Teachers + Music

I asked Sensei (Mrs. Holcomb) questions about music. Her responses were surprising considering that she makes up songs for her classes a lot of the time. But at the same time, they were not unexpected.

The most shocking answer was that Sensei listens to country stations in the car. That's something I wouldn't expect. She also said that she never sings in the car. And I wouldn't either if I only listened to country music. In the car, I keep it on stations that play older songs with lots of variety, and if I know just a little bit of it, I'll sing the whole thing.

The music Sensei said she'd refuse to listen to and was controversial was Nicki Minaj and Lady Gaga. I find this funny because these are two artists that I really like. I like them because they are really theatrical, and I think that could be reason, too, why Sensei doesn't like them.

Bands that remind Sensei of her childhood are Sayonara Bus and Yuzu. I haven't heard any of their songs, but I think I would like them. Sensei said that she really liked these bands because they sang about the simple and happy things in life, and I like upbeat music.

Lyrics

There's A Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered, Honey You Just Haven't Figured It Out Yet -Panic! at the disco

Always -Panic! at the disco

Born This Way -Lady Gaga

Pretty Little Head

Hook, line and sinker,
drop it down to the bottom
butterfly, flow, flicker,
soar to the top
Kill for the thrill
Cut it, stick it
where you got it
Circle, roll in under
and read to the start
Where's your mother?
Fall down dead
Dirty Mind,
dirty mouth
pretty little head.
Wish you were here,
wish you'd make my bed.
Dirty mind,
dirty mouth,
pretty little head.
System, bring your head
and push it down below
Catch yourself, and look and let it
go, go, go.
Wanna have your baby but
I'm so, so slow.
But don't you worry, honey
'cause I can't say no.
But where's your mother?
Fall down dead.
Dirty Mind,
dirty mouth,
pretty little head.
Wish you were here,
wish you'd make my bed.
Dirty mind,
dirty mouth,
pretty little head.
Come grab my heart,
and hold your tongue.
Just a cog in the ear of all my love.
Take apart my heart,
and hold you tongue.
It's just a cog in the ear of all my love.
Of all my love,
all my love,
all my love.
All my love,
all my love,
all my love.
Where's your mother?
Fall down dead.
Dirty mind,
dirty mouth,
pretty little head.
Wish you were here,
wish you'd make my bed,
Dirty mind,
dirty mouth,
pretty little head.

Satellites, French Fries, and Big Robot

EchoSphere

It's hard for me to imagine Springfield without its hidden gems. All the sculptures downtown are what I think really make the city. Just say, "Drive south and when you see the french fries, take a left into the lot," and they'll know you want to take them to the little Mexican Villa. Tell them, "I cut through the satellites to get to class faster," and they'll know you go to MSU. And when kids say they like to play with big robot, you know we aren't in any danger of becoming enslaved by metallic overlords.

    

Kinetic Man

When we lived in central Springfield, we would drive past the french fries all the time. For some reason, my sister and I would get so excited about it, that we were bouncing in our car seats. We would always ask before getting in the car, 

     

Sun Target

"Are we going to pass the french fries?" I remember when we finally went to the art museum to get a look at the famed fries up close. Seeing it from all angles filled me with such an immense joy and wonder for art. How could the artist know that it wouldn't fall down? I was amazed that no one had tried to steal it away, or damage it. I'd always felt an attachment to the fries, but that day I felt like the fries were someone I had to protect from vandals and thieves. I was barely 6 years old, give me a break. But soon I found out that its real name was Sun Target and not The French Fries. The bitterness of betrayal stayed with me for a few days. To think that I'd been calling it the wrong name for years never occurred to me. Instead I conjured up the story that the fries didn't  like me anymore and was trying to hide their identity in an effort to avoid me. 

But the fries and I are all good now. I still call them the french fries because I don't think Sun Target is a very good name for a sculpture that is obviously french fries.

Painting Poems

 

 For some time I'd been trying to find

Something beautiful to say to you

It used to be I'd do anything

But lately I've done nothing

And as our days turn to years gone by

I found that I am moving on

You've  heard the words I've spoken

Like a record, dusty, broken 

Still I'd always forget how warm my heart is

Until you hold it in your hands

 

I

am a goddess

     among men

I

am a force

     to be trifled with

This is 

My patience

     and fury

Does no one

     believe me?

Just give me

     the words

     you've been preaching 

Dream Marks

 

The hills and valleys

On my sheets and in my life

Need a good washing

Fluff the pillow and

Make the bed; one step closer

to understanding

To me, it looks like a pillow case slipping off of its pillow. I imagine that the person who owns it doesn't sleep well. The pillow seems lumpy and old enough to be from the person's childhood. I think the owner is too busy and scrambled to take the time to wash it and fluff it out. The striped pattern reminds me of my favorite sheets with the same pattern, but with brown and beige stripes.

This drawing really makes me appreciate how hard it is to draw fabric. The folds and shadows look so natural, and that's really difficult to do.

Art Walk

My favorite print was the first one I picked. When I first looked at it, it looked like silhouettes of daisies, peonies, and chrysanthemums painted with watercolors that bled in and out of each other. But when I looked at it more closely, it seemed messy and not flower-like at all. The colorful portions were separated by thick white paint that looked like an afterthought. The colors themselves felt sad, and how the paint streaked down emphasized that. And I think that all of this was intentional. Because the white was covering up the beautiful background, it reminded me of how people try to hide their personality, or 'true colors'. From far away it looks like this person (or painting) knows who they are, and they have everything together. But when you get closer to them, you can see how they are forcing themselves into some cookie-cutter, and not really fitting it. Their colors bleed through, and you realize that they're covering up the best of themselves.
Overall, I thought that the painting had a feeling of a bittersweet happiness. 

A New Earth

Pressed flowers

Sprouting in colorful shadow

Like pulled butterfly wings

Spring in negative

Artist Profile: Salvador Dali

Salvador Dali was born May 11th, 1904 in Figueras, Spain. He died January 23, 1989. Dali started painting at a very young age, and received his art education in Madrid, starting in 1912. He was soon thrown out because of his eccentric behavior, and that his professors felt his artwork was too advanced for them to criticize.  By age 17, he was recognized in Europe as a major talent.
Dali is known for his surrealist paintings, but also worked with photography, sculpture, writing, and film. His best known works are Sleep (1937), The Persistence of  Memory (1931), and The Face of Mae West (1935). Dali's painting style is recognizable by his flamboyant yet meticulous technique.

Dali was involved in the 1920s Paris surrealist movement. They were concerned with making a "hyper reality" with the blending of real life and dreams. A great deal of Dali's inspiration came from Sigmund Freud's theory of the subconscious, which was new and popular during his time. Freud's influence can be seen in Sleep. Freud theorized that what occurs in dreams can impact and reflect waking life.

He met his future wife, Gala, through her then husband poet Paul Eluard. They were married in 1934 despite his father's protest. Gala took care of Dali's legal and financial matters, allowing him to focus on his public image among other surrealists.

That same year, Dali was expelled from the Paris surrealist group because his "flamboyant antics" were overshadowing his art. His excessive need to be in the spotlight was found very off-putting. He continued to make art and opened a  London Surrealist exhibition in 1936. In 1940, Dali and Gala moved from Spain to the United States to avoid World War II, They lived in the United States till 1948.

In 1942, he published his autobiography The Secret Life of Salvador Dali. His book revealed life-long narcissism and stories that point to Dali actually being crazy.

Dan In Real Life

Marie likes books that “pull her in.” What would you suggest for her?

When Marie was describing her ideal book, I immediately though of The Book Thief. It has the humanness that she was looking for. Told from the point of view of Death, it follows a little girl named Liesel in Nazi Germany. It’s sweet and funny, but also heartbreaking and thoughtful. I think it’s a book everyone should read at least once.

Do you think well-traveled people like Marie are more interesting?

I think that people who travel often have more stories and experiences to share with others. From what I know, people who travel are more open-minded and positive about things. Traveling really allows you to have experiences you otherwise wouldn’t have. And I thing this aspect of traveling is what makes people addicted to it.

Marie has a talent for making pancakes. What is your special talent?

My special talent is ordering McDonald’s drive through and having the total land on a whole dollar almost every time. Also, a superpower I recently found out about is that I’m crazy good at guessing charades.

Are you a good bowler?

On WiiSports, I am super good at bowling. I don’t throw strikes all of the time, but I’m better than the rest of my family. But they’re not really good at video games in general. I’ve only bowled a few times at an actual bowling place, and I’m not that good at it. I have to use the kid size balls cause I can’t lift the normal ones. 

Movies

Tell us about your favorite movie and why you like it
I have a lot of movies that I love. But the one that I'd watch any minute of any day in any mood, would be The Iron Giant. I had it on VHS when it first came out, with the original cover art. Somehow or another, it got lost, and I mourned its death until a year ago when I found the DVD in the Walmart $5 bin.
It's about a nine-year-old boy named Hogarth Hughes who lives in 1957 Rockwell, Maine with his single mom. At her diner, he hears fishermen talking about a giant metal man they had seen, thinking it's some Russian weapon. Hogarth tries to find the Giant, and when he does, he and the artist Dean teach Giant about life and death, right and wrong. After finding out Giant was created to destroy, Giant knows that he is who he chooses to be. And he chose to be Superman.
It's such a sweet movie. The animation, and characters, dialogue, background, story, depth... This movie is so well-rounded, I've never heard a bad comment about it. (And if I did, I probably would bawl my eyes out; so much of my life philosophy came from this movie)

ah sweet little Hogarth

Tell us about the kinds of movies you don't care for usually
I don't like movies that are gore, violence, and sex for the sake of gore, violence and sex. I feel that it plays to an unengaged audience, and lacks anything tangible. I'm not saying that a movie with these things is automatically a bad movie. It would have to add to the story and be needed to progress forward. But nonsensical killing without reason or condemnation shouldn't happen.

Tell us about how often and where you usually watch movies
I like going to the movie theater to watch movies. But not so much in cold and flu season. We went to go see the last Hobbit movie, and the entire theater was coughing and hacking all the way through the movie. We went to see it again because the first time was so distracting. 
We watch movies at home, too. Our basement, I'm proud to say, is decked out with Star Trek swag. We sprawl out on the couch with our Chinese food and watch things like The Hobbit, Star Trek, The Dark Crystal, Beetlejuice, Harry Potter... We are huge nerds.

Tell us about what you need for movie viewing
Like with reading/writing, I like to be the comfiest I can be. I like getting immersed in the experience of the movie. I need a blanket nest, quiet snacks, and complete and utter silence from my family upstairs. The only time I like watching movies with other people is if I've seen it a million times with my family, or if it's a comedy. There's something off about laughing in a dark basement by yourself...I do it anyway.

such a sweetie

Tell us about what this survey says about you.
Basically what I already knew about myself. I watch movies for their artistic value and storytelling, and to relive past experiences. There's slim to none chance of watching movies with other people but I am quite warm and agreeable. But can get stubborn and competitive. I'm not big on violent or "boredom relieving" movies. Instead I like bitter-sweet movies with lots of heart and deep meanings.
I am a total hippie.

If my life story was made into a movie...
I would hope to play the role of myself, but maybe the world needs to see a ginger Jennifer Lawrence. I'm not sure yet exactly what the rise and fall of plot would be, but my friends say I've got an "anime life." Translated, that would be a slice-of-life rom-com. 

not Hogarth but also a sweetie

Movie Quotes

The Iron Giant (1999)

-Hogarth Hughes

The Aristocats (1970)

-Marie

The Corpse Bride (2005)

-Victoria Everglot

The Cat in the Hat (2003)

-Cat

Winnie the Pooh (2011)

-Pooh Bear

Six Word Memoirs

Been through much worse than this

Young christian boy marries into cult

You sacrifice common sense for academia

My weakness; taking care of others

The Portrait of Destiny Grant

I didn't notice it until later. All the cuts and bruises I got as a kid, I figured they were from roughing around and playing at recess. They were small and few. When my friends compared battle scars, mine were little and really not much of a story.

But now they do have stories. The brown and purple on my knee is from when a stranger told me to move it. The yellow one on my shoulder is from when I got my research paper back with red ink all over it. A red cut on my hand is from when my lab partner mentioned my posture. I've forgotten what a lot of them are from, but sometimes the memories will sneak up and the bruises swell.

Hoodies on top of long sleeves and long pants. Scarves cover my skin to hide what scars might be crawling up my neck. I grew my hair out long and stringy just as a precaution. It's hard to do in the summer, but at this point I'll do anything to keep this to myself. 

Kids can be so cruel. And if they knew what kind of damage they could deal to me, I don't know if they would ever stop. I don't know if I would end up dead.

Because of the length I go to to hide myself from the world, it easily becomes a topic of gossip. It's a vicious circle how it goes. 

I bet she can't go out in the sun.

I  heard she has that disease where her skin falls off.

What a freak.

At least this way, they can't see how they hurt me. Even if it's just little by little. 

It's difficult. To not let what others think of me determine how I think of myself. Standing with my back to the mirror, I strip down and assess this week's damage. 

I used to be able to do this daily, but it got me too depressed. That was about a year ago. My shoulder was splotched and swollen, bits of purple dotted their way all the way down my arm. I could barely lift a fork to my mouth for weeks. Slowly, slowly is grew across my chest as I thought about how ugly it was. Cuts scored themselves across my legs the more I hated myself for being like this.

But now I know it's not my fault. I blamed God and resented Him for a long while. He was someone I could hate back and not risk anything but damnation. But I began to realize that this is my cross to bear in life. Someday I'll own this and wear my scars proudly.

As I stand naked full view of myself, it's hard to remember that Someday. That special Someday is not today. God works in weird ways. It's my job to figure them out. This week I'm pretty okay. There're little circles of yellow on my hips and a few dark spots on my ribs. Some of them disappear as I forget where they came from, but a few of the older ones still remain.

I brave the next day of school with my hair in a messy bun and a loose t-shirt. I'm not comfortable yet to wear what the other girls wear. Showing off their skin in cute, flowery skirts and flirty necklines. This is the most revealing thing I've worn in a long time. I need to be brave today. Today I'm hoping for the fairy tale ending.

He sneered, he laughed, he said, "That's because I pity you! You didn't think I actually liked you? Now you dress like a slut and tell me this? Pathetic."

Like a punch to the face, I felt a black eye coming on, hot and puffy. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I tasted blood on my lips. With a gasp of pain I let go and I know it's broken. Now he knows. Now they'll all know. My shoulder numbs as the bruises run down to my elbow and I'm afraid to move in this tidal wave of pain.

"What even are you?! I knew you were a freak!" He ran. He's disgusted, repulsed, he hates me, thinks I'm filth. Just a pity card he can play.

At home, I assess the damage. I'm broken and bloodied. But I don't cry. I stand strong and proud.

These are my battle scars. 

I've survived.

And these scars will be beautiful one day.