The Truman Show

Author's Note:  This is my response to The Truman Show.  I focused on what I felt the movie was trying to say to us, and who Truman is as a character.  I also talk about why television plays a role in our daily lives, and how that also relates to the movie.  

Television.  A system that we all rarely go a day without using.  We may try to deny  it, but television is truly our guilty pleasure.  Everyone has something, whether it be nail-biting soaps like Days of Our Lives, the ridiculous antics of Jersey Shore,  or just a good laugh from How I Met Your Mother.  We feel better about ourselves knowing that maybe, just maybe, we aren't alone in the situations we deal with.  Sometimes it can be refreshing to find some common interest in these shows, but if we forget what we need to be doing, we will wind up becoming as real as a created character on TV.

There is never an exact answer as to why we do the things that we do, or why things happen to us.  Is it just because that is the way the dice fell, or is there some greater force playing a role? In the movie The Truman Show,  Truman attempts to answer these questions for himself.  On the outside, Truman is just another normal human being, but the reality is much bigger than he had ever known.  Throughout his life, he has dealt with situations that most other people go through.  Subsequently, an entire world is watching his every move, enthralled in those situations.  Before he was born, Truman had been cast as the star of his own show without his knowledge, with the creator of the show controlling his every move.  Like any other show, it attracts the attention of those who can relate to what he goes through, making it so popular, and continues to keep Truman away from where he should be. 

It is one thing to watch actors do their thing on a show, but it is a completely different circumstance when the actor isn't really an actor at all.  The creator has developed a world where nothing is concrete, nothing is real.  As he uncovers this sliver of understanding, Truman begins to question just what he is doing there.  He dreams of vacationing away, travelling to search for what he so desperately needs, but is held back by what put him there in the first place.  All his life, he has lived by the same rules, the same way of life, and as he breaks this barrier, he also starts to break the world around him.

We hold on to what we know because the unknown poses as a risk.  People don't watch their television shows because it is some kind of habit; it is because it is what is known.  Television exists to pull out some sort of seed of Truth amidst the landscape of fiction.  It is the same for this movie.   The television show creator builds this set from scratch, as the Creator did.  He develops Truman's life before him, and watches over, monitoring his every move, like He does.  Truman was created solely for this purpose, like Jesus was created to save us all.    At the end of the film, Truman sails across the sea and finds the end of the set, the end of his world.  At this point, stairs lead up to a door.  As Truman ascends the stairs, he is finally letting go of his world, realizing that this is where his journey ends.  The movie is symbolically saying that there is much more than what meets the eye, and if we can't see that, we won't be able to do what we need to do. 

When the television is turned on, it takes us away, if only for a moment.  Sometimes all it takes is a little refresher from our shows to help us realize that there is hope.  We watch Snooki from Jersey Shore because it is funny to watch others do stupid things.  We watch Barney Stinson from  How I Met Your Mother because his jokes keep us laughing.  We watch to find understanding.  This is healthy now and then to just relax, but it is when we click the television off that we can truly understand that there is a bigger card to play.        

Heads and Tails

Author's Note:  This is the beginning of the story I have started writing.  It includes the prologue and the first chapter.  I got the inspiration for this from watching some detective and criminal justice shows, and this is sort of meant to be a mystery like ones you may see on some of these shows.  I am still working on the plot line and the title of the piece will make more sense when I get more into the story. The forward is written by the narrator of the story.  Please leave any comments or criticism you have.  

Forward:

Funny thing life is.  Taking you where you don't want to go, places you don't really want to see. Surroundings change, people change, and suddenly nothing is the same.   Bashed, beaten down, no place to go but forward.  For most, this situation one or two times tops.  Just a little bump in the road, right? Push it aside and keep going?  Sure, maybe for you it works.  For someone like me, this is my everyday life.  My name is Alexis Hannigan. I am 18 years old.  Welcome to my world.

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Prologue:

It was just after dusk when Gregory Phillipsen arrived to his house.  It had been a long, frustrating day, and he was ready to just get inside and drink away his pain.   Gregory lived on the outskirts of town by the woods, which made for a long drive to just about anywhere.  Earlier that day, his car had not started, making him an hour late for work.  Upon arriving, his boss had ridiculed him in front of the entire staff, threatening to fire him if this were to happen again.  He received several snickers and smirks for the rest of the day.  

With a depressed sigh, Gregory got out of his car and entered the house.  He strolled over to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of Miller Lite, turned on the television, and began channel surfing.

"Aw dammit!  First work and now I miss Glee?"  he shouted to no one.  Finally settling for Two and a Half Men,  he began to down his beer. 

As he was beginning to feel woozy, Gregory heard a faint knocking at the front door.  Belching loudly, he turned in the door's direction and hollered, "Go away!"

The knocking proceeded, and after much yelling, he finally got up to answer.  When Gregory reached it he wrenched the door open with unnecessary force.  "What do you wa--" he began, but no one was there.  "I swear to God if this is some prank!"  he cried out to the darkness.  There was no answer.

Gregory slammed the door and went back inside.  Rubbing his eyes vigorously he went to the kitchen for another beer.  As he closed the refrigerator door, Gregory froze on the spot.  The beer fell out of his hands and shattered to pieces.

In the doorway leading to the living room stood a tall man dressed in all black.  He had a hood drown down most of his face except for the mouth.

Gregory watched in horror as the man slowly stepped closer to the kitchen.

"Hello Gregory," he said in a deep voice.  "Rough day?"

Gregory's eyes widened even more.  "Wh-what do you want? Why are you here?"

The figure let out a chuckle.  "Oh Greggy.  We all want things, do we not?  I am just like you.  We can help each other."  He took a step closer.

"What are you talking about?" Gregory cried, knees shaking uncontrollably.

The man reached into his pocket, making Gregory flinch.  Finally, he pulled out a coin.  "I have a...proposition for you," he said as he flipped the coin up and caught it.  "I need you to do something for me.  You work with computers do you not?"

"Why?" Gregory whispered, relieving himself slightly.

The coin flipped in the air once more.  "Now is no time to the questioning me Mr. Phillipsen. I need to know if you are willing to help get me 'off the grid,' as you say."  He caught the coin and set it on the table in the kitchen.  "You see, there is a file that has captured some...information that I don't want slipping out."

Realization struck Gregory, nearly making his knees collapse completely.  "It's you isn't it?  Th-the one in the p-papers!  You're the--"

"Yes, yes, we all know the name,"  he said with a stark white smile.  "Are you going to help or not?"

Greggory gripped the table for support.  Then he breathed, "What's in it for me?"

The figure's smiled never faltered.  He began to walk around the table to where Greggory was standing.  Now, less than a foot away, he leaned in and whispered in Greggory's ear, "Everything.  Whatever your heart desires, whoever your heart desires.  You could be rich, powerful. No one needs to know about this exchange."  The man took a step back and continued, "All you have to do is log into that system."  

Greggory's legs began to regain feeling.  Everything! he thought.  How easy this would be!  After a deep sigh, he looked the man full in the face for the first time that night and said,  "Okay, I'll do it."

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Trees.  Branches.  Green.  Black.  Red. Images flew past me with each step as I ran through the forest.  Branches whipped my face as I drove deeper into the heart of a new level of Hell. I tried to escape him, but I knew he was getting closer.  It was only a matter of time.

Blood ran down the side of my head.  My feet ached as blurred image after blurred image flashed before my eyes.  Step after step drove me farther on,  towards a destination that wouldn't come.  He was right behind me now, sensing my weakness, tasting my fear.  I could practically feel his ice cold breath on the back of my neck.

"There is no escape, Alexis," he said, his words like daggers penetrating my skin.  "You can't run forever.  Not from me."

I felt a hand on my shoulder as I was thrust to the ground.  My arm hit the forest floor with a gut-wrenching crack. I coughed up a sickly shade of red as I lied helplessly on the ground.  I could feel the bone sticking out of my arm as more blood fell to the forest floor. My blood.

He loomed over me, a menacing smile stretching across his face.   I felt a foot connect with my stomach, and a faint cackle as I began to loose consciousness.

 "Welcome Alexis," he said

I opened my mouth to scream but no words would come.  This is the end, I thought.   This is what it has come to.  I closed my eyes, and felt hands grab my shoulders.....

"Alexis! Alexis! Wake up, we're gonna be late!"

My eyes flew open.  Bright lights flooded my vision as I tried to blink my surroundings into focus.

"Finally, your up! I was worried about you."

Eyesight now in focus, I looked around the room to find Stella Norman, my roommate.  Rubbing my eyes vigorously, I twisted out of my bed and began wiping sweat from my forehead.


Stella looked at me with a concerned look.  "You okay?  You were shaking an awful lot."

"I'm fine,"  I answered.  "Bad dream."

"Well you better hurry up and get ready.  Class is in twenty minutes."

I widened my eyes.  "What?  Why the hell didn't you wake me up sooner?"

She glared at me.  "Well your up now!  Don't yell at me for trying to help you."

I glared back and began collecting my books as quickly as possible.  Stella grabbed her bag and said goodbye to me, leaving the room.  She obviously didn't seem to take things like college as seriously as I did.  I mean, it was Harvard  after all.

After I had finally found the last book, I slipped on my shoes and sprinted out the door.  Of all days, I had to have my first class all the way on the other side of campus. 

Even as I bounded across sidewalks and hallways, being late was not among the thoughts that swam in my mind.  Rather, it was the dream, the same dream I had been having since the day of the accident.  After that point, I had had that reoccurring nightmare whenever I was worried or something bad happens.  I was worried, that's for sure, but I had hoped the latter wouldn't be the case.

I was nearing the last hallway before the lecture hall.  Finally reaching the double doors to the class, I checked my watch.  Lucky for me, being a cross country runner payed off, because I was just in time.  Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the metal handle and opened the door.       

Something More

Author's Note: This is a poem inspired by "The Dandelion" from the Milwaukee Art Museum. When I first saw this sculpture, I immediately felt drawn to it. This piece also got me thinking about how young children are always picking up dandelions and making a wish on them. I experimented with a pattern in the stanzas as well.

It blows through the air

From a wind

A breath

Silently wishing

For something more

They hold a stem

From a field

A hope

Standing alone

Wanting something more

A journey taken

From a seed

A blow

Transforms itself

Into something more

Infinity

Author's Note: This piece is based off of my experience in the Infinity Chamber in the Milwaukee Art Museum. It was a unique experience when I set foot into the glass box. When I entered, I was surrounded by beautiful lights that appeared to stretch on forever. It reflected back everything, with nothing to hide. This gave me the inspiration to write this poem.

Dark as Night

Light as Day

The stars stretch out

And touch my hands

It stretches on

Through the impossibilities

Shows me

A Past

Full of memories

A Present

Full of life

A Future

Full of mystery

Nothing to hide

Nothing to fear

Nothing

And Everything

As I travel through

Infinity

The Catcher

Author's Note: This is my response to "The Catcher in the Rye." I chose to do a fictional piece that is sort of a spin-off of a scene in the book about the main character being "A catcher in the rye." It is about what it would have been like if Holden Caulfield's (the main character) fantasy had come true. I tried to imitate J.D. Salinger's style of writing, and reference different parts of the book. I rewrote the beginning a few times, because it was difficult to use this style of writing. Please leave any comments or criticism you have:

I could tell you why I chose to be a Catcher, but I'm not in the mood to bore you with all that sappy crap about fate and destiny, and how "this job was meant for me." It is, in a way, meant for me, but I just can't explain it, and even if I could, I wouldn't. It's like when you find something you're nuts about, and you can't explain why. It's like that. I just can't explain it, but I know this is what I'm supposed to do.

So, I guess I have to start somewhere. If you've been listening to me from the beginning, you know I got kicked out of old Pencey Prep. They were full of phonies, the whole lot of them. Like they actually cared about a goddam thing about school. All they cared about was what goddam outfit they were going to wear on their date. I can't stand to be around people like that.

I went to New York and stayed at a hotel there for the night. Let me tell you, I won't be stopping there again. After that goddam situation, I stopped for a drink or two at "Ernie's." Not that I really liked the place, but they didn't care how old I was. So I got my cocktails and left. A few days later I was walking along, and I heard this kid singing a song I knew. He really killed me, he really did. The kid wasn't half-bad either. He was walking one the side of the road, just singing "If a body catch a body coming through the rye." I got a big bang out of that. Things like that just kill me.

Anyway, I started thinking about that, and when I talked to old Phoebe at home, asking me about what I wanted to do, this was it. Being a Catcher. Maybe I'm a madman, with this whole fantasy. And asking old Sally Hayes to come run away with me. But maybe I'm supposed to do this. Like I said I can't explain it, but I got to do it.

So, when I left old Phoebe that night, and I gave her my hunting hat, I knew it was for good. I don't know what happened next exactly. Its fuzzy, and I don’t remember much. All I knew is that I was in the museum, and I kind of blanked from there. But then I was here, in the rye field.

I was standing up on the cliff, the one I was thinking about. I was in Colorado, I knew it. I don't remember much how I got there, but its one of those things you just know. It's like when you just know things, without a teacher or a parent or some other phony teaching you. I just knew I was there. The kids were in the rye, playing their games. You could barely see them, just a bunch of little colorful fluffs bobbing up and down in all the rye. I got a big bang out of that.

It was all perfect. The kids would be playing tag, or races or some other game I had never heard of, and when they got to close to the edge, I would catch them, and send them back into the field. Me as the Catcher. It was just like the museum back in New York. I could sit there, watching the kids for days, and nothing would change, just like the museum. No phonies, no nothing to change anything. I could walk away and walk back and nothing would change, just like the museum. They were just running around, the kids I mean. Playing tag, running around like maniacs. It was almost sweet, if you want to know the truth. They reminded me of Phoebe. I really wanted to give her a buzz about now, but I was a Catcher, and I had to catch the kids.

One of them was getting way too close to the edge again when it got later that day. I ran over fast as hell and stopped that kid. "Hey," I said, all authoritative-like. "You can't be here. This is the cliff you see." I motioned to the edge a few yards away.

"She said that we could go wherever we want," said the boy, staring up at me.

This kid was starting to get on my nerves. "Who? I'm the only Catcher here. Everyone knows that. Its just me and you guys in the rye," I said.

"Stop shouting Holden," said the boy, just like Sally.

"Who told you?" I repeated.

"Stop yelling at me!" shouted the boy, starting to cry. "She's in the field talking to us. Go ask her!"

The kid ran back into the rye field. I went in after him, trying not to get my yellowness take me over. I was a Catcher, after all. I know I'm pretty yellow about confrontations, but this was different. I'm the big one around here. So anyway, when I finally caught up to the boy, all the kids were all huddled in a group around someone. I straightened up, authoritative as hell, and said "Hey, all right come out. Who do you think you are, telling them they can go by that cliff? I'm the Catcher."

"Holden!" cried Phoebe.

I swear, my mouth literally dropped to the ground. It sounds corny, but it really did. "Phoebe? What are you doing here? I told you that you can't come with me!"

"Holden, when are you going to get it through your head? You can't stay here, and neither can they," she gestured to the other kids. "Let them go to the cliff. You should go too."

"No, NO I WON'T!" I screamed. "Just go back to playing your games! I'm the goddam Catcher. Go back!"

Phoebe looked at me real hard, and I noticed she was still wearing my hunting hat. The point was in the back, like I used to wear it. It looked good that way on Phoebe. She walked up to me real slowly, and took off the hat. Her eyes started to water. I just hate that when Phoebe cries. It's weird, if you want to know the truth. It just makes me so sad and confused, because Phoebe's the best person I know, and if she cries it's just…wrong.

When she was finally standing in front of me, I bent down and told her real sternly, "Come on Phoebe. Put the hat back on. Stay here if you want, just don't go to the cliff."

She looked back at me, and shoved the hat in my hands real fast. I was pretty confused now. Before I could even speak, she ran right past me, in the direction of the cliff. The other kids, the whole lot of them, ran after her.

"NO!" I screamed. Now I was crying too. Balling, just like when I left Phoebe that night. I ran after her, fast as hell, screaming all the way.

They were all standing in a line, by the edge of the cliff, the kids I mean. They looked like soldiers, all lined up and ready for battle. I would have got a big bang out of it if I weren't a Catcher. Phoebe was all the way to the right of them. I was still crying real hard. I just wanted this to stop. This wasn't supposed to be Phoebe, or the other kids, or me. This was for phonies, for the adults, for Mr. Antolini, for old Spencer! I was done with all this crap a long time ago, when I was with all those phonies and people who didn't give one goddam thought about what I thought.

I didn't know it, but old Phoebe was staring at me the whole time. She then glanced at the rest of the kids, who all jumped off that goddam cliff I was supposed to protect.

"No don't! What the hell are you doing?" I cried, my knees buckling to the ground. It sounds pretty sappy I know, like in those films where the actors just fall down and cry when their heart gets broken, or they hear bad news. I'm not sappy, ever, but I was then. Old Phoebe was still there, staring at me. Then she finally said, "It's time to grow, Holden. I have to, and so do you." She walked up to me, and gave me a hug. I was still crying real hard, just like the night I left. Phoebe looked at me real sadly, then jumped off, too.

"Phoebe!" I screamed. This was my only job, the only one I every wanted, and now it was gone, like Phoebe. They were all gone, everyone, but me. I fell down and laid there, in the rye, crying, and screaming Phoebe's name, over, and over again, until I fell asleep.

Forever Changing

Author's Note: This was a stream of consciousness I did.  I took this idea off of a word association.  It deals with the seasons, but I tried to incorporate a different way of looking at it as well.  Please let me know what you think:   

 

Forever fluctuating through time, 

Life changes

As we do.

Temperatures change,

The faint ring of a school bell,

Breath no longer hidden,

Leaves darken from green to red,

red to orange,

orange to yellow,

falling down from trees. 

Brisk chills go

up down,

up down,

my spine. 

Dark in the morning,

dark in the afternoon,

and leaves fall away. 

Flurries, cold.

Flurries, cold. 

Snow,

falling gently out of the sky.

Snowflakes. 

Different shapes,

sizes,

designs that show nature's beauty. 

The white,

pounds down,

cakes houses,

driveways,

roads. 

When it seems all is never ending,

Never changing,

Sun comes out of cloud,

streaming through like The Light,

Snow finally melts away  

A new beginning,

A new life.

Flowers bloom,

birds sing their songs,

The rebirth of life.

As the cycle continues,

Forever changing,

Forever living,

We continue on,

Forever.

Stream of Consciousness: City

Author's note: This is a stream of consciousness I did recently. When I did this, I thought of Milwaukee, with all the skyscrapers, buildings, and ramps. I also thought a little of New York City, and how it is "the city that never sleeps." I tried to use some repetition in this piece.

Looming giants fill the streets,

We appear as ants,

Ants appear as nothing,

Skyscraper after skyscraper cut into the sky,

Clouds feel closer than their tips,

Different ramps wind within each other like snakes.

We ride up and down and around,

Seemingly endless roads,

Walking around, the scene ablaze with activity,

Civilians hustling from work to home and back again,

Taxis pop out more frequently than cars do,

Going to and from,

From and to,

Ride up, up, up the elevator,

Walk up, up, up the stairs,

At the top of the giant,

I feel so small,

So out of place,

On top of the world it seems,

I can see it all.

Building to building,

City to city, place to place,

The world feels in my reach.

Windy, cloudy, sunny, I can find it all.

So different up here, like floating.

Then we stop,

Sucked into the city itself,

Like we are one.

The Unavoidable Feeling

Author's Note: During Language arts, I couldn't decide what to write about. Then I realized how hungry I was, because this class is right before lunch. This poem describes this feeling.


Working hard,

On the computer,

I notice something,

That should be helped sooner,

A lion-like growl,

Erupts from my tummy.

It's then I realize,

I need something yummy.

Seconds ticking by,

Seems more like hours.

I can't take it much longer,

I don't have those powers.

Then the bell breaks the quiet,

Just like a car horn's blast.

Sitting in the lunchroom,

I'm cured at last.

Finally Here

Author's Note: This poem is based off of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  It's supposed to show how Harry's life starts out disappointing and ambiguos, but it all changes when Hagrid takes him away to be a student at the magical school called Hogwarts.

After years of dreaming,

After years of despair,

After years of feebleness,

It's finally here.

I searched for an answer,

I searched for a chance,

I searched for a solution,

That's finally here.

Taken away from misery,

Taken away from longing,

Taken away from pain,

I'm finally here.

Now I have friendship,

Now I have hope,

Now I have opportunity,

Home is finally here.

Can You Raed Tihs?

And yes, I know it's spelled wrong....

Tehre hvae been ltos of tiems in our lievs wehn taehcers hvae mraked us wrnog on qusetinos becasue we mispseleld a wrod. Somteiems the resaon we dind't get as hgih of a socre is becasue of tihs. Splelnig can be a rael prolbem for smoe pepole, but are thsoe taehcers raelly corerct?

I'm a decnet spleler, but I stlil dno't lkie it. A whlie ago, I saw somtehing on the copmuter that was prtety itneretsing. Acocrdnig to profesosrs at Cabrmidge Unviresity, spleling dosen't wrok the way we thnik it deos. Tehy say taht as lnog as the frist and lsat lteter of a wrod styas the smae, the inisde odrer of the letetrs dno't mtater. So deos taht maen taht we hvae been wrnog tihs enitre tmie?

Myabe spleling ins't as improtant as we thoguht. The olny thnig wtih tihs is, olny 55% of pepole can raed wrods tihs way, prboably becasue thye're so uesd to seieng it how it's "supopsed" to be. So tlel me, can you raed tihs?


If you can't read that above, this is what it translates to:

There have been lots of times in our lives when teachers have marked us wrong on questions because we misspelled a word. Sometimes the reason we didn't get as high of a score is because of this. Spelling can be a real problem for some people, but are those teachers actually correct?

I'm a decent speller, but I still don't like it. A while ago, I saw something on the computer that was pretty interesting. According to professors at Cambridge University, spelling doesn't work the way we think it does. They say that as long as the first and last letter of a word stays the same, the inside order of the letters don't matter. So does that mean that we have been wrong this entire time?

Maybe spelling isn't as important as we thought. The only thing with this is, only 55% of people can read words this way, probably because they're so used to seeing it how it's "supposed" to be. So tell me, can you read this?