My words; expressed or rather written in an almost original manner. Words that are thought, agreed and Communicated by many “original” Humans. My vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs already felt and known by others.I live by man, the products man has made, the products man has found and used and I live by the life of men, like all people somewhat do. I adhere to a set of standards, my tongue rooting out the tastes of society, flavours savouring in the mind. The Images my eyes capture; like a thousand silver cameras with the fastest shutter speeds and highest definition created, the thoughts that flow through my mind; racing the velocity of streams, the series of events and situations toil on my mind and grow into me. They embed in my mind, clasping hold of who I am with a steely griping hand that tightens day by day. Does the brain not delete and discard material coincided unimportant as so not to overload? Is it me that decided what is relevant to remember? Surly I have kept some extraneous material that has become a part of me. If I had absorbed anything different, would I be who I am now and what I am? My every breath captivating influence.
Diving face forward into a media-documented lifestyle, misfortune and fashions displayed or rather inflicted on vulnerable audiences. Solutions sold as the problems are generated, yes you have wrinkles and you’re defenseless against marketing and your lowered self-esteem. It’s the same as our antiquated past, nothing truly innovative or uniquely imaginative. Do I express myself by my appearance, or display the social groups I belong to, my ranking, my culture? Each designer garment displayed on a body, mass produced by strangers that know our personal desires in appearance.My hair cascades onto my shoulders, perfectly straightened, cut and dyed raw brown and blood-stained purple. This frames a clipped side bow and a pale face with a pierced blushing lip and prominent eyes outlined in black liner and emerald green shadow. Below the visage hangs plaited wool of anxious yellow, spring greens and skin pinks. Around my neck a silver charm casually lingers, a miniscule Buddhist tied onto the colored bonds. A dusky red and faded white cheeked shirt flares under the one button done up, swallowing up the banana and pasta top underneath. Worn trousers and a silver studded belt peep out beneath chains brushing against my leg. Torn hems reveal black Airwalks, softened by running, everyday steps, my favorite pair. My style changes slowly each day, progressing with age, time and everybody else. I fit in with the group. Don’t stick your nose up at me!
Individually affected. At a young age I realized we become who we are from experience and the world’s persuasions. This makes personalities develop, and even some physical features appear. We would mount to the people we are differently at just one household away, becoming another person. We are growing at society’s fingertips, but whose hands do we belong to? Additionally, I decided that objects or the materials that make them can never be owned or belong to man, they are the world’s. Ownership is not only passed on but we did not create the original ingredients, only collected what was there. Taking and deciding our right to “own”. My habitat is a jungle of materialistic objects, each salesman and thief another predator. I chose my belongings and paid for the right to obtain them, I was given my preferences and culture. Our technology rises, inventions forming from previous ideas. I am not doubtful that brains, alongside machinery has progressed, but have established from what already existed, nothing in a market of its own.Do we used words such as unique, singular and unusual correctly when we are all affected, pushed, pulled, ruled over and affected by man? Man is no one. How does everyone set these regulations that guide everything we do? An unseen panel of judges watch our every move, every person contributing to the panel’s decision. When man was made, he fitted in with men. Did god create an average, what other varieties would we have otherwise? Some say man made God, so there is a superior others will follow and obey rather than themselves. The One that Laws society, as there is no greater to overrule. Man elects others to govern, rule decide and lead us forward. Man decides what happened to men, man the plural of men, when men are all diverse.
I pick up a smooth stone, solidly decorated with ice. The floor translated and yearning, the environment now distorted. Scuttling, olive-black ants loose a landmark upon their sensory maps, affected by my actions. A passing man wears a sludge-green coat, patched, a size too small. His sturdy soles brushing the pavement and scraping the rugged surface, his journey just slightly affected if the stone is placed elsewhere. Those that become affected by my actions affect others as their actions may differ if they had not been involved with me. Victims of effect collect and grow like water. The impact of my actions spread like disease until everyone is affected, as does change in society, we live on one multiple chains of events, actions changing everyone. The bucket is full.
Nerves pound inside my throat, spilling out and pricking my skin into sweats. My fringe sticks to my tepid forehead and bleeds into my eyes. Bright light catches me like a rabbit on the highway. Blindingly, my feet set into cement as they stiffen forward. I gather myself onstage in costume to the murmur and muffled cough of the audience. My lips equipped for a sticky parting, the box in my head issuing thoughts to operate into speech. Colors and faces a mixed paste wound together. Lines are set, the performance accepted, written by heart and known all along. Expecting hands of expression worn with rings of man to allow a sharing of heard voices. Would applause sound any other way or does DNA decide these rules society casts upon them? I preform and bow. The lights dim, revealing a glowing filament which exists amongst bright glare.
end.
Molly Elizabeth,Helen SmithCopyright ©2007 Molly Hlizabeth, helen Smith
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