My mind never stops racing; I draw stories and elaborate descriptions from the most seemingly random occurrences and from the simplest things in life. My biggest source of inspiration is my own mind; my subconscious weaves stories while I sleep. I try to record them all in a note book; some of them will end up on here. I also occasionally write poetry. I am a writer and to me, writing is like breathing, but sometimes life suffocates me...
"Describe the morning light glinting off the ice along the highway's edge as you drive home to confess where you've been all night."
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It was a nippy morning, the kind that feels like waking up on Christmas Day at grandmother's house. Except there was no hint of holly in the air, no trail of sweet, earthy pine, no suggestion of gingerbread cookies and pipping hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, floating in that pool of dark sweetness like clouds of sugar that had lost their way. Grandma's specialty. Those were the smells that triggered memories of times long past, memories both too joyful and too painful to recall in full, so I keep them locked away for safe-keeping, not daring so much as a peek. Not today. I didn't deserve joy that morning.
Today smelled of unforgiving frost; murderous monoxide like a thick, disease-ridden blanket that kills everything it touches, holding the morning rush hour on Route 4, its insidious but deadly, silent grip; and the faint but unmistakable stench of cigarettes, urine, and vomit that seemed to simmer from the backseat of the cab. On any other day, I'd be fuming at the state of this traffic and no doubt talking the cabbie's ear off over the deplorable state of his vehicle. I briefly wondered if his sense of smell worked properly anymore.Strangely enough, I welcomed the traffic jam; I'd welcome anything that meant putting off the conversation that was waiting for me back home. If I could, I would instruct the driver to take the next exit and drive the 40 miles to the airport where I would book the next flight to Bora Bora. One way. But it was a fantasy and I had caused enough damage already. At the moment, I felt a wave of nauseous hit me like a million bricks and after a brief. one sided conversation with my chauffeur, I made the executive decision to lower my window pane. Despite the gas fumes and exuberant road rage that barreled into the cab, I was glad for the chilly breeze. I closed my eyes and drank in the winter air, sharp and dangerous.
Opening my eyes , I let them wander until they settled on the ice-covered railings alongside the road. The sky was completely devoid of clouds and the sun was merciless, even on that chilly December morning. As the rays beat down in a fruitless attempt to melt the ice, I watched as the stubborn winter icicles refused to dissolve in the presence of our powerful star. To call it a power struggle between the elements would be inaccurate. It was more of a dance; the sun knew his season had passed and now he steps aside to let the season of snow and ice have her turn. But while the sun will forever hang in the sky like an overzealous light bulb, the ice has a pitifully short lifespan. As my cab inched closer to its destination, I watched the careful choreograph of light and ice; dots of light sparkled on the ice's surface, like millions of shattered diamonds placed under a massive floodlight. The dots waltzed around one another in glee as if they knew I was watching and were eager to impress. No two microscopic dancers occupied the same space, each step of the dance utterly and breathtakingly unique. I drank in the performance like a drunkard to booze, listened to opera the lights danced to. It was the tragic tale of the lord of light and the mistress of snow, two star crossed lovers always doomed to be just within each other's purview but never quite close enough to touch, to whisper in each other's ears wisps of longings and love. As the glittering dancers blinded me, I listened to their story; the lord and mistress suffered broken heart after broken heart, blissfully ignorant of the fact that one can kill the other while the other can only exist in the absence of the one. The heart wrenching truth to which the lovers were so blinded would set them free, but their hearts would never fully recover from the despair of hearing it. The narrator, so the story goes, had a choice to make: speak the truth and let the lovers attempt to live their lives without one another or keep the lie and watch them continually fail to be together without any knowledge at what it is that keeps them apart. But the lights could come to the end of their tale, the cab lurched forward as traffic picked up and those shimmering story-weaving fairies brought their dance to an abrupt halt. I sat back in my seat and watched the world pass by in 60-mile an hour blurs of color, the frigid wind, now more powerful, whipping me in the face. Defeated and miserable, I raised the window and, with nothing to distract me now, I felt my thoughts forcibly dragged into my current situation, unpleasant and shameful. Unwilling to face it just yet, I tried to focus on the fairies and their sorrowful story. I wondered on how it cold have ended. Was there a happy ending somewhere in that misery? I hoped so. It wasn't until I found myself, an hour later with a head full of fog, at the threshold of my front door that I realized the answer I've been looking for. My keys jangling nervously in my pocket, I already saw signs that Amber had gone through her morning routine; the recycling had been taken out, the gardenias had been watered, and the sheer white curtains of our bay window have been opened. Amber knew how much I loved the feel of the sunlight streaming into the living room, signifying the promise of a new day. I knew what awaited me behind the deceptively docile front door, with its holly and pine cone wreath, the one Amber and I picked out together. The keys stopped jangling. I pulled them from my coat pocket. I would have to be the one to finish the story. I hesitated,the weight of my decision hanging over me like the blade of a guillotine aiming for my neck. What to choose? Honesty or discretion? Heart breaking truth or soul tearing lies? Unfulfilling oblivion or painful existence?
Activism and outrage simple behind the anonymous screen
That stares at us from our open palms,
Open like the beggars on the street,
Everyday reciting psalms that they think will save them,
To whom surviving alone is an amazing feat,
While the rest of us forget for whom we used to get our feet wet,
Leaving those drowning far behind us,
Barely a stray thought to spare,
This time with fists closed,
Ready to replay our angry song of of righteousness
In desperate need of repair and with hardly a prayer left.
We could have been great, Mold the world in our image, Like a potter with wet clay, Making something from nothing,
Doing away with the fake, Fake, like the smile on your face
When you tell me you love me, And yet you fail to make sure that I'm fed, Because maybe you shouldn't have been a parent in the first place, It's such a disgrace That you can still show your face at my door, That door that I slam and you're left wondering why since,
In your mind, you're the reason I have a door left to deface
As you choose to grace me with your presence.
We could have been great, Down with corruption, down with the previous generation's mistakes, Shame on you for turning your backs on us, Shame on you for the letting us inherit your mess ups, Like Jokanaan's head on a silver plate, Like the selfishness of Judas, Like the vengeance of the God you so desperately cling to, Still asking yourself what would Jesus do, But if your lord and savior could see you now, And yet you fail to see, Because blindness is an inherit trait in your kind, You couldn't see us if you tried, No, you'd only see us when we died, but then, don't you think, would be too late.
We could have been great, But we choose mediocrity and ignorance over humility and compassion, Because we think it's cool to hate, The egotistical muddy lens through which we view the world Trumps all kindness in our hearts and Cause a regression to the dark ages of violence and self preservation, A time of emotional and intellectual repression, Forcing us to build walls held together by shame, The shame our parents felt for us from the start, A shame they won't admit, because like cowards,
they're afraid of their own reflections, Not knowing that children are detectives of lies and the nonsense, Wanting us to be the same as them while at the same time Seeking fame in eyes of the children they've let down, A generation of children left with nothing but frowns And memories of pain.
We could have been great... But enough of coulds and shoulds;
The imaginary tales we tell ourself
Of a better future yet to come, For what it is, Is an R-rated show that has just begun, So sit back and relax, For you have paid the price of admission, Which has been approved for all audiences, And so, with your permission, The show must go on But this is my curtain call, So don't talk to me about fate, Because I know for a fact
It’s been three weeks since Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens hit
theaters and what an exhilarating three weeks it has been! The film captured
the hearts of fans the world over and it has broken all manner of box office records,
even pushing James Cameron’s Avatar, the
long time champion of most money made ever here at home, from its number one
spot. Along with the film’s financial and critical success, the imaginations of
viewers have been busy interpreting the smallest details and making predictions
for the next two films. Most popular among some fan theories is the story
behind Rey’s parentage and, my personal favorite, the theory that Finn and Poe
are more than space bros.
They are totes in love!
I caught The
Force Awakens twice in theaters and I have some theories of my own. In
the next few paragraphs I will lay out my thoughts on the identity of the
mysterious Supreme Leader Snoke who is, arguably, the real baddie of the new
trilogy. If you haven’t had chance to see the movie yet (seriously?), then this
is your chance to exit out before I get into the spoilerish deets. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
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If you scrolled down and plan to continue the
rest of this article then I’m going to assume that you’ve either seen the film
or that you’re part of the rare 1% who don’t freak out at spoilers. Either way,
you’ve been warned.
Simply put, my theory is that Snoke is
actually Sheev Palpatine in disguise. In case you’re new to Star Wars,
Palpatine was the evil emperor in the original trilogy and the Sith Lord who
turned Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader in the prequel trilogy. He is better
known by his Sith name, Darth Sidious.
Addressing the elephant in the room, I am
aware that he (allegedly) died at the end of Return of the Jedi, but I figured that if Darth Maul can be cut in
half at the waist, fall down a reactor room shaft and survive (thanks, Mother
Talzin), I'm sure Palpatine is powerful enough to pull a similar trick. He had
plenty of time to get on an escape pod and escape the Death Star before it
exploded. A friend pointed out that if that’s the case then he could safely
assume, similarly, that Han could still potentially be alive (told ya there
would be some serious spoilers). But different rules apply in Han’s death; for
one, Han was stabbed in the heart with a light saber so, he's
very much dead. Also, Han isn't a Sith Lord with expert manipulation of the
force (although no amount of force use could repair his shredded heart tissue…
sorry) and Palpatine was screaming all the way down that shaft while producing
force lightning, unlike Han who was speechless and limp.
Does look like the face of a man who would let a little fall keep him down?
I’ve heard and read some theories that Snoke could be Darth Plagueis the Wise,
Palpatine’s former master, The Grand Inquisitor from Star Wars Rebels, and even Anakin Skywalker himself. All
interesting and mildly terrifying possibilities but there are some serious
holes in each. For instance, even though Anakin’s pale, bald visage as seen
during that heartfelt farewell between him and Luke at the end of Return of the Jedi does somewhat
resemble Snoke, Anakin’s death is not really in question; after all, he
appeared as a force ghost to Luke just before the credits rolled. How else
could he do that unless he was dead? Never mind that Luke gave his father a
proper Jedi funeral and burned his body and armor at a pyre. In the case of
Darth Plagueis and Grand Inquisitor theories, Snoke simply doesn’t have the
correct bone structure. What little we have seen of Snoke does not resemble a
Muun* or a Pau’an, but rather, he looks quite human. It should be noted, of
course, that Darth Plagueis’s species was never specified for the current canon
so he may not be a Munn at all, opening up the possibility that he’s human and
making him a very high possibility, but as long as his species remains
unspecified, I am going to work under the assumption that he’s not human.
Speaking
of, the First Order is super Empire-y and it's interesting to note that the
Stormtroopers we meet in Force Awakens,
Stormtroopers like FN2187, are taken from their families and raised from birth
to be Stormtroopers much like how the Jedi were taken from their families and
raised from birth to be Jedi. It's also implied that force sensitive babies
were being eliminated by The Inquisitors; perhaps non-force sensitive babies
were being simultaneously being taken to serve the First Order. This would be a
great example of the hypocrisy that is the Sith; it would be just like
Palpatine to emulate the Jedi’s (efficient if wrong) way of training and
inspiring loyalty in new recruits while he continues to kill off potential
Jedis. Furthermore, General Hux was the son of a former imperial officer;
perhaps one Palpatine's past connections? Just because the Republic was
re-established doesn’t mean there aren’t still generations of people who
prospered during the Emperor’s reign and are, as a result, First Order
sympathizers.
Another minor hint that I picked up during my viewings of The Force Awakens was how Snoke's theme is remarkably similar to
the opera house music heard in Revenge of
the Sith during Palpatine and Anakin's conversation about Darth Plagueis. It’s
that unmistakable throat singing score. You could look at that two ways: as a
reference to Plagueis or as a reference to Palpatine, but going on my theory,
it may very well be hinting (perhaps not so subtley or in a way that’s meant to
throw off viewers) that Snoke is Palpatine.
Pay attention to the music, especially at 0:08
And for comparison.
Finally,
George Lucas wanted Star Wars to be a
poem that rhymes and as a fan and fellow filmmaker, it wouldn’t surprise me
if J. J. Abrams wanted to continue that wish. Making it so that Palpatine is
alive and trying to bring back the Empire he created, leaving Rey, Luke's
(possible but unconfirmed) daughter, as the only person who could defeat him would
be very poetic. Even her name is synonymous with "ray" as in a ray of
light that will finally end the tragedy of the Skywalker family and redeem
Anakin once and for all (perhaps).
In addition, the Starkiller Base is, very notably, the next
size up from the first and second Death Star making it, let’s face it, Death
Star the Third, which was very much Palpatine's baby (a poem that rhymes). He improved on its function and its power
while also improving how this new Empire, the First Order, is being run and
operated. He's still targeting the (New) Republic and he's still targeting
Jedi. That was never Plagueis's game.
Another interesting piece of the puzzle that fits with the
idea of a poem that rhymes: what if
Vader failed to kill Darth Sidious in the original trilogy the same way Obi-Wan
failed to kill Darth Maul in the prequel trilogy? Maul's comic ended with him
riding off into the sunset, alive and well. If he's still out there, is it
so crazy to think that Palpatine could still be out there as well?
It's just a theory, of course, and it relies on more than
one assumption. It relies on the fact that Darth Plagueis is a Munn and not
human; it relies on the idea that the hologram of Snoke is to be believed; and,
most of all, it relies on the assumption that Palpatine survived that fall in
the first place. I've been wrong before, but from where I stand it makes a lot
of sense. At the very least, there's more evidence to suggest that Snoke is
Palpatine rather than Plagueis. And while J. J. Abrams has made it abundantly
clear that Snoke and Ren are NOT Sith (we knew that already), that may not rule
out the possibility that he was once Sith (loophole?) Besides, I would imagine
that J. J. Abrams is in the business of maintaining any and all secrets
regarding the next two films under wraps. Stating that Snoke is not Sith (present tense) doesn’t
negate the possibility that he was Sith
(past tense). Perception is everything and you gotta love loopholes.
In the end, of course, it could very well be that Snoke is
just Snoke and no one we know from the previously established cannon. Until that is officially confirmed in upcoming films, however, I will continue to entertain the idea. Share your thoughts below!
