Author: Lola

IRJE#1 – House of Leaves

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski is a complicated and psychological, imaginative book that plays around with the concept of narrative. House of Leaves is actually about a book inside of a book, written by an elderly man named Zampanò who had strangely passed away in his boarded up bedroom. This book was found by a man named Johnny Truant, who reads it and then describes to us his slow and painful deterioration (in multiple ways), which he explains will happen to us (the readers) when we read the book, too.

Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you’ll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You’ll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.

I really like this quote because you can interpret it however you want, because Johnny Truant never actually explains what this deterioration was even about, or specifically cause by. I choose to believe this quote really digs into what actually makes us humans, what we are built by and around and most importantly, what we build. Denial. It goes to show how, we are so built up of our denials, we become a different person, we change in some sort of way, and when we are stripped of that, we are back to what we truly are: a creature, without a name because none of us even know who we are anymore. Then, you’ll watch, and realize, and try to stop the shredding of your skin, of your identity, the one that never really belonged to you. And you’ll fight and resist the grab in which your belongings and your walls are torn apart by, but you can never truly stop it, because in the end, you are still denying yourself.

PW #1

“Silent Hill: PT” was a video game published in 2014, and was later taken down. “PT” stands for playable teaser, and it was a one of a kind game. Throughout years, many would try to recreate this game, but nothing would ever compare to the original. I had never played it, but I played a very close remake of the game. It features a gameplay where you walk through the hallway of what seems to be a mansion, and you loop over and over again. as you progress, things start to happen, like the phone ringing, or the mannequin would start following you. I had played this remake in VR with my best friend Ryan, and it was a very… interesting experience. Now, he’d never admit it to you, but he was much of a scaredy cat during that game. To be fair, I don’t blame him. We took turns going in front of each other, walking down the hall, and at one point, the bathroom was open. I opened the door… it was dark, and when I looked in the sink, I could not begin to describe what I saw. In a few minutes, I’d leave the bathroom, and we’d continue. The piano would play, and there was a fridge tied to the very high ceiling by a rope. The fridge would swing, and you’d wonder why there was crying. A radio sounded once, about a crime, a husband who had shot his wife or something along those lines.

At one point, we couldn’t keep going down the hall, and we were forced to go upstairs. When we went up, we had gone through that hallway a couple of times, at one point, you could hear the piano being played downstairs. I had gotten very scared, and so had Ryan, so he made me go first down the hallway for the rest of the game. Soon, I began drowning out the noise by singing the Mario theme and dancing down the hallway. We looped again, and the closet door that was at the beginning of the hallway was slightly open, showing a small TV perched on a stool. I couldn’t go in the closet, and Ryan couldn’t care less, so he kept going. I, however, had stayed, and watched the TV. It featured a little cartoon man in 2D, walking down a white hallway, over and over, for a while. The TV glitched, an image flashed of the little cartoon man that was rather disturbing, and a figure came out from the side of the closet door, only to slam it shut in my face. Ryan didn’t believe me, I probably wouldn’t believe me too. We looped again, and the door at the end of the hallway was open, revealing a staircase into what seemed to be some sort of attic or upstairs room. Ryan had told me to go first, I had no objections.

I went upstairs, and he followed behind. There was crying, specifically from an infant, which could be found in a cradle across the room. When we looked into the cradle…

I had hid in the closet, and Ryan couldn’t see, but we eventually made it out of the room. We kept up our pace, and we looped again. As we walked down the hallway, a tree had crashed through the window, and the attic latch opened, a ladder falling down along with a basketball, which we had chased, if I remember correctly. Back to that room, we had to hide from a tall man with a shotgun, then we’d crawl through a boarded crawlspace full of spiderwebs, seeming to replicate a kind of ventilation. In the end that chase wasn’t worth the triumph, because he’d get you anyways, and he’d drag you away with his heavy weapon in hand, and it was at this point I had realized there was something much deeper. There was a rope, and he’d push you against and over the railing, and then something would close on you with the sound of screaming and a muted door slammed shut.

Something about being cold, and the silent sound of swinging.

WW1 Readings Reflection

Starting off strong, I never really knew much about WW1. You see, a lot of people teach about WW2 and talk about it, but I never actually learned anything about WW1 other than the fact it was the first world war. I think that it is very heartbreaking to read these experiences from people who had actually been through them.

I learned a lot of vocabulary during this time, and I also learned a lot about history and the military. The military is something I have always had an interest in, but I am much too scared to join it. Seeing this, I realize, to a better extent, the things that can come from the military, and the things that the people in them can go through, and have gone through.

To read about these experiences makes me realize there is so much more to everything. Going through “All Quiet On The Western Front”, and the WW1 quotations, I get a sense, a very dreadful and unpleasant one when I look at the sheer amount of detail on that paper. It makes me sick, but also puts me in a place of uncomfortable learning when I read the words, memories, experiences, and emotions that were put down and remembered.

At the same time, it makes me feel neutral, and yet, it is all recalled so vividly that it is quite horrifying, so strong through pen that my mind gives me a visual image, one that I wish to never have again. However, as uncomfortable as it was, it was also a great learning experience for me.

Her name was Lola!!!

No, I’m not a showgirl.

I do like dancing, though, and music.

And art. And probably other things… like sleeping.

I’ve been here for 4 years, going on five if you count grade 10.

I hope you know I’m hitting over 500 words with this introduction. Begin.

My name is Lola (obviously), and I like drawing. Well, I love drawing. I taught myself how to draw, I became obsessed, and then I wouldn’t stop. For a while, in all my schools, I was the best at art in my class. I hope it stays that way. I used to draw many things, plants, animals, and I was always so bad at drawing people. Then, teachers started to get annoyed  at the fact I was drawing and doodling all over my paperwork, both during studying and instead of studying. Time after time, I was told to stop drawing on my assignments, and many wouldn’t see this as a problem, but if you love art you might see where I am getting at already. Over time I had lost my motivation for art, and had lost a piece of me, along with my motivation for many other things.

You see, for me, in order to stay motivated, I have to draw. You may wonder why I have to draw to stay motivated, and to be fair, I don’t know either, that’s just how it works for me. I know it wasn’t anybody’s fault, but maybe the whole “school kills artists” thing was right… actually, it definitely is. It’s right, but not in the sense that it doesn’t literally kill off an artists skill or makes them bad, it is  right in the sense that it kills off artist’s motivation, it burns them out, and I fear that is a conversation the world isn’t ready for.

I am aware that it helps increase skill, but it comes at the cost of wanting/bringing yourself to do so. I will not pin it on anybody, on anything. There will be no blame.

At the end of the day, imbalance is what humanity is best at.

I had lost motivation for years. Every time I had picked up a pen, or a pencil, or anything at all, I felt as if my hand was held down by the strength of a million souls. If I had any ounce of motivation beforehand, then it was as if the pencil was suddenly as eraser, and my mind would lay bare on my fingertips to disappear at the slightest touch.

I can’t even do work without blanking anymore.

And that goes for everything, honestly.

I guess, as of late I have improved in my loss of motivation. I’ve been drawing a bit more, nothing complicated or detailed, just some simple sketches. I think grade 10 is a big step up for me, but I’m willing to get through it.

I guess I should introduce some other things about me.

I like a lot of music, but I mostly play it in my head. Honestly, I don’t mind the genre, as long as I like it. I also like acting, and, well… multiple forms of art! I also like reading and gaming. I think maybe, my personal favourite book is “House Of Leaves”, and my favourite game is “Undertale”.

But, I would like to talk more. However, I don’t know the word limit.

I think I will be stopping here… word count: 567.