If You See Light

You know what I hate? Stupid school projects. For instance: by Tuesday, I have to cover a shoebox in various pictures and drawings in order to define who I am as a person.

What. The. Hell.

I’m supposed to decorate the outside of the box to show how people think I am? That’s a bit general, don’t you think? I’m sure that everybody thinks I’m someone different. If you ask twenty different people “Who is Bryant Powell?” you will get twenty different answers, and this is true for everybody who was assigned this innane and ridiculous assignment.

You want me to put who I really am on the inside of the box? Well, you know, I would, but I don’t exactly KNOW who I am. I know who I THINK I am, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m fifteen years old, Ms. English Teacher. I’m still going through that whole “Journey-of-Self-Discovery” phase, and you ask me to define my existance via shoebox.

Wow.

P.S: I don’t have a shoebox.

I Shouldn't Have Been Asking at All

Sat, 16 Jan 2010 21:54:00 -0500

Earlier today, I wrote a blog entitled “Am I Asking Too Much?” in which I complained about how I never got a moment alone to ask Hannah out. In retrospect, I am extremely glad about this. Here’s why.

Everything I thought Hannah was, rational, reasonable, intelligent, everything that attracted me to her was dashed right in front of my eyes, and I didn’t even realize it at the time because I was so preoccupied with trying to use my mind powers to make her friend leave the room. Looking back on their conversation, I am happier than happy her friend stayed put until Hannah left.

To hear that amount of religion coming out of her throat is, in retrospect, heartbreaking. It burns a fire in my soul to see a young mind so PROMISING be corrupted like that. Whenever I hear a young child (someone nine or younger) talk about how amazing their god is, my heart cracks a little, but there’s still hope. I was extremely religious as a child (child being relative to a fifteen year old), and I have since begun to base my life around reason and logic.

However, anyone older than that with the power to think for themselves spouting religious slogans and anecdotes saddens me greatly, because now there is next-to-no hope.

Now, if I really wanted to go out with Hannah, there are two things I could do. I could, of course, put on the same “Good ol’ Christian boy” mask I put on when Dad is around, or I could deconvert her. I have a seirous problem with both of these when Hannah is concerned.

1) Putting on the “Good Ol’ Christian Boy” mask is the same as lying. There is no possible way that a relationship based primarily on a lie will be happy and meaningful. As an actor, lying is my life, but I try my hardest to leave it on the stage.

2) I have no doubt in my mind that I could deconvert her if she would listen to me, but I wouldn’t want our relationship to be like that. When I have to bring a stack of notebooks and a copy of The Origin of Species to dinner, I believe it’s a sign of a dysfunctional relationship.

In short, I would like to thank Hannah’s friend for not giving way to the swing of my mind powers and staying put. You’ve saved me a lot of heartache.

Am I Asking too Much?

Sat, 16 Jan 2010 12:24:37 -0500

I’m sure you’ve all felt this way. There’s something you’ve been wanting to do for quite some time, but it requires being alone with another person, and you can never seem to get them alone. Then, when you finally think you’ve got them alone, somebody randomly walks in the room. You know the feeling? I do.

I almost had a chance today. I was with her waiting for our rides together, then, just as I was about to ask her, her friend walked in and stayed until five seconds after she left. Five. Freaking. Seconds.

Is it possible to despise someone you know nothing about?

Listen, God, am I asking too much when I say I want a moment alone? Just one solitary instant in which to simply ask her to see a movie with me? She’s going to turn me down anyway! Come on, dude, I know I don’t worship you or believe in you or even like you all that much, but COME ON! Just a MOMENT! Thirty seconds, that’s all I need! Can you not give me that much?

A Short Essay on Being Unneeded.

Fri, 15 Jan 2010 20:53:49 -0500

I know that my readers (yes, all four of you) have been on the edge of your seat wondering if the girl I’m going to ask out said yes. Well, I’m not going to talk about that. Instead, I’m going to talk about how lonely and horrible it feels to be unneeded.

Being unneeded is one of the most horrible feelings that a human being can posess. It’s all of the loneliness and depressing-ness of being unwanted, but you’re still wanted, which makes it worse. Even worse than being unneeded, however, is being needed to be unneeded. Confused? Allow me to explain:

I am an understudy in a play (the fact that I got cheated out of the part by The Law of Seniority and Family is the subject of a future blog), and as the understudy my job is to be at rehearsals and quietly observe whichever of my two overstudies is actually doing something this week. As an understudy, I will probably never have to use this information, but I have to know it anyway in case I do. I am needed to be unneeded.

I don’t mind that so much, but it’s another thing entirely to be given a title (Say…Student Chorus Leader) which is nothing more than a ploy to make you feel important, and carries no real weight. I was told that there were two music directors (who shall remain unnamed), and that they wouldn’t be able to cover everyone. In reality, there are four music directors to three choruses. Of the three Student Chorus Leaders, I am the only one without something to do, which makes me feel even more useless and unneeded than if I didn’t have the title at all.

This sense of worthlessness and unnescessary-tude is exactly the reason why I am having the least fun possible in the most amazing place on the planet. The reason I do plays is because they make me feel like I’m special. They make me feel like I’m actually worth something. When that sense of belonging is stripped away from me and replaced with this kind of utter rejectedness, I become more depressed than I would be if I weren’t in the play at all.

Why am I still in the play? The only legitimate reason I can think of is because of the girl. If (and when) she says no, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Pat Robertson is a Disgrace

Wed, 13 Jan 2010 21:18:00 -0500

On January 12, 2010, an earthquake registering a 7.0 on the Richter Scale devestated the island nation of Haiti, leaving many Haitians dead, and countless others homeless and wounded. My heart goes out to the families and friends of the deceased, and I extend my sincerest hopes of a good and speedy recovery for the poor victims of this horrible natural disaster.

However, I would like to make it very clear that there are some people who, quite simply, are unfit to be commenting on such things. One of these people is Pat Robertson.

On Pat Robertson’s television show, the aforementioned claims that the earthquake is a divine punishment for a pact with the devil made by the Haitians so that they would win their independence from France, and that they need to have a “serious turning to God” before things will get better.

Pat Robertson, you are a disgrace and a stain on the face of humanity. To claim that these innocent people, who lost their homes and loved ones to the harsh and uncaring hand of nature, somehow had it coming to them because they made a pact with your imaginary devil is possibly the most offensive and inhumane thing I have heard in all my short life.

How would you like it, Pat Robertson, if such a thing was said of you, and your country?

Why I'm Here.

Tue, 12 Jan 2010 23:52:00 -0500

Hello. My name is Bryant, and I am an internet-aholic.

Good to finally have that off my chest. Now onto the reason I have created a tumblr, despite my inward protestation and lack of general interest. I feel I should create a new paragraph for this next statement. Am I allowed to do that? Alright. I’m going to try it. Three…two…one…

WOAH! That felt powerful! On to the title of the blog thingamajig. The reason I have finally broken down and created one of these Tumblr thingamajigs is because I strongly believe that there are some emotions and ideas that are easier to convey through text than video. The simple act of typing words onto an internet-page is, in itself, a physical manifestation and outlet for whatever emotion or idea you are experiencing. As a part-time volunteer author, I find that blogging and I are a perfect fit.

NOW THEN! Onward, fair readers, to reason number two. I enjoy typing. It’s not that I enjoy typing book reports or history assignments or essays about the history of books, I simply enjoy typing. I frequently do typing speed tests just for the fun of typing those little captions from The Catcher in the Rye. It gives me something to do in my down-time, which, considering how busy I am, I have a surprising amount of.

There you have it, folks. The two reasons why I have sold my soul to the internet.

I also do book reviews: http://sites.google.com/site/blithreviews/

"Memento Mori"

Tue, 12 Jan 2010 23:46:33 -0500

“Memento Mori”

Photo

Tue, 12 Jan 2010 23:44:52 -0500