Queen's University and Racism

I think the biggest issue at hand here is not that racism still exists at Queen’s—any self-respecting member of the Queen’s community already knows that. The biggest issue is that, as a predominantly white society, our stance on racism is still that all people should be “permitted the opportunity to pursue their academic goals in an environment not merely tolerant, but respectful and supportive as well” (quoting a statement made by Karen Hitchcock on Wednesday November 28). Permission, tolerance, respect and support should not be our attitude towards people of other races. Our attitude should simply be one of acceptance. People of any race only want others to look beyond the colour of their skin and realize that they are just as human as everyone else. They do not want people to permit them, to tolerate them, to respect them or to support them simply because they are different. What they want is for the idea that they are different just because they look different never to cross others’ minds. The above terms apply only to beliefs; we permit all beliefs, tolerate beliefs we do not share, respect people who have different beliefs from our own and support people who share our beliefs. We accept all people, no matter what makes them different from us. The idea that we can have an equal society if we permit, tolerate, respect and support all races is a sham. We can only have an equal society if we accept people of all races in the same way that we accept people of all hair or eye colours—that is, in recognizing that there are differences, but that these differences do not matter.

I know that the terms that I have pointed out are only technical, and that some people probably do mean acceptance when they say tolerance. However, as academics, Karen Hitchcock, the faculty and all others in Queen’s University should know better. As always, we are at a critical stage of human history when our actions now determine what we are able to achieve in the future. We need to move beyond the idea that we can achieve equality so long as every person has the same rights and opportunities. We need to move beyond the idea that we can achieve equality so long as every person has the same permissive, tolerant, respectful and supportive view. Equality is more than just sameness, and such a passive stance as Queen’s and most of our society has on equality is why racism, sexism, etc still exist today. We must take an active stance on acceptance, or else these problems will never go away.

Dead Lovebirds 5, "Heart Condition"

"Moon Dog Numb" Accompanying Artwork

I took solace in the tears the moon gave me
pretending they were for you
it was full tonight and I passed the site
the cruel arena
I couldn’t find a plan so I kept going
and wouldn’t you know? I slept
while my tears dried on my cheeks
while I stood there staring at the moon
yes, I slept,
everything reduced to numbness
all the passion and anger
slept tonight in my pain
reciting my own words and those of ____
just so I can swallow some air
I’ve been breathing dirt for days now
I can’t feel anymore but that’s okay
it’s better than feeling awake
would you settle near me and watch me
so when I choke there’s a reason
since the scene never plays itself out
if it makes any sense at all

may I be removed? I thought I saw a star
I’m sure I did in my eyes
and the long clouds dripping dip through the moon
I watch behind the dead tree
magnificent as the Seven’s and just as achingly cursed

spelling my letters as I read them
I couldn’t find the keys in the scramble
the door was wide open and I walked into it
beginning with my mind
and ending with my feet

I can’t cry for you
I used to be much better
can’t slow my eyes getting wetter
so let me cry for the moon

- Laura Mrmak

Dead Lovebirds 4, "Being Watched"

The Black Plague

So Andrew has infected me with the Black Books obsession. In turn, I did what any self-respecting psycho would do (I don't know what being a self-respecting psycho has to do with it but nonetheless...) which is to in turn infect my other best friend. Since she is close to being my twin, she did the same thing, and infected her boyfriend.

Spread the joy that is Black Books. Hooray!

~musicalsparks

Dead Lovebirds 3 - "Finders Keepers"

The She-Witch Anagea - Accompanying Artwork

Fun site

Go here: http://www.freerice.com/index.php and help donate rice. Or if it's fake, you probably kill puppies or something.

~musicalsparks

"Distinction" by Laura Mrmak

I guess I was overcome
so cold, so frigid
snapping crisply
I went to control my actions
and found it closed
so I walked

I found my step
along with cranberry thoughts
and I knew I was alone
for the good and the bad
I stomped out the march
of my walk

imagine my surprise
when my eyes grazed the snow
and the indents were fresh
but they weren’t mine
someone else had come
for my walk

oh how the mind reels!
alas I’m not so alone
this arrogance of mine
just wanted to sulk
in its singularity
on my walk

so I rounded a tree
traversed back behind
crossing new paths
with each little dance
to remain with my stance
and my unparalleled walk

(I did the artwork for this poem: http://www.lauramrmak.com/?p=68)

Dead Lovebirds - The COMIC (2)

Dead Lovebirds (1)

In typical fashion, I have done this (blame Laura):

Etc.

I had to friggin' change the second picture to .png to get it to upload! What a waste!

Art Creations

Hell, here's everything I've been drawing lately.

Please. Enjoy.

Okay, actually some of this stuff is kinda old.

Meh. Enjoy it anyway.

ENJOY I SAY!

Library

I've been wanting to draw lately, and also I wanted to get accustomed to my computer drawing pad, so I drew this. Enjoy.

Laura Mrmak

lOW-reh
wait... wait...
lOW-ray
wait... no...
lOW-ra!
wait........
law-ra
wait....wait...
lor-a!

LAURA

In case you weren't aware

Grey's Anatomy is an abomination of a TV show. Seriously, quit watching it. All the people on that show do is whine about how they haven't slept with everyone in the hospital yet. Whine whine whine bitch bitch bitch and then you get that Grey chick's voiceovers all the time about her understanding of life, etc... because a woman who has no less than three guys chasing after her (last I heard from my roommate from last year) clearly can relate to most women. And 'oh no, I think they're all so cute and handsome what can I do?' what a bitch. (If this sounds like a "plot" (even though the show has no plot) from Friends, then that's because it probably could have been slightly tweaked to be a *plot* on Friends, were that show still around. Ugh!)

And, for the record, NO ... I do NOT think any of the guys on that show are remotely attractive. The main dude, Patrick Dempsey ... no. I cannot understand the attraction factor there. I just can't. Or any of the other guys. I simply don't get it, nor will I ever get it.

Mark Strong, yes. Patrick Dempsey, et al., no. I win.

~musicalsparks
PS - Andrew! Call me!!

The Voyage of Metatron (Part IV)

Part IV. Why Am I?

Loneliness, the burden of solitude,
Follows me everywhere I wander.
The divide between jungle and sand marks
The unforgotten, unknown journey—
Crossing the line means starting a new life.

There is something to loneliness that gives
One direction that cannot be found
Among the stifling, enveloping crowds.
In them men walk in circles for hours,
Shaking the same hands again and again.

Loneliness is a healing violence;
It undoes atrocious upbringings—
Acts so numerous and varied that they
Cannot be seen for their large number,
And the shade they provide is misleading.

I am now the lone tree in a large field.
Those around me have been cut down
To build houses, stoke fires and to smelt tools.
Under the shade my growth was stunted.
Now with the sunlight I grow strong and tall.

It is not strange, really, that I should seek
Fire and axes to fell those dead homes,
When my roots spread throughout the entire field,
And my branches reach up to the sky;
My roots touch nothing, and I shade no one.

In my trek through the forest I know that
If ever I met someone I would
Leave my quest and follow him forever.
That is the pain loneliness provides,
Though some would see it as its only cure.

I remain determined but weakened
By the very thing that makes me strong.
I remain hopeful but filled with despair,
By the one thing that makes me go on.
I remain alone; and yet, I remain.

The forgotten, unknown journey remains.
A tree, I remain vulnerable
To earth and fire, and to wind and water—
The latter my tongues, the former my tools,
Unspoken and universally used.

My existence had once been forged for me,
And now I forge my own existence.
I form it from whatever tools I can,
And I speak it to myself in the
Only language that I ever knew.

Had I still had others to tell it to
It would never have become my own.
I go to seek those who take it away,
And to plant in the surrounding fields
Because loneliness will one day take me.

The Voyage of Metatron (Part III)

Part III. North or Up?

When you can put a name on something you
Turn it into something tangible;
You make it into your own creation,
And you warp and mold it until it
No longer resembles what it once was.

I have given a name to my journey:
Quest—my goal set, I know my fortunes
Will direct me through greatness and virtue,
For all things are great and virtuous
That are driven by a sense of vengeance.

The sea seems to reflect my inner thoughts.
While drifting the sea raged with my dreams,
And now the calm in my heart shows itself
In the sereneness of the ocean—
My contentment in golden sunlit waves.

But also like the waves I’m subject to
The whims and wills of my surroundings.
I know that the calmness can never last,
And if I am passive I will break
Against the very thing for which I live.

Time is indecisive and fanciful.
The sun barely warms the morning sky
And I’ve wrought my past, present and future,
As if from the white sand I stand on
I’ve cast the lens that gives my life focus.

The vision returns to me, but this time
I use my lens to prepare myself
Drawing it in and finding direction
From the torturous memories that
Once scattered my meandering being.

Looking along the vast, endless shoreline,
I know that it really has an end,
Just as my life, too, really has an end,
Though now it seems to continue on—
Though disjointed, I never see its end.

And the vision points me towards the North,
Away from the shore where I was saved
And where my life began after near death—
So near that I felt its chill in me,
Though I know a death that’s closer to home.

North, to the eagles’ nest, where mothers feed
Their young with the corpses of their slaves.
Though there is no longer much flesh on them,
Having been worked to oblivion,
Flesh feeds the young until they find their own.

They stand before me, those who are lost now.
In my quest I shall never find them,
But to stay here I’d be forsaking them
I no longer have wings, so I go.
To the eagles nest the best way I can.

The Voyage of Metatron (Part II)

Part II. Where?

Time stands still, and yet I know days have passed.
At least time seems to stand still when you
No longer have the gentle rocking sea.
The entire world is a racing clock,
And on the water it is more peaceful.

The gentle sea breeze in the new day woke
Me to dawn—my first in countless months.
I make my way down to the water’s edge.
My feet are gently washed in the waves.
What things will my new life bring me today?

The water's moving edge holds me entranced.
The ebbing and waning of my heart
Slows to a minute rhythm, new to me.
No rhythm that counts my death at sea;
One that is fueled by the piercing sunlight.

Sunlight. I have seen it before today.
For months it had been a distant thing.
It had always been at my vision's edge,
Casting in gold things I will not reach.
Now I see and feel it with my being.

I have a sight, a vision. Memory.
This time I can distinguish it from
My reality for its cold darkness.
I see eagles preying on the young,
Whose youth will make their bodies whole again.

I can’t hold a grudge against all mankind.
Poorer men have suffered more than I,
Men more lost than I never find their way,
Their faces gone, their eyes blurred – mortal
Men toil long for prices lower than dirt.

Another sight, a vision, comes to me.
“I am your father, your mother, your
Sister, your brother. All stand before me.”
It's a remembrance of my voyage
Not unfinished—it has yet to begin.

These visions are vestiges of my past,
In my sleeping dying state I could
Not distinguish them from my bleak future,
For they tortured me more than the wind,
The starving and the loneliness combined.

One cannot hold a grudge as I have done,
For it manifests as my being,
Replacing my soul with untried hatred,
And a will to see justice prevail.
One cannot hold a grudge as I have done.

But my salt-dried being has been renewed,
Survival from the sea rekindles
Older memories whose bright importance
Turn my grudge into others' vengeance.
Only the piercing sunlight drives me on.

The Voyage of Metatron (Part I)

Part I. Can I Fly?

I watch the bright shore from the stormy sea.
It is pretty when the sun is low.
I long for sand to be under my feet
And to feel the natural flow of things
That I have missed during my months away.

We drift for miles, brought along by currents
That hindered slave ships from Africa
Hundreds of years past. The water drenches
While the salt dries my skin. I am parched.
Another glance, then I will go to sleep.

My sad sleep goes unarmed into dreaming
And I am left cold and bare for it.
I have nightmares of cold, pain and hunger--
The same that I have while I am awake;
There's nothing, really, that makes it a dream.

My sleep was interrupted by a sight.
“How far’s it to the mainland?” I asked.
“Not far, if you can fly the way I can.”
“I can fly! I can! Of course I can!
Let go of me now so I can show you!”

My wings spread wide. First my left, then my right.
I glanced at the water. One last check.
I cocked my head to the left and the right.
One last check before I have lift off.
“Of course I can fly! I am as a bird!”

Against the hard sunlight and biting wind,
My frail body could not protect me;
My thoughts laid bare to wretched elements,
Whose sighs are enough to do me in,
My ill-used wings break and I fall to earth.

The fall wasn’t bad. The water broke my fall.
Next thing I new I was on the shore.
“So this is what sand feels like on dry feet.”
The wind blew from the night, from the North.
“This is how the wind feels from off the land.”

Look at all of those people over there.
Having been lost I wonder, do all
These people on the shore wait for their death?
For I have so long waited for mine,
And the sea is my forsaken deathbed.

I wish those people would have stayed with me,
For I am lonely on my voyage.
Where am I going? I am lost, is all.
I am on a voyage to be found.
And for now I have cheated death away.