Is there no way out of the mind?

I've got to put her down. She's messing me up.. well more, that is. I'm not sure what it is either. Lately I've had my head stuck in The Bell Jar throughout my days--like even when I'm not reading it, I think about it. But not about the story, or about the characters, or anything like that. I think like Esther. (Don't worry, not in the commit suicide sense).. I think like her in the way that I itemize everything I see. I wish I was stealthy enough, or perhaps just secure enough to carry a journal around with me and write everything I see and think about. I'm fairly certain it would amount to nothing, and likely, a crazy nothing. But it would be interesting. It would be more interesting than the sleepy stuff I come up with at night.

I anyways finished The Bell Jar, and I've moved onto The Journals of Sylvia Plath. And it's already stunning. The Bell Jar ended quite beautifully--not happy, not sad, but realistic. Life. I'm not so demented that I wish for sad endings, but I tend to get agitated at too happy of endings. That isn't life, to put it bluntly. But neither is life completely hopeless. I think it's just normal. It is what it is. It usually works out, but when it doesn't, we survive. Life, is surviving.

My mom recently went into a lovely (**yawn) discourse on the negative impact of the media on kids. Her specific example was Skins (that British show that I used to be positively in love with that is now a terrible American remake). She thinks the partying and drugs and sex and whatnot is bad for kids to see because they will take it to heart and believe it to be an accurate representation of their peers. Since I didn't have the heart to tell her it was 1,000% true, I took another approach: I scolded her for her complete disregard of other forms of media that are potentially corrupting children. I'm positive no television show shook me to my core, all the way to my own hidden crazy, the way Miss Plath has done these past few days. Is a visual really needed to understand just how insane she was? If the answer is yes (I think no, but to entertain the opinion..), then what about art?

This is one of my favorite by Jack Kevorkian. I feel as though I don't really have to say much about it.

So, of course, we aren't going to take away literature and art from growing minds, so how could we possibly take away (or restrict) television or movies? It's the same, or probably, a little tamer.

I'll exit with a bit of Sylvia:

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone, it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second, you have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand...hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don't want to die.