Friday, June 27, 2014
Well, my friend (we will call him Subject Nix) asked me to write about him in my blog. My initial thought was, but I would just be doing another likes and dislikes list. But then it dawned on me; I could tell a story! So here we go.
The ewww factor
It all started in grade four. You see, in grade four I was a new kid to XYZ elementary school. But luckily, I didn’t have to share the burden alone. I got to share the outcaste newbie position with a boy named (to your knowledge) Subject Nix. Nix was your stereotypical elementary boy with his cute face and bazar/rude attitude, but to my lonely and shy younger self, he was a potential best friend. Mainly because he and I had come to the school in the same year, which was more in common than I had with any of the other students.
But with the evil and unforgiving elementary mindset, he and all the boys in my class, assumed that my younger self being kind to him (in efforts to befriend him) was all because I was deeply in love with him. And, of course, girls are gross and have diseases; therefore I “having a crush on him” (which I did not) became a subject of ridicules and bullying. Don’t get me wrong, this did not happen overnight. It was quite a small thing in grade four, but by grade six it had grown into what I like to call ‘”the ewww factor”.
The ewww factor was displayed when I would walk by Nix in the hallway, minding my own business, and he would proclaim very loudly “ewwwwww!” and lean far away from me as if I was emitting a nasty odor or contagious with an intestine melting disease. If someone were to do that to me now, it would just roll off my shoulder and I wouldn’t care or be affected by it. But in middle school I was very fragile and cared about what people thought. So when this happened for a long period of time on end, I was beginning to feel dejected and gross. Like something was wrong with me.
Then it got worse. The boys of the school started noticing Nix’s reaction to my presence and thought there was something wrong with me. Next thing I knew, I was the “gross loser girl” to most of the guys of the school. It sucked big time. With constant ridicule from a majority of the male population in the school (and some of the female too), my confidence plummeted.
This bullying regime continued strait till grade nine, where it suddenly disappeared into thin air. (I blame their hormones kicking in) But this is not a sad story. Because through this trial, I became immune to words of others. I don’t need others to reassure me to feel good and confident about myself like most (almost all) high school girls (and boys). I’m stronger because I truly realised their opinions are based on what I think of myself and what they think of themselves. Not who I really am.
The sad part is, to this day, I don’t think Nix understands what he did when he was younger. He might have even thought it was a joke. It might not have even been a blimp on him radar. He’s not a bad guy or a bully. Just a guy who, when he was younger, was trying to be funny and make friends. I don’t hold a grudge. Not in the slightest. But I was horribly confused when he asked me out this year. You have no idea how confused I was, like jaw hanging open and everything. (Again, I believe this was caused by hormones kicking in) And you know what I am still willing to see, after all that’s transpired since grade four, if we can still be the friends I wanted us to be when I was younger. Before all this happened. Because life not worth living if you’re stuck in your past.
The wolf by Hannah LeBouthillier
Wind blew across the desert, pelting Angelina with millions upon millions of grains of sand. Spiting and sputtering sand out of her mouth, she stared at the ground. “There” she grunted to herself “Almost lost ya” Indented within the sand were the tracks she was following. The tracks of a giant wolf to be exact.
Pulling the scarves to cover her mouth and nose, she trudged forward. She hated this part of the job. Tracking and trekking through ridiculous climates and conditions. Why can’t the bad guy just decide to hide from the law somewhere easily accessible for a change?? In the end, the outcome is always going to be the same. After a good butt whooping they just end up where they started from, the P.R.E.D holding cells. P.R.E.D, standing for Paranormal Research and Enforcement Division. Why can’t they just make it easy and hide somewhere easily accessible?
Sweat dripped down her neck as the scorching light of the sun threatened to make her spontaneously combust into flames. Man that would be a hilarious tomb stone! She laughed to herself. Angelina R. Tempatie, agent of P.R.E.D passed away today on a mission to find a homicidal were-wolf known as “The man eater”. From the scattered ashes that were found in the desert, we have discovered the cause of death to be spontaneous combustion. “Of course they would only publish that to the paranormal underground, not the real world. To them I would have probably just died in a house fire.” She muttered to herself.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrr! Angelina jerked to a stop so suddenly she almost got whiplash. Ooooooooowwooo! The howl ripped through the blistering hot savannah day. He was close, she realised with a jolt. And that howl hade come from somewhere behind her. Whipping around, she saw her worst fear, a bad guy that was smart enough to trick and track her. Not a mile away stood an enormous grey wolf on a tall sand dune, staring directly into Ange’s eyes with burning hatred and resolve.
Fear instantly forgotten she acted. On instinct she whipped out her gun and took aim. Boom! Boom! Boom! Bullets shot out of the gun at lightning speed. Angelina watched as they each hit home in three closest paws of the beast. Oooooowwwwww! The terrible howl dictated pain and fury, as the monster fell onto its belly, no longer able to hold itself up. Angelina launched into a full out sprint. Tucking she gun away she pulled out the broad sword strapped to her back. Closer she came to the wolf, more adrenaline pumped though her. Bum bum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum, bum bum. She leaped over the wolf, graceful as death itself, and plunged the sword into the beast’s side. Letting go of the weapon she landed in a crouch beside her prey. Pulling out two Cursed Night daggers, she plunged them into the back of the beast. As the toxins sped through the bloodstream the wolf twitched and withered, its pain evident. Ange watched as the blood flowing from the beast turned from its deep red to a midnight purple, signalizing that the daggers have done their job. With a grunt the beast fell unconscious.
Angelina stood and looked down at the creature. Puzzled, she was troubled by how simple it was to take down. Nothing like the savage man eating monster its file made it out to be. Definitely not like a wolf that had managed to rip apart an entire tribe of 17 Nikwalki hunters, only 6 children and 2 woman survived the massacre. Removing the weapons from the side of the beast she felt curiosity to why it didn’t bite her, and why it howled, announcing it position and giving her a chance to fight back. “Why?” she asked herself. Reaching down, she grabbed the beast’s ear and felt around. There where she had expected to see, a barcode in the fleshy part of its ear. “This is him, but he’s not rabid! Why would he attach that tribe? Maybe he was falsely accused.” She spoke to herself. Standing up, she looked around the great expanse of the desert. Not knowing what she was looking for, she looked around with a vigor.
Yip! Angelina jumped at the unexpected sound. Jerking around, she saw nothing. Yip! There it was again! Launching into motion she followed the sound. Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip! Now running, she reached the base of the dune in record time. When there, she looked around, and to her astonishment, saw a small temple like structure hidden at the base. Cautiously, she approached the entrance, what she saw inside had her jaw dropping. There, in the corner of the room law four small pups. All laying one on top of the other, only the one at the base was awake. Yip! It barked, its bright green eyes shining with the love and trust of a child.
Still not grasping what she was seeing, Angelina numbly walked to the pups. Slow and steady she approached, careful not to startle them. She stopped a foot away from them, with a sudden realization that she was walking up to a pack of pups, after battling a giant wolf on top of the dune. The same wolf which she had just left there bleeding out and that might wake up at any minute. “Dang it, pull it together” she whispered to herself angrily.
Slowly she edged out of the temple, careful not to turn her back on the pups. Once a good distance away, she rushed up the side of the dune. Gasp! There, at the top of the dune, in place of the giant wolf was a small delicate woman. She was fully conscious and sitting calmly with her legs crossed. The only thing that prevented Angelina from assuming she was from one of the local tribes was the blood stains on the side of her dress and the skin of her hands and her right foot. Midnight purple blood stains to be exact. “You get why I did what I did now, don’t you?” said the woman in a gruff voice. Angelina stared in confusion. “You’re a woman.” she stated plainly. The woman stared at her with patients. “Yes, I am.” She agreed. Then it hit Ange like a freight train. The file never referred to the wolf’s gender! She had just assumed it was a man who had killed those people! “You get why I did what I did now, don’t you?” the woman asked again, a dead yet protective look in her eye.
Angelina thought of pups at the base of the dune, how the tribe that was attached were hunters, and that the children and women were left alone. “You were just protecting your pups, weren't you?” All she got in response was a simple nod, but what the nod meant shocked her to the core. Was it okay to kill, if it is in protection of your children? She wondered. “Please, leave us in peace.” The woman asked quietly, all expression leaving her face. Indecision raced through Ange. On one hand, she thought to herself, if I complete my task and bring her in I’ll be doing my job and life will go on, but the pups will be without a mother. On the other hand I could make up a story for my superiors and leave this family in peace. What is worth going against my superiors and potentially loosing my job? Is it worth it? Yes it is, she decided, for the sake of the innocent children.
Decision made, she gave a simple nod and turned to leave. Walking down the dune she heard the woman call out behind her “Please understand I can’t let you just leave. Another hunter would come for my children. I must make them too scared to risk coming after us, I’m sorry. Its for the sake of my innocent children.” Before she could full turn around to voice her confusion, she heard a deep growl. Something enormous smashed into her back with the brute force of a speeding bullet and took her to the ground. Before she knew what was happening, there was a crunch and Angelina knew no more.
Not a day had passed when a message with placed in the news.
“Angelina R. Tempatie, local artist passed away today in a house fire.”
Beautiful Words by Hannah LeBouthillier (Free style Poetry)
Beautiful words fall from her lips like drops cascading from waterfalls. But no one listens. She is silenced to the ears of those who are too centered in them-self to give a damn. Those who look away from her in disinterest, ripping her apart piece by piece with the worst of punishments. Why do they not listen? Why can they not see? The beauty in her mind that is so vast and bright. The beauty in her mind unravels into the wings of a dove, the souls of every dreamer ever to exist, and the breath of every newborn. Her words powered by her passion to be heard, she gets louder. Louder to the point the universe shatters, but only to be forced into silence by the very souls she wanted to touch and speak to. Chained to the jail of oppression she looked for other ways to be heard. She would mumble quietly and wrote passages on the walls of her cage, praying someone would by chance get her message and see what she knows. All to no avail as she crumples to the rock bottom of depression and evil. In an effort to stave away the pain she bloodedly murders her true self, ripping and tearing away at all that is good and beautiful about her. Seeing this, her captors unlock the chains of silence, content she is now one of them, but for her it is too late. Her freedom is useless for she no longer has anything to say, now just a shell of herself with bloodstains on her hands. She wanders around the desert plains of the numb, feeling only longing for something more. Something she once hade but lost. Something she cannot remember. A spark. Gone. Tired of her constant searching, she laid down to rest in the ocean, drifting with the waves.
In the night her mind salvaged a part of her seemingly long gone, and healed what she had lost. Her gasp made the stars flair and the sky turn bright and lively, the earth cried with joy from the east to the west. The wind scooped the girl up with the arms of a loving mother and into the stars of the universe. Her hearts pumped love throughout her entire being, healing the wounds that she had received from her time of wondering in darkness. All that remained was small thin scares, left by the love to remind her of the dangers of darkness. As she was carried to the center of all things good she wondered about all the souls left in the darkness. What about them? The universe stopped, and seemed to hold its breath. If you go back, it said to her, you can save many, but at the price of millions more not listening to you, and the continuation of the pain you had always lived with and loathed. Transcended in love she chose that the few others she would save would be worth it. The planets and stars themselves seemed to cry out for the pain she was to endure as it spit her out in the world again. Standing up in the love that now filled her, beautiful words fall from her lips like drops cascading from waterfalls. And seeing her scares, someone stopped, and listened.
Adam Cree by Hannah LeBouthillier
Cruel was the boy named Adam Cree
Who would lie and deceive defying angel’s pleas
He stole the hearts of many and made them stone
And then at night, he roamed alone
To many years he ruined lives
Blatantly ignoring their agonized cries
Many said he could never atone
Because at night, he roamed alone
One day he met the mate of his soul
Opening his heart, paying the toll
Freeing his love, making him new
His professions of love, easy to chew
But the angels in heaven were angry, you see
So in vengeance they declared a decree
“For he has caused beautiful hearts to stone
Therefore, he must walk eternally alone”
That is the reason, you see
That the mate of his soul left the man named Adam Cree
Being the way he would eternally atone
It’s a monster of the night that would rip apart its victims after painfully drinking their blood. It could not go into the sun. It is the most evil creature besides demons. Vampires… are now the ultimate romantic figure? How did this happen? You might be surprised to find out that this is not a new occurrence.
Did you know that for years, paranormal romance have stared vampires, were-wolves, zombies, necromancers, gods, witches, ghosts, dragons, shape-shifters, wry, fairy, faie, mummies, and other supernaturals? It is only recently that they have been brought into the lime light. Vampires used to be mythological or folkloric beings who survived by feeding on the life essence (generally in the form of blood) of living creatures, regardless of whether they are a living person. It all started when, back in ancient Egypt, they believed that souls of the dead could come back as vampires. Over the years the legends have gone and changed with the time and cultures, but the principal idea has never disappeared.
Over the years, people lost a fear of these grotesque monsters and turned them into the ultimate romance characters. These novels and movies have stayed under the radar for many years, but then were brought into the lime light in the hit series Twilight by Stephanie Meyer. These books, written by a stay at home mom with a lot of free time, changed the majority of the world’s opinion of monsters (mainly vampires) single handedly. Now, when people think of vampires they either think about handsome men and gorgeous women with fangs, or really stupid and depressed teens that glitter in the sun.All in all, thanks to the famous author Stephanie Meyer, the idea of Dracula is practically dead and is being replaced by sparkling Edward Collins. Who knows, in the future, the Joker or Lex Luther might just be a misunderstood demon or something weird like that. It’s unpredictable, but all things change in time.
White, like black, is incredibly prominent part of the film; for it is the ying to the yang that black is in the film. Just like black, white is used frequently and in strong ways. First, when Christine was singing for the first time on stage, she was wearing a pure white dress. Which, without a doubt, was used to emphasize her innocence and purity by displaying her beauty and youth. A more minor use of this technique would be when all the girls are dancing a pure and sweet ballet, clothed in white dresses. This is right before the phantom kills the stage manager and drops him onto the stage, making the scene more intense. Another time this technique occurs is when, with pure intentions of solely saving Christine, Raoul chasses after her to the grave yard to save her from the phantom. He proceeds to protect her from the phantom by battling with swords, dressed in white, strongly resembling prince charming. Also, throughout the story, Meg is always in white, but more specifically when she is looking out for Christine’s best intentions. Her image is purity in its self. For example, when Meg goes searching for Christine after her first performance, to make sure she was okay. Additionally, as mentioned previously, after Madame Giry admitted the secret of the Phantom of the opera, she wore white, getting back some of her purity through her honesty. As well, the best use of white is that throughout the duration of the movie, the phantom always wears a white mask, which is because he is trying to mask the impurity, deformation on his face, with the color of purity. It also gives the viewer hope that there is a form of purity inside him.
Finally, the last screen technique that was used in the Phantom of the Opera, the screen flare. By observing the diversity of each use of a screen flair, there are some examples that very effectively show that they used it to draw the audience’s eye to a certain person or thing of grave importance. In one word, screen flairs are used to say - importance. The first examples would take place at the beginning of the movie, when there is a screen flair placed over Raoul, Meg, Christine, Madam Geri and eventually the Phantom as well, to draw attention to the importance of the character it is framing. Each of these scenes are introductions to the main characters. Telling the audience to keep an eye on them, they are important. The next use of the screen flair is when the phantom was messing with the chains and ropes in the roof of the opera house, that would eventually cause the chandelier to fall and destroy the opera house, a screen flair is coming down through the window above him. It brings the eye to the chains and ropes specifically. Next, when Raoul is drowning in the trap set by the phantom, he looks up to see the freedom of oxygen beyond the cage wall descending. In form of the pied du vent shining through the cage bars, drawing attention to the importance of escape. Also, there is a screen flair when Christine kissed the Phantom, as he threatened the life of Raoul. It comes from behind them as they kiss, drawing your attention solely on the importance of the kiss. Before that in the film, there is a pied du vent coming from the chandelier, drawing attention to it as it goes back in time, being repaired and restored, as a foreshadowing of the destruction of the opera house through the crash of the chandelier. And last but not least, there is a screen flair after the phantom shatters the glass of the mirror, reveling the tunnel from which he escapes. It reflects off the shards of glass. Emphasizing how it is one of the most important scenes in the entire movie. It’s important because it’s the Phantoms escape, meaning he survives in the end.
By using these tricks of film, Joel Schumacher’s work of art has gone on to win the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror Films, USA 2005 award, the British Society of Cinematographers 2005 award, the Broadcast Film Critics Association Award 2005, the National Board of Review USA 2004 award and the San Diego Film Critics Society Award 2004. Just to recap, the three most important color theory and lighting theory tricks Joel used were; Black as secrets and deception, white as purity and flair as importance. And because of his talent and intelligence, the Phantom of the Opera is a beloved film to this day.