Jul 20, 2017
A Perfect Storm: The Takeover of New Orleans Public Schools Part One 17 Days in November
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A Perfect Storm: The Takeover of New Orleans Public Schools Part One 17 Days in November
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shit
i feel like shit
in fact, i’ve been feeling unusually shitty
and there is a reason; and i’m at fault
and i feel so much hatred these past few days
it happened when i woke up the morning of july the 9th. this was the day i got my ap scores. it said congratulations when i got to the page- but not for the reason I thought so- it was congratulating me based on the fact that i took the very ap test. shit. i fucked up. i fucked up bad. my score was a 2. that’s failing. i am so ashamed of myself. i got a fucking 2. if i was not going to give it my all, i should not have tried at all. i really fucked up. i keep telling myself this because i cannot get over the fact how pathetic i am. first, i am not saying that people who scored a 2 is, in general, pathetic; i am saying i am pathetic. I knew i wanted a 5. i knew i was at an advantage with having been picked to participate in ap programs. i knew i knew. i did not study for this test as much as i should. i truly fucked up the test. i just want to FUCKING YELL OFF A CLIFF. i knew i could have made a 5 if i fucking just cared enough. unfortunately. i crammed. i was not a genius and i crammed. i needed to really study; i did not. i never read all of the chapters of the freaking textbook. i am a fucking loser; well i damn feel like one. i fucking feel like shit. my teacher actually believed in my abilities; i failed my teacher. i am going to get the disappointment expression whenever i see my teacher when i get back to school; fuck i do not want to see my teacher at school. this really fucking sucks. i really want to do better. to prove myself that i can actually do well. the SAT is coming up. my second psat test is coming up quicker; i am going to try like hell to get a great score-- not a good but a great -- im fucking pissed- at myself. i made high As, one of the top scores in class, and i got a fucking 2. people will think it’s a grade inflation, maybe it is. but i know i did not fucking try hard enough. i was not ready; i was not mature. i did not do my business expected. i did not go throughout the year with the mindset to at least FUCKING PASS THE TEST. oh fuck~ oh my god. -.- I get really angry with myself. i am so enraged. damn it. damn it damn it damn damn damn it damnit damn damn damn damn damn. like hell, if i tried. at least i would have passed the damn thing. fucking shit.  damn it. damn damn damn damn it. i should have known how fucking much of a fuck i am. damn it damnit. I REAAAAAALLY ugh~ aigoo~ i want to punch the wall and have my knuckles bleed. i want to feel pain- i want to release this anger inside. DAMN~FUCKING~IT. everyone thought i would do well. however, whenever i got to class, i ALWAYS disguised myself as something i was not. i felt guilty and shameful and scared and fearful someone would find me out. that my teacher would call me out and see that i do not do my assignments. i was never honest about this, that i do not do my assignments. i could not go to class honestly. and i had received such support from my teacher with invitations to ap help events. im sorry
i failed you teacher
i failed my reputation and image for people at school
i failed my family
i failed my parents
i failed myself
i am an academic failure
Cassavetes' intentional cross-pollination of personalities often invites a collapse of bodily space. People argue, wrestle, and pile heavily onto beds. Nick holds Mabel, hits her. His characters hover near one another, waiting. Yet they attack too soon, like trigger-happy soldiers during the first battle. Their heightened state of ambush affects the emotional and physical equilibrium of the film, producing a near-constant sense of vertigo for both the characters and the viewer. Members of the Longhetti family demonstrate a sense of entitlement over one another (and especially over Mabel) as if each has the absolute and undeniable right to invade the others' personhood at will. Earlier this evening, I came across a paper I wrote for a graduate seminar back in 2006, a tender moment in time when I still fancied myself a Real Academic (in training, at least). "Just Like A Woman: Space and Subjecthood in John Cassavetes' 'A Woman Under the Influence'" is its somewhat embarrassing—OK, completely, Dylan, hi— title. My intention at the time was to shape this text into a proper article or some such—because really, there hasn't been that much strong critical writing published on Cassavetes' work, no joke! Instead, I'll post one convoluted excerpt here, thus dutifully contributing to the Cassavetes meme that seems to be cropping up on Tumblr. Also, to the greater point: while my knowledge of film, broadly speaking, is by no means encyclopedic, A Woman Under the Influence poses the most extraordinarily difficult-to-watch depiction of mental illness—and, moreover, the cultural interpolation of women as harbingers of illness because dude, Mabel actually isn't the crazy one in this film—that I've yet seen. In fact, I'm not so sure that Tumblr can handle a Cassavetes meme. Gina Rowlands will slay your hearts, people. No log lady, here!