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Something I could have been



Something I could have been - LiveJournal.com



Last Build Date: Tue, 08 Dec 2009 11:37:56 GMT

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Tue, 08 Dec 2009 11:37:56 GMT

Bri M MenningJeffrey HarrisonFinal Paper/WR 123Fall Term/2009“Three-Ring Addicts at Heart”Rise Against the Extreme Silence fills those lots now, where once the Greatest Show on Earth dazzled fifteen thousand excited patrons housed under an enormous fifteen acres of canvas (Hammarstrom, 38.) The midway, a pulsing vein, teemed with thousands upon thousands of circus folk and citizens, one entertaining the other, the other supporting the existence of the first, both converging within the beating heart that was the big top. Memorable curiosities, exotic creatures from all corners of the world, death-defying feats by blindfolded women high above the heads of the crowds, and the sound of that big brass band, finally reaching crescendo, fade into distant memory. We don't pay for that sort of entertainment anymore. We much prefer to handpick our entertainment, the quiet, sterilized settlement of a prepackaged box into our carts to be enjoyed by a limited, homogenized culture. Technology provides yet another level of separation from our entertainment and, as a result, the community around us. We've become a more advanced society, but have we become less collective as well? The once-teeming circus lots beg response, where have all the people gone?The Rise of the Circus"The circus is change of pace--beauty against our daily ugliness, excitement against our boredom." -John Steinbeck At the turn of the last century, Ringling Brothers, basking in the warmth of their success, "hit the rail" (Hammarstrom, 37) towing seventy-six rail cars. Hundreds of misfit, traveling vagabonds considered this their home. These vagrants unloaded the trains and, like "ants on candy" (Gruen1, 32,) descended upon empty lots and equipment-packed train cars with vigor, methodically bringing the circus to life. Smells of popcorn, lemonade, and sawdust envelope the anxiously awaiting township. Distant roars and tinkling instruments, sounds carried by the wind, confirm: the circus is in town! The big top, an expansive mass of canvas stretching 600 feet long and 200 feet wide, heaves it‘s way above the heads of the growing crowds. In a matter of hours, rail-side lots teeming with activity transform desolate open fields to beehives of energy and activity. The cook-tent belched and burped smoke from the staff meal. The circus, if not a way to riches for some, was at least a free meal to many outsiders who hopped the train to join the circus. Circus life also provided an outlet for a strange talent for those yearning for public approval. Performers, expected to master their craft, dedicated hours to the daily preparation and practice of their carefully cultivated performances. For many, the train circus provided an exciting life, as well as a profitable one; all of the star quality with much more adventure. Within these chugging, expansive, steel trains and under the dingy canvas, spotted with mud from the season's work lived some of the World's greatest performers. Their sole purpose being to entertain, these masters of the craft dazzled spectators, defying laws of nature and man. Sideshows, in addition to the menagerie collection, aided in dictating a show's prosperity. Gigantic circuses, such as Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey, scoured the earth for human oddities and talents, such as sword-swallowers and fire-breathers. Tarot card readers, conjoined twins, and enchanting prostitutes dominated the sideshow tents, true social rejects living among circus gypsies. Often the circus, the only alternative for someone born with a permanent, debilitating disorder, provided a sense of belonging. Many sideshow professionals flourished among those who were cast out of society as they were. Likewise, public curiosity, admiration, and yearning for this knowledge of the obscure and disturbing sustained the growth and continuance of the sideshow, which provided a valuable home for many rejected elsewhere. We adored the circus. It became our cultural darling. Nowhere else could remote villages and townships view the magnitude of extremes more profoundly than at t[...]



Where did all the fun go?

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 11:31:56 GMT

By Brittany M MenningSilence fills those lots now, where once the Greatest Show on Earth dazzled fifteen thousand excited patrons. (Hammarstrom, 38) Memorable curiosities, exotic creatures from all corners of the world, death-defying feats by blindfolded women high above the heads of the crowds, and the sound of that big brass band, finally reaching crescendo, fade into distant memory.We don't pay for that sort of entertainment anymore. We much prefer to handpick our entertainment, the quiet settlement of a prepackaged box into our carts to be enjoyed by a limited, homogenized culture. Technology provides yet another level of separation from our entertainment and, as a result, the community around us. We've become a more advanced society, but have we become less collective as well? The once-teeming circus lots beg response, where have all the people gone?The Rise of the Circus"The circus is change of pace--beauty against our daily ugliness, excitement against our boredom."-John SteinbackAt the turn of the last century, Ringling Brothers, at their height of their power, "hit the rail" (Hammarstrom, 37) towing seventy-six rail cars. Hundreds of misfit, traveling vagabonds considered this their home. These vagrants unloaded the trains and, like "ants on candy" (Gruen, 32), descended upon the empty lots and equipment-packed train cars with vigor and methodically brought the circus to life. The big top, an expansive mass of canvas stretching 600 feet long and 200 feet wide, was still put up by hand, and those at the bottom of the ladder did this grueling grunt work. In a matter of hours, the rail-side lot would teem with activity. The cook-tent belched and burped the smoke for the staff meal. The circus, if not a way to riches for some, was at least a free meal to many of the misfits who hopped the train to join the circus.For others, the circus provided an outlet for a strange talent or fascination for those yearning for public approval. Performers were expected to master their craft, dedicating hours to the daily preparation and practice of their carefully cultivated performances. For many, the train circus provided an exciting life, as well as a profitable one.Within these chugging, expansive, steel trains and under the dingy canvas, spotted with mud from the season's work lived some of the World's greatest performers. Though they did little grunt work, they were the life-blood of the traveling circus.Like all shows, there was a performer hierarchy. Clowns provided a distraction while other performers set up and got ready for their spot. They were essential to the circus, the only people allowed to "remain in the ring while other artists (were) performing (Swortzell, 212)," handing out candy, causing minor mischief, "freely interrupting other acts or wandering into the audience" where they could, if they wanted, view the show "from the lap of a pretty female spectator." Minor performers were shown simultaneously, forcing spectators to choose which of the three rings they would watch. For major performers, on the other hand, the focus was put onto the center ring while the other two "stood empty (Culhane, 179)" It was expected that they were emptied considering "it was assumed all eyes would be on these performers anyway."While general workers survived in the closely-packed sleeping cars they were assigned, some circus stars demanded their own train cars, displaying temperaments resembling those of modern media darlings. They controlled the show. Performers aimed to show the world "what a man can do (Hammarstrom, 52) ," impressing crowds across the country and working to obtain that standing ovation from the crowds whose attendance numbered in the thousands. Aerialists performed heart-stopping feats at heights far above the heads of those attending, riding bicycles and dancing. Their daring and expertise aroused feelings of "dazed rapture of disbelief and total awe," launching talented individuals, such as the delightful and delicate Bird Millman, who trilled popular songs to enchanted circus[...]




Thu, 19 Nov 2009 06:25:34 GMT

This morning I woke. Tired, but optimistic. A good attitude is optimal for starting my day. I feel the power of the world again, the stress and sadness that has overwhelmed my days lays heavy on my chest. With this, and my books, I packed my way to school, the weight of my emotion on my heart and the reason why contained within the books on my back. One cannot weigh their emotions when the world's weight is displayed for consideration.
The internalization of education is never easy. I contemplate the separation in my own life. What led me here? What has come before? The cool, crisp day reminds me I am human, that I can feel. Time escapes through my fingers, and again I am caught up in the excitement of education and future and knowledge.
But what of the loss? Can one compare, leaving the world that you've loved for the one you're learning? My oblivious nature held me to life's bosom; it was easier to live than to know. I appreciate the beauty of the world for it's delicate and resistant nature in deeper ways. I feel more complexly human than ever before. Regardless, I will never be able to return to the world I was born and socialized in. The ties are painful to break, a cultural amputation. I am optimistic. This is the only thing I have left anymore, and it is optimal for starting everyday and living every moment as such. I'm tired, sleep eludes me in lieu of education.
Tonight, I sit again. Exhausted, exhilarated. I sit in the cool night, the wind kissing my cheeks. The physical intake of the feeling raises tiny goosebumps along my arms. I'm reading again, an assignment for another class. I work hours in the damp air, the cool wind, the comfort of what's natural. I realize, yet again, that my emotions are a precariously full dam within my heart. The physical sense of the wind while I work will, for now, replace the emotional act of feeling my emotions. The more I work, the less I am; the more I seek, the more I become.
When tomorrow breaks, I will have completed the most I could have. I remember I cannot break myself completely; I am human yet. As tired as I am, as stressed as I feel at this moment, as much as I choke back the forces that will break me, tomorrow I will wake up optimistic. I may be an idealist, with hopes of eventual educational utopia, but the struggle separates dictionary and personal definitions of utopia for me. When I crest I-5, early tomorrow, and ascend on the cement haven I know better than my own apartment, I will, for a moment, remember my utopia.



MOVIE TEASER!

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 04:05:01 GMT

Check it out! The teaser from the movie I'm in- rock on!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dOEp4OlMWc




Thu, 26 Feb 2009 20:04:23 GMT

(image)




Tue, 04 Nov 2008 16:55:49 GMT

To me, there is little difference between the DUI and a strip club-
The flashing lights, too much to drink. The hands that hold your thighs, your waist, eyes lock into your eyes. A feeling of too much, too bad. Incomplete feelings of exasperation. Perspiration. And you are touched. Grasping, handling, holding, searching. And you may not touch back, or risk the shame of a more cold, dark place than you inhabit now.
In both there is a feigned sense of authority. In their respective worlds they hold the key to your in-morality, a shamed secret but few care to divulge. You either love those entertainers, or despise their hold over you. Powerless, you wait for reality to set in. The cold cement after wards awaits your arrival where you wait for your salvation. Church, or a 300-hundred mile drive to free you.
Blinking in the emerging sun thereafter, you can't help but wonder- Was the money I wasted tonight worth a night of indiscretion?




Sun, 24 Aug 2008 21:13:23 GMT

So, I'm very excited to announce that I have recieved a part in a horror movie, starting to shoot this September, and wrapping sometime next spring/summer. I got the part of the token "last girl alive" badass Maxine. The movie wont go to theaters, but it will be nationally distributed. If you buy it, I'll sign it for ya. ;) Exciting!




Tue, 15 Jul 2008 01:23:56 GMT

(image)

(image)




Mon, 14 Jul 2008 05:23:01 GMT

Prophecy

The ten of swords, the hanged man-
One again, the prophecy reads that nothing
But the grace of god can save me,
Though reluctant to believe.

The pattern, the slight shift in matter, deceive-
And who am I, but a temptress in the sleeve?
Can’t one tell, the difference between heaven and hell?
It is my reality.

And for you, your tricks, your intricate ability to perceive
Nothing beyond the realm of impossibility,
I give you no more than you have given me.

The steady strip of inhumanity brings me
Near to immortality between the sheets,
Without more than a whisper of commitment,
Or even a word of resentment, you gave me
But a glimpse into what will never be.

Though, through the harrowing regret,
I find little remorse, or otherwise,
To convince me that you were more
Than just a bummed cigarette,
Somewhat of one who preferred to pet.

And I, I find, needed you.
One to remind me my own ability to deceive-
The blind confined to their own reality.
And though that may be my place,
I am content in the acceptance thereof.

And instead shift my ability to please
Into the hands of humanity




Sat, 12 Jul 2008 04:46:07 GMT

Good evening! Another fantastically ironic day, just like the one before.
Regardless, in Bend for a few days, not really doing a whole lot, so give me a call (if you'd like)
Anyway, there is pretty much nothing going on with me right now. I'm living in Cottage Grove with Lucas and his family (who have basically adopted me) until I feel like going back to work / I run out of money. I suppose I should be doing something useful with my time, like devoting serious time to thought, or writing my memiors. Instead, I'm perfecting the art of sleeping past noon, drinking all day and smoking. That, I feel, is just about as much as I need to accomplish




Fri, 09 May 2008 01:35:02 GMT

So I got into a car accident, which put me out of commission recently. It's a really hard time for me here in Eugene. Mostly because I'm so busy with working and going to school that I don't really have time to deal with a car that's thrashed and a really painful back and stomach. My day's require so much energy, which was always fine because I have a lot of energy, but now I'm just too freakin' busy. But, it's been decided that I will be heading home for the summer. I want to relax in bend before next term- it's been a shity year so far. But hey, at least I'm persistently positive and focused so I'm getting through it. Bien!




Thu, 24 Apr 2008 17:49:00 GMT

I will be in Bend tonight around midnight or so, stay all day friday, and leave saturday morning around 5 am. Anyone who wants to see me in my 30 hours or so in bend (very little sleep!) call or text 541-350-8613




Mon, 14 Apr 2008 00:16:52 GMT

I had my 21st birthday yesterday, and it was perfect. My new roommate Alacia, and PR major, wrote me up a plan. Bar at midnight, sleep, gym, "chillax", dinner, and then bar-->bar--->bar->bar
As it were my whole day went to plant except when it came to going out,then it went bar-->strip club. It was a good time.




Wed, 19 Mar 2008 05:11:36 GMT

So, tomorrow closes my first official term of college. Then begins spring break, and I'm already well into my last month of being a “minor" and I'm at that inevitable point in my life where I question everything I am, and where I came from. Obviously this is a very annoying question to ponder, considering the fact that, just like everyone else I know, I like to pretend that I know who I am. This is particularly a problem for me, as I am finding that I am the opposite of everything I thought.Not without taking into consideration the brute forces of change, I realize that I may not have always fundamentally been such as I am now. I believe people have the ability, with exceptional events and exceptions in general (therefore shaky at best), to change core bits of their personality (either intentionally or unintentionally). Meaning, basically, that even a month ago, when my entire fucking life felt like it was going up in smoke, I may have been a twin (same background, same look, different ideas, and different morals) of myself. Therefore, with that taken into consideration, this is who I (am) find(ing) in my search for myself.I find that I love the idea of romance, but in actuality, I am not a romantic person. I like getting shit done, reading and talking. And writing intellectually (to be revisited). I’m not a huge fan of romantic walks or staring into each other’s eyes. My eyes are brown. Thanks. Moving on.I’ve learned that I enjoy good sex. Read, I enjoy good sex, I am not a whore. I value craftsmanship, and the general process. I love feeling sexy. I love exercising, and how beautiful I feel it makes me. I still love my high heels, but I like my jeans now too. I find I am also in preference of coupldom, as I would rather to learn well, and be comfortable, than to worry about expertise or disease (perhaps not in that order).Again, I enjoy good writing. However, don’t assume that because I am pretty (fucking) good at writing poetry (and, I’ve heard, in general) that I’m willing to edit your most recent “essay” or… as you call it, “confession of the soul”. I mean I appreciate good writing, and perhaps that may mean that you know Keats or Yates, a poetic Plath or Hughes, maybe Sedaris (a good one!), and have studied for more than general content and diction. Creative. I appreciate intellect. Most friends I value are passionate for work, school… for life.There is a fine line for me, I find, between being an intellectual and being an activist. This is the portion of my personality I have a difficult time figuring out. I find there will never be enough time for me to ever learn everything I want to, but how does one find time to settle on but one career for a lifetime? Is life long enough? (Or, in morbid reality, too long for what we are doing to each other, the earth?)* (see below) Regardless of which is the reality, the fact is that I’m having a hard time deciding if I want to help those in need in developing countries that certainly need more help than the majority of American, or spend my days writing about the sad state of the world. Arguably one could do both, however I feel you can only get paid for one at a time, and one must eliminate all outside influence to do either passionately. Therefore, just by proxy, I could never do either as I do the other.To be determined: The effects of legally being able to buy alcohol, therefore eliminating the tiring (and time-consuming) possibility of getting caught.*Again an ironic contrast, when re-reading this paragraph, as it is dedicated to balancing intellect and activism. An intellect would think there was too much time because all statistics (an intellectual measure) point to the destroying of humanit[...]




Fri, 18 Jan 2008 00:18:29 GMT

http://www.storyofstuff.com/




Tue, 08 Jan 2008 03:37:15 GMT

So I started school at Lane community today and I am so excited about my Global Health class. It's supposed to teach about the differences between our country and how we are basically ignoring the problem around the globe. How stereotypes are negative for personal growth and whatnot. Then a college math and writing class.. The only bad part is how much my work is now totally fucked. I have to get A's to get into the nursing program
and working 40 hours as a banker is not exactly the "stress free" life I'd like.
Oh well. At least I wont have to take out student loans if I can do it. Of course, that means tomorrow is my one day in the week to sleep to 6am! (Now I'm living it up)

Regardless..
I spent New Years in Disneyland with Josh and his 3 kids (7,9 & 9) which was pretty amazing. It was a 13 hour drive there and back, but seeing disneyland sold out (68 THOUSAND PEOPLE) was really awesome. Especially with three kids who have never been before. We spent 18 hours there the first day and I was the only one to A. Throw up after a ride. B. Throw up before a ride and C. Sleep on a bench in Toon Town.

It was great.

My agent thing is in Seattle in less than two weeks and I have no pictures for it. Its my fault, and it sucks but thats life




Tue, 25 Dec 2007 20:09:30 GMT

Mimosas and bingo scratch-it tickets
The holiday tradition that keeps on giving.




Mon, 24 Dec 2007 16:07:13 GMT

Hello!
I wanted to let everyone know that I will be in Bend today and part of tomorrow, so if you want to hang out, its something we'd have to do tonight since I'm jetting back so fast!

Brittany




Thu, 15 Nov 2007 11:29:08 GMT

In case anyone is wondering (though i'm sure you arent) the reason i need a photographer is because i was invited to an event in seattle, with scouts from 50 modeling and acting agencies, and in order to do that, i need some creative photographs, in color and black and white.




Wed, 14 Nov 2007 02:33:02 GMT

I'm looking for a photographer.



35.5 seconds

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 13:08:23 GMT

My hands trace the lines, bone between bone
With supple skin in between. A serene routine
With naught but love unseen.
But heard. A whisper, a heavy sheath lay beneath
The screaming molecules, wrestling to be free.

Have I not a heart, so solid in its gloss-
It’s glass shines underneath the cement.
My chest rising- agreeing to consent
Content in it’s will to mount and descent,
The intent to invert my humble intentions within.

Shy, simple, soft spoken-
An easy girl. One to be broken.
But meek in words, timid in works-
(A tiny reaction. Slight gasp.
Have not you a piece of sheet
Left to grasp?)

Inspiration- the electrified space that
Takes up the inches of air between
My hip bone. Your cheek bone.

To take such winds alone, the unknown
Stretching between posts, too-clean bedclothes.
The cologne alone sending wired response, a moan
Intoned with response.




Mon, 12 Nov 2007 12:51:41 GMT

I'm feeling a little left out. Kind of like when I moved, I was forgotten. Its a hard feeling because it makes me feel like there was no reason to make friends in bend at all considering i don t have them now.
Things in eugene are ok. I love the city, its openness and excitement.
A city for the sleepless.
Please drop me a line.



Moving....

Thu, 09 Aug 2007 03:34:15 GMT

I'm getting out of Bend, and moving to springfield/eugene.
My official moving day is this friday, but will make a quick trip back this next Monday. Aside from that... I wont live there anymore. So if you want to see me, call me




Tue, 26 Jun 2007 06:31:08 GMT

I have a second, to breathe,
The ease of momentary infatuation deceased.
The simple, and trite, expertise one may portray
The platitudinous life I live, I lead, I writhe.
It seems as though I am here, my mere existence
May be only to please, appease the
Hardened hearts of another.

I am no tease, with these hands I hold
I tell you:
(My cigarette performing an enticing silhouette)
I am merely determined, set, for only once
Does one have a chance laid before them
Such as the one I beg for upon my knees.

I have no regret,
My life leading mere consequences
To actions may or may not helped.
I stand strong, a birch tree in the wind
(But again, even the strongest roots
Can be torn as a photograph, a memory.)

Each day now is propitious,
My excitement to breathe is incredible.
An auspicious start to a new chapter.
A moment (one may hope, dream)
That is cherished and stuck beneath
A bell jar for its simplistic beauty.
(Am I free? Finally?) I haven’t nearly
An answer to such a question.

I know this (I dream this)
For only a moment, when the
Breeze passes beneath the trees,
I was there with you. And in that instant,
That split second, trice memory
(A sliver of sunlight appearing above the distant landscape)
I knew beauty, Reality of which I have never known.

Is true love the last breath from his lips
Echoed by a gunshot from her?
Or the moments leading there?
I believe all can equally agree:
True love is only but what you make it to be.

And I?
I have merely a theory.




Tue, 26 Jun 2007 05:54:20 GMT

Words hit me like a punch in the stomach. So much to say but not nearly enough energy to write it.