(no subject)
Brooke Schrader
Film Study
Block A
Maps can't always help
When you pull in, inward, inside; your body still sits there, in the chair, not moving. But you're not there; you've gone for a "stroll," too bad you haven't moved, from that spot in your chair. People get lost on free ways, in malls, in new places, but what about the places you thought you always knew? Places where only you would know your way around in. Well, I've pulled in too far, too inward, too inside; inside myself. Where I could see myself walking, strolling, inside my head, but I never moved from the seat I sat on. Sitting, I was inside myself, walking around in my head. The one thing that I thought I never could get lost in was my thoughts, who knew I had so much going on. It was dark and unfamiliar, uncomfortable but home-like; it was me, but I couldn't tell how or when or what or anything for that matter. How odd, to think of yourself inside your self, inside your head, walking around through your thoughts. It was chaos in paint by numbers scheme, things spilling into another, jumping from one topic to the next. I saw a screen in front of me, out of nowhere, a sound of movement, a chair and a projector. Headlining: Your Thoughts You Never Knew You Had. Images, sound, effect, and projection. I was lost in what to think, what was going on, what exactly am I doing. I knew it all; I was lost, in my own mind. The one thing that I thought I knew the most about, turned into documents that were filed away in locked storages that I would never, could never reach but some how opened with recent events. On the outside, I look collective and aware, wearing that smirk oh so glamorously, too bad on the inside I was crying looking for a way out of my own mind, my own head, my own body; scratching at the walls of my skull. Feeling like I was on a treadmill, that screen in front of me, thinking I could go somewhere, but really running for nothing, getting myself deeper into my own mind, getting myself lost. I was so lost; I couldn't find a way out, my mind a circus house full of mirrors in every angle. It was me, me, me, all over the walls, the ground, the ceiling, the cracks, the crevices. That was me, I knew where I was, right there, in front of me, staring back at me, that was me. And inside that one, was another me, and another, all equally as lost. Then I stood there, not working against myself, but with. I could see out my own eyes, speeding towards my face, I saw myself in the mirror. I've always been lost; it just depends on how you look at it. If you want to be found or not.
Film Study
Block A
Maps can't always help
When you pull in, inward, inside; your body still sits there, in the chair, not moving. But you're not there; you've gone for a "stroll," too bad you haven't moved, from that spot in your chair. People get lost on free ways, in malls, in new places, but what about the places you thought you always knew? Places where only you would know your way around in. Well, I've pulled in too far, too inward, too inside; inside myself. Where I could see myself walking, strolling, inside my head, but I never moved from the seat I sat on. Sitting, I was inside myself, walking around in my head. The one thing that I thought I never could get lost in was my thoughts, who knew I had so much going on. It was dark and unfamiliar, uncomfortable but home-like; it was me, but I couldn't tell how or when or what or anything for that matter. How odd, to think of yourself inside your self, inside your head, walking around through your thoughts. It was chaos in paint by numbers scheme, things spilling into another, jumping from one topic to the next. I saw a screen in front of me, out of nowhere, a sound of movement, a chair and a projector. Headlining: Your Thoughts You Never Knew You Had. Images, sound, effect, and projection. I was lost in what to think, what was going on, what exactly am I doing. I knew it all; I was lost, in my own mind. The one thing that I thought I knew the most about, turned into documents that were filed away in locked storages that I would never, could never reach but some how opened with recent events. On the outside, I look collective and aware, wearing that smirk oh so glamorously, too bad on the inside I was crying looking for a way out of my own mind, my own head, my own body; scratching at the walls of my skull. Feeling like I was on a treadmill, that screen in front of me, thinking I could go somewhere, but really running for nothing, getting myself deeper into my own mind, getting myself lost. I was so lost; I couldn't find a way out, my mind a circus house full of mirrors in every angle. It was me, me, me, all over the walls, the ground, the ceiling, the cracks, the crevices. That was me, I knew where I was, right there, in front of me, staring back at me, that was me. And inside that one, was another me, and another, all equally as lost. Then I stood there, not working against myself, but with. I could see out my own eyes, speeding towards my face, I saw myself in the mirror. I've always been lost; it just depends on how you look at it. If you want to be found or not.