Nature stop animation video.

* If you are reading the script, the bolded parts are read by a guy and the parts that are not bolded are read by a girl. * There is a summary of what the script is actually talking about/ based on at the end.

Bohemia:

     I cried out for lack of a better way, and couldn’t figure out why it was so hard to just breathe. I heard the sound, distinct, soothing, hopeful- and reached for the phone with my shaky hands, “I’m sorry, I can’t do it, but we’ll talk later.” It felt like a mercy kill, in my heart full of mirrors, the lights began to fade and it all disappeared. I knew it was finally done; rationality had finally escaped my mind.

     Harvesting the smudges of smiles, with bare feet we smashed the sky in puddles. We are the sole guests at the funeral of rationality, and we ran through fields with unruly patters in our hearts. We danced colors against a dusking sky because time was absent there. It was on that patch of open green field amid the industrial city where we could forget the world and escape by excursions through woods, climbing rocks and laying in the sun.

     Now we are grown, and in a line we are followed by those left behind, but in that land we were the pirates of inflatable ships, the buriers of the numbers on clocks. No sense of what we had to do, no sense of where we had to be, we lived in the moment, we lived for the now, for the present. Our future was a far off battle; smoke and drink were the words of our day.  

     With ambition gone and all care lost, our confused minds gave way as concern for everything and anything burned away.  The sun burned as we did, sitting there in the vast openness that once seemed so large, so connected. No longer were we citizens of our old, familiar world, but kings and queens on a meaningless frontier, just like everybody else. With all problems gone and questions answered, we reclusive kings and queens congregated on the best place we knew. Our altered states of minds were all we needed and wanted, for all we wanted was to get away.

     Added negativity in these young lives is no longer in demand, the vacancy light switched off long ago, for enough already exists, boiling within. Overflowing thoughts, questions and hot tears, tears that drip down their faces because of fear that this could be their last meeting. So easily deniable right now as they sit, youth in peak, closer than ever, but who knows what the future will bring. Maybe they will meet again, they may last, they may grow apart, but for now all they know is the familiar touch of each other’s skin, the summers heat, and the silence that creates an opportunity to slow down and live in the moment.

     We were summer kids. With mercury rising, we walked barefoot, the asphalt burning our toes red like hotdogs sizzling on a grill. I always kept my shoes off, but the others could never stand the heat. Freedom is what I felt, maybe I was the flower child, but I was the child that was free. I lived for the right to do what I wanted, say what I wanted, and act upon any emotion I felt. I loved nature, I loved the feeling of grass on my feet and the dew in the morning, they gave me my carefree spirit.

     I was arrogant, I was a cheater, I was a pain in the ass, not anymore, something changed me. I felt her grasp my hand tighter and I snapped out of the trance that I was so enthralled in. I never realized it, just as I never realized who I was, or what I was doing. Sneaking into my sisters room as she lit a bowl. I just wanted peace of mind, a chance to escape the past. The past, it was the keeper of my deviance, my childlike pranks and my adolescent mistakes. I lived on moments of betrayal, no consideration of what I might have done to instill such hatred in so many adults. I felt as if I were on top of the world.

     I was a free spirit. Calm and careless, with my white dress, messy blonde hair, and bare feet, I kept the peace, and made laughter a continuous sound. I was free from thoughts of war, dishonesty, and supremacy, and this freedom I spread to all I knew.

     Freedom, our free will. It is what leads me to believe we will be the ones to start it, a revolution of ideals and principals. Together, the peacekeepers, my generation will turn around the values that have ruled this country for so long. Soon peace and prosperity, the American dream of opportunity will be the currency of the realm and corruption will be banished forever.  

     I was unusual, I was timid, I honestly didnt know what I was doing or what to say, all I knew was the current frame I saw through my small black lens. What was I thinking, there is so much I didn’t do, high school, what a fucking joke. Saving me from my own depressing thoughts, I blinked. It was at this exact point in time that the deep blue of her eyes blew every thought of past experience out of my mind. I was there, I was lying in the grass, I was with her, time made no difference, time had stopped.

     I smoothed your silence over mine. I would tell you if you would listen, but I knew now was not the time. Somehow, you’re transfixed by me, gripped by fervent memories. Your appearance while in this state makes it hard to look away. Time was no longer a factor in this moment; your gaze was all I wanted to see. We always lay together in our haven, in the grass; while my mind ran through past memories of this refuge we both have shared for so long. A common ground we have shared for so long, but never together.

     Beauty, love, fun, and freedom are found in our haven, where the doctrine of our generation was created and signed. It represents us; it is what we will always live for.

Summary of Narrative:

      Just in case you totally don’t understand it. =D

  So basically, the narrative/ memoir is about being unconventional (hence the title Bohemia), but is told through a conversation between two people: a girl and a guy. It is a description of some of my experiences and ideals that i feel strongly about, as well as some made up ideals and experiences that are semi-truthful (i think) to the guy reading. It’s almost a memoir, but more a poetic conversation between these two people describing their true (aka based on real life) ideals, personalities, and past experiences, but with a little twist of imagination to create a more complete allegory.  As it begins each person speaks in past tense, of themselves, but towards the end (as well as some random instances in the middle) you can see their stories intertwine and meet at a common place, which is my favorite place in New York City, the great lawn. =D

Broken Narrative/ Memoir Proposal

Abstract: My final project will be a narrative/ memoir in the form of a poetic (or creative writing) conversation between two people, where contrasts and similarities between words and images will help to tell and enhance the meaning of the allegory broken up in the conversation.

     For my final project, I would like to recreate a narrative similar to the previous broken narrative project we were assigned. However, this narrative will be more complex. Unlike my first project, this one will have 5 or 6 different stories, and they will create a dialogue between two people, which will become a broken story or narrative. I want it to be an almost broken up conversation between two people using poems, short stories, dialogue, and random quotes or phrases.

     To enhance the narrative, and make the dialogue more interesting, I will add various images to the recording. These images will either coincide with the narrative, or they will be images that do not go along with the story at all. The mood will be countered or enhanced by every image. I will use a few images from the image library we have created, but the majority of my images will be taken from various places in Manhattan. Since the city is such a diverse place I think the various images I can get there will add to the basically random dialogue of the narrative. Some images will be bold and drastic, while some images will be more subtle and calming.

     I will record the speech on my laptop, use a video recorder for most images, but have a few photos as well for variation in media. These various forms of media will then be put in both iMovie 6 and 8 to be edited and enhanced. I will then combine all of these aspects of my project into a 5-minute (or more) long, non- linear narrative. 

  I’ve spent so much of my life in a small town in New York, yes it is right outside Manhattan and five minutes from the Bronx, but somehow it is the least cultured area you could ever find. I spent two years of at that wonderful high school, but thought better of it and moved to the city. After years of suburbia I experienced the urban culture. The vast range of food you could find in the span of a block was amazing. You could experience five different cultures in a matter of a few blocks. I took the train to 125^th everyday on my way to school. I saw so many things there and remember best the smell of incense in the summer when I was on my way home.

  I had green hair before and thought wearing crazy clothes and listening to loud music made me unique and self-spoken individual. Now I realize I was just being a pain in the ass. I spiked my hair, smoked cigarettes on the corner and made fun of anyone wearing a collard shirt. Wasn’t worth it in the end, I ended up going to a catholic private school where collard shirts were required. That school made up the best years of high school. I had so many friends, so much knowledge, and so many experiences to live off of. It was the perfect ending.

  I took the subway from 125^th to 86^th street and walked a few blocks to The Marymount School on 84^th and 5^th just across from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I took so many classes with focus in art. Art History, Drawing, 2D design, and Music History were my best and favorite classes. I learned a lot at this school and finally left behind suburbia.

  Suburbia, which entailed memories of detention and shit that I never wanted in my head, ever. I woke up at 10 o’clock in the morning to hear my boyfriend tell me his brother was shot twice and now in the hospital. Then woke up a week later and on my way to school heard on the radio that he had died. He was a great guy, 23 years old, crazy football player, and a police officer. I was dancing salsa with him a week before some idiot cop thought he was a gang member and shot him.  Surprise, he was a cop too protecting himself from a gang of drunks. His funeral was the most depressing thing I have ever seen. The speeches made everyone cry, and you never know what to say. I mean my boyfriend’s father was crying, he’s the last person I would ever imagine to cry…ever…but what can you do when your son dies because a police officer is incompetent. Who is that stupid….

  Everything was different, especially my work habits and friends. I did my work for starters, and enjoyed my classes for a change. My graduating class amounted to 49 girls, so we were all basically friends, but my close friends ended up being the loud ones that always had something to say. Two of them were extremely out spoken, especially when it came to race.  Both of them were Caribbean American and took great pleasure in pissing off the headmistress when she made semi- prejudice comments. We started a lacrosse team at Marymount and won two tournaments. Our coach was a wack job but he got us in shape so it was worth it…I guess.

  The one thing I don’t want to remember, but can’t forget is Christmas. Two years ago three of my friends and I ended up in the Valhalla Correctional Facility. They were drunken idiots and I was caught in the mess they made. Five o’clock in the morning after a thirty pack cars were broken and I was just chillen. As I finally decided to walk away they showed up. Lights flashing and sirens blaring. I ran, but stopped, was handcuffed, and hauled off to the place no one wants to be. Jail is where my three friends and I spend 3 days of Christmas break. Christmas eve and day consisted of and orange suits with a number on the back, a cell with a green blanket, and food that had been cooked two weeks prior. I saw people with tin foil as earrings, I saw a corrections officer break a girls wrist and saw my friend try to hang himself with a bed sheet, luckily he didn’t succeed. He ended up in a psych ward in an outfit that looked like a giant sleeping bag. I heard this girl in the cell next to me sing Beyonce for hours on end and wondered what the hell I would do if I had to stay in this stupid cube of a room for any longer. I left on December 26^th. Best freaking day of my life, my record was cleared because I didn’t do anything, but I was on a 7: 30 pm curfew for three months. The curfew on top of experiencing jail at the age of 16 was enough punishment that my parents really did nothing further than to make sure I was no longer with my Bronxville delinquent friends.

  Good comes with the bad….I remember taking trips to the Guggenheim Museum and the MET. We saw this exhibit that was art from all ages in Spanish history. Picasso, Dhali, etc. I loved this exhibit. It showed all different styles of these artists and periods while giving the history of the time. The civil wars, time when Franco was in power, and the time of surrealism. Looking back I learned so much through these years, unfortunately from experience. Shit happens….life is always exciting.