Roommates by Cordelia Perez

The first thing you learn about them is that they are younger than you thought and incredibly secretive. Lauren goes myth hunting, sitting at the white dining table you all share, poring over Edith Hamilton and D'Aulaires.

You spend weeks in the home you share and soon realize you will never bring yourself to care about their lives. Their only quirk of note is a strong physical resemblance to a German movie couple, in spite of being siblings. You strike up an easy nonchalance and decide not to keep tabs on their existence. You don't see the boy leave, but don't care because his name is unmemorable.

You don't see his small pamphlet of cigarette papers that he uses to clean his flute, though you believe you have heard him play once or twice.

You see him take a six pack of beer into his bedroom and feel superior because you don't.

Lauren is less militantly boring, you feel, although she "inspires little more than apathy" as you tell your diary one night.

Six weeks in and out of ignoring them and Summer bathes the power lines outside your window to buzz blue in cold desert nights the way cicadas used to hang their song from trees to let them fall down on your head when you lived on the East Coast.

You don't know where she goes when she leaves but you know that Lauren likes Grape Nuts and you are struck with guilt that you yourself are not so homely, so noble.

She smiles often and you wonder if she is stupid but you smile back and wonder if maybe your disinterest is not a little mean.

You say "Hi, Lauren" and she say "Hi!" And the anticlimax is laughable and you return to deep focus upon yourself.

You go to the store and think you see her, by the bananas, and wonder if you say hi and if you should shop together because when you were a teenager like she is that's what you thought roommates did. But you remember that you aren't really roommates and things are more complicated than that and you look up again and the girl wasn't her after all but this time you aren't mad that Lauren has occupied some space in your thoughts.

You don't know this but she goes alone to the diner that night. Alone to the diner where she orders six yellow dishes and a milkshake. 

You close your eyes in the dark listening to your laptop hum from the dresser and experience and undeniable sensation of peace. You don't see her arms spasm and her hand hit the Oreo milkshake that spills slowly, languidly over her macaroni, her onion rings, her cheese fries, her zucchini soup, as her eyes roll back into her head.

If you had been there you would have been struck by her resemblance to a cartoon character and you would have tried to mop up the Oreo shake as the waitress did. You would try and take Lauren's pulse only to realize that you had no idea how to find a vein because you were only a waitress and you would have cried until the manager and a leather man with white hair come over at which point she will have died.

You would have known that she was dead, had you been there.

You would have heard the manager on the phone with the dispatcher, would have inhaled the scent of her onion rings and heaved on the floor by her table. You would have slept in the booth until your mom drove up to pick you up and your teeth and lips would be salty slick from breakdown at that which breaks down.

An Objectivist Analysis of Henrik Ibsen's The Wild Duck by Jenny Chieu

           

Man strives to escape reality. In The Wild Duck, Henrik Ibsen depicts this doomed struggle in the conflict between Gregers Werle and the Ekdal family. Gregers epitomizes the idealistic and naïve man who passionately believes that a truthful and perfect life is possible.  He attempts to help the Ekdal family, but only manages to ruin Hialmar and Gina Ekdal’s marriage and cause their fourteen-year-old daughter, Hedvig, to commit suicide. In Objectivist philosophy, the supremacy of the individual and absolute truth are most important, because these enable man to think rationally and create progress. Ibsen demonstrates that the failure to become an independent individual and embrace reality as it exists separate from man leads to suffering and the stagnation of human life. Encapsulated in the symbol of the wild duck, this theme manifests itself in the characters of Hialmar Ekdal and Gregers Werle.

           

The wild duck represents man’s dependence on a false reality and the illusion of his freedom. The wounded duck that the Ekdals care for has “lived in [their garret] so long now that she [had] forgotten her natural wild life” (Ibsen 101), symbolizing the acceptance of a fake reality. To survive, the wounded duck continues this mirage, and “never…[got] a glimpse of the sky and the sea” (101); the forgotten and true world would have killed the duck, because she is no longer self-sustaining. The duck reflects the actions of man faced with hardship, for often times the scars of the past that leave illusion as the only crutch. As an alternative to living a false reality, a wild duck may also try to escape reality altogether. Rather than face their wounds, “[the ducks] shoot to the bottom [of the lake]… bite themselves fast… and they never come up again” (101).  Wild ducks succumb to distress, mirroring the human’s choice to drown in sorrow or commit suicide. The ability to discard a counterfeit reality and live with the truth is a purely human trait. Failure to do so brings one down to the level of animals and renders true happiness impossible.

           

Hialmar Ekdal is the human manifestation of the wild duck. He possesses neither independence of his mind and body nor the ability to see the truth. Exhibiting his own dearth of creativity, Hialmar’s talent consists of “declaiming other peoples verses, and other people’s thoughts”(139); Hialmar simply lacks an individual mind. Furthermore, though he boasts about his invention, Hialmar claims that people “mustn’t ask for details yet. It takes time, you see” (113). Truly, Hialmar’s independent mind is like his invention – non-existent. He even underlines the lack of control over his mind by espousing the idea that “an invention … depends largely on inspiration – on intuition – and it is almost impossible to predict when the inspiration will come” (144).  Like an animal, Hialmar depends on stimulus by other humans to move his life forward. Beyond simply staying alive, Hialmar’s mind is void of that human spark of independence and progress.

           

Hialmar’s physical dependence on others reveals itself in his profession, financial status, and family life. As a photographer of people, he merely captures what is already there, not creating anything new. Due to a past incident, the Ekdal’s meager income is also supplemented by money from the Werle family (124). It was Werle who urged Hialmar into photography and gave him enough money to marry and start a business (79). Not only does Hialmar lack mental capabilities, but also the financial means to progress in life. In the household, Gina, not Hialmar, takes care of the family business. Gina organizes advertisements, does much of the photography and retouching, cleans the house, and cooks the food (94, 105, 106). She has “always been a bit more practical and wide-awake than [Hialmar]” (125). Thus, Hialmar lives a parasitic life, contributing to his household merely vacuous statements, imaginations of an invention, and only a bit of real work now and then.

           

The mists of Hialmar’s inadequacy distance him from reality.  Hialmar does not realize that he adds no more to the family than the wild duck. Like his photography job, Hialmar retouches his life; he erases all the blemishes, sustaining the illusion that he is intelligent, the breadwinner of the family, and beloved by all (126, 92). But Hialmar even goes further to escape reality. As accepting reality consists of accepting the work and responsibility of the real world, Hialmar shuns his photographic work as much as possible (105).  He chooses to work with his father in the garret to make a new home for the wild duck, symbolizing his belief in lies over reality. 

Through Hialmar, Ibsen reveals the core of procrastination – escaping the reality of responsibility by busying the mind with other matters. Hialmar’s reality is also obscured by his tendency to wallow in sorrow. Similar to the wild duck diving into the deep, Hialmar “[has] strayed into a poisonous marsh, … and an insidious disease has taken hold of [him] and [he] has sunk down to the dark” (115). Hialmar inebriates himself with emotions and fails to see reality. It is fitting, then, that Hialmar should say, “It’s all dark”, when others reply, “Nonsense, it’s moonlight” (99). Blinded by his lack of individualism and reliance on lies, Hialmar lives a perilous and animalistic existence. Ibsen illustrates the horror of this choice, for Hialmar survives perpetually in the night.

           

When a wounded duck dives to the bottom of a lake, a hunter sends his dog to fetch it (101). This dog is an apt metaphor for Gregers, who exemplifies its loyalty and lack of independence, and therefore unhappy human life. Gregers has one master – truth. He is committed to realizing what he believes is the “claim of the ideal” (116), or the perfect and honest life. Doctor Relling, a lodger in the Ekdal house, notes that Gregers “is suffering from an acute attack of integrity” (121). Gregers is so obsessed with the ideal that he wildly tries to instill it even where the truth is a killing force. His blind devotion is directly connected to his lack of individualism. Similar to a dog, Gregers is “always in a delirium of hero-worship; [he] must always have something to adore, outside of [himself]” (140). Gregers places the value of other individuals over himself and loses the ability to judge the world in a rational way, for the first step to rational thinking lies in trusting one’s mind and body. Gregers “makes such shocking mistakes about every new phoenix [he] thinks [he] has discovered” because he has no self-trust or self-worth (140).  This lack of self-value leads to his unhappy life and the ruining of the Ekdal family. Greger’s hero-worship illustrates that the so-called “joyous and fearless spirit of self-sacrifice” is not a way of living (141), but at its essence a way of death. Truly, one of the most important things a person can do to live is find true self-respect.

           

Hialmar becomes a symbol of death, achieving nothing as his life ticks to an end. He indolently works at retouching and wastes time in the garret making a house for the duck. His excuse is that he “must have something alongside of [the invention] to fill up the time of waiting” (114) and whenever questioned about his invention or other work, Hialmar says, “It takes time, you know” (113, 127, 146). In one of Hedvig’s picture books, the first page shows “Death with an hourglass and a woman” (109). As a book “is a sort of world by itself” (108), this page alludes to the world that Hedvig lives in. Death and the hourglass symbolize Hialmar, whose only function is to use time up, while the woman represents Gina, a human because she can think rationally. When a person dies, he cannot perceive the passage of time anymore. Hialmar’s individualism and sense of reality have died, so though time, which is absolute, still passes in the hourglass beside him, “time has come to a standstill there – in the wild duck’s domain” (109).

           

As a harbinger of death, Hialmar acts as a reverse and grotesque parody of Jesus Christ. Hialmar attended Werle’s dinner party, where there were thirteen at the table, the same number of people in Jesus’s last supper. In addition, only one woman, Mrs. Sorby, was present. Gregers, whose fate it is “to be thirteenth at the table” (152), acts as a Judas figure, but instead of bringing death, Gregers ironically almost opens a new life for Hialmar. As established previously, Hialmar uses the way of death and by revealing the truth, Gregers causes Hialmar much pain and suffering. When Hialmar complains, “Do you think a man can so easily throw off the bitter cup I have drained?” (126), Ibsen alludes to Jesus’s prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane: “My Father! If this cup cannot be taken away unless I drink it, your will be done” (Matt. 26:42). Thus, the revealing of the truth is the crucifixion of Hialmar. Accordingly, Hialmar is anti-resurrected to his way of death with Hedvig’s suicide. She gives him sorrow, another excuse to “plunge deep into the night side of existence” (132). The reversal of life and death underlines the terrible effects of Hialmar’s choices. Ibsen illustrates that to accept lies leads to death, whereas to embrace reality, as it resides separate from human consciousness, and to pursue staunch individualism bring resurrection and life.

           

Only Doctor Relling realizes the bitter reality, and sets out to cure people diseased from illusions and sacrifice. Unfortunately, this sickness has spread so far and deep that complete eradication is impossible; Relling can only “[cultivate] the life illusion [to save people]… For illusion, you know, is the stimulating principle” (140). The way of death is firmly ingrained in people’s minds, corrupting the true to the false and the false to the true illusion. In this backwards way, the truth really becomes an impossible goal; instead of “that foreign word: ideals, [we] have an excellent native word: lies” (141). People have become dependent on the way of death and can no longer live true lives, for to “rob the average man of his life-illusion [is to] rob him of his happiness in the same stroke” (141).

           

The guests play blind-mans-bluff at Werle’s dinner party, in which one person is blindfolded and must rely on the guidance of others to find his way around. This game symbolizes the human condition that Ibsen laments: our distance from reality and our lack of independence. Often times, people reject the truth for a happier illusion, foolishly squander their lives, or fail to become individuals. This disregard for life results in the way of death that many follow today. In order to truly live as humans, we must pull off our blindfolds, and though some may claim that we “mustn’t stop there any longer staring at all the lights” (79), we must persevere in search of a reality affirmed by, but not created by, our thinking as we each strive to become rational individuals.

Works Cited

1. Ibsen, Henrik. The Wild Duck. New York: Airmont, 1966. Print.

An Homage to Langston Hughes -- Free Verse in a Single Stanza by Deborah Sparks

As You Grew Wiser

It was a long time ago
You were a poet
But much more than that
You stood up
For your beliefs
For your people
For your country
You had some struggles
Like we all do
But at the end of the day
You persevered
The Harlem Renaissance
Owes itself to you
You were its voice
Its breath
Its leader
Your writing style inspires
Those who desire freedom
Free verse is a gift
Of independence
Which you so prized
You said you had dreams --
In "As I Grew Older"
Dreams that shatter the darkness
Into sunlight
In nineteen twenty six
You were ahead of your time
America owes
A great debt to you
A modern man you were
The "People's Poet" no less
Jazz poetry lives on
Because of you
You were a poet
An activist
A playwright
A scholar
An innovator
Langston Hughes
You shattered the sunlight
You broke your shadow
You found your dream

Industrialization -- An In-Class Timed-Write by Julia Waldow

In "The Concrete River" by Luis J. Rodriguez, the speaker uses life-cycle diction, metaphor, and paradox to convey the belief that purity and corruption of nature and of humans are forever entangled in an industrial life.

The speaker employs diction related to birth and death to explore the relationship between good and evil as they manifest in life. When describing his experience with spray cans, the speaker says he wants to "suckle them" and "take deep breaths" even though he later "stop[s] breathing and die[s]." Suckling is an activity that babies do, and it is a way to gain nutrients. By suckling the contents of a spray can, the speaker is performing a contradictory action: ingesting unnatural chemicals in a natural way. The milk babies drink as youngsters fuels their development, just as the chemicals the speaker inhales via suckling influences his destruction. Additionally, the speaker's experiences with "plastic death" portray the process of living as being superficial. The speaker who lives in a "plastic," man-made world of industrialization is forced the grapple with the "haunting knell" of drugs and death while also aspiring to reach pure "virgin skies," throughout life.

The speaker also employs metaphors to explain the links between peace and chaos during life. The "mesh of barbed serenity" reflects the idea that tranquility is guarded, covered and overwhelmed by a different, stronger force, such as the force that causes the speaker "to burn." Additionally, mesh is a see-through fabric and by comparing serenity to mesh the speaker is implying that serenity can be seen, but not always fully reached. Furthermore, the speaker uses the idea that he is "your brother," "friend of books," and a "son," among other entities to mirror the journey of life that he wants to be on, instead of the one he is currently on that "breathes back life." Instead of living, he is "enticed...to burn" in a chaotic world.

Finally, the speaker uses paradox to showcase the dualities in life. The phrase "nightmares of wakefulness" explores the contradictory idea that people are most awake when they are dreaming. This suggests an intertwined relationship between the harsh reality of consciousness and the disillusion of unconsciousness. This idea is further explored during the scene in which the speaker is in "perpetual dreaming" and lives in his ideal world free from the shackles of oppression. The speaker wants to "reach the sky" at the same time that he wants to be "licked by tongues of flame." The speaker wants to both live and die, be in heaven in the sky and a flame-filled hell in the ground. His confusion between two worlds can be attributed to the spray cans he uses to explore the consequences of industrialization of not only nature but of man. 

Abstract, Physical and/or Uncertain -- An In-Class Timed-Write by Candice Hannini 

In Samuel Beckett’s play Waiting for Godot, the two main characters, Vladimir and Estragon, present different views on life. The former takes on a more abstract approach while the latter a more concrete. Vladimir emphasizes the importance of being dependent, while Estragon believes that life improves with independence. 

Vladimir often hints at deep meanings in objects, while Estragon sees things from a more superficial viewpoint. For instance, in Act I, Vladimir tells Estragon about the Bible. Vladimir remembers a story about thieves to which he concludes “Of the other three, two don’t mention any thieves at all and the third says both of them abused him” (Act I).  Vladimir questions the reliability of each source, hinting at his general belief in life’s uncertainty, and his interest in ideas and power. Estragon remembers only “The maps of the Holy Land. Calloused they were. Very pretty. The Dead Sea was pale blue” (Act I). He can only recall the aspects of the Bible that are easily found and noticed, and which are physical. His impression of the text is similar to that of a young child.

Vladimir believes that one must live life with dependence, while Estragon believes that life is best lived with a measure of independence. Vladimir claims that Estragon is his “only hope” and that without Vladimir, Estragon would be nothing more than a “heap of bones” (Act I). Vladimir’s emphasis on their dynamic signifies his belief in reliance upon others. Estragon, on the other hand, questions the benefits of their friendship. He tells Vladimir of his uncertainty about the two being meant for the same road or journey in life. By the end of Act II, Estragon says, “If we parted…that might be better for us” to emphasize his belief in creating one’s own path.

Although Vladimir and Estragon differ in some aspects, the two characters both claim that life is filled with uncertainty and that a passive mindset is better than an aggressive one. On multiple occasions, the men together allude to life’s uncertainty. Vladimir claims in the beginning that “nothing is certain when you’re about” and Estragon, in Act II, admits the same. Moreover, when the characters wonder about taking more action, they both conclude that it is safer to wait for Godot and stay put.

Same Old -- An In-Class Timed-Write by Eunice Choi

In Samuel Beckett’s tragicomedy Waiting for Godot, the two protagonists, Vladimir and Estragon, represent more than just two individuals waiting for Godot; these two stand for all of humanity. Their undeniable similarity emphasizes the nature of the repetitive play and the characters’ circular lives. 

Throughout the play, Vladimir and Estragon display numerous signs of interchangeability in their characteristics. Repetitions of lines, switching of lines, and swapping of actions between the two individuals make the two indistinguishable from one another. Often times, the same trope recurs several times in a row, such as when Estragon states, “The circus…the circus” (Beckett 26) when comparing their awful evening to horrible objects. When Act I comes to a close, Estragon asks, “Well, shall we go?” (Beckett 45) and Vladimir responds, “Yes, let’s go” (Beckett 45). However, at the conclusion of Act II, the characters switch lines as Vladimir asks to leave and Estragon responds, “Yes, let’s go” (Beckett 85). This repetition of the final two lines from the previous act shows an important parallelism. These characters are shown to be interchangeable and equal. Also, when the boy comes to meet Vladimir and Estragon in the second act, Vladimir seems to finish the boy’s sentences. Vladimir already knows what the boy will say. This exchange, again, suggests that the dialogue has occurred many times before and represents a larger sample of the circle that defines these two similar characters’ lives. 

Through their similarity, Samuel Beckett cleverly utilizes these two individuals to emphasize the insignificance of mankind. Although each individual seems to differ in trivial characteristics, such as appearance, "[we are all] human beings nonetheless…made in God’s image” (Beckett 18). The countless number of religious allusions throughout both acts suggests that Godot may stand for God, and Vladimir and Estragon are just waiting for God while their pointless and meaningless lives pass by.  Godot seems to be highly respected, as Vladimir and Estragon argue and finally settle with “Let’s wait and see what [Godot] says” (Beckett 10). From allusions to the repenting of sins to allusions of the Holy Land, Beckett provides much evidence that human life is pointless and everyone is the same. What truly matters is when Godot, (or God?), is present. Vladimir explains to Estragon "The savior [saved them] from death” (Beckett 5) and these two individuals may just be waiting in idleness and vanity for death as well. 

Some who oppose the belief that the two characters represent the similarity of all men might argue that Vladimir stands dominant above Estragon. Although this theory may hold true as Vladimir provides Estragon with nourishment in the form of a carrot and Vladimir often furiously implores, “Let’s go!” the roles do seem to reverse and reciprocate. When Estragon tries to sleep, Vladimir wakes him up because he “felt lonely” (Beckett 80). Throughout Waiting for Godot, Estragon displays dependency on Vladimir and vice-versa, thus they stand to be identical like all of mankind.

Timed-Write Excerpts

Excerpt from an In-class Timed-Write by Max Eagle 

Conrad’s various allusions, via Marlow, comment on the impending doom and irony brought on by colonization. This is especially significant in Marlow’s first words, “And this too was one of the dark places of the earth.” Referencing ancient England, Marlow explains that the island that was once full of savages was eventually conquered by foreign invaders –  the Romans. Such a connection not only comments on the violent past of mankind but also suggests that this past savagery isn’t limited to Africans. Then, what defines civilization, if it only grows from savage roots? This question relates to the theme in that it reinforces that civilization is just a façade; all humans are savages whether or not that savagery is ever realized. Marlow’s failure to reveal this truth to Kurtz’s intended only further emphasizes the lies upon which civilization rests.

A later allusion to the Greek fates, paralleled by the two elderly women in black, foreshadows the imminent doom that awaits all Europeans that dare to challenge Africa. Thoroughly examining Marlow, the women judge his fate and resume their knitting, creating the fabric of his future. Other references to Marlow’s journey imply that this is a modern-day Odyssey, replete with obstacles and tasks; however, this is all the more ironic because Marlow’s return to Europe fails to resolve the conflict at hand: the façade of civilization. 

Excerpt from an In-class Timed-Write by Eli Flesch

Symbolism in Heart of Darkness is ubiquitous and integral to an understanding of the story. The River Congo is prominent in this respect. The river serves as the vehicle, both literal and figurative, for Marlow’s journey to Africa’s dark interior. His journey is rife with obstacles which are also of a symbolic nature. The fog his boat encounters represents the confusion one experiences while losing his innocent view of human nature. When Marlow’s boat is attacked, this only furthers this point. 

Ultimately, Kurtz’s health proves to be one of the greatest symbols in the novella. It represents the sickness of Imperialism and the dying of an institution. For Marlow to find Kurtz in this position is a very large anti-climax. For someone with such a large reputation, Kurtz fails to show Marlow something special. Likewise, for all the grandeur associated with Imperialism, the stark reality is grave. These thoughts are echoed as Kurtz utters his final words: “The horror! The horror!” which lends a first-hand account of the darkness so prevalent in man’s core. Marlow’s refusal to tell Kurtz’s fiancee Kurtz’s true final words suggests that this truth is too hard to bear and impossible to understand. 

Excerpt from an In-class Timed-Write by Joey Liefer

Both Heart of Darkness and Lord of the Flies feature a character represented as a martyr; however, the reasons for each character’s martyrdom are different. In Heart, Kurtz, despite his erratic ways, is beloved by the native Africans. When he falls ill and dies, the natives become distraught. Kurtz had been their leader against the evil exploitation of The Company. Kurtz’s death is caused by tropical disease, which is ironic. His insatiable desire to become rich and powerful through ivory leads to his death and the death of a heart of darkness. In Lord, the martyr is a chubby boy with glasses named Piggy. Piggy is a pacifist that can be seen as the voice of reason. He is Ralph’s right-hand man and someone who wishes to see civilization again. Piggy is tragically killed by Jack and his beast. His death symbolizes the death of civilized behavior and the completion of the descent into savagery. 

 

Kill the Void -- An In-Class Timed-Write by Jenny Chieu 

Life is a continual struggle while on the search for meaning and purpose. In Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad and The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, both authors explore this problem, concluding that in the end the individual must create his own meaning. Value in life that is derived from others will merely leave a person with a “heart of darkness.” The emphasis on individual choice as savior evinces itself in the actions of Kurtz in comparison to Ellsworth Toohey, and Marlow in comparison to Howard Roark.

Kurtz and Toohey demonstrate the essential emptiness of life if one subscribes to the method of gaining meaning from others. Kurtz collects meaning from his possessions and from embracing savagery. He often refers to “my ivory,” “my intended” and “my documents” in an effort to convince himself that he is important and thus has inherent meaning. In addition, Kurtz also derives the feeling of power and life from controlling the natives. When Marlow first sees Kurtz, Marlow has the impression that Kurtz is voraciously trying to swallow the world. Indeed, Kurtz’s goal is to claim the world as his; he is “hollow and echoed on the inside” and therefore requires sustenance from the outside world. Similarly, Toohey gets his purpose, not from himself, but from others around him. Toohey serves as a person that everyone can confide in and gains power over people in that way. He emulates Kurtz, because both use the power of their voice to subjugate the masses, and both rely on others to determine their meaning. Without others, Kurtz and Toohey would be nothing. That realization is the true “heart of darkness,” the knowledge that neither Kurtz nor Toohey has really accomplished anything. They have not bettered themselves as individuals. This has caused them to sink into the depths of an abyss. As they depend on others, their search for purpose is increasingly futile.

Marlow and Howard Roark, however, portray the viewpoint that the strength and individual choice create viable meaning. Marlow witnesses the downfall of Kurtz and hears Kurtz’s last words, yet Marlow still realizes that he (Marlow) has “his choice of nightmares”: siding with the manager or Kurtz. Marlow’s faith to Kurtz is a defining moment, for it represents the strength of an individual in the face of darkness. It is Marlow’s commitment to truth that creates purpose in his life. But then, what of the lie at the end of the story? That again showcases Marlow’s integrity, for rather than ruining Kurtz’s reputation, Marlow preserves it, taking the burden on himself. Like Marlow, Howard Roark is an individual who creates his own meaning and lives an honest life. He does not rely on the meaningless words of others to confirm his purpose, for he makes his own purpose in life. Both of these characters are therefore “full” or “solid” people for they have built their own individual lives.

One difference between Conrad and Rand lies in their interpretation of the “heart of darkness,” or, in this case, the fundamental dearth of meaning in life. Conrad views the darkness as prevalent in every human, but able to be covered up either by the fading veneer of civilization or by the more permanent strength of an individual. Rand sees the darkness as something that the fire of a creative mind can banish completely. Conrad’s darkness speaks more to our immutable past, whereas Rand’s fire looks more toward a future of light.

The characters in Heart of Darkness and The Fountainhead are on a constant search for meaning. In the end, it is not just the individual, but the individual’s quest for truth, that creates a viable life. Anyone trying to build a life on lies stands on a rotten foundation, for lies have the “taste of mortality.” The truth, however, is immortal and the only way to find it is to look within your soul.

Classroom Visitor and Inspiration Mike "The Poet" Sonksen

Home is Beautiful by Cordelia Perez

No one ever told me that home was beautiful, that I should smile at palm tree silhouettes and Brentwood baby strollers.

So, I never did.

Until one day I decided that if I could love the way the street smells when clouds run their fingers over asphalt then I could love the rest of LA too.

Hungry for adventure and meaning, I took in neon signs and cigarette soot.

I lay flat in the sand, skin sticky with salt and pollution, and I looked up to see postcard blue, glanced at gulls and floating diapers, left to a an endless princess chain of palm trees and short,-happy hotels.

Bros on bikes, caramel girls on foot. I saw beauty in old faces whose implants and injections defied the gravity of time.

I watched as young agents hiding Midwestern accents under high quality hair gel and thick cloth paper business cards revealed themselves to be Lost Boys in pursuit of youth and adventure.

It used to smell faintly of quaint but misplaced optimism. "Los Angeles." What fool -- what happy fool - could hold such high hopes for a city?

What, with pills and effervescent booze and organic babies, we can't all be angels.

Though, this thought begs the question:

What on Earth could possibly be more divine than an entire city built upon broken wings and broken dreams?

A city than in itself is a living organism that thrives on optimism, the understanding that tomorrow has to be better because weather this lovely can't go wasted, and people this intent can't suffer too much.

A living organizm that feeds stoned teenagers soft warm tacos and small childrean handfuls of sand and mouthfuls of swishy sea water.

I came to learn, in not too much time, for the idea had been within me all along, merely waiting for permission and sufficient evidence to blossom into fruition, that even what appears to be a foolishly named life form is given such a name for a reason.

Often a first name indicative of some species and a second name for some discoverer, scientist, or characteristic of the thing made apparent.

Divinity, it seems lives in looking at home through the right rose-colored glasses, a looking at home that allows soft cartilaginous wings to hide underneath every power-suit and worn cotton dress.

Fireblood by Ben Nosrati

As I drive through the garbage-paved road within the comfortable luxury of a Nissan Altima, I slowly learn the ins and outs, feel the city's heartbeat-rhythm that propels businessmen to work and students to class. On my left appears the broken desiccated walls of the LA River, flowing with the city's unsecessary disposals.

Yet, even here, I hear the thumping ingrained in my blood by generations of Angelinos.
This atrium of Angelinos, past and present, surrounds me.

The atrium I call my home expands and contracts, pumping the Californian life-blood through my veins. So much pain, poverty, desolation, sewage, garbage, yet this is my home and with so much love, sunshine, family, friends and community I am privileged to call it my own.

Los Angeles runs the fire through my veins as my blood runs through the city.

India by Deborah Sparks

Blinking away the dust in her eyes as she follows the winding path
Dodging the unsteady rickshaws, so accurately named
Breathing the smog-filled "air," polluting her lungs like a chain smoker
Ignoring the stares that question why she is there
Walking toward her air-conditioned safe haven
To escape

As she obstinately yearns to shut out the unfamiliar world
Suddenly, she sees a testament to its exotic beauty
A small red blossim, growing among weeds that long sought to overpower it
It persisted and made a home there

Now, as she looks up and surveys the urban scene
Grits and heat slowly drift away
Blind eyes can now see
And the landscape before them is one of
Vivacity
And untouched charm
Cows grazing peacefully, sari-adorned women in simple woven sandals
Colorful, chaotic, blissful life, everywhere her eyes can see

Thus, the disparate observer becomes a part of her surroundings
And turns the corner to reach a new, ever-different destination
Blinking away the dust as she follows the winding path