a Cybiam Circle of Stereotypes
*sighs* I am so freaking bored right now....sitting in AP US Government typing this on the sub's login (God loves Andy Thompson because Andy Thompson is a very tolerable sub who doesn't give a damn what the senior AP students do) I for one don't get that, the fact that teachers will trust AP seniors until the end of the earth because they stereotype us as responsible, we're the one's who are going to college, we're the top 35% ish in our class, but they will trust other seniors only about as far as they can throw 'em (which isn't all that far) And the dumbasses who are in the lower50-65 % of the class don't give our educators any real reason to trust them, those idoits simply act the part, why do they choose not to apply themselves I wonder, do they not want to be successful in life? Do they want to end up at a dead end job in 25 years looking back on high school like "jeezus I wish I would have changed some shit around then maybe I wouldn't be up to my neck in debt working for someone who seems to be more of an asshole than *I am" (*which isn't really humanly possible if you know some of the key people I have in mind) I mean, grant it, I'm not a wonder child, but I'm not an idiot either, I happen to be one of the very small .05% that normally ends up in within the 35 of the 35% its absolutly ridiculus. I'm irresponsible, slacking, but still passing on the Honorable Mention Honor Roll. Such a key subject in life, and then the whole taking SAT's thing...mine are on Jan. 28th....do the lower 65% even know what SAT stands for..?
Standardized Aptitude Test... who in the world has the right to proclaim simpleton teenagers intelligence, your entire life is basically ruled by this test. The very notion of your acceptance into college hangs by this one thread, this 4 hour average test, just as well...theres a NEW SAT! with "oh joy!" an essay section! they replace a personal insightful look into a prospective students life from a choice essay for the one you write on the SAT, true, this isn't manditory for all schools but quite a few universities and colleges are doing such things, because it's less work for them. notice a pattern here, its a giant cymbial circle of laziness, plus its the fact that most people want to go to college to get that better paying job, to get out of shithole lives so that they can pay people to do most of the work that they don't want to do. The society of top 10% of college graduates do Nothing all day and get paid while paying people to do their work. America wake up! the true question isn't who is slacking in high school...its look at who's slacking in life. The happiest people in the world work at the hardest jobs, get paid very little, but have a loving family, thats what they have that upperclass doesn't....true wisdom. The secret to the life that every human wants, a happy one...not a pleasureable one, not a glamorous one, but one that is good, with good people, in a good natured government.
With Bound Hands, He Suffered
In 1998, who would've thought the whole world would be watching the small town of Laramie, Wyoming. This stemmed from the brutal beating and robbery of Matthew Shepard, two men, around Matt's own age, tied him to a fence post and left him for dead. This crime had a different motive though, all for one reason...Matthew Shepard was gay. We follow the story of one girl who returns to Laramie, and copes with the memory of this loss,
With Bound Hands...He Suffered.
"She's trying to remember the month of September, but now it's December and her heart is growing cold..."
It bites shrewdly at her nose, cheeks and lips. She tugs on the coat collar a little more, bringing it up to reserve a little bit of heat. It is 6pm on a Wednesday evening and the streetlamps are already turned on , the days are shorter now. Her heels click on the sidewalk, a steady pace, like the beating of a heart. She shoves her numb fingers into the pockets of her black, wool, waistcoat. She's back in this godforsaken town on winter break. From the Manhatten School of Fine Arts, she walks to her vehicle, turns the key, 'click', not that anyone here would steal her car.
The New York registered Saturn Vu cruised out of town at forty miles per hour.
The fence is gone and the feild is leveled now, it doesn't make a difference to most of the people here, they don't speak about it anymore. It's almost as if no one recalls the weeks, months of waiting...the trial and judgement. At least no one outside of her hometown, the only time anyone outside thinks of it is if they see the movie or the play. The SUV stops on the back road of the flat, barren wasteland of the feild. She bought him flowers...after three years of forgetting and coming to terms, she bought him flowers.
She place the roses with the rainbow gathering tie at an approximate point where the fence once stood. Why? Why do bad things always happen to good people? Thats the way things always seem to fall. Such hatred, so much hurt, makes her wonder where it all came from, and what feuled it. There were no laws passed, no action taken, so what did Matthew's death serve as? If not as an example, then what else? If not evidence, if not a lesson...what? These strange questions overturn in her mind, searching frantically for some sort of concrete reason.
Nothing flourishes here anymore, its almost like this place has lost the beautiful simplicity it once had for her. Her eyes close, she remembers the countless reporters, interveiws that she did, the weeks of waiting for Matthew to wake up, a day that would be waited for in vain. The whole world was watching this small town.
The day Matthew died, her world was silenced. It was no longer a simple charge of battery and robbery, it was murder...in the first degree!
The death penalty decision was left to Matt's parents. They gave the two men, the one's who stole their only son away from them, life. As a stinging gift in remembrance of Matthew, who was no longer living.
She opens her eyes once more, coming out of the memories. She was only seventeen then, and when you stand next to Romaine Patterson with sheets and PVC pipe molded into the now familiar Angel Action uniform, it will leave some sort of impact on your life.
Hearing insults from Fred Phelps and his followers being thrown at you, because your freindly to gays and lesbians, taking it into their hands to condemn those who are lebians or gays. A tear slides down her left cheek. The sky is so big out here, and when you look down from where the hilltop used to be, Laramie just shines, like its own star.
Is this what he saw in his last concious moments? At least its a beautiful place to suffer, she contemplates, with bound hands, he suffered.
She sits on the black hood of the Saturn and props her feet on the front bumper. The last thing she does before she leaves. She bows her head and she prays. She prays for the populus, for Matthew, the hope that his story will never fully fade from the world, and that we learn the lesson he taught us, so we can stop these hanus crimes and we can stop this hate.
Three years gone by since she's been back here...and now... Laramie just doesn't feel like home, and for her, it never will again.
