It's Been a While

Fiddling

"Writing poetry can sometimes feel like breaking out the fiddle
as Rome burns to the ground."
So as Egypt bursts at the seams
and into flames,
I take up my bow; the strings scream
with protest
as unlyrical notes
drop onto the page
their echos wavering
in the heat.


Poem:
I've been hearing a lot about the protests in Egypt during classes, from news sources, etc. I figured I would write something about it, and wanted to really focus on the dual-meanings of some particular words. So the strings are "protesting" and "screaming." It's a bit of an analogy. Basically, this was an attempt at complexity. The lyrical is a bit ironic with the rhyme between the third and fifth lines, but obviously the poem is not focused around "poetic" lyricism, similar to how protests aren't concerned with "sounding good" even though they rely on the media's portrayal (just as the poem relies upon poetic devices).

Observation:
When people who have committed horrific crimes are asked why they did so, they almost always give a response related to an imbalance of power. It made them feel powerful to strangle their spouse after they were cheated on and felt helpless, for instance. Or they were abused as a kid, and so they abuse as an adult because they enjoy the reversal. Or they don't feel like there is a way for them to break the routine of their daily lives, and so they do something extreme to demonstrate they are not just another member of the silent masses. It is this constant assessment of who is in control that leads to so many discontented individuals. Especially when it turns out that very few come to the conclusion that it is they who have power over their choices. Kings (CEO's, the President, etc.) are enslaved by their responsibility to those they "rule," their very reign restricts their freedom of choice. They cannot, for instance, walk around normally without some precaution. And the underlings (peasants, laborers, aides, etc.) are obviously restricted by their lack of outright power. Unfortunately, it seems as though these power imbalances are nearly unchangeable, and if we continue to think in the same way we do now, societal contentment might be unachievable. One bright side might be that there is nothing forcing us to stick to this mentality as individuals. One of the greatest achievements in (relatively) recent history is that we have come to believe in (even if we don't consistently recognize) the fact that there is an inherent value to individual life. That is, it has stopped being the case that only a select few lead "meaningful" existences, and it has become the case that almost anyone can have their voice heard if they try hard enough. Sure, there are challenges, but increasingly constricting social and economic conditions actually have little to do with the political realm. So the next time you feel as though your voice is drowned out, or that you have no power to do anything, think about what it is that's really holding you back. I bet it's not your inability to engage yourself in discourse (meaningful interaction in an arena of equal footing, where equality refers to your right to hold a particular view).

Exercise:
"Quilt & Quotient, Etc."
Write a brief scene that includes the following:
~a quilt
~the word "quotient"
~a ball of rubber bands
~a morbidly obese hippopotamus
~the perfume of lilies
~the sound of popcorn underfoot

It was surprising sometimes what the well-meaning people sent to the children they sponsored. James walked into the community center, roughly constructed but still the center of life for the surrounding families. A popcorn machine in the corner, red and shining, was glaringly out of place, clashing with the peeling paint and boarded windows, the kernels underfoot popped in stuttered intervals as he walked by and into the office of the village leader. Just yesterday he had been on safari, witnessing what appeared to be morbidly obese hippos, some giraffes, and even (from quite a distance) what the guide assured him was a lion. But now he was taken aback by the conditions these people were in. And the rich people donating what they saw as essential amenities just made things worse. The gaunt girls with imploring eyes received the perfume of lilies from an old grandma who knew it went with anything. Who doesn't like to smell good, after all? And the beautifully-stitched quilt for the family across the street served little purpose in the sweltering heat. Eventually, when it stopped being a novelty, it would be shredded for cloth and used for sweat rags or toilet paper. Perhaps the only useful gift was sent by a young girl, who sponsored an equally young boy with her weekly allowance. Accompanying her last gift was a ball of rubber bands. After it had been thoroughly bounced, a few of the rubber bands had been requisitioned for various tasks. They held back mosquito netting, or immobilized a rattling part of the water pump. And despite its brief dismantling, the ball remained a pleasure, since when a heartfelt gift is divided, the quotient can sometimes be more than the dividend.

Me:
I had to stretch that last line a bit. The math terms were just a bit too out of place. Oh well...

The gap in my posting has been the result of my recent participation in a handball tournament in Fort Collins, Colorado. I am not too disappointed with how I played, even though I lost my second match. It was a great warm up for the national collegiate tournament in a few weeks. However, my inability to update (or access the internet at all) really highlighted how much I will appreciate my new iPhone, which is going to be here Thursday. I would certainly enjoy being an Apple fanboy if it weren't so much cheaper to build PC's myself. This will give me the opportunity to express my happiness with Apple's products without bankrupting myself (all at once, anyway).