I read some news story the other day. I forget what it was about. And that's kind of important, because I wanted to talk about it.
But basically, what it all led zeppelin up to was that yeah, we're free. We have our freedom. We have freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of whatever. We have freedom of choice, but we're made to think that we don't. Of course, they don't tell us that. While we technically, legally, on paper, have freedom to choose anything, they make it seem like we only have one choice. One right choice. They tell us what to choose, and we usually do.
One example I can think of is the whole school uniforms thing. They sent out a brochure, showing why uniforms are so great. Did they ever tell us why we should choose not to have uniforms? No, of course not. And while technically, we were able to choose whether we wanted them or not, they told us what to choose.
And I don't just mean they, the school. I mean the government, the boss, the parents, TEH MAN! They all do it! Hell, if *I* were in a position of power, so would I, because it works. And you know, good for them. They're getting what they want, we would all do the same. Well, I only speak for myself, but I believe most other people would. There are some people we call "good people" who have a "conscience" but ahh, I don't like those kinds of people. I've also realized I don't like positive people. "Think good thoughts, and it will happen!", "be good to people and people will be good to you!".
So okay. Maybe it does work. Whenever my Pokeman's confused, I always picture it saying "GYARADOS is confused / GYARADOS used SURF!" rather than "GYARADOS is confused / It hurt itself in its confusion" and it really does work. But playing the slots in Goldenrod? Well, I just can't get that triple 7, even with the Golem's help.
Anyway, I shall leave you with my poem I wrote for Creative Writing. This class can actually be fun if you let it.
I see life and death and
everything in between
happen before my eyes.
Feelings not imagined
I find stirred up inside.Is it love? Am I sick?
Is that all? Is this it?
Many questions answered,
but even more to come.
Where do we go from here?Telling so many lies
we’re going to explode;
it’s nearing nine o'clock.
Just take my hand, brother;
your secret's under lock.Somewhat funny to think
and maybe even sad,
but it has only been
two hours in front of
my television screen."Lost" season finale:
Thursday, May twenty-ninth.
BTW, if any Creative Writing teacher of mine or poetry professor is reading this after you searched Google to find where I ripped off this amazing piece of work, then umm… go away?