China Chronicles: Assault on the Visual Sense

This post is the second in the "China Chronicles: Assault on the Senses" series (see my previous post on the auditory sense assault). ~ Be prepared for something different this time around. Think camera flashes - quick, memorable, vivid, and now preserved. ~ Collage created using Photovisi and pictures from the broken camera featured in my karma post, and my uncle's cell phone. ~

Buildings everywhere. None of that familiar Calgarian flatness - no, rather, thirty-story apartments, gigantic shopping centres fashioned in all kinds of shapes, train stations with tall clock towers proud as sentinels parading on the battlements of a strongly-defended fort... ~

Seas and seas of people. Umbrellas floating over each head like a tiny beacon - blue, purple, pink. ~ Faces rushing by. Clothes that look different, yet the same - swirling skirts, collared shirts, impossibly high heels, rainbow-hued sun visors, a Dr. Seuss quote (“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”) on a white top. Bows, bangles, jade pendants, silver bracelets (one of which I am now a proud owner of). ~

Countless temples, statues, postcard-worthy scenes. ~ Click, flash, picture taken, move on. ~ Smile - your face is right next to Mao Ze Dong's! ~ Move your face a bit closer to that lion - now it looks like you're kissing its nose. ~

Flashing low battery sign. ~ Secret relief. ~ Putting down the camera, turning actual eyes onto century-old artifacts. Drinking in the sights gluttonously. ~ Tiny blue cranes fashioned on a queen's crown. ~ Lances, crossbows, arrowheads. ~ A meticulous reconstruction of an early-settlement village, complete with dozens of pointy trees and even windows in the huts, all facing towards the centre as a sign of man's first sense of community. ~

Darkness. But no - lights. Lights everywhere. ~ Flashing helicopters emitting police-like blue and red flashes as they spiral up and up and up into the sky, then float lightly down to crash gently onto the pavement, just as the eager owner runs up on his short legs and grabs the toy for another run. ~

Smoke. Twinkling strobe lights peeping through the haze, merrily calling out to tired wanderers. ~ Tanned men grilling fresh lamb kebabs, fish kebabs, vegetable kebabs. ~ Rows upon rows of food waiting to be consumed, enjoyed, licked off of greasy fingers. ~ Spices upon spices. ~ Blood red soup, with globs of crimson oil floating on top. ~

Dancing. ~ People swaying to the same beat, clapping their hands, shaking their sweaty bodies, stomping and turning and twisting. ~ Freedom, restrained into one square. ~ A sudden impulse, a rush of boldness - and then running up to join them, twirling like I know what I'm doing, laughing at my inability to keep up, smiling at the knowledge that it doesn't matter if I don't know the steps. ~ Anonymity in numbers. ~ Just another face, black hair, brown eyes, glasses. ~

Beautiful, perfect lighting in ceramic bathrooms, shining rays off of every reflective surface - which, incidentally, is every surface. Dismay at opening the first stall and finding the now-familiar hole in the ground, with the rib-like indents on the sides of the filthy ceramic toilet. ~

A whole spread of lotus leaves and flowers, bobbing gently as the motor boat sends soft ripples across the surface of the lake. ~ Strolling in a park, scabs on my knees, dirt under my fingernails, skin slowly browning. ~

An aunt, belly swollen with pregnancy. ~ An alarmingly pink newborn, tiny fingernails perfectly formed and little button nose, eyes not yet open, with the world waiting for her firsts. ~ Figuring out how to prepare infant formula, stirring as the yellowish-white powder dissolves into the hot water. ~ Some blood. ~

Chickens. Chicken poop. Sows. Barns. Hay. Ramshackle doors. ~ Makeshift locks, CO2-spewing motorbikes racing and bumping up and down hilly roads. ~ Staring up at thousands of twinkling stars and getting lost in their endless meaning, yet cold indifference. ~

Hills. Mountains. Valleys. Lakes as smooth as mirrors, deep with shades and hues of green, blue and indigo. ~ Water falling, trickling, streaming, so clear in places that each rock, fish and aquatic plant seems to have an even more distinctive outline than in the air. ~

One cousin's shy smile, another's grinning bunny imitation, complete with arms tucked close to the torso and hands bent at the wrists, just begging for a carrot to be clenched between those curved fingers. ~ A grandfather shouldering a pink backpack halfway throughout the day, looking like a pre-schooler, revisited. ~

The sky. Clouds. Above clouds. LAX, with its beautiful, interminable ocean and its thin strip of beach. ~ Landing, landing... impact. ~

Blue, red, white, yellow, orange, green. Up, side, down. A bright smile as the colours match and the Rubik's cube is solved, once again. ~

Then, suddenly - emptiness. ~ No lines to the bathroom. ~ No one pushing and crowding to be able to see the baggage carousel and claim their luggage. ~ Empty roads, open stretches of highway. ~ Home. ~ Comfort, loneliness, and familiarity. ~ What now? ~

Time to make a collage. ~

China Chronicles: Assault on the Auditory Sense

Remember the Six Senses post series I drafted up two years ago? (Wow, has it really been that long?) ~ Well, in China, I noticed some alterations/differences to my usual sensual experience. ~ Thus, here's a retake on my impression of the senses, China edition. ~ Let's do them in the same order as last time, shall we? ~

Audition. ~ This truly hit me whilst I was in Tianjin, though Beijing certainly had its fair share of noise pollution. ~ Even at around midnight, the commercial streets were a bustle of activity and people. ~ Peddlers selling their wares, children screaming in delight or anger, girls giggling over their phones, men loudly proclaiming their acts of valour or business profits of the day... It made no difference as to who I saw. ~ Then, there's sleeping - or rather, trying to fall asleep. Even on the sixth floor of an apartment building, you hear all sorts of noise traversing the polluted air to snake its way into your tender ears. ~ Most notably, of course, are the honks. ~ While I understand that honking is actually considered a kind, "polite" act in China (after all, it's a warning that will prevent you from being run over!), I still think it's excessive to blare your horn at every intersection, turn or even pause in the flow of traffic. And there must be something wrong when cars are so decrepit that they have doors that won't close properly, windows that won't roll down, and non-existent seat belts, but horns that sound as healthy as cows in their prime, demanding to be milked. ~

There's also the infamous "欢迎光临" that greets you no matter what store you step - or don't step, and merely pass by - into. This loosely translates into "welcome, customer" and sounds uncannily alike no matter who is saying it to you. ~ And the store keepers following barely half a step behind you don't take away from the Big Brother experience either. In fact, sometimes I felt myself resisting the urge to pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time merely because I was afraid of being tackled and accused of thievery if I did. ~

With all this going on, you might be wondering - how is one ever heard above this miasmic chaos of sound? ~ Not to worry - the tour guide leaders have mini speakers to travel over/add to the din. With their flawlessly memorized and delivered speeches at each tourist attraction, these people seem unfazed by anything, nearly robotic in their perfection. ~

As an aside regarding speakers here: One of my fellow Beijing adventurers bought a set of speakers that attach to any surface and transmit vibrations from a sound device, thereby amplifying the sound. ~ We had much fun testing out the amplifying power of different surfaces, and one of my most memorable experiences was strolling down the street at one in the morning, holding up a large piece of discarded Styrofoam attached to the speakers and an iPhone, blasting "Don't Stop Believing" into the pitch-black night. ~

Onto a different topic: Something else that surprised me was the sheer homogeneity of the language. ~ While I was not naive enough to expect that I would be regularly hearing English or any other foreign language on the streets of China, I had somehow developed the impression that I would feel at ease being surrounded by exclusive Chinese speakers, despite the fact that I only converse in the language with my parents. ~ Not so. In fact, after the week spent with English-speaking friends in Beijing, I discovered that I could not slip back into the Mandarin pool like the red fish I'd thought myself to be. ~ Instead, I found myself seeking any English lifeline I could. Sometimes, that included secretly shadowing tourists if I was lucky enough to hear the familiar English or French words rattle off their unsuspecting tongues. Other times, it meant delving into a bookstore and booking it (pun-intended) for the Foreign Languages section, losing myself in the works of George Orwell or F. Scott Fitzgerald. ~

Finally, there were also the numerous accents to consider. ~ I started off fairly easily - Beijing speaks Mandarin, after all. ~ Tianjin wasn't much harder to comprehend, though I was still mildly amused when I heard a middle-aged lady loudly talking in a strong accent into her phone, as mindful of the bus-full of people around her as us Calgarians are of a hailstorm in the middle of summer. ~ That's why Chengdu hit my eardrum and ear bones with such strong force. ~ The people's lilting, song-like accent seemed just beyond my grasp to understand. ~ I remember tilting my head to the side with a confused, plastered smile on my face when a waiter offered to take my offer in a restaurant. ~ Things got even worse in Gansu, where I spent two weeks with my relatives on my dad's side. ~ I became really good at holding my tongue - mainly because the only word I could contribute to any conversation seemed to be, "what?". My cousins did attempt to teach me the accent, which simply resulted in many gales of laughter and instances of mirth, albeit at my expense. ~ I didn't mind, though - after all, I can proudly say that I survived China and fit in well enough that people even came up to me to ask for directions on the streets of Tianjin and Chengdu... as long as I kept my mouth shut. ~

China Chronicles: Karma

This post is labelled as having been published on the 26th of July, despite today's actual date being the 19th of August. The reason being that the silly Chinese Internet seems to regard my blog as a profanity, choosing to block it from the general public's screen. ~ While dismayed that I couldn't post this on the proper date of its conception, I deliver to you "China Chronicles: Karma" with as much legitimacy as I can provide. ~

I haven’t really been a great proponent of the karma doctrine until recently. ~ The universe operates with a certain balance – that’s evident in the basic laws of physics, which seem to apply conservation laws to just about anything, from energy-matter to momentum. ~ Yet humans are beings with a will of their own, so shouldn’t that disrupt the natural harmonious flow of the universe? We’ve messed enough with our planet that it should be apparent we don’t always obey the natural laws to a T. ~

This last year has made me rethink karma, though. ~ A few simple things came along that suddenly shed a new light on the smallest details; yet, these are the ones that make all the difference. ~ It all started when my friend complained about too much high school drama, lamenting that everything seemed to happen to her. ~ I remarked with a quirky smile that she would regret saying that later in the year, when she would surely be bored of the lack of drama in her life. ~ Teasingly, she poked me and quipped that it was only because I had not suffered through any drama myself. ~

Those words doomed me, I am certain. ~ Right before spring break, just as I was least expecting any sort of upheaval of events in my life, karma deemed it necessary to dump a bucket of drama right on my brain. ~ I can see it crystal clear in my mind: I had just finished delivering my English IB Oral Commentary and was finally breathing a sigh of relief, looking forward to a week of being able to relax at last. ~ Then, that very evening, it all began. Like bullet shots, little doses of drama were administered here and there, until I felt myself cracking like a smashed window pane. ~ Talking to my friend again some time later, she reminded me of our previous conversation together, and I could only smile wryly and fight the urge to facepalm. ~

Karma has hit those around me, as well. ~ My dad recently bought a beautiful new Canon camera that became his pride and joy. He studied the instructions manual like it was the Bible, and he played with it with a quiet pleasure that was evident through the care and precision of his picture-taking. ~ Over and over again, he warned me to be careful when I used it, and to take care that I always had the protective wristband on so that I wouldn’t drop it. ~ Annoyed by his endless pestering, I shrugged off his advice, knowing that no harm would come to the camera in my hands. ~

Here is where the "China Chronicles" portion of this post really comes into play. ~ I visited Beijing for an entire week in July. ~ Before leaving, my dad entrusted me with his camera, holding it lovingly and advising me once again to not drop it. ~ I sighed in exasperation and promised that I would bring it back to him in one piece. ~

As predicted, the camera was still fine by the time I had traveled to Tianjin and my dad’s airplane had landed. ~ Tired of taking pictures (because in truth, I much prefer seeing things with my own eyes than through a camera lens), I gladly relinquished the prized possession to my dad. ~ This is where the karma really kicked in. ~ The day after my dad had arrived, it was burning hot outside. ~ In China, no one sane travels without a water bottle or some spare change to purchase some refreshing drink in the sweltering heat. ~ Thus it was that barely a day after the joyful camera-to-man reunion, my dad raised the camera while attempting to hold a water bottle, all in one hand. ~ I watched, ready to have my picture taken, as in seemingly slow motion, my dad’s hand slipped and the camera plummeted to the ground in one direction, while the water bottle fell in the other. ~ For an insane moment, I felt myself lunging for the water bottle first, not wishing to believe that any harm could have come to the camera – not now. ~ My dad had no such qualms. With a look of dread, he bent down to retrieve his love, heart evidently in his throat. ~ He tried opening it, but discovered with horror that the screen had cracked and the camera was speckled with little dents here and there. ~ His sadness and anger were palpable. ~ 

Despite my genuine regret and sympathy for my dad’s unfortunate turn of events, some little, mean corner deep inside of me could not help reveling in the justness of karma’s delivery. ~ Later on, when the wound no longer stung so bitterly, but had rather subsided to a dull ache, my dad admitted in a rueful tone that this seemed to be karma’s work. ~ For the rest of the trip, we made do with lower-quality cameras and cell phones, so that every blurry picture taken seemed to be some more salt sprinkled on my dad’s injury. ~ Oddly enough, knowing that karma played a role in our camera’s demise lightened the loss for me, in part because my dad seemed to feel bad enough for the both of us, but also because I reserved myself the right to whisper “I informed you thusly” to myself every once in awhile. ~

In the end, karma makes you realize that no one is infallible, and that everyone tries to hide away their weaker and darker side in order to impress. That in itself is a sign of innate vulnerability. ~ Karma evens out the suffering, but also the joy in the world, if only by that little bit. ~ No, I’m not naïve enough to believe there is equality anywhere. But karma can at least soothe our fierce burning welts with a little aloe and help make the pain of injustice a tiny bit more bearable, if only in our minds. ~

On Writing

I realize I've drafted many a post concerning this subject, but that just goes to show it's one of my favourite. ~ The source of inspiration this time was from a day spent concocting, spilling out and sealing off a long letter of reminiscence, celebration and farewell to my dear friend, CZ, who reaches adulthood much the same time as myself. As well, it's yearbook signing season, which naturally prompts one such as myself to reflect on why we have the tradition at all - namely, writing down things at the end of life stages and events. ~ For instance, when I attended Shad Valley (a lovely summer program), we had a monthbook. ~ People keep journals all the time, and our society nowadays has a puzzling need to document every single moment of its mundane life (Facebook statuses and Tweets, anyone?). ~ And naturally, what last day of high school would be complete without groups of students gathered around in circles in various areas of the school, congregating around a pile of books and pens? ~
So. Why do we write? ~ Some answers are obvious and come to mind right away. ~ To remember. That's why we take notes in class, draft grocery lists, and use day planners or Blackberries. ~ We rely less and less on our true memories. After all, the human mind is fallible, isn't it? Why bother when it's so much easier to have it remembered for us? ~
A more sentimental reason, as well. ~ We seek to leave behind a piece of ourselves - an imprint on a person, on society, on the world. ~ We all want to remember, but we also want to be remembered. ~ One thing that drives most of us to do something great with our lives is the fear of dying without having changed our little - or big, for some - corner of the world. ~ I recall a dream - nightmare, really - where I was truly certain I was going to die. The pain didn't scare me. What truly made me break out in sweat and wake up feeling sick was the fact that I realized my life still holds so much potential. ~ So much to do, so much undone as of yet. ~ Writing can help assuage some of that fear. It leaves behind something that's tangible. ~ Really, us humans are creatures of touch and sight, deep down. In a way, writing down our memories, dreams and goals is a way of being productive. There's an end result to our labours - evidence that we had these thoughts, formed them into words, and transformed them into an art form, into a different medium. ~ That's what I'm doing right now, isn't it? ~ It's partly why I blog in general. More to come on that once I finally roll around to updating the "About Me" page. ~
On emotional sentimentality... I've realized that we can write what we'd never say, or wouldn't ever be likely to say. ~ Talking is face-to-face: scary in today's society. But writing: that's different. There's a barrier, ofttimes a welcome one, that separates the giver from the receiver and allows words to come pouring forth that were previously stopped by the dam of self-consciousness. ~
Yet in another sense, writing takes bravery. ~ That precise immortalization we seek also locks our writing in, makes it last as our legacy. ~ That can be scary. ~ Though the written word can be destroyed, that's becoming harder and harder today with today's technology. ~ What we write, then, becomes what we'll be seen as in the future. We put more thought and effort into it than we do to our speech, because it's so easy to scrutinize, especially by the masses. ~
In the end, we are able to convey these last memories and thoughts in writing, despite any such fear, because finality pushes people to extremes. ~ Tying it back to yearbook signing, I'll say that I signed many a page focusing on the better moments, perhaps at the detriment of the full truth. ~ That's where the bravery comes in, I suppose. ~ Writing unembellished, frank words is so difficult when a light dusting of sugarcoating is almost effortless to apply. ~ We've have BS-ing skills pounded into us. ~ Maybe yearbook-signing time should be a chance to peel away the varnish and lay out the wood beneath, rotten as it may be. ~ It's all up to where you take your pen. ~
After this lengthy and somewhat rambling post, let me end off by saying that I've published this only because it's the last day - last hour, really - before I step truly and fully into adulthood, and that as with all good beginning and endings, I feel that familiar urge to write tugging once again at my fingertips. ~ For all the reasons I've mentioned and half dissected above, and to put a closure on affairs, I click the button. ~ Writing it down may not make it true, but seeing it on the screen or on paper is so much more real than when it's just in the mind. ~ Goodbye, childhood and teenage me. It was a good time we spent together. I know you'll be with me in this blog and in all else I've written since I first picked up that crayon to spell out my name. ~


Thanks to MT for the thoughts, comments and inspiration. ~ It's lovely to have such sharp-minded, well-spoken and smiling friends. ~

Why Physics Intimidates Me

A cute little post I found lying around in my saved posts, dating from early February. ~ The post being shown here in its mostly unedited state - just a stream of conscience that flowed from my itching fingertips - I must apologize for the poor quality of writing. ~
Admittedly, my views have changed somewhat after surviving my first-ever semester of "legit" (excuse the slang) physics, though not all too greatly, surprisingly. ~ I admit that the opinions expressed in this post are skewed somewhat by the fact that my previous physics knowledge can be condensed into one week in Science 10 pre-IB and two months in Chemistry 20 IB, under teachers who were most comfortable in the science of chemistry (obviously), yet even after having taken physics under what I consider to be an excellent teacher, for Physics 30, I can readily reassert the fact that physics should still be left to mathematical minds than my own. ~

All of the smartest people - those who are geniuses and are recognized to have off-the-chart IQs - are physicists. ~ Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, Galileo Galilei, even the fictional Dr. Sheldon Cooper. ~ These are men society has long regarded as being the smartest of them all, so to speak. ~ The "best and brightest" of mankind. ~

Physics is also closely interrelated to mathematics - another area that intimidates me. ~ Not the basic 1+1, mind you - no; I'm talking about the abstract, "imaginative" mathematics. ~ Think of what men such as Leonhard Euler, Rene Descartes Carl Friedrich Gauss, and Gottfried Liebnitz have thought up, tested and proven - feats that I hadn't even considered, let alone would have been able to approach. ~ Also, reflect on the fact that many high school and university students have much trouble just learning these concepts - not even deducing or developing then, but merely understanding them. ~ This hints at the magnitude of these men's intelligence, creativity and imaginativeness. ~

This is evidently a biased opinion, but I believe that it takes much less intelligence to write proficiently than to develop algorithms or dream up new theories. ~ That's not saying that anyone can produce brilliant pieces of writing - that would be completely undermining the works of such men as William Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, to mention just two - but I do believe that writing is a tool in everyone's box of skills that is at least present, if not sharpened. On the contrary, one does not always find the math drill or the physics saw so conveniently handy as the writing screwdriver often is. ~ In fact, these physicists and mathematicians all eventually need to draft and publish papers on their findings, and that implies having at least a solid enough knowledge of the literary arts to be able to clearly communicate their ideas. ~

(Here, I went off and had a discussion with GL, who is a whiz at physics and math, which prompted the little post-blurb found below. ~ Ah, the joys of argumentation and debating.)

Presumption: almost all of the topics worth dealing with have been addressed deeply and extensively by literature already. ~ The millions of books written on practically any and all subjects imaginable provide proof to this claim. ~ Of course, there exists future topics that will spring up depending on evolution of the earth and of the human species. Yet even these can be tied back to aspects that have already been examined. ~ Take the example of environmental concern - a subject that may seem novel to our era. ~ However, First Nations have always sensed a deep connection to nature that to them is inviolable. Does protecting the environment, with its shiny new gloss of modernism applied on, seem so new after all? ~ The point that I'm trying to get at with all of this is that writing can hardly be called novel or original anymore - at least not fully. ~ Yet mathematics and physics still continue to expand and grow into m-theory, dark matter and entropy. All this makes me feel as though literature is much more dusty and old in comparison. ~

And there you have it. Perhaps at a later date I shall write up a new and improved version of this post, or merely continue the self-debate. ~ Just a writer's whim, perhaps? ~

Bonus (or just an amusing factoid, for those who care): My physics teacher wrote up little blurbs on each of us students and showed them to us on the last day of classes. Imagine my amusement when he popped down to me:

Answer: Biology.

Question: What was [Resa's] favourite part of physics class?

Yes, just a little bias.~

Qualities

After this nearly three-month long hiatus, I've finally picked up blogging again! It feels delightful to pound out my stream of thoughts through my keyboard and onto the computer screen, listening to music and enjoying a post-exam de-stressing session. ~ But my post today is quite filled with tirades and an usually critical tone - perhaps these past few weeks of essay-writing have made me a bit too emphatic? Regardless, please read this with a fresh eye and an open spirit. ~

For some reason or another, I've had to ask people to write compliments about me quite frequently in the recent months, whether it was for reference letters, or for a simple activity. Through this unofficial surveying of ideas, I've begun to notice a trend - a saddening and bizarre trend, in fact. ~
Essentially, what other people think of as qualities, often have associated negative connotations in my mind. I've drafted up a quick list below to explain what I mean, each followed by a friendly suggested improvement. ~

Hardworking
This is a classic. A typically positive word, it can be associated to dedication, determination and detail. Yet while the latter three words paint the picture of a devoted individual, "hardworking" has always just screamed mulish, slow-witted and even a little bit daft to me. I suppose it's because I've always thought those who are smart enough, end up finding shortcuts. And yes, I know that there are no shortcuts to anywhere worth going in life. But if there's an easier option, why force yourself to follow a fruitless path of misery? No, indeed. Hardworking is just a bit too boring for me - after all, half of it is comprised of the word "working."
Instead, use disciplined. While this might seem like an even more boring word to some, in my mind, it evokes the great images of kung fu masters, who have enough self-control not to be distracted by pain or tiredness.

Smart
Ah, the ever-clever term. Should be a good thing, no? After all, we know that the pen is mightier than the sword. (Notice how I used a cliché there? That's a subtle jab at how cliché the use of the word "smart" as a compliment has become.) Who wouldn't want an employee with the brains to solve problems, or the intelligence needed to keep up with a higher-level discussion on politics?
Yet, this word is so very terribly generic, and perhaps worse, unspecific. What type of smart? Book-smart, street-smart, EQ-smart? Because all of these are very distinct things, and each with a very different connotation. Book-smart screams nerd, whereas street-smart or EQ-smart draws up a portrait of a bad-boy wearing shades and cruising down the street in his shiny red car, smiling a cocky smile and nodding with condescension at the book-smart boy with the glasses and the untucked shirt clutching his books and staring in undisguised awe at the passing image of glory. Far-fetched? Perhaps, but not as much as I'd like to think.
Instead, use bright or witty. The first has a touch of precocity within it, whereas the second hints at a subtle, perhaps sarcastic, humour. And we all do love that sarcasm.

Interesting
This one is perhaps the worst of the bunch. "Interesting." It's the default word - the word we fall back on when nothing else will fit. In essence, it's an untailored, ill-fitting garment thrown upon a person; it'll do, but not well. Besides, how many times have we ourselves said, "that's very... interesting," with a slight touch of uptalk at the end of the phrase, when grasping for a nice compliment when some poor friend tells a lame story or makes an ill-suited remark?
Instead, use fascinating. It shows that you're more than interested - in fact, you're captivated; your attention has been grasped. In addition, just saying the word itself is delicious - it forces you to open your mouth in an "ah" shape, whereas you can get by with mumbling an "interesting" if need be.

I hope you're beginning to understand at least a bit the point that I'm trying to get across. Naturally, I don't expect you to suddenly associate these terms with negativity - indeed, you shouldn't, because most of society doesn't, and I'm an exception. But the next time you give a compliment or help someone out with their resume, take a step back and question yourself - just how much do we rely on these tired, washed-up old words of "quality"? ~

The Wars, Part Twelve

Last part! ~ Start at Part One to "get the full experience." ~

So, this... is the end. ~ A very optimistic and hope-filled ending, no? ~ "Unwritten." Introduced to most of us through that delightful Pantene commercial ages ago, this song by the lovely Natasha Bedingfield has always enchanted me with its upbeat tempo and joy-filled sounds. ~ Here, I've used it to bring light back into the playlist, and instill in the listener and reader a sense of a better future out there, if only one will persevere. ~ Hopefully, this won't take away from the rest of the content, and that rather, the contrast here highlights the fact that despite all of war's toils and troubles, there can still be light at the end of the tunnel, even though the trip through that tunnel might be painfully twisted and hazardous. ~

To break this influence and to rebuild a connection with society, individuals must find a new purpose to replace that of fighting in a war in order to diminish the focus on war within their mind.

Unwritten, by Natasha Bedingfield:

[Verse 1]
I am unwritten,
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined
I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned

[Chorus 1]
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

[Chorus 2]
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten, yeah

Oh, oh

[Verse 3]
I break tradition
Sometimes my tries
Are outside the lines, oh yeah yeah
We've been conditioned
To not make mistakes
But I can't live that way oh, oh

[Chorus 1]

[Chorus 2, repeat]

[Chorus 1, gospel style]

[Chorus 2, repeat]

The rest is still unwritten (repeat)

Lyrical Content

In Unwritten, several months have passed since the individual has returned home from the war. He has continually attempted to readapt to civilian life, combating alienation and the pull of violence, and has finally begun to come to terms with the suffering he has endured in the war by immersing himself in a newfound passion: writing. He describes himself as an “unwritten” book, using this metaphor to convey the sense that he is attempting to start his life anew. This echoes the lyrics “Time still turns the pages of the book it’s burned,” from the song “So Far Away,” during which the individual suffered from emotional pain due to facing the many deaths caused by the war. Now, the individual attempts to use “the pen […] in his hand” to write out his experiences on the “blank page before [him],” in order to “release [his] inhibitions” – namely, the pent-up anger, depression and sadness caused by his war experience. He admits that sometimes “[he] break[s] tradition” and that “[his] tries / Are outside the lines,” yet because of his grueling experiences, he “can’t live” without “mak[ing] mistakes,” for it is only ignoring society’s conventions and putting words to his pain-filled memories of war that he can make peace with himself. Because the individual became “undefined” as he lost his identity in the war, he now desires to open himself up to the light and “let the sun illuminate the words / That [he can] not find,” thereby stepping out of the darkness that the war has imposed upon him.

Auditory Elements

The melody has an optimistic quality to it that reflects the lyrics’ hopeful nature. The pop style evokes a lighter mood and joyful, celebratory tone that contrasts with the previous songs chosen.

In Chorus 2, more voices join the singer, conveying the sense that the individual is no longer alone, and that he is receiving support from society at last thanks to his new-found passion of writing about his experiences. Throughout Chorus 2, the individual gains the sense that he should appreciate being alive and “live [his] life with arms wide open,” because peace was worth fighting for only if those who remain take advantage of it.

The last rendition of Chorus 1 is sung in gospel-like style, furthering the idea that a large group is supporting and even encouraging the individual’s attempts at writing in order to express his emotions and thereby release them, leading him to find joy in the world once more.

The Wars, Part Eleven

Start with Part One. ~

Another lovely rock song! ~ "The hits just keep on coming!" ~

Though it shouldn't be a surprise any longer, I do not know this band either. ~ (Really. Although I do pride myself on having a varied taste in music, rock has always been one of my "fringe" likes; that is, I capture random songs into my musical net and play them exclusively for awhile before moving on.) ~ "Going Down in Flames" immediately caught my attention as I was song-hunting, because the title itself evokes the imagery of burning and descending into despair - perfect for describing the wars. ~ Take hope, however, knowing that this is the last "depressing" song on my list. ~ La pluie après le beau temps, indeed. ~

Furthermore, the inexorable pull of violence and war will begin to manifest itself in individuals.

Going Down in Flames, by Three Doors Down:

Don't tell me what to think, 'cause I don't care this time
Don't tell me what to believe, 'cause you won't be there
Catch me when I fall
But you'll need me when I'm not here at all
Miss me when I'm gone again

I'm goin' down in flames
I'm fallin' into this again
I'm goin' down in flames
I'm fallin' into this again

Don't tell me how life is, 'cause I don't really wanna know
Don't tell me how this game ends, 'cause we'll just see how it goes.
Catch me when I fall
Or you'll need me when I'm not here at all
Miss me when I'm gone again.

I'm goin' down in flames
I'm fallin' into this again
I'm goin' down in flames
I'm fallin' into this again
Now all the way down here I'm falling all the way
All the way down here I'm falling again now.
I'm falling down, I'm falling down, I'm falling down

I'm goin' down in flames
I'm fallin' into this again
I'm goin' down in flames
I'm fallin' into this again

Now all the way down here I'm falling all the way
All the way down here I'm falling again now.
I'm falling down

Literary Content

In “Going Down in Flames,” the individual describes how despite his many attempts, even in loneliness, to adapt once more to civilian life, he feels the pull of violence and of war, which opposes him to the feelings he has for his lover. The flames in the song represent the all-consuming need to kill and to succumb to the pressures of his memories of war. His repetition of “goin’ down in flames” and “fallin’ into this again” conveys this terror of war, which he fears he can never escape.
Furthermore, he knows that his lover “won't be there [to] / Catch [him] when [he] fall[s],” which highlights his sense of independence, a result of having learnt to rely on no one but himself during the war. He expresses resentment as a result, asserting that if he ever goes off to war again, she’ll miss him and need him, yet she can offer no comfort and refuge for him in return.

Auditory Elements

Because this is a rock song, the accompaniment is composed of a constant beat along with a heavy electric guitar and bass. These set up a desperate and dread-filled tone which matches the lyrics. The steady beat also sets up a driving rhythm that pushes the song forward and contributes to the inevitability of the individual’s succumbing to “the flames.” Finally, in the last three stanzas, the words begin to overlap and interject randomly, repeating the same lyrics over and over again. This creates a confusing and uncertain mood which parallels the emotions felt by the individual during the war and which he is suffering through once more.

The Wars, Part Ten

You may begin at Part One. ~

Voilà: another Green Day song. ~ This one I have known for a long time - in fact, it could be called one of my "fall-back" songs; that is, the type of song I listen to when I'm either in a nostalgic mood, or tired of the series of songs I have on rotate at the current time. ~ As a result, I even know all the lyrics by heart. ~ Quite a feat for someone who never exclusively listens to music, but rather chooses to play "bgm" (AKA, "background music"). ~ FYI, I also have a strange affinity for discovering the extended forms of acronyms, in case you haven't caught it. ~ I wonder who else didn't know that "app" = application and "Interpol" = international police? ~

Completely derailing. ~ Enjoy "Boulevard of Broken Dreams," and may your own dreams be whole and satisfactory. ~

As a result, they will feel alienated from society.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams, by Green Day:

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk a...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Till then I walk alone

Ah-ah Ah-ah Ah-ah Aaah-ah
Ah-ah Ah-ah Ah-ah

I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line of the edge
And where I walk alone

Read between the lines
What's f***** up and everything's all right
Check my vital signs to know I'm still alive
And I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk a...

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Till then I walk alone

Ah-Ah Ah-Ah Ah-Ah Aaah-Ah
Ah-Ah Ah-Ah

I walk alone
I walk a...

I walk this empty street
On the boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk a...

My shadow's only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Till then I walk alone

Literary Content

In “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” the individual expresses his alienation through the metaphor of walking down “a lonely road.” He wishes “someone out there will find [him],” yet because he is so different from the rest of society, he is condemned to “walk alone” while “the city sleeps,” another metaphor which indicates his disconnection from society. Furthermore, he feels lost and “[doesn’t] know where [the road] goes.” This “boulevard of broken dreams” represents his shattered vision of war and of humanity; having killed men and seen other men being killed, his former childhood dreams of the glory of war have been forever broken. His shattered internal state is further highlighted through the metaphor of the “line / that divides [him] somewhere in [his] mind.” This line divides not only his new, war-torn self from his formerly innocent and lust-for-violence self, but also divides him from society, driving him to “the edge” of madness. His only way to ascertain that he is “still alive” is to “check [his] vital signs,” which is an action reminiscent of what, as a soldier, he would have done in war; this further illustrates how the individual is still in a battle mindset. However, he yearns to finally escape the horrors of war, wishing that “someone out there will find [him]” and relieve him of his lonely misery.

Auditory Elements

The song begins with a bass riff entrance that resonates and vibrates, conveying the auditory imagery of slow, plodding steps taken by the lonely individual. This establishes a dragging, depressed mood.

Also, the reference to “[the individual’s] shadow” represents the ever-present influence of war and of his memories of fighting. The fact that the previous line, “I walk a…,” is interrupted by “my shadow,” suggests that even in loneliness, he is not free from the horrors of war.

Finally, the heavy bass solo at the end, from 3:44 to 4:17, completes the piece in a dark and despondent mood as the individual continues to persist in loneliness.

The Wars, Part Nine

Part One starts it off. ~

Finally, we have the country song. ~ Amusing factoid: FL thinks, and I agree, that country music is too blatant in its lyrics; that is, it explicitly states everything without using much figurative language or subtleties. ~ This isn't a jab at country music, but simply a fact that does not reflect upon my opinion of the genre overall. ~

Nevertheless, these quite obvious lyrics served my purpose well, and hence "I Just Came Back From A War" is included in my playlist. ~

However, they will soon discover that they have difficulty relating to the rest of society. War divides the individual from the collective by subjecting him or her to life-threatening circumstances, under which the individual becomes so emotionally strained that he or she loses the connection with the commonplace reality of daily life.

I Just Came Back from a War, by Darryl Worley:

The first thing I did when that plane finally landed was kiss the ground
The next thing I did was to go find my friends down at the old hangout
Drank some beer and talked a lot about old times
But when the booze finally hit Billy Joe Grimes
He said I don't know what it is, but you seem different to me

I said I just came back from a place where they hated me
and everything I stand for
A land where our brothers are dying for others who don't even care anymore
If I'm not exactly the same good old boy that you ran around with before
I just came back from a war

The very next morning I took a walk through the neighborhood
I thought it's been so long since I've been in a place where everything is good
People laughing and children were playing
And as I watched ’em I found myself praying
Lord keep ’em safe here at home in the land of the free

Cuz I just came back from a place where they hated me
And everything I stand for
A land where our brothers are dying for others who don't even care anymore
If I'm not same little freckled face boy
That grew up in that house next door
I just came back from a war

I hope you cherish this sweet way of life
And I hope you know that it comes with a price

I just came back from a place where they hated me
And everything I stand for
A land where our brothers are dying for others who don't even care anymore
Chances are I never will be the same
I really don't know anymore
I just came back from a war

I just came back from a war

[Background]
You don’t know me (repeated)

I just came back from a war

Literary Content

In “I Just Came Back from a War,” the individual begins to realize to what extent he has been changed by the war. His friends back home notice that he “seem[s] different,” which causes the individual to relate the hate he’s been forced to endure during the war. His pain regarding his fellow soldiers’ deaths is further underscored by the fact that they “are dying for others who don’t even care anymore;” namely, that they no longer fight for a purpose. He also explains his tarnished innocence by juxtaposing his current self with the “little freckled face boy / That grew up in that house next door,” suggesting that he was forced to grow up and grow burdened with suffering during the war and that he no longer has those same urges to be a “killing machine.” However, he can no longer see anything without thinking about the war; the “people laughing and children […] playing” remind him of just how fragile peace is. This shows the extent to which he has been permanently affected; “chances are [he] never will be the same.”

Auditory Elements

The country style of this song contributes to establishing a peaceful and slightly nostalgic mood, as this type of music is reminiscent of the traditional American hometown. The use of the Am chord, combined with the Cadd9 and G chords, adds a slight tinge of sadness to the joy and relief of homecoming.

Also, the individual’s further alienation is hinted at the line, “you don’t know me,” which, as it repeated, fades to silence, suggesting that he is retreating into himself more and more as time goes by. This creates a melancholic and lonely tone.

The Wars, Part Eight

Part One is where it all begins. ~

So, I admit it: I did go a little overboard with the A7X songs. ~ However, they fit so perfectly with the theme that I couldn't resist. Stumbling upon this band was like uncovering a treasure trove of beautifully suitable gold to match the otherwise bland outfit. ~

"Gunslinger" helps illustrate my previous point in Part Two about A7X's music being "flexible." ~ This song begins in a near-country style, then transitions to rock. Both convey emotions of despair and anguish, but in distinct ways. ~ This contrast keeps the song interesting, as it does in so much of their other music. ~

After leaving the battlefield of war, individuals will initially be relieved at the prospect of returning home and filled with the hope that they can return to a sense of normalcy because they are unable to grasp the full extent of the war’s influence upon themselves.

Gunslinger, by Avenged Sevenfold:

Yeah, you've been alone
I've been gone for far too long
But with all that we've been through
After all this time I'm coming home to you

Never let it show
The pain I've grown to know
'Cause with all these things we do
It don't matter when I'm coming home to you

[Chorus]
I reach towards the sky I've said my goodbyes
My heart's always with you now
I won't question why so many have died
My prayers have made it through yeah
'Cause with all these things we do
It don't matter when I'm coming home to you

Letters keep me warm
Helped me through the storm
But with all that we've been through
After all this time I'm coming home to you

[Chorus]

I've always been true
I've waited so long just to come hold you
I'm making it through
It's been far too long, we've proven our
love over time's so strong, in all that we do
The stars in the night, they lend me their light
to bring me closer to heaven with you

(Bring me closer)

But with all that we've been through
After all this time I'm coming home to you

[Chorus]

And with all that we've been through
After all this time I'm coming home to you

Lyrical Content

In “Gunslinger,” the individual is coming home after the war has ended. Through this song, he is addressing a lover he left at home and is now returning to. He wants to forget the war and return to his civilian life, wanting to believe that “[his] heart [will] always [be] with [his lover] now,” and that he “won’t question why so many have died.” This belief that love can overcome the grim reality of war’s impact is unfounded, considering how the individual already exhibits thoughts about “never let[ting] show / The pain [he’s] grown to know” in war, thus foreshadowing his inevitable distancing from society as a result of concealing his memories and emotions. His fervent use of “it don’t matter” undermines the gravity of all that he has faced; his hope at finding happiness anew so simply is therefore based on the fact that he is lying to himself.

Auditory Elements

The song opens with a soft guitar accompaniment, in a near-country style, which hints at an image of a lone horseman riding home. The tone established with this calm accompaniment is a sad, mournful one, as appropriate for one returning from war. Furthermore, the sudden rise in pitch on each “all” sounds somewhat strained, hinting at the deeper pain that the individual has suffered in war.

Then, a rock style begins at end of third stanza as the individual begins to remember the war, as evidenced by his use of the metaphor “storm” to describe his grueling experience. His voice becomes more strained as he repeats the chorus, conveying a sense that he is trying to convince himself that he can readjust to civilian life despite his evidently lingering pain from the memories of war. He succeeds in part, as the tone becomes more hopeful in the sixth stanza, after the second rendition of the chorus. This is conveyed through the ascending melody line in both the vocal accompaniment, and then in the solo electric guitar from 2:59 to 3:22. These rising musical lines in the background subtly hint at the brighter future that the individual is hoping for.

The Wars, Part Seven

Look! You can start at Part One! ~

The Devil Wears Prada was known only as a movie to me before having tackled this assignment. ~ Nevertheless, I decided to listen to this song through the suggestion of FL, who helped a great deal by being there to listen to my ramblings and explanations while working on this playlist and ensuring me that I was still staying coherent... or not. ~ Regardless. "Louder Than Thunder" is a short but very unique song, calm yet haunting all at once. ~ One more interesting factoid before you listen: The Devil Wears Prada is a Christian band. ~

This will lead individuals to desire peace in the place of war.

Louder Than Thunder, by The Devil Wears Prada:

What would it take?
For things to be quiet, quiet like the snow.

I know this isn't much, but I know, I could, I could be better.

I don’t think I deserve it, selflessness.
Find your way into my heart.

All stars could be brighter,
All hearts could be warmer.

What would it take for things to be quiet?
Quiet like the snow.

Are we meant to be empty handed?
I know I could, I could be better.

I don’t think I deserve it, selflessness.
Find your way into my heart.

All stars could be brighter,
All hearts could be warmer.

What would it take for things to be quiet?

Literary Content

“Louder Than Thunder” conveys the individual’s longing for peace. The thunder is a symbol for war, whereas the “quiet” represents peace. The simile of “quiet like the snow” expresses the individual’s belief that peace is pure and innocent, untainted and unlike the fear that comes with “thunder,” and thus war. Having endured so much already, the individual does not think he “deserve[s]” be fighting in this war, amid all this violence, and exhibiting this “selflessness;” as a result, he starts to doubt the validity and justification behind fighting in the war. Even though he realizes that his desire for peace “isn’t much,” he knows that he “could be [a] better [person]” if peace were to finally come. His hope for this better future is conveyed through the lines “all stars could be brighter” and “all hearts could be warmer,” where the stars represent the brilliance of mankind and the hearts represent the potential kindness of human beings.

Auditory Elements

The piano and cello introduction establishes the slow tempo and longing mood that is to characterize the entire piece. The generally minimal accompaniment allows the lyrics to sound more unadorned and thus more heartfelt. Also, the swell that ends abruptly on the word “quiet” at 1:23, in addition to the end of all accompaniment on the last “quiet” at the very end, serve to draw the listener’s attention to the brief pause, which ends with a feeling of more to come. This parallels the individual’s urging and almost breathless desire for peace.

The Wars, Part Six

As always, start at Part One. ~

Ah, so we've arrived at the inevitable Green Day song. ~ Indeed, "21 Guns" seems to be one of the more well-known songs in my list. ~ In fact, Green Day is one of the rare rock bands that I was familiar with since earlier childhood; "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" and "Wake Me Up When September Ends" are two of the very first English songs I ever heard. ~ "21 Guns" was a new one to me, though. ~ Quite a pleasing melody, with a catchy chorus. ~ The music video puzzled me, but I did enjoy the effect of the bullets piercing the drywall and letting light shine through the holes into the room. ~ Now, without further ado, I shall let you succumb to the sounds of Green Day and your own thoughts on the wars. ~

As a result, individuals may begin to question the validity behind the reasons for war and gain a sense of futility regarding the war.

21 Guns, by Green Day:

[Verse 1]
Do you know what's worth fighting for?
When it's not worth dying for?
Does it take your breath away
And you feel yourself suffocating?

Does the pain weigh out the pride?
And you look for a place to hide?
Did someone break your heart inside?
You're in ruins

[Chorus]
One, 21 guns
Lay down your arms, give up the fight
One, 21 guns
Throw up your arms into the sky, you and I

[Verse 2]
When you're at the end of the road
And you lost all sense of control
And your thoughts have taken their toll
When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul

Your faith walks on broken glass
And the hangover doesn't pass
Nothing's ever built to last
You're in ruins

[Chorus]

[Bridge]
Did you try to live on your own
When you burned down the house and home?
Did you stand too close to the fire
Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone?

[Verse 3]
When it's time to live and let die
And you can't get another try
Something inside this heart has died
You're in ruins

[Chorus, repeat]

Literary Content

In “21 Guns,” the individual comes to the realization that he’s fighting a war that is “not worth dying for.” This echoes his friend’s earlier comment that “no cause could be […] worthy” of dying for (see “Everybody’s Gone to War”); his point of view now resembles hers. He even takes up her role, speaking to a fellow soldier and attempting to convince him to “throw up [his] arms into the sky” so that they can surrender together in a war that is not “worth fighting for.” In explaining his decision, the individual uses the word “ruins” to evoke the image of a desolate battlefield ravaged by war; this image has transferred itself onto the individual, who likewise has been torn asunder by the psychological effects of war. His “pain weigh[s] out the pride” of fighting for his country; his “[mind broke] the spirit of [his] soul,” as slowly, the thoughts of the deaths of his fellow soldiers combined with his own heinous deeds of murder overtook his initial “killing machine” desire and instinct. His sadness and inability to forget those whom he killed is reflected by his “looking for forgiveness in a stone;” he tries to apologize to the graves of the dead, yet is unable to find repentance because he is a “liar,” having pledged his duty to a cause he no longer believes in. Scorched because he “[stood] too close to the fire” of war, the individual is unable to heal from the burns inflicted by his deeds on his memory. Hence, he realizes that “something inside [his] heart has died” and that he can no longer go back to the way he was before; as such, he wants to “lay down [his] arms [and] give up the fight.”

Auditory Elements

The chord progression for each line throughout the song is Dm, A#, F and C, resolving from a minor to a major instead of the opposite, like in “Everybody’s Gone to War.” This evokes a more hopeful tone in the overall song, though it is still tinged with a slightly mournful mood reflecting the “ruins” caused by the war.

Furthermore, after verse 3, there is a pause that last from 3:38 to 3:41; at this time, it seems as if the song has ended. However, the lyrics and accompaniment suddenly restart with the chorus. This pause, located right after the words “you’re in ruins,” suggests that the individual is overcome by his sense of futility in the war; nevertheless, the louder and more vigorous sound caused by the addition of bass accompaniment in the chorus that follows shows his renewed hope for the future. This combination further conveys an initially futile tone that blends into one of hope for peace.

The Wars, Part Five

Read Part One first! ~

Another A7X song. ~ Heart-wrenching and catchy at the same time. ~ Written and performed as a tribute to the belated James Owen Sullivan (aka "the Rev"), I found "So Far Away" a fitting song to fit into my wars playlist. ~

Humans deal with death even in day-to-day life, not just in war. ~ Death is presented in many ways, and its effect on those around the deceased person have sparked many a novel, song and painting. ~ Pain, memories and, to a certain extent, fear of the future. ~ A sickening mixture that amalgamates to grief and loss. ~ With these emotions in mind, please approach the song and the analysis with an open perspective and a certain understanding. ~

Furthermore, the increasing amounts of lives lost will cause individuals deep emotional pain and suffering, furthering their disenchantment as a consequence of facing the realities of war.

So Far Away, by Avenged Sevenfold:

Never feared for anything, never shamed but never free
A life that healed a broken heart with all that it could
Lived a life so endlessly, saw beyond what others see
I tried to heal your broken heart with all that I could
Will you stay? Will you stay away forever?

[Chorus]
How do I live without the ones I love?
Time still turns the pages of the book it’s burned
Place and time always on my mind
I have so much to say but you're so far away

Plans of what our futures hold, foolish lies of growing old
It seems we're so invincible, the truth is so cold
A final song, a last request, a perfect chapter laid to rest
Now and then I try to find a place in my mind
Where you can stay, you can stay awake forever

[Chorus]

Sleep tight, I'm not afraid
The ones that we love are here with me
Lay away a place for me
'Cause as soon as I'm done I'll be on my way
To live eternally

[Chorus, modified]
How do I live without the ones I love?
Time still turns the pages of the book it’s burned
Place and time always on my mind
And the light you left remains but it's so hard to stay
When I have so much to say and you're so far away

I love you, you were ready
The pain is strong enough despise
But I'll see you when he lets me
Your pain is gone, your hands are tied

So far away and I need you to know
So far away and I need you to, need you to know

Literary Content

The death of his fellow soldier in “Sink or Swim,” coupled with the many other deaths as a result of the war, have affected the individual deeply. He questions “how [he can] live without the ones [he] love[s],” relating his pain through the use of a burnt book metaphor. For the individual, the pages of the book that is his life are scorched irreparably by the loss of so many of his fellow soldiers. He “ha[s] so much to say,” yet because his friends are “so far away,” a euphemism for death, the individual alone must feel “the [cold] truth” of the war. His use of irony in the words “a perfect chapter” convey his bitter feelings regarding the war, which he feels was “perfect” because his fellow soldiers were still alive, yet truly imperfect because it caused their deaths.

Auditory Elements

The song is in a minor key, with a sad melody that conveys the melancholy that accompanies the individual’s memories of his friends. The quiet acoustic guitar interlude after the modified chorus begins calmly and in the same sad mood, yet builds with the addition of the drumset and electric guitar, conveying his growing anger at the deaths of his fellow soldiers. Finally, the entrance of the singer in an unusually strained voice in the seventh and eighth stanzas conveys the individual’s pain-filled tone despite his acceptance of his friend’s death, foreshadowing his further disenchantment with the war.

The Wars, Part Four

Start at Part One. ~

Tyrone Wells is a brilliant singer. (Seems that I haven't disliked a single artist in my playlist yet... Perhaps over-long exposure to their music has fine tuned my ears to their nuances and styles.) ~ This song was first introduced to me by my good friend FL, whose taste in music is very much like my own. ~ Oddly enough, "Sink or Swim" reminds be of the How to Train Your Dragon series by Cressida Cowell, recently made into an animated movie. ~ One of the characters is named Camicazi, which could hint at the reason behind my train of thought. ~ Regardless, I suggest anyone with free time to take a lot at both Tyrone Wells' other music and the book series aforementioned. ~ Enjoy! ~

Nevertheless, the continuous, taxing effect of war will eventually drive some individuals mad, at which time they will consider suicide.

Sink or Swim, by Tyrone Wells:

[Verse 1]
Caught in the middle of a cross-fire
Lost my balance on a high-wire
Trying to figure out what to do

[Verse 2]
Pushed to the edge of my reason
Everywhere around me in treason
I don't want to do that to you

[Chorus]
Kamikaze airplanes in the sky
Are we going down or will we fly
This could be a ship wreck on the shore
Or we could sail away forevermore
This time it's sink or swim

Sink or swim

[Verse 3]
Hearing the song in your laughter
A melody I chase after
No one else has done this to me

[Chorus]

[Bridge]
Take a deep breath
No more time left
This is what I thought I wanted
Why am I afraid

[Chorus, repeat]

Sink or swim

Lyrical Content

In “Sink or Swim,” the individual speaks to a fellow soldier about his thoughts on suicide, as reflected by the use of the metaphor of “kamikaze airplanes.” In war, the individual’s life is “balance[d] on a high-wire,” precariously hinged on every decision and movement. Having been “pushed to the edge of [his] reason” by the continuously taxing effect of fighting, the individual remarks that there is a very fine line between life and death in war through his metaphor of “sink or swim.” To sink would be to give in to his thoughts on suicide, whereas to swim would be to retake hold of his life and thereby do his best to survive the war. These suicidal thoughts are sparked by his fellow soldier, who, having gone mad and desiring death himself, entices the individual with “the song [of death] in [his] laughter.” Seeing that there is a certainty in death as compared to the dilemmas and horrors in war life, the individual feels as though he, too, should resort to suicide. However, just as his fellow soldier has “no more time left” and chooses to take his own life, the individual realizes that he is actually “afraid” of death.

Auditory Elements

The brief pause in accompaniment during the word “kamikaze” parallels a simulated feeling of the individual’s stomach dropping as he falls from a tall height, thereby evoking the image of jumping from an airplane. This moment of musically-unsupported free-fall reflects the individual’s sense of hopelessness and alarm. Also, the addition of the drumset during the chorus raises the volume of the song, emphasizing the individual’s desperate tone.

To the very end, the individual seems to be “caught” in his dilemma of “sink or swim,” repeating the chorus twice as he struggles to make his decision. However, after the lyrics end at 2:45, the calm acoustic guitar accompaniment continues on, striking a definitive chord at 2:49 and conveying a tone of finality, thereby suggesting that the individual has made his choice – to live, as hinted at by the final major chord’s bright and relaxed sound.