Perdition

I wrote this story for a homework assignment, originally in spanish. Some things may have been lost in translation, but the meaning is still there.
Tell me what you think. Drop a comment.

Perdition

It all started with the Australian. We called him The Australian because he had an odd accent. He was Australian, of course, but with a bit of Scottish in him. He had an air of young naivety, but in reality he was a mature and almost dangerous person. He was a kind lad, rarely angry, but known to go into fits of desperation. I mention him because he introduced me to Her.

She was a photographer, and everything that entailed. Like all professional and semi-professional photographers, she was quite bossy, but secure in herself. I myself am a photographer. A photographer with experience in the old ways and the new ways. We were both under the guidance of Jim.

Jim was a professional photographer who had been on every continent in the Earth. He took photos of the people and places wherever he went, and in his pictures he captured the essence of entire countries. When he wasn’t on a plane or on the streets in foreign places, he was a freelance photographer and a teacher. When we were working, he told us stories of his journeys and experiences, his opinions on countries, and a view of the world in general.

They both come into the story because they are the ones who taught me humility and discipline in photography. They also changed my life. I noticed things that previously went ignored. I opened my eyes to the world around me. I cast off those rose-coloured glasses. I had a purpose in life, and they awakened me to it. I knew what I had to do.

Life is a circle. Everything eventually comes back to the source. Things come and go like the flow of the tides. I remember the story of the puddle on the sidewalk, and how it thought that the world was made for it and it alone, always waiting for an eventuality that never came and ultimately ended in disappointment. It was all part of life. Evaporation was not the end of its short existence, merely the transition into a new one. It’s all part of the inevitable circle of life.

But all in all, these experiences prepared me for the essential point in my life. The Australian, The Photographer, Jim, my friends, my teachers, my colleagues. I hear their voices in my head.

The Australian asks “If you saw a grain of corruption, a malicious action, a fatal lie, would you go out of your place to correct it?”

The Photographer asks “If you could influence the world with your work, even if it meant gaining enemies, would you do it?”

Jim asks “If you could change the world for the better, even if it meant getting out of place and risking your life, would you do it, even knowing that your life would drastically change?

It all prepared me for this moment. This singular important moment that was the culmination and pinnacle of my life. I threw discretion away, and threw myself into the middle of the revolution. I launched myself through the streets, searching for that perfect angle and the correct moment. In it, I found the meaning of life, of love, of friendship, of charity, of humanity, and the meaning of life itself.

And I took the photo that changed the world.

ENDUT! HOCH HECH!

Finished the homework. I had to do a thought map for Ethics (using Cmap Tools, an amazingly handy program), which was easy, and I spent more time making it look pretty and well-organized than the actual content, which is fine because it’s gotten me straight 10s before.

Then I did an essay or something on Violence for this dumb Language Arts class. I literally have no recollection of writing it. It reads like a bad blog post. It has all the aesthetic of a cardboard box drenched in semen. It is not pretty.

Finally I did a two-page essay for Ethics. About 3/4ths of it is just existential BS that’s semi tangential to the actual content at hand. You can call it Cosineal, if you want. That’s good, because it gets me extra marks for elaborating. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

Pro-Cra

I’m sitting here, with about 3 pages of homework to do and a lot to finish, making this blog post. I figured it was about time for another blog post (being 6 days since my last post >_>) and am writing this instead of doing my homework.

Anyways, next week is a finals week, and I have on average 2 tests a day for 5 days. Hard.

And procrastination is my favorite thing to do, so these go like mayonnaise and candy beans.

I don’t really have anything, so here’s a quote and a picture.

“The illusion that you’re getting closer to your goal might make you feel like you’re not actually procrastinating. Just to doublecheck, stop everything you’re doing: you should start to feel a bit like utter crap.
No matter what, though, don’t forget that thing you’re trying to put off. If you do you’ll miss out on that feeling of wanting to throw up. After a while, you may find yourself doing things that are even more involved than the thing that you’re trying to avoid.”

And!

I took it when our electricity went out and we only had candles.

Questions Philosophical

Sometimes, I wonder.

What if I didn’t move to Canada when I was 6? Would I be as smart as I am now? Would I have more friends? Would I be one of those dumbass wigger kids who obsess about rap? Would I have learned English well? Would I even have lived?

I don’t know. But here’s an interactive question.
Without modern medicine, would you have survived in the middle ages?
That means no surgery, no antibiotics, no complex treatments, no IVs. Just ointment and your immune system.

Let’s concentrate on my life.
My dad wouldn’t have survived past age 14. He had appendicitis.
My mom would have died of Meningitis at age 12.
I wouldn’t even have been born, since I had to be carried out through C-section.
Then I would have died of Septic Shock by the end of this year due to a pilonidal cyst I had.
My brother would have had 2 broken legs and a crooked nose, and would have died this year of appendicitis.
My other brother is the only one that came out with positive notes. Cigarettes weren’t invented in the middle ages. He’d be perfectly healthy.

What about you? Drop me a comment on this post.