What I Learned in Boating School

      Throughout a year of literature forced upon my reluctant self, I found myself lacking impression nearing towards the final months of my reluctance. It was at this moment that yet another novel was pitilessly thrown towards us, and I found myself unable to even purchase the book for reasons only I may ever understand. Working ever so diligently to attain possession of the book on its due date, I walked into class with Into the Wild displayed humbly in my crackly, dry hands. Prior to our actual odyssey of reading the book, an introduction was presented and I knew that this book would be somewhat of a replica of my idealistic yet all the more possible pitiful aspirations. Excited I was; expectant: not so much. I did, however, work to mask my appreciation of the novel for I feel as though if I, as a third person party, were to observe my own self expressing excitement towards the novel's plot, a questionable sense of irritation would come upon me. I find it rather difficult to explain why I found a liking in the story, or any one concept for that matter, and I understand that such an idea is somewhat vague. Yet I consider my refusal to explain my liking as an explanation itself. I took it upon myself to read the entire novel (which I still did not own) within the matter of four days; this may also have been a result of there being four days left to read it. And although I find it difficult to provide a reason for my liking, I can say that as a whole, what I enjoyed most about the novel was a pleasant irony: how a book that the school system I was reluctantly placed into initially forced upon me and the presence of Utah flowing past me led me to realize that I may not, as profane as it may sound, desire attending college (or university) myself. And as I currently scratch my head, I envision myself in ten years, standing in the middle of a barren farm field, one sock different from the next, doing the same. And as I ponder once more, I realize the novel had somewhat of another benefit presented to me; I felt just a tad less special upon its completion; I was not the only one who had the unimaginable idea that she could do whatever she wanted. Yet after reading the novel I realized, I could. I may even consider purchasing the book. 

God's Path For Me

     Beginning my natural journey, of which God's only gift to us: money, will not be an object, I strip myself of all but bare necessities. I am left with banana leaves with which I make suitable clothing out of, and a hand-held CD player full of 80's pop. I begin my spiritual journey. Feeling more connected to the earth than ever only three minutes into my odyssey, I decide that traveling by car will not do, even though I do not yet know where I am going at this point. I decide to call up a pack of wolves to guide me to my salvation. Although this is slightly rare in the ninety-seven degree weather in July in Los Angeles, California, I am sure the wolves will be more than willing to join me on my adventure. We are off. About five minutes into the drive (which is being conducted on a sled tied to the wolves), I notice that the ride is not as smooth as I had hoped for, the reason being that the roads are quite rough and apparently not built for sleds, and we seem to be holding up quite a bit of traffic on the 101. I decide to ditch the sled and all but a single one of my wolves, whose back I climb onto and continue my journey as such. About forty minutes in, I notice a grumbling sensation in my stomach. Being away from society for so long, it takes me a while to once again recognize such a sensation as hunger. I had previously decided that nowhere in my spiritual journey should I consume foods that encourage sin, as God had told me in a dream one night that such foods are directly from the devil. Therefore, enjoying the beautiful natural world around me as I park my wolf on the pole of a stoplight on Beverly Drive, I feast on some raw, vegan, organic, gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, low-carb, fat-free tree bark, accompanied by a salad of weeds that were ever so conveniently growing in a flower pot in front of Bloomingdales, and a wonderfully refreshing juice of herbs (as the man had told me as me sold me a bag full of this green substance for quite a hefty price and disappeared before I could even say thanks). Finished eating, I pause and think to myself, "Nature is gorgeous", as a tear drips down my face. With my energy supply replenished, our adventure carries on.
     I open my eyes in what seems to be the first time in days, seeing only a blur. I feel an aching pain traveling throughout my entire body, and an emptiness in my stomach. The light that peeks into the small cracks in my eyes blinds me. Have I reached salvation? Has my spiritual journey reached its zenith? Have I finally attained the ability to reach out to God? "God? Is that you God?", I whisper to myself, staring in front of me at what seems to be an angel in white. I later find out that is my doctor, and I am in room 305 of "God's Healing Souls" Medical Center in Nevada City. It turns out wolves really are not suited for California weather, especially with someone on their backs. My little trooper, however, managed to lead me all the way to Nevada City, California, where he and I both fainted: him, from an excess of heat and baggage (me), and me, from a lack of "proper nourishment" and a heat stroke, or so the doctor says. I find myself quite upset, yet manage to ask the doctor for some tree bark and weeds to replenish my energy as he sticks a bendy straw down a packet of pasteurized orange juice from concentrate, puts it in my hand, and shoves a spoonful of Jell-O brand processed chocolate pudding down my throat. I only hope it was gluten free.

Mental Hospitals Now Becoming Art Galleries

Meet Yayoi Kusuma, The Woman Recently Dubbed The World's Most Famous Artist
By: Priscilla Frank
Source: Huffington Post

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/04/08/yayoi-kusama-most-famous-artist-in-the-world_n_7018862.html?utm_hp_ref=arts   
   
     Yayoi Kusuma, born in Japan in 1929, now eighty-six years old and resigning in the Seiwa Hospital for the Mentally Ill, is named "the most popular artist in the world" (Frank, 1). She began having hallucinations of polka dots at the age of ten, which, to her, were symbolic depictions of earth, moon, sun, and humans. It was these hallucinations that found their way into her art, composed largely of the polka dots themselves. Kusuma's explanation behind the dots lied somewhere along the lines of them "help[ing] to 'obliterate' her sense of self, allowing her to connect with the infinite universe" (Frank, 1).  Her artwork, prominent in Asia, is viewed by millions of people, leading to one of her exhibitions having the highest attendance of any other artist in 2014. Kusuma has expressed her art in the form of sculptures "stemming from a lifelong phobia of sex" (Frank, 1), to images of polka dots intermingling with nudity, combining art with the human body and form. Being in the mental hospital she is now, Kusuma is the least bit unmotivated to create, continuing to produce art daily.
     Art in its many forms, possesses endless abilities to convey, to portray, to draw in, and to isolate from all that lies around. Kusuma's otherworldly inspired artwork manages to draw the viewer into a different world aside from their own, pulling them into her own perceptions and giving them the "sensation of losing oneself to the surrounding noise, and somehow still finding peace" (Frank, 1). Her work truly shows that art can come from anywhere, anyone, and is one of the rare aspects of life that conveys no boundaries.

I Was Hoping We Could Change the Past

One Photographer's Honest Portraits Attempt To Answer The Question: 'What Is Your Biggest Regret?'

By: Priscilla Frank

Source: Huffington Post
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/03/19/alecsandra-raluca-dragoi_n_6895626.html?utm_hp_ref=arts

     Twenty-two year-old London based Romanian photographer Alecsandra Raluca Dragoi has embarked on a photography project answering the one question people so often try to ignore: "What is your greatest regret?". Her project, titled "What is Your Biggest Regret?", works to capture photos of individuals in public spaces, providing the "models" with a window for opening up their past and expressing their thoughts on the present and future. Alecsandra works hard to gain the trust of the individuals in order to form a comfortable environment in which she allows strangers to open up on topics they would otherwise never want to bring up. "She displays a profound understanding of time, forgiveness, ad the power of sharing what's so long been repressed" (Frank, 1). Her project, however, is not limited to the photographs only she takes. She allows individuals from all parts of the world to send images to her Facebook account depicting them in similar forms, sharing their personal regrets and opening up to the world.
     In a society where everyone feels the constant need to conceal, it is refreshing to see people in their purest and most open form, expressing themselves completely, in ways that would otherwise seem unconventional. Alecsandra's project being a rather direct form of expression is a nice change from the abstract, presenting human nature in its most vulnerable yet also strongest state, where one is no longer restricted to his or her own thoughts and self but rather feels a sense of unity with all of human nature.

You Get Pink and You Get Blue.

     Even before a child is born, there are certain requirements already placed upon him or her, relating instinctively to his or her gender. Once a girl is born, she is paraded with pink, Barbie dolls, all other peace-promoting toys, growing older to take on a rather typical external appearance of long hair and tighter fit clothing for the most part, leading a job (if any) in a field where she is expected to work. To put it more clearly, a girl is rarely seen in construction sites on the streets, not because she is incapable of doing so, but because the idea seems so absurd that she does not even allow it to come to mind. As a boy is born, however, he is surrounded with darker shades of blue, monster trucks, a few building blocks here and there, and God forbid a doll ever cross his hands. As he grows older, he takes on the appearance of short hair (usually), loose-fitting appropriate clothing, and the job of some sort not atypical to the average male, i.e. possibly one expressing the immense influence the toys he played with at a young age (monster truck and building blocks and not Barbies) made on him: a job "not fit" for a woman.
     Yet one day a harmless bystander is standing on the corner of a street, seen observing a construction worker whose back is turned to the individual, shouting out orders to those the worker is seemingly managing. The bystander takes a moment to observe the back of the worker: short hair, a blue plaid shirt, baggy jeans with a few unintentional tears and paint marks. As the worker goes further out of sight and begins to hammer nails into the plank of a building, the curious individual ends his examination, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. It is a mere few minutes later when the construction worker reappears, this time in a form where his face is visible. The bystander glances up. The worker is a women.
     Evidently, it is possible for an individual in society, surrounded from day one with "gender roles" and expectations, to turn out opposite of what he or she is "supposed to be". Yet it is not often when the "construction worker", the "plumber", the "scientist", or even the "doctor" is a women. And it is not often when the "designer", the "hairdresser", the "painter", the "cleaner" is a man. It is true that what society expects unconsciously plays a roll on individuals, as they are born into what is proposed as "correct" from day one, mindlessly adapting and conforming. There are select individuals who, at an age where they gain a more substantial ability to think for themselves, manage to question such expectations and conformity, specifically related to gender roles in this case. A girl may never aspire to be a construction worker from a young age, only because she does not consider it as a task she is able to undertake or associate with. A boy will rarely be seen with a passion for designing clothing, because he is "not allowed" to partake in "girls' jobs". Yet when attaining awareness of such preconceived expectations and being able to fully consider the possibilities of life independent of gender, there are those few individuals who are "the women construction worker".
     That is the case on a specific scale. Gender roles have the ability to affect an individual until he or she gains awareness of such expectations. However on a larger scale, the concept of gender roles has, almost unconsciously, cemented a loose interpretation of who the women and who the man should be. This, although able to be broken but very rarely done, can be perceived as somewhat of a relation to the nature of man and the nature of woman, and is, therefore, a natural part of society. It may be inborn, that a woman, in a general aspect, conveys a certain "softness", of which the subtle opposite is seen in men. Yet the extent to which societal expectations have altered and exaggerated such natural concepts is where the issue lies, and where the confusion often starts to arise, once a boy feels a slight affinity towards the color pink.

"My Dream is to Grow Up as Fast as Possible"

Photographer Captures Portraits And Dreams Of People From 1 To 100 Years Of Age
By: Katherine Brooks
Source: Huffington Post
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/02/27/100-years-project_n_6763534.html?utm_hp_ref=arts

     In the eyes of an artist, there may often seem nothing more perplexing and variable than people, who are often the inspiration for visions and works of art alike. And it is more often than not that the artist is working to depict an idea through their work, a story of people themselves. In the eyes of Danish photographer Keen Heick-Abildhauge, few cultures interest him more than that of the people of Russia,  a mass of diversity and life. Living there for some time, he managed to gain an insight into the lives of many of the people of the country, hearing stories, hopes, aspirations, daily accounts from those of any age. Yet the stories themselves "were complex, often so much that mere words didn't accurately capture their essences" (Brooks, 1). And with this failure to of verbal expression, Heick-Abildhauge turned to the world of photographs, depicting individuals ages one to one hundred (230 people in total), who shared with him their own stories, their own desires, experiences, what they hoped to be or no longer were. Through his photographs Heick-Abildhauge did not merely depict 230 disconnected individuals with 230 unrelated stories of their own, but rather a single story "of people living and growing in Russia today" (Brooks, 1), all sharing a queer similarity and life of a kindred nature.
       In the life span of individuals, they see much, feeling as though they know themselves most, and fully understand their beings in the present moment. Yet a majority of humanity, falling under this category, fails to notice the one single aspect most characteristic of an individual's lifespan and life itself: change. It is through Heick-Abildhauge's photographs where one is able to perceive this, how the individual human grows and progresses, not as a single being, but as a people. Throughout his work, one sees not the life-span of a single individual, but that of a hundred seemingly disparate ones, each consecutively older than the next. Yet it is through such diverse individuals, even, where one is most able to perceive the concept of growth and progression, feeling as though the one hundred depicted individuals are merely one in the same. As the dreams and aspirations of those newly born into the world, humble and light-hearted with no rather serious intentions in mind, progress with mid-age turning into inspiring motives, it is the addition of several more decades that brings these hopes back to their original state, and the people back to the children they used to be.

4 Years- Daniel; Place of birth : Yerevan, Profession: Goes to kindergarten, Passion or Dream: My dream is to grow up as fast as possible

 18 Years- Yulia; Place of birth: Obninsk, Profession: Student, Passion or Dream: I want to live until I am 100 years old. I also want to see new things and how they change during the time. I like to feel Russian

32 Years- Artem; Place of birth: Leningrad, Profession: Head of the cardiology department, Passion or Dream: I would like to become a member of the Russian Academy of Medical Science

70 Years- Vladimir; Place of birth: Malahovka, Profession: Driver, Passion or Dream: I want to have a long life

97 Years- Petr; Place of birth: Ural, Profession: Electrician, retired colonel, Passion or Dream: I dream of living for more than 100 years

98 Years- Roza; Place of birth: Gomel, Profession: Factory worker, Passion or Dream:I already have everything – everything that I would like to have

100 Years- Evdokiya; Place of birth: Smolensky area, Profession: Worker, Passion or Dream: I dream of walking by myself, being independent and alive

Holistic Healing

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uH5IMv2jeuk

    

      This short clip from the Seinfeld episode entitled "The Heart Attack" depicts George Castanza desiring a more natural form of treatment (with encouragement from Cosmos Kramer), thereby attending the house of a holistic healer. As the healer himself comes out, he proposes a series of (absurd) claims as to why George may be sick and what he MUST do in order to heal himself, taking care to mention the corrupt nature of conventional doctors and hospitals. As George slowly adjusts himself to this process, he opens up by having some tea made of seemingly suspicious and unheard of ingredients, after which he turns purple and is transported to the hospital.

     This scene satirizes the concept of "holistic healing", and more-so the healers themselves, as they claim that the concept of "western medicine" and conventional doctors are corrupt, while they take on every opportunity to diagnose their patients with every absurd phenomenon that comes to mind, merely to convince the patients of their "knowledge" and "wisdom", while simultaneously managing to make a large profit out of them. Their methods of "treatment" are, for the most part, ineffective in every physical way and may only heal the patient through the concept of the placebo effect. 

     The skit mainly makes use of the satirical technique of exaggeration, greatly overemphasizing the insanity of holistic healers and the measures they go through to fool their patients. By depicting the healer, Tor Eckman, engaging in specific tasks such as moving his metal container about in the air and advising George to shower in cold water, the scene exaggerates the extent to which holistic healers make use of what one may claim to be "insensible and useless" tactics, confidently claiming their effectiveness. 

     This use of exaggeration allows for this scene to be particularly effective in its use of satire. The character of the holistic healer as well as his name are fitting to the general stereotype society may place upon him or her. His clothing and home are sufficiently chosen as well. The actions the holistic healer does are accurate enough to be relative to the general concept of the practice yet exaggerated and absurd enough to clearly be understood as satirical and sarcastic. The complete and utter seriousness of the healer himself also allow for the scene to generally increase in humor and satire as the seriousness greatly contrasts with the absurdity of his actions. 

A Mother's Love

Woman Who Cracked 3 Separate iPhone Screens Expecting Baby Boy This August
Source: The Onionhttp://www.theonion.com/articles/woman-who-cracked-3-separate-iphone-screens-expect,32538/?recirc=parenting

      Twenty-nine-year-old Samantha Curtis, a sales clerk from Philadelphia, expecting go give birth to a baby boy this August. She has cracked three different iPhone screens in her lifetime either by dropping the phone, leaving it to come into constant contact with all else in her bag, or having it slip out of her hands while "absentmindedly spinning it on a tabletop" (Woman Who Cracked 3 Separate iPhone Screens Expecting Baby Boy This August). She claims to be overjoyed to be giving birth in August and is very excited for the opportunity. Her last iPhone was in such bad shape as a result of her accidents that the screen could barely be read. She states her anticipation and joy upon the arrival of the baby. Aside from breaking her multiple iPhones, she has dropped her current one on the sidewalk ten times in the past five weeks, and says the last six months of her pregnancy have been magical, as she anxiously waits. Samantha accidentally leaves her iPhone in her car at times, and is thinking about naming the baby either Jason or Gregory; her and her husband, David, are still unsure. Her second iPhone was ruined as she allowed it to slip out of her hands into scorching bath water. Samantha has also been in a few car accidents, leaving significant damages to her car, and she claims that she is sure she will be able to handle the task of taking care of a newborn, aside from its many difficulties, which she acknowledges. Curtis has also been known for "leaving her jacket at bars and restaurants, tripping and spilling the contents of her pursue to the ground, forgetting to cap bottles of detergent, and having a dog who is mostly friendly but has been known to bite" (Woman Who Cracked 3 Separate iPhone Screens Expecting Baby Boy This August). Yet she assures reporters that she will allow no harm to come to her child. Placing her fourth phone in two years on the table, Curtis says she has been reading up on giving birth and child-care, however finds that "at the end of the day the main thing about being a mom is just to give your baby all the love and affection you've got, and everything else will fall into place" (Woman Who Cracked 3 Separate iPhone Screens Expecting Baby Boy This August). That is what she plans to do.
     The significance of this article lies in the beauties of childbirth and of the never-ending loving relationship between mom and child. The story of Samantha Curtis is a clear example that mothers are willing to take on any challenges and devote everything to the raising and nurturing of their child, even if the child is not yet born. Her inspiring story gives all readers hope, determination, courage and confidence, especially when considering to dive into the mirky waters of child-birth. She is a women who gives off a beautiful radiance which just screams "I can do it and so can you!".

     This article manages to satirize women who either have a child while they are clearly not prepared to do so, or who are incapable of caring for a child they already have, as the women can barely take care of themselves. The article makes use of incongruity with the inclusion of situational irony, as one would not normally expect a such an unorganized women who consistently drops/damages important items and causes destruction to other ones to have a child and claim that she herself can take full care of it. Incongruity is also seen within the writing style, as the author adds in small bursts of facts explaining situations in which the women, Samantha, has managed to cause destruction or damage through her acts of carelessness one way or another amongst the general topic of her excitement towards giving birth. It is unexpected to see the unrelated sentences near one another with no flow or direct relation at all, only emphasizing the satire of the writing as a whole and using implications to make it more amusing. Exaggeration is also seen within scenarios depicting the mother-to-be's immaturity and clumsiness, as the article depicts such scenes as her breaking her iPhone several times by acts such as dropping it into very hot water, as well as her constant forgetfulness and unsafe driving habits. 

And You Thought Death Was a Bad Thing...

"Jimmy was bound to get ahead. He always had some resolves like this or something. Do you notice what he's got about improving his mind? He was always great for that" (Fitzgerald, 185).

     Ever since a young age, evidently, Gatsby, or Jay, or Jimmy had an underlying goal of getting ahead, fueled by a sort of undeniable determination. And he did. He succeeded in attaining a large amount of money and changing his penurious lifestyle to one of extravagant wealth and luxury. And with this desire of going forward, Gatsby, in a way, manipulated the context of life and time, freezing everything whilst he dragged himself ahead and, in a sense, reached his inevitable end at a moment seemingly too soon in the eyes of others, yet appropriate within the context of Gatsby and his life, his perspective. In reference to life, that which Gatsby lived may have seemed short externally, and was. Yet in reference to the concept of living, Gatsby is still alive. The life that was lived by Gatsby could not have been extended, his death could not have been avoided, for it would have reached him in another form, as Gatsby's life, a fabrication of many elements, grief, anger, confusion, excitement, love, contempt, success, was in fact, fully lived, and desired a break, a pause, of which death was able to provide. Through his aspiration and success in going ahead, Gatsby did that, which many fail to do, resulting in life necessitating a balance of this seemingly incessant "time" that Gatsby had objected to, leading to the externally unexpected yet inevitable death of his. This goes to say that there is a possibility his death should not be regretted or viewed as a negative, nor countered as a positive. His death was rather a necessity, a response, in a way, of balance and control that this "life" undeniably seems to hold over humanity. Not to say that Gatsby was a bad person. He was not, nor is it possible to say that death should only be inflicted upon those who are. It is possible that the concept of "going ahead" is not a pleasant one, as life seems to view it in the least, not to say it is not intriguing. Revisiting the past, however, is another story.

Obama On: Climate Change

Obama: No greater threat to future than climate change
By: Madison Park
Source: CNN
http://edition.cnn.com/2015/01/21/us/climate-change-us-obama/

     In his recent State of the Union Address, President Barack Obama made it a point to emphasize that the most extensive problem in, not only the United States but the world as a whole, is the continuous affect that climate change is having on it. Aside from his undeniable placement of significance on the issue, many either remain ambivalent or oppose it firmly. He, however, took it into his hands to state the need for change, to protect "the one planet we've got" (Park, 1). Through his use of logos with an underlying hint of pathos, Obama stated facts such as the year 2014 being the warmest year since the advent of record keeping, as well as the concern that fourteen out of the fifteen recorded warmest years have been from the start of the year 2000. Throughout the years, the United States cannot say it has done its part in reducing the adverse effects of climate change, refusing to ratify the Kyoto Protocol (working to reduce greenhouse gas emissions) as well as failing to handle carbon cuts. Under Obama, however, an agreement with China has been made between both countries (being the two most air-polluting countries in the world, with US falling second to China) claiming to work to reduce greenhouse gas emissions throughout the next twenty years. In his speech, Obama mentioned the effects of this act as encouragement for other countries to take part and make a change within their own nations. By placing a key focus on climate change, Obama has shifted concerns not only to where the US and the world as a whole stands now in present times, but where it will stand throughout the upcoming decades and generations to come.

601 S. Fairfax Avenue

     Now I am not one for extravagance, nor do I enjoy grand banquet halls with parking lots full of overly priced cars where doors slide upwards justifying the price to be $100,000 more than what you would like to pay. Yet in the midst of all extravagance, it is impossible to not fall into the pit of luxury every now and then, which is why if ever in the process of planning a Gatsby-style party, I would select the venue to be, obviously, the largest, grandest, most extravagant palace known to man, found at none other than 601 S. Fairfax Ave. Los Angeles, CA 90036, the Beverly Hills 99 Cent Store; and let me tell you why that is. When given the opportunity for endless possibility, not locked within the confines of money, one may automatically err towards the most expensive, the grandest, the largest. These bore me considerably. What interests me however, is irony, of which is found in no greater amounts than that which lies in the 99 Cent Store, which will be rented out to me and my guests. And with this, every item in the store, now being rented, will essentially be free. And frankly, I used to find no larger fascination than that of the concept of a store where everything is 99 cents. Well now, it is all free for my guest to enjoy, to bathe in pools of bad-quality office supplies, brooms that Armenian grandmas always seem to have, and borderline expired food. Now the guest list should remain interesting. At first I considered public invitations, announcements to let all know, yet found boredom in that, a lack of surprise in announcing the presence of a party in the store. And so I decided to leave my guests uninvited, as they themselves will have indirect invitations, being that my guests will be regular shoppers of the store, walking in innocently on a quiet, seemingly casual Friday night, merely to purchase a potted cactus and make their way home with no bother to anyone, only to be shocked at the presence of balloons and confetti paraded onto them as they step into the store while the amplified voices of all the guests screech "SURPRISE" loudly, doing their best to be heard over the deafening music of 80s contemporary rock to which the entire building vibrates. After all, there is no better party than one which is a surprise.

     It is here, amongst all this booming fun, where the party can take a turn towards overly fussy and complicated. I do not desire gold-studded macaroons or caviar. I do not want steak or lobster, or a long list of food that cannot be pronounced by many. And as I stop to think about my menu, I find myself in the food aisles of the 99 Cent Store. How perfect! What better food to serve my guests than that which lies around us? And I am sure all of it is organic, or most of it at least, or maybe 17% of it; the point is, great quality food! And drinks, only the best for my guests; the finest, most extravagant, beautifully aged 99 cent wines, all other alcohol in those beautifully portioned mini bottles of which hundreds lay in the store, and only the freshest ice-cold juices from cans. Now that the food is covered, entertainment is at hand. And as the stores next door come barging in with complaints on the volume of the 80s rock that continues to blast from the stereo system we kindly borrowed from the store, I do not hear them as the music is very loud. I assume they are here to compliment me on my party, give them a huge hug, and let them in. Well into the night, the music is beginning to bore me, especially since it is the same song being played over and over again. Although the song was "U Can't Touch This", that is still no excuse. So I did what anyone in my position would have done. I called over one of those Armenian DJ's that plays the same five songs over and over again at Armenian sweet-sixteens and weddings (both held at the same banquet halls), and knew that this party was well under way. Now I had a list of performers I wanted to invite to sing, but most of them were dead. There had to be another option; so I thought, "What is the next best thing to people? Clowns", and so I called some over. Now all humans all the time are quite boring, and so I decided a few dozen chickens running around the place would suffice, considering several shelves had been knocked down by all the dancing and there was plenty of room now for the chickens to graze freely. At about 3 a.m. when we were about halfway into our festivities, I decided to bring the 2-ton disco ball down, and believe it or not, more of the lovely neighbors from across the street had come to join (I assumed that is why they came over, I could not hear them again, although their faces seemed quite angry but I assumed it was because they had not found out about the party sooner). I hugged them once more and let them in.

     It was nearing the end of the night (and the hours of my rent of the store) at around 5 a.m. I looked around at the knocked down shelves and shattered wine bottles everywhere, the disco ball of which half was pulverized on the floor, and the large shattering of the glass in the window of the store which I assume had been caused by the Superman impersonator I had called over at about 3:30 a.m.; I do not remember much. Anyways, what I am trying to say is that the store was not in the "exceptionally clean with not a single item out of place" condition that was written on my rental contract and that I had agreed to with the manager, and I had to think of a way of explaining this. Yet on second thought, I was quite tired, and noticed the DJ still dancing and playing music, not realizing that everyone was asleep. And so I went over and offered him the rent saying that he could do whatever he wanted with the place and it was all his. He seemed very excited, though I am not sure why, considering the rent ended at 5:30 a.m. and the manager had just pulled up in front of the store as I exited and made my way to eat some breakfast. I think I wanted pancakes.

after-hours

 at my party, you will be greeted with a SMILE

 people waiting in line to enter my party

 fresh

the balloons scream "party"

Big Cat Big Fish Little Man

The Strange World Of Manuel Archain, An Artist Who Photographs His Dreams
Source: Huffington Post
By: Alessandro Luigi Perna
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/01/15/surreal-photographs-manue_n_6472474.html?utm_hp_ref=arts

     Contemporary photographer Manuel Archain (thirty-one years old) from Argentina is gradually beginning to rise to fame. His work, exhibited in Lugano Italy, presents surrealism in a form where it unquestionably cannot be denied, a photograph. As curator of the exhibit Barbara Malacrida states, Archain's work "concentrates on man as the protagonist of a messy, complex, poetic and oneiric society. An analysis of the aesthetic ambiguity of seeming" (Perna, 1). By choosing photography as his means of capturing his visions, Archain has managed to present an altered form of reality in a way that appears real, actual. He began, at first, by working within the confines of reality, including no edits or post-production on his photographs, limited only to what the eye could see, what was actually there. Yet after some time, he realized that what he truly wanted to do was depict his thoughts and dreams, a majority of which were surreal. By allowing his mind and imagination to surpass the restrictions of reality, Archain was able to depict that which is deemed impossible, in a form that only serves to capture that which is real, allowing his works to become "surreal and real at the same time" (Perna, 1).
    Photography, from the time of its invention, has served a central purpose of capturing reality in a way that cannot be questioned or denied. It has become a form of preservation of the truth. Yet what Archain has managed to do goes against all preconceived notions of this form of preservation, presenting the viewer with a form that seems real, yet holds within it a convoluted mass of dreams and imagination. And as one's eyes grow accustomed to such scenes, they simultaneously open up to possibility. As the often too serious perception of life manages to exit one's mind, a new form of life opens up, one which sees no limitations, one which sees minimum seriousness in reality, taking life lightheartedly, as it was meant to be taken.

I'm Ugly, You're Ugly, We're All Ugly!

Art Exhibition Champions Blemishes, Pimples, Scars And Other Glorious Flaws

By: Priscilla Frank

Source: Huffington Post

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/01/09/fetching-blemish-_n_6437120.html?utm_hp_ref=arts

     "For much of the world, a zit is something to be eradicated, a pimple covered up. Wrinkles, scars, bumps and blemishes of any kind are best hidden and hopefully obliterated, bringing the host of said flaws one step closer to physical perfection" (Frank, 1).

     The ideal of society is perfection; a lack of external flaws, repressed ignorance towards internal ones, the desire to hide what is real because, in all actuality, reality is not what is desired. Yet with all its bearing irony, art, the most idealistic and barrier-free natural phenomenas is able to depict such reality truer than humanity itself. "Fetching Blemish", an exhibition at Invisible Exports is dedicated to this reality of flaws, discoloration, blemishes, chipped teeth, the slightest fifteen degree misalignment of one's nose. A combination of the works of several artists, the show mainly focuses on portraiture, specifically that of an imperfect nature, not merely depicting physical flaws, but expressing those which "make us who we are" (Frank, 1). A few artists responsible for these works include Genieve Figgis, Rebecca Morgan, Cindy Sherman, Nicole Eisenman; mainly females, the reason for which can be left to interpretation. The art consists of self-portraits, unrealistically real, as well as external depictions of generality, yearning to provoke the acceptance of differences, especially those within oneself, the act of which is uncommon to most.

     All that stains the angelic white depiction of man with the slightest dent or tarnish is ugly. And "ugly" has become a word largely generalized, commonly placed upon all aspects of life and humanity that it has come to represent merely that which one is not used to seeing, while the concept's subjective and man-made origins have all but been forgotten. But when one truly manages to think, what is this "ugly" claimed to be seen in people? Is it truly that which is undesirable, or merely that which is not known, uncommon? The human eye needs sight of imperfection graced upon the individual, sight of what lies beyond all that is used to hide what is real. The human eye needs sight of flaws, differences, "ugliness", a sight of that, which many have not yet been exposed to; themselves.

The Italian Mafia

     As the number of Italian immigrants coming into America saw a sharp increase in the late 1800s, carrying onto the early 1900s, there were, of course, several in the groups who engaged in crime, specifically in New York where the Italian population increased by over 200,000. With the onset of the Prohibition era in the United States also came a sudden rise of the American Mafia, often referred to as the Italian Mafia, or simply, the Mafia, an Italian American organized criminal society prevalent in New York and Chicago specifically. With the banning of alcohol, the Mafia was able to successfully take part in the illegal buying and selling of it, often selling it for much higher prices. Soon, these criminal groups became organized, turning themselves into structured networks of crime, engaging in smuggling, money laundering, bribing, bootlegging. With the progression of the Prohibition, conflict broke out between the two largest gangs in New York City, with the victor being a man by the name of Salvatore Maranzano who claimed himself as boss of the Mafia. He was soon killed by a mobster with the name Lucky Luciano, who instead of labeling his single self as the boss, formed a center of power called the Commission (in New York), organizing the American Mafia. New York contained five main Mafia families while most others contained only one. With membership into the Mafia came many rules and rituals, the first being an initiation ceremony. All members had to be of Italian decent. It was common, yet not always seen, that men would have to engage in a murder before becoming a member, a position in which they could not get out of. They pledged to a code of silence, wherein they promised their loyalty to the organization and the members, not being allowed to give away any information on the whereabouts of both, even if their lives or safety were at hand. All the boss' commands were to be obeyed. They would commonly provide help to the other members if needed, and if attacking the family of any member, revenge was necessary with the approval of the boss. The Mafia followed a hierarchal structure, with the head or "boss" on the top, often called "Godfather", receiving a share of the money earned by those below him, who consisted of people in positions similar to that of a police force, with rankings based on comparison to that of the boss. Some names of common mobsters: George Clarence "Bugs" Moran, Alphonse Gabriel Capone (Al Capone), Tony Accardo, Dutch Shultz.

 Al Capone

George Clarence "Bugs" Moran

Tony Accardo

http://www.history.com/topics/mafia-in-the-united-states
https://lifeinthetwenties.wikispaces.com/Mafia+in+the+1920s
http://www.mafiamob.com/history.htm