Spillage

So the other day I was at some far off place in a church watching my teacher's compositions be played live. It was pretty cool until the preacher guy came on and started telling people you'll never be a good person until you believe in his god. And then you watch as these parents are pushing their little children, 2 to 5 years old, innocent toddlers and minds, up to the front. Where they are taken to the back room once the service is over to begin the process of a lifelong indoctrination. It made me feel sad, and a little sick in my stomach. I've been told that the parents feel it's important therefore it's their decision what they teach their kids. But, sigh. I just don't know. Those kids wouldn't know any better. If you told a child all their life that under the ground is a hidden palace of golden jewels, they'd believe it. Especially if it came from people they trust; parents, teachers, peers. Et cetera.

I decided to take the long way home, mainly so I could just listen to music. I took a bus for once instead of the train. The train would have taken 15 minutes, but I felt a nice 45 minute bus ride going through places I haven't even heard of yet sounded nicer. I say sounded, but the only thing I could hear was the blasting of the Front Bottoms in my ear. That band is pretty good, grows on you the more you listen too. I suppose that's true for most bands.

Currently it's exam preparation week. That's not the actual name of the week, but I don't know what else to call it. My recital will be next wednesday. That's when I'll be presenting my rock opera to the judges, if you will. A head of audio production and a head of classical music. I'm not really sure what they'll think of it, but I tried to fit to the rubric as close as possible. Hopefully it'll be better than last semester. Not that I did terribly last time, but it's always nice to improve a bit.

I really miss my old friends. It feels like forever ago since I've spoken to anyone who isn't living on this little rock currently. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I suppose the trouble is since it's been so long, I don't really know how to start anything. The conversation I mean. I'm sure everyone's just busy doing their own thing too. Some'd be close to finishing their first year too. Or their first half year. Or just living. I had a dream where everyone was around and it was like nothing had changed, along with new faces being their too. It was nice. Ah, so descriptive. I feel very rusty. Haven't really had time to write anything for a long time. I've been busy too I guess you could say. I wonder if I've changed much since this time last year. Or since IB had ended. Living by myself for a while now makes me feel at times like I'm a completely different person. But still me. Eh, what am I saying. Well, I'm happy anyway. Tired. But happy. Just felt like writing a bit to myself.

Bye then.

Alternate Chapter 6

As per the ingenious suggestion to spice up my ending a bit from my one and only class mate, I took it upon myself to turn this rock opera into the beginnings of a SPACE ROCK OPERA. Prepare for part 2, coming soon to a stadium near you. 

Amended Chapter 6 - Release

You know what? You only see what you want to see. All of you disapproving parents. All of you conservative, backwards groups who are so absorbed into their anus they’re used the smell of their own faeces. This isn’t a revolution, this is just people living their own life. If you want to force people to conform to your standards and your own outdated ethics then maybe you should try and open your eyes every once and a while, and actually see people for what they really are. They aren’t identical copies of each other, they’re people who’ve come to the same conclusions. We have been chosen to pave the way for future generations by the benevolent Greanon from the planet Yajnaj 7. WE ARE THE CHOSEN ONES!!! ALL WHO DISAGREE SHALL PERISH TO THE FLAME!

Aaron Ray Mason was subsequently beamed up by the Greanon Starship Armada, along with all other vegetable lads and lasses. At last, a new era of change dawns upon humanity. All those left behind uttered the same, final word.

Why?

The Vegetable Boy

This is a draft outline of what my rock operetta will be about. Each "chapter" will be encapsulated by a song or piece of music. The idea is to have a cohesive story told through music of varying genres. Maybe it'll work, maybe it won't, but there's only one way to find out.

Chapter 1 - AM

Ever since Aaron Ray Mason turned 18, his days have forever been the same. AM to PM, one hand on the remote, the other down his pants. He doesn’t want eat, he doesn’t want sleep, he doesn’t want speak. In fact it’s even irrelevant if he wants to or not, he doesn’t need to. He’s just like everyone else in his generation. It’s almost like a rite of passage into adulthood. If you don’t become a vegetable when you come of age, there’s something inherently wrong with you, you sicko. He’s no different from anyone else, I could’ve chosen anyone his age to write about, and the story would be the exact same song and dance. At least he’s average. That’s more than what some people hope to be in their life. 

Chapter 2 - The Boy Who Couldn’t Stand

He never used to be like this though. No, he was quite an active little kid actually. Played with friends, had adventures in his own mind grander than any movie or video game could ever present to him. His parents were so proud. When he was 13 reports started surfacing of teens who had lost all will to move. He heard his parents say they were all just good for nothing kids anyways. Wastes of space. Pot smoking meth heads who would have never amounted to anything. 

As the years went on, more and more reports came about until it was such a common occurrence it stopped becoming news. At first it was treated like an epidemic. People feared some kind of disease had targeted the young folk, others believed it was alien intervention. Some said it was an act of God, punishing the lazy sinners addicted to lust and self love. Even with all the speculation, the unanimous agreement of the parents was that these problem children were all wrong mentally, and that their own children could never possibly succumb to such a fate. Aaron’s parents in particular were very adamant that their then 17 year old - grade A never drank or smoked - son would be a victim. Queue the 18th birthday. 

Just like everyone else, he became a vegetable. Forever perched on his old leather couch, conveniently placed in front of the house’s spare TV. He seemed quite content with his new life, and adjusted just as quick as everyone else. His parents were thrown into a wild hurricane frenzy. They called a doctor a therapist and even a preacher. Could anything make him move?

Chapter 3 - It’s All Just White Noise

Therapist: Son, let me sit down here next to you. Consider me a friend. You can tell me anything. - Do you feel sad? - Are you under any pressure? - I’m here for you. I’m here to help. Anything you say here will always be confidential. Don’t worry about the fact I consult your parents after every session, we’re not talking about you. Honest.

I suggest bringing him to our institution.

Doctor: Well, all the blood samples came back negative. There doesn’t seem to be anything in him that makes him special or different to any other case. He is completely normal. I would suggest 6 of these every day and 4 of these. And let’s say another 2 of these for good measure.

We may be able to take a closer look in the lab.

Preacher: This boy has been cursed by the devil, mark my words. The lord has struck this child for all the sins he has amassed over his putrid sinful life of youth and freedom.This is what you deserve, however, he shall be in my prayers, I promise. 

Now, any donations would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter 4 - “Stand Up”

Why are you doing this to us, Aaron? You’re giving us a bad name. Don’t you even care what the neighbours say about us? You’re just like everyone else. Here we were, for all those years, thinking you would amount to something. BE someone. But no, you managed to prove us wrong. You’re nothing but a waste of space, just like your entire black hole of a generation. How do you think this makes us feel? How selfish can you get? We trusted you, and this is how you let us down. A constant disappointment. 

If you ever stand up again, the first place you’re going is out of here.

Chapter 5 - Build Up

Somewhere deep inside Aaron Ray Mason’s mind, the long pre-heating cogs began to initiate. A cold bitter intelligent rage was building up inside him, and it was only a matter of time before his moment came.

Chapter 6 - Release

You know what? You only see what you want to see. All of you disapproving parents. All of you conservative, backwards groups who are so absorbed into their anus they’re used to the smell of their own faeces. This isn’t a revolution, this is just people living their own life. If you want to force people to conform to your standards and your own outdated ethics then maybe you should try and open your eyes every once and a while, and actually see people for what they really are. They aren’t identical copies of each other, they’re people who’ve come to the same conclusions. This isn’t a revolution, simply a social evolution that will happen regardless of if you approve of it or not. Facts are facts until proven on, and then we move on with the new knowledge. All I know is I don’t know nothing, and I sure as hell know more than you.

Hildred goes to the Supermarket

So, I've just finished 5 compositions. They're all required pieces of homework though, so it's not like I was just feeling prolific today. Though I suppose 5 is 5. Even if they're still really short. Like, only just over 20 bars for some, 16 for others. One was only 8, the bare minimum. I didn't really like it very much. It was using the technique of planing. I'd explain how to plane but it's too much of a pain. So maybe just google it. You'll probably find a ton of pictures of planes though. So, hm. It's not actually that complicated. Just playing chords in the same position consecutively. THERE. So anyway, I just realised I'm almost up to 200 posts. That's quite a lot I suppose. I just wrote a sentence talking about how I don't know if even over half my posts are any good, but then I deleted it because, let's be honest here, they're all amazing. End of story.

But not really. Well, actually, yeah. I guess it is. Not really much else to say. Oh yeah, I'm nineteen now I suppose. My party was fun. I made a construction workers day the other day by saying how cool it was that he can control the massive robot he was in. He turned around and did this massive smile out the cockpit. It was pretty nice.

Alright then, that's about it.

Go West

Apparently it's peaceful there, according to the Petshop Boys. But uh, I dunno. Was it really? I suppose it was. Nothing was really going on. It was like some rich suburban district all around some rain forest. It was pretty cool originally just walking parallel to the big busy shopping street though. No one was there but me and like, 2 other people just minding their own business. Going on with their lives. I wondered what they see, and if everyone sees the same things. Maybe not. Maybe the realm of the sensory isn't consistent, but we all agree that what we see is what we see, so in the end it doesn't matter. Adjectives our true to the meaning we attribute to it, so it's not like we'd know any different.

Imagine being forced into styrofoam boots and then being pushed into a river. Wouldn't that be an experience? Hmmm. I'm gonna head south today I think. Maybe south and then like, east. Hell, why should I limit the directions I turn. Why don't I just travel the whole universe. If I go far enough, I'll end up right where I started eventually. Like one big loop. Unless I get lost along the way. But is it really possible to get lost if you have no intended destination in the first place? Hard to say, I suppose.

Well, that was horribly pointless.

TIME TO GO FOR A WALK.

Breathing space

Hello again!

This time I've come back much less depressed than before (which explains the ! in my greeting). Which is good, for a change, I think. I've now understood the reason as to why my girlfriend seemed overly attached that day. You know, that day she tried to jump off the ledge of my bedroom window. She says I had forgotten my inhaler, because I've been running.

All day.

On her mind.

Sigh, I should never make pre-conceived judgements about her. Sorry, love.

*breathes inhaler*

-Freeg

BAH

I have an overly attached girlfriend. I tried to contain her in my room just this afternoon because I had class, but no. She threatened to jump off the window. I'm only four stories up so I don't really care. I have class now anyway. Bah humbug.

Remember when I said that this blog was purely for professional reasons? Well yeah, I can't seem to log into this other blog I was meaning to write in, so hey! Something new for you guys. Trying out something new by touching my personal side.

Can this class not end? I'm not being sarcastic. I just.. I just don't wanna go back.

-Freeg