more writing i guess

table of contents.

• we've got to dream past it
• thoughts on vivian from legally blonde
• adventures in the hall of life
• adventures in the library (alter ego)
• labyrinth (slay the princess)

We've Got to Dream Past It

taken from this prompt. ngl, my writing & website feel to unprofessional 'submit' my response.

Inhale. Exhale. The sky is white. Inhale. There is no sky. Exhale. It's a storm. Just another storm. Inhale, exhale; a run-of-the-mill snowstorm. Nothing you haven't seen before.

You put on your glasses and roll up the blinds. The streetlights are invisible, and the snow is backlit by a strange red hue. Is it sunrise? Your phone says it's 3AM; sunrise won't come for four more hours. There's something moving outside. There's nothing moving outside. The wind forces the snow to take on strange shapes; snow people moving their snow legs to march towards your door. Inhale. They're pounding on your front door. It isn't locked. Exhale. It's just the wind. And maybe your front door is locked. The other tenants might not have unlocked it again. Oh, who are you kidding?

You slip a shirt on. Should you check the front door? The doors to your unit are locked, after all. But the downstairs lock is weak. You doubt someone would struggle to break in. And what if that's not just the wind howling, but someone trying to come in? It could be the downstairs neighbor trying to get into your unit again. Well, a friend that's knocking at his door, or he doesn't know which door, or there's never been someone pounding on your door and it's all in your head.

The wind shrieks, and you stare out the window. This weather is violent. What'd a lightning strike look like? Can lightning occur during a snowstorm? Your phone says yes. Wikipedia brings you to an article about thundersnow, which is rare, but not unheard of in areas you haven't lived in. Youtube brings you to a clip from a weather channel; the clip was uploaded 5hr ago, and the location is an hour south of you. "We're going to show you what thundersnow looks like," and the sky lights up a brilliant shade of purple, or is it blue, perhaps lavender is correct. Your window shows no thundersnow, just violent snow creating violent snow people who will---

You grab your keys, which are attached to a canister of mace. Can mace hurt snow people? Inhale, exhale; reign in your imagination. Nobody is trying to hurt you. Open and close your bedroom door, observe the pale glow of lights from a roommate's bedroom, and walk down the stairs. Quiet. Fumble with the lock of your front door and enter the hallway. The EXIT sign lights up the space; the dim red glow feels appropriate. Still, the door is closed. You shudder as you walk toward it, hearing pounding, and rolling, and crashing. Your fear subsides. The door is unlocked. Inhale, exhale, and you peak outside. There's nothing there. Everything is white. You stick your hand out, allowing the wind to drag you out of the house and into the street.

There's a roar, a pounding, a yellow light. Which way did you come from? The house, you were in the house, you were filled with fear, you needed to lock the door. The door! You wave your arms around like a madman, needing to escape the light that's approaching you. There's a thwack and a pain in your arm---yes, a car, a car parked in front of your house, and there's the railing of the porch. You pull yourself up and you're inside the house, the yellow light growing brighter, you locking the door and the pounding---is that you, fleeing, or the snow people? You lock the second door and head for your room, lock the door. Inhale, exhale, take off your glasses and crawl under your blankets. There's still something pounding at the doors. The snow people will break in. As the snow that's on you melts, you pull the blankets closer. Snow people can't reform from this melted snow, can they? Or is their essence inside it? There's no way out, then. Sleep overtakes you, and the snow people will come. Perhaps, you hope, you can dream past it.

analyzing legally blonde

on vivian.

legally blonde was released in 2001, and was followed by a musical adaptation in 2007. in short, the film follows elle, a sorority girl, who gets into harvard law school to try to win back the affections of her ex-boyfriend, warner, who wanted a girlfriend who was "less of a marilyn, more of a jackie." when elle reaches harvard, she discovers warner has reunited with vivian, a previous girlfriend. vivian appears to be a bitch, and the movie and musical explore this aspect in different ways. vivian is a stronger character in the musical than in the movie; this is obvious by her appearance, her relationship with warner, and her reaction to seeing professor callahan hit on elle.

unfortunately, appearances matter. in the movie, vivian has a short, mousey haircut; she dresses in button down shirts with sweater vests. respectfully, she looks like a teenager who is playing at being an adult. her character's fashion sense makes her look gawky. her posture exacerbates this---the way her shoulders tend to cave inwards make her look young, shy, and timid. elle's appearance makes a statement, while vivian's doesn't. however, in the musical, vivian has a confidence which matches elle's. her clothes fit her; she isn't afraid to wear a v-neck. her heels make her seem bold and confident. in the musical, she isn't afraid to stand out in a room. in the musical, her confidence makes her seem like a threat to elle's goals; this is part of why she is a stronger character in the musical than in the movie.

movie!vivian's childishness doesn't stop with her appearance. when vivian and warner are first seen together, vivian possessively puts her arm on warner's shoulder, flaunting the ring (link). "you're famous at our club," vivian says, sarcastically, implying elle is famous for negative reasons. she continues to flaunt the ring to elle throughout the movie, even in class (link). "you've got the ring, sweetie," says a friend to vivian when elle says she looks like a frigid, constipated bitch (link). indeed, movie!vivian obsession with being married to warner matches elle's obsession. however, because vivian is warner's fiancee, elle doesn't seem to be a threat to their relationship. warner has already made his choice. elle appears to be hopelessly vying for his affections; why chase after a near-married man?

in the musical, vivian is introduced as her own character before she's introduced as warner's girlfriend. when she meets elle she remarks: "all that pink you're wearing---is that even legal" (link). she's vicious, confident, and sarcastic from the start. she's not afraid to insult elle. they have two conversations before warner says vivian is his girlfriend, a stark contrast from the movie, where their first interaction is vivian saying elle should be kicked out of class for being unprepared. the other key difference is vivian is warner's girlfriend, not fiancee. warner hasn't 'chosen' vivian yet---he hasn't proposed to her. elle still has a chance to get the ring. because of this, elle is more of a threat to vivian and warner's relationship in the musical than in the movie. to remind you of the point, vivian is a stronger character in the musical than in the movie because she is introduced as her own character first, and warner's girlfriend (not fiancee) second.

in the second half of the movie/musical, elle is granted a coveted internship spot with a prestigious professor. this internship with professor callahan's law firm guarantees a career, the students are told. for elle, this is a major confidence booster. her hard work has paid off. she belongs at law school, and she's an intelligent part of her cohort...or so it seems. however, there is a scene where professor callahan hits on her, implying she only got the internship so he could sleep with her. this scene, and its consequences, differ in the musical and movie.

in the movie, professor callahan puts a hand on elle's thigh while they're having a private discussion (link). vivian sees this and thinks elle has been sleeping with the professor; she even says as much to her face, and seems to believe this is the reason why elle got the internship. she doesn't learn the truth until emmett tells vivian she didn't see the whole picture. while vivian does realize she effed up, we don't see her apologize to elle. movie!vivian's reaction is significantly weaker than musical!vivian's reaction because it's treated as an afterthought with little consequence on the plot.

in the musical, professor callahan grabs elle and kisses her while they're having a private discussion (link). vivian and warner sees this. warner is quick to accuse her of sleeping with the professor, while vivian, who sees the entire scene, is dumbfounded and tells warner to shut up. this establishes warner as more of an asshole than before, and gives vivian a chance to rethink her opinion of elle. her re-thoughts are proclaimed at the salon: "maybe warner saw a blonde who was sleeping her way to the top, but all i see was a woman who doesn't have to" (link). the oncoming song, legally blonde (reprise), begins with vivian talking about how she used to pray for elle to leave, how she's realized she's wrong about elle, and how she's gained respect for elle. musical!vivian's reaction to professor callahan hitting on elle has more impact on the plot than movie!vivian's does, showing how vivian is a stronger character in the musical than the movie.

legally blonde, the musical, improves upon the movie, and one way it does so was by making vivian a stronger character. vivian turns from a mousy, timid character into a bold, confident one. instead of seeing a blonde who is sleeping her way to the top, she sees a woman who doesn't have to---and a professor who hits on interns. she is able to confidently admit her impression of elle is wrong, and she becomes part of the reason why elle doesn't leave harvard. all of this shows how musical!vivian is a stronger character than movie!vivian.

adventures in the hall of life

behind me is pink. a glitter ball explodes somewhere; yes, the party is in full swing. gold dust is scattered on the edges of artificial lighting. to go back and walk around the corner would be to mute my thoughts, to lose myself in nonsense, to giggle and gossip and gab. i'd love to know what they're saying, i think; i'd be happy to be a part of things.

before me is black. this corridor is cloaked in darkness. the small, arched window at the end of the hall is illuminated by the full moon which lays beyond it. i walk towards it, noticing the sudden cold of the stone floor, and my sudden nudity. yes, behind me is the lie; here i can only be myself.

on my left, a shapeless door creaks open. the wall was closer than i thought. i stare, wondering if i have a choice, and knowing it doesn't matter to me. i must enter. so i do. i embark across gray sand dunes, reminiscent of a fanfic i once wrote where someone found a beach in the house on ash tree lane. there, the narrator gave in to the house, took on the form of a deity, slipped into a coma, and was rescued. i am not there. the sound of waves, or is it wind, continues to grab my attention. maybe somebody is howling.

the sound of high-heels on pavement follows me. i look down. i see my feet, the sand between my toes, and the feet which are covered by pointy-toed black high-heels. these are my feet, and these are not my feet. i am myself, and i am someone else. we inhabit the same space. we do not consciously inhabit the same mind. distantly, i'm aware this person is a part of me. is she who i've been or who i'm becoming? a possibility or an actuality?

gray water crashes over my ankles. i stand still, looking out over the ocean. since when was i walking along a pier? i stand above the water, and know the sand has disappeared as i turned my back to it. where to next?

i wake as a wave crashes over me, dragging me down, down down.

i'm in the corridor. the pink has faded to yellow, and the chatter is dying down. only the die-hards and stragglers remain. the music is softer, audible under their muting voices. on my left is a door with a red x painted below the lion-mouth knocker. i feel no kinship with the door or its events. what was it? a wandering, a dream, an exercise in my imagination?

i stare at the full moon, willing it to draw near. it is not time for me to approach. the floor pulls me down, its inky blackness more prominent, and i rise from the depths of the ocean i was drowning in, only to face the universe herself. the black void of space matches the void in my heart, and i hurtle myself towards the stars. if only i could reach one---

i'm left onboard the surface of venus. its storms pull at me. a shape approaches---the woman from earlier? a hand on my shoulder, and a voice telling me that it isn't my turn. i sink into the ground, resurfacing where i started. what am i to feel from this? i'm drowning, and i'm reaching for something i'm not ready to have? i need to understand that to move forward? i don't know what i'm reaching for, and i don't know how i'm drowning. as i write this, i see how to find my answer: the tarot.

i pull out my oracle deck---the citadel, by fen inkwright---and begin to shuffle. on my left is what i'm reaching for, i think, and on my right is how i'm drowning. i continue to shuffle. the card on the left side of the deck is the champion, reversed; on my right is the captain, upright.

the champion, reversed---experiencing defeat and a lack of ambition. how is this something i'm reaching for? the description provides an answer: i may need external support to believe in myself. rather, i am reaching for the support of others so that i feel confident in myself.

the captain, upright---don't ignore the people around you. see the value of others. i cannot see how this is how i'm drowning. am i ignoring the people around me? are these people figurative or literal? i wonder: i could be ignoring aspects of myself, and i could be devaluing parts of myself, and i may be denying how these figurative parts contribute to my figurative whole. yes, i choose to read this as symbolism. i don't think this has to do with my coworkers.

narrating my life as it happens is spooky. there is a devil at my door---what sayeth he tonight?

in the hall, the party turns red, and the crackle of a fire uproots me from my stupor. i flee. i turn the corner; the fire stretches across the apartment. the air is thick with smoke, and little fires blaze on. i have no words for the flames. i stare as a man---no, a figure---rises into the room. he is tall, shadowy, and has small horns. his eyes are white.

have you come for me, i think to him, waiting---or perhapse begging---him to take me from this nightmare. he sinks to the floor as quickly as he rose from it. i understand: he is watching me. or: he has no interest in me. or: i am nothing for him. either way, i'm in the corridor again. behind me is gray, and before me is black, and the moon still lights the window, though it's waning now. i am alone, i think, and the faceless woman in a gray cloak watches me. she is harmless, i sense; her face is turned up towards the moon. does she have anything to do with this?

the hidden library

this, again?

it's been two years---i thought, or maybe it was just a hope, i'd grown out of this place.

ego rex rises before me, its disjointed voices claiming its been waiting for me. was it truly, or is this but the script? could ego rex be what pulls me back here, what reaches out for reasons concerning es? ah, or es is but a taint on its administration.

what you will find here with me...is you, yourself.

i snort. i've found myself; that's why i'm running from her. ego rex's stone lips turn down---or maybe that's a trick of the light, or lack thereof. ego rex departs into the walls, leaving me in a hall of whispers.

what am i?

indeed, what am i? the wanderer incarnate, the weary anti-traveller, her dear wanderer. memories flood my mind; a mirage which is quick to vanish. does this dreamscape have anything for me? i know i can't escape it; once it appears, i return every night, until i've seen it to its weary end. will i let es be my plaything and push her down the path of destruction? that route is what i've chosen for my own life, i believe.

i look down and see no longer human. i pick it up and the whispers evolve---mine has been a life of such shame joins the fray. were this my real world, i'd read the entire book, front to back. but in my shifting dreamscape, the words change, creating a text devoid of meaning. i tried to read this one thrice before. the prose irritated me.

on my left, a passageway croaks open, stone sliding out of the way to reveal the door to es' sanctuary. i sigh. will she remember me? she must---i've been here more times than i can count. after two years, she must be lonely. maybe she reached out because she wanted to see me.

maybe she reached out because she didn't have any other options.

i knock, and am told to enter. my chair awaits! as does my cursed lady, who says she's been tired of waiting.

"i thought we were done," i tell her.

she'd rather get to the point. the same script, again, forcing me into her first personality test. she sees me as jealous, petty, someone who sees life in absolutes. "splitting; dichotomous thoughts." i accept her outcome. i think i've seen this result before---truly, i do not change, just like the bulgarian fortold. is this what my life has come to? being flung into the orbits of different people? even when i think i've set out on my own, i haven't.

she tells me i know nothing of myself, or of this place. i bite my lip, having realized she's sticking to her script and won't entertain my thoughts. i'm no longer sure i know what this place is. a shifting dreamscape which i fall into---when? what brings me back here? i don't choose to come here in my dreams. the choice isn't conscious.

i go back to the hall and listen, collecting ego the way i learnt.

es asks what i think this place is.

my manipulation begins, yet my belief is true---a place to question who i've always been.

ego rex tells me to stay on guard around es. hah! i will be on guard against all this place offers---no, i shall succumb to it in its entirety. what a dream...

two more books fall at my feet: demian and ---

i wake.

labyrinth

a/n: played "slay the princess" a few days ago and immediately saw a way to make this about the minotaur. my mind replaced "you are on a path in the woods" with "you are on a path in the labyrinth," and things escalated. i'm sure someone has done this before, but better, so i must find out where this goes before i devour fanfic. thank you wikipedia for helping me refresh my memory of the myth of theseus slaying the minotaur; without this, i'd probably be referencing house of leaves.

you are at the entrance of the labyrinth. at the center of the labyrinth is the minotaur. your mission is to slay the minotaur. if you fail, the people of your city will continue to perish.

do not believe its lies.

what is the minotaur?

the creature confined to the labyrinth; a being with the head of a bull and the body of a man; a terrible sight to see.

why are my people dying?

legends claim people must be sacrificed to the minotaur to avert plague. your king believes these legends.

i think i can talk him out of it.

foolish prince, why didn't you?

maybe i can save my people without slaying the minotaur.

whose death would you prefer to take responsibility for---the king's, or this fearsome creature?

have you considered that i might want my people to die?

you volunteered yourself for this task. of course i didn't consider that. the minotaur must be getting to you already. banish the preposterous thought!

why me?

you're theseus, the hero, a descendent of poseidon, defeater of cthonic beings, a victorious lad, a---well, need i enumerate your countless achievements? you came here for a reason. stop questioning your role of the dashing hero. you have a job to do.

i'm having second thoughts...

your nation is counting on you. you may not doom them all on a whim.

i'm not doing this.

have you lost your mind? have you forgotten who you are and what you're here to do? slay the princess, theseus.

i've made my choice. i'm leaving.

seriously? you're screwing the world? ugh, fine, have it your way. you'll come to shortly. you turn around, only---would you look at that, all paths look like the one which lay before you. you look up; the daylight which you once lived in is gone. you keep turning around, franticly---where was that entrance? you were standing in grass before you stepped into the stone entrance. oh, gee, i guess you still have to slay the minotaur.

on your left is a sword. on your right, a ball of string.

oh, that's where my sword went!

now is not the time to be absent-minded. need i remind you, you have a society to save?

the string...

a gift from the king's daughter, ariadne. the woman is blindly in love with you.

she'd be upset if i didn't take it.

does that matter?

it would help me find my way out.

it's a labyrinth; the way out is the way in. you must concentrate on the task at hand. stop dilly-dallying; slay the minotaur.

shouldn't i keep my options open?

what options? take the string if you must, but be quick about it!

i'm tired of her affections.

and wouldn't abandoning her gifts be the best way to abscond her?

there's something you're not telling me.

we don't have time for details. your task is to slay the minotaur. make your choice and get on with it already.

you leave the string at the entrance. you don't need that woman to tell you what to do. besides, it's just a labyrinth. you'll find the minotaur eventually.

i'm glad you're seeing reason. without further hesitation, you stride into the corridor. torches line the walls, their flames making shadows which dance, encouraging you on your journey. what happens when they go out? really, you should hurry up already. you abandon your stroll and set off on a brisk pace, you might even jog through these winding halls---not too fast, though. you must preserve your energy; you must slay the minotaur.

you rest against a wall, listening for the sound of the minotaur's stomping feet. something scrapes against the floor. it must be near. but this is a labyrinth; the path to the wall opposite you may be a mile long.

i could break down the wall.

do you truly believe you're stronger than stone? don't waste your energy. keep. walking.

you trudge forward---no, you continue off at a brisk jog---jog, i say! you mustn't keep wasting time. don't make me do everything myself. get to that minotaur, and be quick about it. time is different here; twenty minutes could be a decade, and maybe the king is already sending more sacrifices. i thought you wanted to save your kingdom, not doom it!

athens won't be my kingdom until the king dies.

is that what's making you drag your feet? if you must know, slaying the minotaur will bring about the king's downfall. think about it. who would your people prefer to be ruled by: the man who sacrificed them, or the man who saved them all? slay the minotaur, and the world will be yours.

big talk for a voice in my head.

i'm not in your head. i'm---divine guidance. quite necessary for a man who is dragging his feet.

anyways, you keep walking. JOGGING. stop being so difficult. time trudges on, minutes may be days, yet you need no food or water. the sound of something scraping against the floor reaches your ears again; this time, you know you're near.