allusive, life metaphorical statements based of you and or one of your other movies.
you know what never mind.
I’ve been watching a lot of other clips of Jim Carrey’s best performances, but what I have noticed is that in each and every movie clip that I have seen, he has this way of looking directly into the camera. As if we are actually standing there with him in the scene. Whether it being on a boat sailing along the Niagara Falls, a man made moon satellite somehow supporting itself in the sky, or standing beside a gargantuan chocolate chip cookie. He looks directly into the screen as if he was telling us, “Hello there, I know you are only the viewer of this film, but you are important and I want you to know that.”
I just, I don’t know, to me it feels that way and you can call me crazy but I just. I don’t know. You need to watch his performances on screen and you’ll understand. At least one. And you’ll understand.
I scrolled and found one thumbnail that caught my eye on the screen that was peculiar and yet interesting. It had an image of Jim Carrey but with him holding the Earth by it’s threads. No literally, he was literally holding the Earth by a piece of white twine or something. I decided to put it and about fifteen minuted into the movie, my dad walks in from are back door and see’s me on the couch, along with my brother. Both of our eyes glued to the television, whatever that was happening on screen, reflected on our eyes and danced along our irises. The change in my dad’s sluggish movements was definitely worth putting on that movie though. He was tired and looked worn out from going to the gym and than coming back to help my mom out in our backyard to water the vast array of plants and such. But the instant he saw what my brother and I were so diligently watching, his eye practically lit up.
My dad and I, I love to say, share this unspoken interest in sharing things the other would obviously love or find amusement or interest in. For me, I like showing me dad peculiar scientific, tech-based articles or videos. For me, my dad shows me an array of things. It can be anything really movies, actors, stories, tips, art, music, whatever. The both of us are so alike, and yet so different. The same blood but different mindsets. But we always have these small interest, small loves in common. Jim Carrey is now added to this list.
The movie stars a man of the name Bruce. No not Bruce the millionaire techie from Batman. This is Bruce Nolan. And I daresay, Mr. Nolan isn’t very happy with his life right now. He is a T.V. anchor but his boss is practically stalling, and basically making sure that Bruce doesn’t get the job handed to him. This basically pisses him off a lot. I mean not low key oh I failed in the one thing I absolutely love and dedicate my livelihood to, it’s okay I’ll just take pottery. No he was a full blown like;
YOU DARE DISRESPECT HOW MUCH WORK I HAVE PUT INTO THIS JOB AND THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT ME CURSE YOU AND YOUR STUPID PERFECT HAIR AND CAMERAS AND FLASHY LIGHTS AND MAKEUP AND PUTTING ME IN JOBS THAT MAKE ME INTERACT WITH PEOPLE THAT YOU KNOW SHOULD NOT BE TELEVISED ON SCREEN. YOU AR MAKING ME LOOK LIKE A FOOL AND I AM PRACTICALLY GOING INSANE CAN’T YOU TELL.
I mean he gets mad to the point where you might think his head is going to burst right of his head. I mean I was actually concerned for the poor guy. This leads to him doing an awful interview live that ends up with him getting fired.
Now he isn’t even mad at himself. He chucking all of this newfound anger at God. He’s basically saying “You now what God? I can do a better job, I can give other people success make em’ happy. Yeah, just you wait.” Oh oh oh oh but here’s the catch. THIS ACTUALLY LEADS TO WHAT MAY BE THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE ENTIRE MOVIE. This whole mishap leads to Bruce meeting God himself. I mean it doesn’t just happen to anyone. I mean I can’t just go around saying, “Hey guys I’m God how ya doin’.” Bruce eventually figures out that he has received God’s powers over the world and basically everything. You now, the usual. While God(who is played by the incredible Morgan Freeman by the way)takes a little vacation which I, in my opinion think he deserved.
Bruce now had control over everything. Convincing people to give him his job, control what other people do, embarrass them without knowing, etc. I mean he literally enlarged the moon and rearranged the stars for goodness sake. But then all of this actually goes to show that there are pressures to being god. There are over six billion people on the earth that he has to look over and do whatever God would. Bruce starts to rethink everything he has done ever since he has gotten his celestial power and one thing is tuck in his mind;
Is it worth it?
This movie, I don’t know where to start. The metamorphacil emphasis that is implied in this story just left me with tears burning my eyes. The plot line itself was nothing I have encountered in any book, movie, screenplay. Nothing. But most importantly, the performance of every single actor in the movie. I have never felt such pity, and yet such a surge when he encounters an obstacle. My heart was practically fluctuating and my eyes were ready with burning tears. I was emotionally interacted with the movie itself and I refused to be pulled back.
Hello everyone, interesting ending there wasn’t it? Well I just I am extremely ashamed of myself. School has been butting into my life and I’m already righting like my life depends on it. I mean I had to write a song for history which was probably the most nerve wrecking assignment i have ever turned in but I got a good grade so it’s all good, Aside from keeping my grade from fluctuating, my sleep schedule is another botched up thing I need to take care of for the sake of my sanity. But right now I am really enjoying school and all but life has been quite hectic. But these kind of movies always just take my mind of everything and relaxes me, even for only a couple hours. And the reason I randomly posted a movie review instead of picking up where I left off from my last post was because I don’t want to be writing similar content for days onward. I wanna keep it interesting you know?
I’m going to be honest, I’m sick of writing things like this at the end of my blogs. Saying all of my apologies. I am the worst writer you have probably encountered. I guess I don’t even count as an actual writer because I’m only thirteen. I have no profession. But this is my passion, one of my burning fires that keeps me going. I hope I could keep it kindling, burning, swallowing me whole.
I just, I know I’ve said this for a lot of posts now but, I am sorry. I really am. I’m not saying this for the sake of saying it. I actually mean it. Because it’s true. I’m sorry if I let you guys down and I hope you can forgive me for basically underestimating my blog. I took advantage and I didn’t take my chances. But I do want to make it up to you guys by attaching the song I wrote for my U.S. history class and I hope you guys enjoy it, and,
thank you.
Patriot:
My matter of contention with the government,
is a difficult statement that can’t be stated in numbers.
My grievances can make you disagree, but before you do that why don’t you take a seat,
near those crates of taxed tea from your petty little island
just floating’ in the sea.
Or why not by that man wearing no coat or fleece.
His eyes with dark circles growing’ beneath,
because he can’t afford a decent homestead to sleep
because this tyrant of a ruler is too busy shopping for a sheepskin rug to match his unconscionable crown.
You think he’s got the human decency to run a country?
Or do you think he’s a tyrant who doesn’t know what he’s got goin’
while everyone is wasting away half dead, and our stability just descending.
Loyalist:
Your so called Founding Father, Thomas Jefferson’s his name?
Enslaving hundreds and has the nerve to be
writing we deserve life, Liberty, and happiness. What about the women? What about the slaves? What about the people just waitin’ in the waters
for some fortune to pass?
Patriot:
Oh like his majesty will care.
Loyalist:
At least he will give a bloody hand when it comes to family and friends.
Patriot:
That is absolutely mad. Insane in other words.
Will care for such things abolish the fact he’s caused bloodshed?
Look at him,
with every act placed I bet half the states are gonna be sinking from tax rates.
Or are we just a burden waiting to be slaved?
Are we a corner of the globe that needs every problem in the states?
Or is that too much credit for his highness to decipher?
Loyalist:
Thomas Jefferson only supports those like him.
The wealthy, the fair skinned, and the ones with more whim.
Patriot:
King George is violating my rights,
your rights,
Our rights!
Don’t you understand what I’m getting at here? Our future is in the line, our families lives are on the line. You think this is all fine? Here have some more wine, for your falsifying tongue to drown in and die.
When we leave this Earth, our descendants will look at our names. They will tell our stories with disdain. And do you really wanna know why? Stupid question to ask so why don’t you give it a try?
We have accomplished nothing, we aren’t doing anything!
Books will consist of pages of war,
stating our weaknesses and don’t worry, there’s much more. We have to fight for our rights, our children’s lives. We have to fight for our freedom for it to arrive. We are in a state with a war at cast, will this end, or will it pass.
Loyalist:
I have only stated my claims for my passion for the people.
I mean some of my friends are and I respect that. I like doing stuff like debating for better causes, fighting for my claim, I mean I am more of a get it done and make it happen kinda girl. But when it comes to the branches of government and legislation’s and a bunch of other truckloads of things I don’t understand, are put together into one thing my brain just oozes and wants to explode. I mean I understand what I need to understand but its just so
C O N F U S L I N G
(Yeah I made up that word.)
It can either be a thorn to your side or your best friend. Or you just really don’t care. Politics is the driving force for a lot of countries besides the people themselves. It is an important part of the places we live in and how society is run or is being run. The earliest politicians( people from the 17 and 1800s )such as the senators of each state or the treasury or Secretary of State.
Recently I read this book by James Comey, now I assume that you may or may not have been acquainted with this name and the title this man holds. He was he former FBI director before he was fired by Mr. Trump and told to resign as of May 2017. He was the 7th director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation since 2013 since 2013. However, before he was appointed FBI director, he was the U.S. deputy attorney general with the authority of President George W. Bush
My dad seems to have a lot of respect for him and I wanted to learn more about this man who seemed to be on a lot of news lately. One night my dad had gone to Costco to purchase our groceries and stuff. Now Costco isn’t only about food I mean it sells furniture and other stuff too but anytime I go I am always attracted like a fly towards a lamplight when I see that long barricade with stacks with piles of books. Call me spoiled if you want but it seems that every time I go, nowadays I always leave with some book in my hands. I wasn’t surprised when my dad walked into the door that night, back from Costco with a book in hand. I am so grateful for my parents because they have to deal with my ridiculous obsession with books and if scientists ever did a testing on me to see how irrationally annoying I can be, I bet the results would go off the charts.
Anyway I thanked my dad and stared at the deep navy blue color of the soft book jacket. The words A Higher Loyalty written boldly in silver embellishments. I appreciated the simplicity of the cover but its ability to still stay informative in its title. Literally.
Before I continue on I would like to say somethings:
The things I say about what is going on in the country currently, is not my entire opinion
I am not on anybodies side when it comes to politics
I simply read the book to my own content
That night after dinner I sat on my bed, the fan turned on fluttering the crisp pages. I read on and on for at least a day or two, giving my dad insight on what I had read so far. James Comeys story is a whirlwind of morales, clean transitions from each situation described, at the same time the book slowly conversing into a kind of sad, dampening realization that this countries government is slowly turning into a democracy where loyalty is demanded, truth isn’t believed, and dishonesty is a norm of a twisted sort.
Quite distressing is it not?
The book starts out with an authors note and an intro, both in which I found interesting and wonderful pieces of self thought, of life around us. But what really was intriguing was the first line of the first chapter in the book:
“THE LIFE BEGINS with a lie.”
What an interesting way to start a book was it not? What did he mean by that? Were our lives defined by the lies of others? Is loyalty a mythical thing of the past? Why had he emphasized the first three words, leaving the other three de-emphasized? Was that to create a simple statement? To have a recreational purpose for the book and its furthermore contents? These questions still pick at the edges of my brain and I have put more thought into this more than most of the things that sticked out to me in the book.
The book starts with his years of when he was the U.S. Deputy General at the time of President George W. Bush. He describes the different scandals and situations he had to bring justice to. But what I found most interesting in his writings, were the ways he maneuvered the way he described the people he worked with, including the three different presidents mentioned in the book in each order and his colleagues. He describes the way they made him feel and how comfortable he felt around them. All this his mental thoughts at the time.
If you read carefully, with each transition of presidents it shows the same line of what he is describing, such as height, their stature, their attitude and logic, work ethic, and how comfortable he felt around them. But what I found super duper hilarious was this:
“Trump’s face appeared slightly orange, with bright half-moons under his eyes where I assumed he place small tanning goggles, and impressively coiffed, bright blond hair, which upon close inspection looked to be all his.’’
0~0
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *snort* *gasp* HAHA *wheeze* HE ACTUALLY CALLED THE PRESIDENT O R A N G E
ORANGE
Oh dear gods why.
I don’t think I can describe everything he wrote in the book but one thing I do want to say is that this book is one of few books by high staturized adults THAT I ACTUALLY UNDERSTOOD OH MY GOODNESS YES! I respect him even more, souley because I was able to understand almost everything he was talking about in the book. I’m sorry I couldn’t write more about this book but the thing is there is so much to describe and its O V E R W H E L M I N G.
See kids I can be
E D G Y
WHOO
No, no I am not actually, forget I said that. Sowwy that was weird.
Hehe okie. MOVING ON. I really hope you guys have the opportunity to read this book because I think it has so many morales that you just need to have in your life but he makes those morales hidden. You have to find the meaning of the whole book before finding out the lesson he is trying to teach.
Welp. Thats uh, all I got for you guys today. I hope you enjoyed and so yeah. Bye!
(All YouTube content posted in this are not mine, all rights go to the rightful owners of their content. )
My whole life my parents have been introducing me to so many musicians that aren’t recognized just as much know. So many artists that I have come to love and aspire by for the past thirteen years(yes I am thirteen now, finally!),as well as exalted my mind. But there is this one musician that really jump started my need to make art with sound. And no, I am not writing about Louis Armstrong but I would love to in his honor. But I am writing about none other than.
*trumpet fanfare*
KENNETH BRUCE GORELICK
a k a Kenny G. 😉
Alongside Dido, Illayraja, and a bunch of other musicians, I think Kenny G is one of my dads favorite considering that fact that he has be nagging me to do this post and his taste in musical benevolence is contagious. So here we go:
When I was little I used to think that the only music in the world consisted of people singing not instrumental harmonies. I know that sounds really stupid but I was like four okay? So you can imagine what it was like for me when I finally realized that instruments can- T A L K. I said and I quote:
T H E S A X O M A P H O N E I N T H E S P E A K E R I S T A L K I N G TO M E. M O M H E L P
Jazz music is a part of my life that I don’t think I can let go, specifically that because of Kenny G.
If you don’t know who Kenny G is, he is a professional saxophonist( tenor saxophone, alto sax, barry sax, soprano sax, etc.)who had his debut album released in nineteen ninety-six. Which gave him success in the musical industry.
Were you expecting more? Ooh, sorry bout that but that all I really know about his career.
Yep.
I’m a disappointment I know.
A N Y W A Y
I am gonna be honest with you and probably gonna embarrass my dad in the process but ya know, thats how life works(it actually doesn’t I just tried to make a jok- you know what never mind. ). My dad constantly rants about how Kenny G is a maestro when it comes to jazz and I cant help but think, man.
Dat man has real curly hair.
My parents tell me that when I was a little girl, I used to cry over this song called Paradise that Kenny G played and composed. I was a seriously emotional kid back then. And by back then I mean still a little bit now. Heres the song for you guys below :
IM NOT CRYING. MY EYES ARE JUST SWEATY
That song really gets me in the feels and i just get super captivated every time I listen to it. The embouchure and the staccato. Just UUUHH. I WANT THIS TALENT. Kenny G is such an incredible musician and I honestly just wish more people know about him.
Another one of our favorites is this one:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nlr3a7QRHJc
The collaboration with the strings, drums, and of course the soprano saxophone is absolutely incredible and the melody is amazing. This kind of music is just so relaxing and I love listening to this kind of genre when doing homework or studying for a test because it just calms your nerves and just makes you let loose after so much work. This, for me personally is just a work of art that electrifies your veins and the aura goes straight to your heart. The instrument expresses things you cant say with words, and yet, at the same time you can understand it and let it flow through the gates of you conscience.
This kind of music is like medicine for the mind or ambrosia for your soul. This kind of talent and skill is and should be honored and relished for its beauty and alluring enticements. Music is such a big part of my life and I know I have said it before but you know what? Why not I say it again. Music and art and adventure, these are things that make life such a beautiful and bewitching thing. Doesn’t it make you want to just make the best of everything? I know for a fact that everything that I have in my life- family, friends, music, art, exploits, writing,- makes it worthwhile.
I know there are bad things in the world, that we aren’t perfect. We don’t have to be. I know there are people out there who think otherwise but you know what? All of this, these shootings, political problems, climate, hate. All of this can be fixed if you have the willingness and determination of an army. There is so much good in the world. Dont just take in the bad. For the sake of you and every else around please. I know this has nothing to do with my subject for today but I have to say it somehow. Music can bring people together. People can bring people together. So for those people out there sick of me ranting about who knows what, here is my ultimate favorite song from Kenny G:
Thanks for reading and if you aren’t sick of me yet than I am deeply indebted to you. I also suggest maybe getting yourself checked because I am insane. 😉
“See that group of stars over there? That’s The Scorpio. And that one right over there is Orion. That one over there is-” My dad an I were out on the balcony of our apartment, the stars were scattered across the deep blue sky like marbles flush against a pristine floor. I was explaining to my dad about the constellations when I suddenly turned and saw that my dad looked a bit… Bored. To be more specific, bored out of his mind. So I started to explain things a bit more distinctive. “Sometimes it feels as if each star leads it’s own life. Like it lives and dies just like something here, one this planet..” My dad just stared at me and then said “Yeah, it is kinda like that isn’t it?” I smiled as we continued our journey through the cosmos. In our minds.
That was almost two years ago.
My dad and I are really close, kind of like my relationship with my mother. But my father and I have different ways of interactions. We share most of the same interests. One day my dad might be scrolling through the options and videos featured on the T.V. while I’m sitting there farther away doing my own thing( reading, writing, drawing, etc.) then suddenly I would hear: “Kanmani look, their showing the new Apple keynote!” or “Kanmani look at this! They are now showing the design for the new Mars rover!” or “Kanmani wanna watch this old space movie? It seems like something you would like…” or “Check out the movie trailer for Passengers! Incredible right?” Yup, I know it’s seems a little odd that a father and daughter bond over things like science, and technology but…. I learn so many things about my own father that I haven’t even known about my entire life.
Though sometimes there can be some conflicts: “Dad could we go to the library today? I haven’t been in two weeks and I’ve run out of books… Again.” These conversations always end up with me either rereading books or nagging my dad to take me for a few hours in the stretched period of time separating the date in which I run out of books, and the date in which I actually go. Huh, you know that phrase “like father like son?” Well, like father like daughter. I have finally figured out who I got my stubbornness from.
What I love about my dad is that he has such a catching yearning, and sense of wanderlust. Like nothing I have ever seen or heard. Remember a few posts back when i wrote that one of my dreams is to spend time in a forest or mountain region or any natural geographic area where the stars can be well seen? Well I told my dad that when I became older and had a career and everything, I wanted to live in a tiny house in a forest or near a beach, or even the mountains, a place where every single night I can look out and watch the stars, hundreds of them, the milky way right above me. I told one of my friends and she just laughed. I wrote it in my journal at school for homeroom and my teacher just giggled. But when I told my dad he didn’t laugh at all. He really does have faith. I just hope I don’t screw it up. Anyway, I always share my thoughts with my mom, but sometimes, when it’s not something super stupid, I tell my dad too. He told me that he wanted to live close or even actually in Yosemite. He loves nature and everything it upholds. He yearns for the feel of fresh air and the sound of the bubbling rivers. He like me, is a wander luster. He is like no other man I know. He is my father. And how lucky am I? I honestly don’t understand how I was able to get so so lucky.
We are so similar and yet so different. But I love how everyone just wants to be around him. I beam with pride every time he rants about me doing something not even voluntarily amazing. And yet he thinks my “achievements” are something worthwhile. He is so funny and though not the most sympathetic, he can be there when you need him. He wouldn’t care if you are a stranger or not.
I remember one time we went shopping. I was about five or six and we were driving out of the parking lot when suddenly we heard a noise and a screech. My mom, brother, my dad, and I, all looked back and saw a car, rammed against a stout, but strong looking tree. My dad told us to stay in the car, and he got out. He rushed over to where the passenger and their car was and tried to figure out what was going on. I was filled with worry and remorse, I was so tempted to jump out of the car and stand behind my dad and help, my hand was gripped against the door as I watched my dad come back to our car. He told us that the person inside was okay. I don’t know if my mom or dad remember that or not. But I do. And that honestly was incredible. Integrity. One thing I hope and wish I will soon grow to have.
My parents are both representing the person that I want to become. My dad is so influential to me. Without him I wouldn’t really be the person I am today.
My father is neither an anchor nor a sail, but he guides me with the glowing constellations in his eyes. The glinting stars in his soul guiding me through the direction and darkness of the sea we call life.
I was in the kitchen with my mom looming above me, she was watching me draw, making sure I wasn’t eating any of my supplies. I repeatedly asked her “Can you draw something for me?” There was a pause. “PLEASE.” I was five years old so my mom had no choice but to withstand my begging and pleading by actually doing the task she was given. With a sigh, my mom picked up the pencil and started to draw. I watched with amazement as she drew. Her hand gracefully gliding across her paper like an ice skater descending across the ice. Her sketching was explicit, and her undercoat and overcoat was perfect( undercoating and over coating is the process of adding a compatable color to the color in hand, turning it into a unique color that can be changed and tempered with to your choosing).
When she was done I was shocked to see a little girl with thick braids as black as night, and her dress bursting with green and yellow hues as deep and wild as the jungle itself. Her eyes were a deep burnt sienna that looked like fresh coco beans gleaming in the sunlight. She exclaimed “It’s a picture of you, do you like it?” I calmly took the paper and stuck it on the refrigerator with a magnet. My mom smiled with amusement as I beamed with pride as I stood next to the refrigerator admiring the masterpiece that fell before my eyes. That was probably the best moment I had with my mother.
My mom is probably the most understanding person I know. She is always so kind and welcoming, I feel like I can talk to her about anything and everything. But what I have noticed the most is she never ever fights with anyone. Especially not my father. I haven’t seen them fight even once. That’s how big my mother’s heart is, she cares so much that she refuses to show her own opinion. I like to think that their are three kinds of hearts. A heart made of coal represents inhospitable behavior and a cruel and harsh manner. A heart of silver means you fight with your words, and your tough. You work hard and your kind and have a good heart and soul. But gold, that is something bigger. You don’t fight at all, instead you show your kindness to anyone and everyone, and show no sign of selfishness. My mother has a heart of pure gold.
Over the summer, I watched the speeches that were being made at the DNC( Democratic National Convention.) Each and every person made a meaningful speech, and each had something to say. But there was one person who really caught my eye. Michelle Obama. She serenaded the crowd with her powerful speech, but one of the lines that really caught me shushed the whole crowd, and it probably the most meaningful and it shocked the entire nation.
“I wake up every morning in a house that was built by slaves”
That single line had captured the minds and souls of every person watching, and it trapped the souls of each and every person who ever tried to underestimate the power of words and thoughts. Honestly there is no other person in that room that had her enthusiasm, strength and power. I seriously want her to run for president. I mean, just imagine, a president who cares about her nation and country and her people more than anything.
Michelle Obama lead the nation grace and she was the person who brought the nation together, she was a person of hospitality and unity. Everywhere she stepped, she brought hope and happiness with her. Her kind heart, strong will, and intelligence brought her to be one of the most inspirational people in the country(alongside her husband, Barack Obama.) Even when she isn’t in the office anymore, she still works night and day to help and restore, to reproduce and conserve, and to bring hope to those who have none.
So, thank you Mrs. Obama for keeping hope in the air.
“There are still many causes worth sacrificing for, so much history yet to be made.” – Michelle Obama
