The White Rabbit
As I sit outside The White Rabbit and scan the crowd of concertgoers gathering along a wall adorned with a painting of Iggy Pop, my eyes fixate on a loner standing up against a wall. He is a young man with dark, shaggy hair that falls slightly over his eyes and is wearing black skinny jeans, a royal blue t-shirt, and black Converse sneakers. Every five to ten minutes, he shakes his head slightly so that his hair falls back to the left side of his face. With his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, he is leaning against the wall as he stares at the ground. When he does look around, he makes no eye contact with any of his fellow concertgoers around him. He maintains this stance for over an hour until the gate opens and he makes his way into the venue. It is at this moment that the uncomfortable and nervous look on his face morphs into a happy and excited look. It is then that I see a smile beaming from ear to ear.
At the back of the line, stands a couple talking. My first reaction to this couple was one of wonder since the girl appeared far too young for the guy, but then I realized this was not a romantic couple…this was a father taking his teenage daughter to a concert. The father, with his receding gray hairline and beard, appears to be approximately 50 years old. He is dressed in blue jeans and a mechanic’s work shirt. His hands, stained by grease and oil of his workday, move through the air as he appears to instruct the daughter to stay in line as he walks to the front of the line to peer into The White Rabbit. As he looks through the locked gate, his hands remain on his hips as he assesses the venue. A look of concern washes over his face. Perhaps this is the very first time he is allowi...
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...rose and lavender creates an airy and carefree feeling.
As I turn to leave the store, I notice a playful song playing overhead as it tells listeners to “clap along if you know what happiness is to you” and I cannot help but smile. While making my way back towards the exit, the aroma of apple, vanilla, cinnamon, and pumpkin stop me dead in my tracks. A touch of pine and sandalwood seem to accent the air and it reminds of fall as a warm, comforting embrace wraps around me. I find myself longing for the crisp days of November and the crackling of the fireplace as I walk aimlessly through the rest of the mall.
CHECK: While visiting the bath and body store, oddly there was not much background sound except for the music playing overhead. I am wondering if I should have embellished my observations a bit since my time spent in the store did not result in many sounds.
A societal courtesy is to not speak openly about mental illnesses that currently plague “approximately 26.2% of the adult population in the United States” (UW). With people refusing to acknowledge these issues, having any mental illness or disorder comes with a pre-associated stigma; which makes it hard for neuro-typical people to get to know those who have these issues. In Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, many of the characters have signs of one or more of these disorders. Of his characters, the White Rabbit, is the only character who has a seemingly clear defined disorder. The White Rabbit exhibits signs of having general anxiety disorder (GAD) throughout the book and is treated as such by other characters in the book. By
I strode in front of 400 frenzied eighth graders with my arm slung over my Fender Stratocaster guitar — it actually belonged to my mother — and launched into the first few chords of Nirvana’s ‘Lithium.’ My hair dangled so low over my face that I couldn’t see the crowd in front of me as I shouted ‘yeah, yeah’ in my squeaky teenage voice. I had almost forgotten that less than a year ago I had been a kid whose excitement came from waiting for the next History Channel documentary.
Follow the Rabbit-Proof Fence tells the story based on true events of three girls who are aboriginal and are forcibly taken from their families in Jigalong, Australia. The Aborigines Act put into affect the seizure of these half-caste children. The three sisters...
“Music is my religion.” Jimi Hendrix put a common feeling into the most relatable of words. Music is a uniting force; it brings people together emotionally and physically. People subscribe to the beliefs and lyrics of their favorite artists and performersas if they were a higher power. There is no better experience for a musician’s disciples than a live concert. For decades fans have followed bands and singers, to numerous shows and tours and around the world. In few instances this following gets out of hand, and the mere appearance of the star causes chaos, mobs and physical illness among fans. This special hysteria is brought about by none other than a boy band.
The overall mood of this story was melancholy, filled with emotions of sadness, relief and joyful anticipation, shown in the descriptions of life from the bedroom window; spring in the air, the peddler with his ware, birds singing and blue skies showing through the clouds.
Music concerts, especially those involving more brutal music, tend to attract a large and diverse crowd of people. However, just because all of these people are all attending the same show does not necessarily mean that they are all there for the same reason. Normally, a show-goer's motives and intentions can be easily recognized using simple observations of their hair, style of dress, how they act during a performer's set, and sometimes even their gender. Heck, there are even a select few who choose to attend shows like this for the sole purpose of people-watching! When doing this, one will--as expected--discover an eclectic mix of looks and attitudes and may even find them difficult to categorize due to the amount of variety. Grouping these individuals, though, is surprisingly easy. Basically, showgoers are able to be summed up into three main categories: those that are not very interested in their environment ( otherwise known as "scenesters"), those who take the entire event far too seriously ("tough guys"), and those that have found that perfect middle ground between the other two groups ("normal kids").
... with an uptight boyfriend, a mother who wants her to be perfect, and a job at the library that she despises. “In their minds {library co-workers}, I didn’t belong there” (44). “{Jason’s email} ‘I’m concerned that you’re not putting your full attention into the job’” (47). As the book goes on, Macy opens up, and starts working at Wish Catering all of the sudden. Also, her new friendship with Wes deepens gradually, and the process is expressed with adventures and stories that make you want to read on. At the very end of the novel, during the falling action, Macy gets over her grief and has a new perspective on what truly being happy and living your life is, shown here: “Forever was just so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about” (374). The author, Sarah Dessen, provides closure and ties the novel into real life.
We often wonder why we act a certain way in certain places and there must be a reason why? Why is that we act a certain way when we go to concerts or when we go to the library? Through a showcase of articles, we will discover the reason why we act a particular way. This is because we are entering a liminal space that has its own set of rules and boundaries where people can act out differently than the social norms because it is acceptable. We will specifically be looking at how the punks and ravers of the ‘70s entered the liminal space and what they experienced while they were in that space, along with a ritual clown from a Native American tribe.
All I can do now is wait for the merchandise manager to die. And suppose I get to be merchandise manager? He’s a good friend of mine, and he just built a terrific estate on Long Island. And he lived there about two months and sold it, and now he’s building another one. He can’t enjoy it once it’s finished. And I know that’s just what I would do. I don’t know what the hell I’m workin’ for. Sometimes I sit in my apartment- all alone. And I think of the rent I’m paying. And it’s crazy. But then, it’s what I always wanted. My own apartment, a car, and plenty of women. And still, goddammit, I’m lonely.
...laring loud music continues to pass by and everyone turns to look, as the teenagers in their newly acquired car pass playing their favorite music. The energy is contagious and I find myself reminiscing of a time when I was as carefree and unattached as most of the faces I see. As I continue along, I pass various shops of all different types. One shop sells surf clothing, with a young surfer dude manning the register, while another sells any and all types of jewelry at ridiculously hiked up prices. No matter what your taste may be you can always find something on Front Street.
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
We all remember these grey gloomy days filled with a feeling of despair that saddens the heart from top to bottom. Even though, there may be joy in one’s heart, the atmosphere turns the soul cold and inert. Autumn is the nest of this particular type of days despite its hidden beauty. The sun seems foreign, and the nights are darker than usual enveloped by a thrill that generates chills to travel through the spine leaving you with a feeling of insecurity. Nevertheless, the thinnest of light will always shine through the deepest darkness; in fact, darkness amplifies the beauty and intensity of a sparkle. There I found myself trapped within the four walls of my house, all alone, surrounded by the viscosity of this type of day. I could hear some horrifying voices going through my mind led by unappealing suicidal thought. Boredom had me encaged, completely at its mercy. I needed to go far away, and escape from this morbid house which was wearing me down to the grave. Hope was purely what I was seeking in the middle of the city. Outside, the air was heavy. No beautifully rounded clouds, nor sunrays where available to be admired through the thick grey coat formed by the mist embedded in the streets. Though, I felt quite relieved to notice that I was not alone to feel that emptiness inside myself as I was trying to engage merchant who shown similar “symptoms” of my condition. The atmosphere definitely had a contagious effect spreading through the hearts of every pedestrian that day. Very quickly, what seemed to be comforting me at first, turned out to be deepening me in solitude. In the city park, walking ahead of me, I saw a little boy who had long hair attached with a black bandana.
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.
There is an event that I just can describe as one of the most unique and memorable in my life: attending my first concert. After years of listening to Ron Pope’s music, watching his YouTube channel, and following all of his social media accounts, the satisfaction of seeing someone whose music has been the soundtrack to my life for so long was unreal. There were moments that I had to internally remind myself that this is, in fact, happening in real life. Being a dedicated (some may say eccentrically so) fan is tough work – and I was rewarded with two hours of pure magic for one night. Attending my first concert was a unique event that I will always remember fondly because of the atmosphere, the amazing performance and the sense of connection