Wine is Fine But Whiskey is Quicker - As Proven on Macbeth

So foul and fair a day I have not seen,
Tis day and yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp,
The moon is down; I have not heard the clock,
It will be rain tonight, let it come down,
Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame?
This place is too cold for hell,
Drink, sir, is a great provoker.

We delight in physics pain,
Something wicked this way comes,
A falcon tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawk'd and kill'd
And Duncan's horses-
'Tis said they eat each other
Drink, sir, is a great provoker

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
Art thou not fatal vision
Or art thou but the dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
Drink, sir, is a great provoker.

Avaunt! and quit my sight!
Let the earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold,
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes,
That look not like inhabitants o' the earth,
You should be women and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so,
Drink, sir is a great provoker.

Drink, sir, is a great provoker,
Marry, sir, nose painting, sleep, and urine,
Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes:
It provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.
Drink, sir, is a great provoker!

No Mr. Egwugwu, I Expect You to Die

You savage beasts!  Have you no respect for the house of God! I am Mr. Smith, the head missionary of this estate!  But you already knew that; and I know why you are here!  For the basic human act of vengeance...how typical and utterly predictable.  You lot are nothing but hypocrites and parasites that blemish God’s green earth; liars who poison the minds of the damned men and women of the Igbo tribe.  Do you understand what I am saying to you right now?  You spirits are not even spirits at all, merely pitiful cowards who wear masks and manipulate people into doing their own selfish will by going as low as pretending to be reincarnated spirits of the deceased.  I intend to improve the world by cleansing its imperfections , but you so called spirits are con-artists who enjoy causing and watching the Igbo tribe’s self destruction through your sacrifices and false gods.   

Look at you and your countrymen’s situation; you are all savages going towards the path of self destruction.  What have you accomplished within the last 1000 or so years that you've been living in this desolate wasteland?  While our civilization has created art, transportation and structures more grandeur than ever imagined, you troglodytes seem like your most advanced creation was farming.  None of you and your countrymen, combined, have achieved what I have and will accomplish in the days to come. 

 I was born the the British countryside in a poor farmer's family, much like you savages.  I utterly despised my father, for he was a man with no ambition whatsoever.  He might have been hardworking but what bothered me the most was his simplicity, his being content with what he had when he could have easily accomplished more.  I left that wretched place and went to the city; it was there that I won scholarships to the most prestigious schools in England.  I accomplished all my goals, impressed all my fellow students and defeated all that stood before me.  It would not be stretching the truth by saying that I was and still am the best in the world at what I do.  After I graduated, professors , students and politicians alike told me that I had the potential to become Prime Minister.   

It was an amusing thought but one I would not accept.  For I observed the people around me and I realized that my own countrymen too, were going towards the path of self destruction and devolution.  I lost all hope that they would ever recover from the sinful natures that they have adopted.  There was no fixing that broken society, that dysfunctional civilization. 

I decided to go to the most powerful and influential organization in England, the church.  It was there that I obtained what I needed.  After years of ruling the order I finally obtained what I sorely desired; a new world, your world, Africa, of which I could start a perfect society, free from the ignorant and lazy natures that civilization is slowly adopting;  a new world that I could shape with the help of my fellow visionaries.  I have been appointed by the commissioner himself to assimilate... no, no... to save the people of the Igbo tribe from their savage ways and begin a new civilized world from scratch; a world that will be far superior to any other civilization, past or present.

  All will be well when I am through with dealing with the problematic individuals of the tribe who resist the inevitable (such as that bothersome Okonkwo). When I finish making this pestilence infested wasteland your countrymen have called home into a much more desirable place for the people of the new and improved world to live in; a new world order will be started, not one of savageness, nor one of petty human ambitions, but a perfect world where all people obey rules and regulations that uphold the virtues that will define the one and only definition of good. 

So go ahead and destroy this rat shack that the foll brown made, it is not fit for the people of the new world anyway.  You cannot stop me, so enjoy this victory... if you can even call it a victory... while you can for this land will soon be a kingdom under my control.

Epilogue

Smith:  Are they gone?...

Smith: How utterly predictable...

Smith: Send word to the commissioner that they acted as predicted, we will have our six leaders soon...

Smith: A ransom is such a trivial matter but I suppose the end justifies the means...

Smith: Now for that bothersome Okonkwo.  I am told that you have ties with this man?...

Smith: Yes we will need to act fast and make it look accidental, we do not need an uprising....

Smith: A suicide you say?...Yes that might work...

Smith: See to it yourself, Umofa's time is at hand and I need not another pesky bug to squash...

Smith: I expect a full report tomorrow.  You are dismissed...Issac. 

What a Disgrace to the Fatherland

Looking back at my previous essay on the topic of "Is Okonkwo a Hero," I stated that he would not be a modern day hero but rather a perfect middle ages hero.  After reading the book I was proven wrong by Okonkwo himself because of one action and one action only - he killed himself.  No self-respecting hero from the past would've gone out like that. They would have died in a blaze of glory, boldly attacking the enemy stronghold, outnumbered one thousand to one, while managing to take down hundreds of opponents before being killed by a barrage from long ranged weapons.  You may think that my image of a hero is too old fashioned but that's just my definition of a hero.  When I hear the word "hero" I do not think of people like superman and batman, but rather characters such as Odysseus, Beowulf or King Leonidas from 300 come to mind.

I defended Okonkwo's actions as a father.  Okay, so he intimidated his wives and harassed his children because they were not manly enough.  Past heroes were not good fathers either, but they all did one thing similarly, they ruled with an iron fist.  Whether it be a family or an army, past heroes demanded total control and discipline.  Because of this action, people tend to see this kind of heroes as cruel and abusive, but in the past, this was how one got into power.  Without this disciplinarian mentality one could not get into positions such as general or king, so Okonkwo's treatment to his family did not change my views of his heroism.

In fact, all of his actions leading up to the end I viewed as heroism.  What completely changed my views was that last chapter when he killed himself.  It was illogical, disappointing and certainly numeric.  During the chapter when Okonkwo killed the messenger I felt like the novel was reaching it's climax.  Okonkwo had lost all hope that the Igbo would be free from the white men, and he certainly had nothing more to lose.  I'm positive that he was enraged at the fact that he was captured by the white men and was treated like swine. Also, his firstborn son, his supposed heir, betrayed him to join the missionaries; a man like Okonkwo surely would not let this go by.  All of these reasons lead me to believe that Okonkwo was ready for a final stand against the white men; one last battle that would hopefully inspire his fellow warriors  into doing the same, and if he dies, well he would take many white men with him. 

I expected no less of a man of Okonkwo's prestige.  But what happened was beyond disappointing and quite anti-climatic.  For the next day, Okonkwo simply killed himself and I do not and will not understand why.  Why kill yourself when you could have made such an excellent example of valour by taking a stand?  Why kill yourself when the action will be seen as a disgrace to one's fatherland?  Why die like a pathetic weakling when one can go out like a true hero in a blaze of glory?  Why make your friends and comrades pity you when you can inspire them to fight for their freedom?  I fear these questions of mine will never be answered, like how Okonkwo will never be seen by me as a hero.  Because of this action he will forever be a disgrace to his fatherland and a coward who took the easy way out.  He could have made his death a statement to the white men, but instead, his death meant nothing, quite simply it was the coward's way out.

Keep in mind that these are just my views of heroism.  Others may have their own reasons of why or why not Okonkwo is a hero.  But it is in my view that Okonkwo is not a hero, but rather a coward who ended up failing when he had the opportunity to make a difference.  It was that one action the made me change my views.  It was because of that suicide that I say Okonkwo is not and will never be a hero.

Should I Stay or Should I Storm the Bastille?

That is the question on every French peasant's mind.  The oppression towards the French lower class by the bourgeoisie combined with many factors including, but not limited to, hunger, low standards of living and desperation make man vs. self the central conflict in the book "A Tale of Two Cities."  The book takes place at the late 17th century, spanning form a few years before to during the French revolution.  

The reason why I used man vs. self instead of the more obvious choice of man vs. man for this or rather any revolution is simply because revolutions only happen when men are at their mental breaking point.  It is true that in every revolution, there are men fighting and killing so that their side will achieve victory, but the conflict at the heart of the revolution is man vs. self.  There is always a part, no matter how small, in a freedom fighter's mind that wonders "Is it worth it?"  Before the fighting starts men convince themselves that "No, it is not worth it, I have too much to lose."  But as time goes by and people slowly but surely loose what they hold dear their answer changes from "No, it is not worth it." to "Why not? I have nothing to lose."  Even during the many battles in a revolution, men still ask themselves the same question "Is it worth it?" but this time it is too late and one must fight to the end for their respective causes.  It is because of that question that in the heart of every revolution is the conflict of man vs. self.

In the book, the French peasants are starting to get defiant a peasant, who a Marquis tried to bribe "[Threw] a coin [that flew] into his carriage."(116)  This scene showed just how angry the peasant was, towing back the precious bribe money back at the Marquis.  This also tells me that the French peasants are tired of the upper class and are dangerously close to their breaking points.  The gravity of this action stands out to me, for which peasant, especially during those difficult times, would reject money.

This conflict can be compared to any other revolution; the Egyptian revolution, the Russian revolution and even the present day Libyan revolution for example.  Look at the chaos at Libya; it's very similar to the chaos that will happen in the book's French revolution.  The only difference is that, in the book, the USA will not interfere with their airstrikes.

I have not reached the part of the book where the conflict ends, but it would be useless to predict the ending.  For anyone who has read a grade nine socials textbook can tell you that the French revolution was resolved with the guillotine and gallons of blood, but the main conflict, the man vs. self conflict, was resolved when the peasants started the revolution.  Most man vs. self conflicts are resolved by pressure or breaking points.

 The French peasants fought their instincts and their own minds, contemplated about sacrificing themselves for the longest time, and when they could lose no more, their lives were a small price to pay for the freedom they desired.  In the book "A Tale of Two Cities," peasants are constantly asking themselves the question "Should I Stay or Should I Storm the Bastille?”  As it was written in the history books, that is exactly what they did and all their sacrifices were repaid in blood; bourgeoisie blood to be exact.

Post-colonialism in the Modern World

There's a saying "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."  It basically means that beauty comes in different forms, that there is no single definition of beautiful.  Unfortunately this idiom had lost most of its charm, since most "beholders" are influenced by a colonised society.

Post-colonialism can be defined as the lingering effects of colonialism; colonialism being the modernization of countries seen as savage by self-proclaimed civilized people.  Ideas such as Europeans and Caucasians being completely pure and the ideal definition of beauty are few of the many fallacious effects from Colonialism.  The long term effect of colonization, or post-colonialism, can be seen just about anywhere in today's media; from fashion models, silently implying that Caucasian people are the definition of beautiful, to the daily news report of yet another African American shoplifting from the vulnerable Asian cashier. Post-colonialism is truly abundant in today’s media and society.  I've spent most of my spring break pondering about what example I would use to define post-colonialism when in fact, my example was literally if front of my face and in the tips of my fingers.

Resident Evil 5 is a fictional video game set in the heart of Africa in the year 2008. For those who are unfamiliar with this game, here's a brief explanation.  Resident Evil is a video game franchise under the shooter/zombie genre.  Out of all the instalments in the series, Resident Evil 5 probably is the most controversial for the player controls a Caucasian protagonist who fights against hordes of African zombies.  I won't lie by saying that this is a completely racist game that wrongfully portrays Africans and corrupts the many people who have played this game; in fact, I myself have completed the game's campaign numerous times without any thoughts of post-colonisation crossing my mind.  But upon a closer look, I found that the game contains many examples of Post-colonialism.

Screenshot of protagonist Chris Redfeild against hostile African zombies.

Now I personally do not think that the game is racist.  People can be racist but games can't, they're inanimate and therefore cannot judge anyone.  But the game does portray effective examples of post-colonialism.

One example would be how the African zombies only had crude weapons such as sickles, knives and machetes while the player had an arsenal of weapons ranging from standard pistols to a fully operational minigun.  In the book "Things Fall Apart," which was published in 1958, the protagonist Okonkwo made it quite clear that he and his tribe had guns themselves, yet in this game set in the year 2008, the villagers act as if their most advanced weapon was a crossbow.  This is an effective example how Africans are portrayed as uncivilized with their crude weapons while Caucasians have a large variety of advanced tools to their disposal.

Example 1: Caucasian protagonist has advanced weapons while African zombie has to use a crude chainsaw.

Another example is the physical build of the characters.  In the game, the protagonist is someone who has obviously spent a lot of time in the gym.  Funny enough, this was the first game that the player controls someone who looks like he took steroids.  Also, Chris didn't look that bulky in the previous games, he was quite average physically before going to Africa.  All the African zombies however have a skinny physique as if they haven't eaten in days.  While I’m sure this is true for some people in Africa, I'm also sure that not all Africans are famished people with no physical build.  Some parts of Africa are civilized and would have people with decent physical bulk.  Post-colonialism is present here for the Africans are portrayed as skinny weak people while Caucasians are portrayed as muscular and strong.

Example 2: As you can see protagonist Chris Redfield has a great physical build compared to the Africans who have no build at all.

The final example of post-colonialism in this game is the setting itself.  The area of the village is completely disgusting and unfit for anyone to live in.  It is this setting that makes players believe that Africa really is a horrible place.  The post-colonialism present in this game portrays Africa as a filthy, disgusting and vile place that no one would like to visit.  In fact I have not heard of or seen any game that portrays Africa as a place where one would go to for a vacation.  This is yet another effect of post-colonialism; most people would like to go to Paris, New York, Venice and many other European and North American destinations and places like Africa and South America are portrayed as ugly and dangerous places to go to.

Example 3: The game's setting doesn't exactly show Africa's tourist attractions.  In fact it gives you hundreds of reasons as to why one should not go to Africa.

Resident Evil 5 is not the only game that gives examples of post-colonialism; in fact, most of the games I've seen or played have discreet traces of post-colonialism.  I'm not implying that games are misleading and racist, but I've noticed that many traces of colonialism still linger in our present society, even in places we least expect it to be like video games.

For example, in the recent Pokémon games released last month, ironically named Black and White, we see the first ever black character in the main Pokémon game franchise.  Now I’m wondering why it took seven series of games and 649 Pokémon for Nintendo to add an African American character.  And in a game coincidentally named Pokémon Black no less.

Post-colonialism is the aftermath of colonialism.  The traces of colonialism are discreet but if we are observant, we can see traces of colonialism in media, games, news and in our way of life in general.  Acknowledging post-colonialism is one thing, but eradicating it is another.  Colonialism has left a very deep mark in society that I am convinced that completely erasing the effects that post-colonialism brings to our lives is an impossible task.  But that's only my opinion, only time will tell if the scars left my colonialism will ever heal. 

Fallacies and Zombies

There is no proof that zombies don't exist, therefore they do exist.  Furthermore, by looking back at the history of World War II, one can find evidence of a zombie attack scheduled for December 21, 2012.  World War II, a time where Adolf Hitler and the Nazi army ruled Europe; for many years, Europe was ruled by the fascist Reich with an iron fist.  This continued until the Nazi blitzkrieg made the mistake of attacking the U.S.S.R., thus awakening the Soviet Red Army.  Because the Russians and Stalin were awesome, the Nazi's destruction was inevitable, causing Hitler and his officers to seek other options as retaliation.  It is known that all Nazis believed in the supernatural, and that there was a secret branch funded by the fascist government that researched and dealt with the supernatural.  Just like the Nazis in the movie "Raiders of the Lost Ark" all Nazis believed in the occult.  Around the climax of World War II, when the Red Army had the Nazis cornered, a handful of German scientists found a way to reanimate dead bodies through experimenting on allied prisoners because by experimenting on allied prisoners they found out how to reanimate the deceased.  This successful experiment was applied to all of the Nazi army, dead or alive, thus making an army of zombies buried and waiting for the day that they will rise from their graves and once more rule the world.  The fact that Hitler's body was never found meant that he was zombified and buried in a secret Nazi catacomb.  Moreover, since there was no talk of the December 2012 apocalypse theory post World War II, the Nazi's obviously tampered with the Mayan calendar and started and spread the rumors of  2012.  This is the set date where the army of zombies will rise from their graves, devour humans, infect them, and spread the zombie plague all around the world.  If you do not believe me, just ask George Lucas, for he stated that he believed that the world will end in 2012.  Mr. Lucas also stated that he has a Millennium Falcon in his garage that will be used for his swift escape when the end is at hand.  Because of all this undeniable proof, the Nazi zombie attack in December 21, 2012 is confirmed and imminent.

So This is Where Disney Got Their Princesses From

Introducing Madame Lucile Manette, the main protagonist in Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities," and quite possibly the woman who the Disney Princesses were based on.   Beautiful, compassionate, and courageous, are only a few of the numerous adjectives that can describe her.  Ms. Manette has an almost perfect if not completely perfect physical appearance.  With "golden hair", "blue eyes", and "a short, slight, pretty figure"(29), Ms. Manette truly is the lady of many a man's fantasy.  Her physical appearance combined with "a very clear and pleasant young voice"(29), gives the character an aura of perfection that can only be compared to that of one of Walt Disney's princesses.  Like most of Disney's princesses, Lucile Manette had a difficult beginning;  her father had been missing and presumed dead and her mother had perished when Lucile was only two years old effectively making her an orphan.  Ms. Manette had since lived a lonely life "in the ward of [the bank] Tellson's"(32) with "no [friends]"(30).  Her tragedy of being orphaned and lonely at a young age is identical to many Disney princesses stories such as Snow White and Cinderella.

Madame Lucile Manette, who is seventeen at the time, is first seen in the coffee room, in a meeting with Mr. Jarvis Lorry, a banker from Tellson's bank.  Ms. Manette finds out from Mr. Lorry that her father, who she had presumed dead all these years, is still alive but is in a psychological state of madness, after being imprisoned in the Bastille for many years.  Furthermore, Mr Lorry wants Lucile to meet the father, who is a complete stranger to his daughter, in hopes of awakening him from his state of madness.  Following another Disney cliche, Lucille momentarily shows her vulnerability when she goes into shock after hearing the news.  But like most Disney heroines she recovers from this moment of weakness and ultimately accompanies Mr. Lorry to her father.  This leads to Lucille meeting her father and slightly curing his ailment when he sees her golden hair, the same kind of a strand golden hair he kept with him in his years in the Bastille.  The first book ends with Lucille successfully accompanying her father back to their home, where "[his] agony is over", and where he will be "at peace and at rest"(53).  Overall, the first book could be compared to the prologue of most of Disney's movies.  Lucille, the "princess" finds out that her father, who was thought to be dead, was still alive, so she meets him and helps him recover.  If this story continues to follow the plot of a Disney film, I predict that a "Prince Charming" will appear and resolve or add conflict to this story.  Madame Lucille Manette is identical to Disney's Princesses in every way, she has fantastical beauty, courage that people of her age usually do not have, and a tragic past that scarred her childhood, yet she shows no sign of depression.  If I didn't know any better, i would have said Walt Disney based his formula for the Disney Princesses on Lucile Manette.

I Could Be Yours

To the one I haven't met yet,

Sweet emotions hinder me
From speaking to you ever so softly
One part of me says let it be
While the other half won't leave so quietly

So I ask the moon on this night of a thousand stars
To to shine on the sacred land where you lie
For whether it be in houses, parks or bars
I want you to know that I'm the guy

I'm the guy who'll lay you down in a bed of roses
While hoping that no one else proposes
When it gets dark, too dark to see
I will be the light that sets you free

Those three words are too cliché
You won't stay till the light of day
And without you I'll be lost
In a deep ocean covered in frost

I want you to know that this was the hardest thing I ever had to write
More excruciating than a quest, more formidable than the deadliest fight.
I want you to know that I could be yours
So don't abandon me in my inner wars

For I want you in the story of my life
So please, take a leap of faith, a shot in the dark
And avoid slashing me with love's knife
Avoid forever making your mark

Sweet emotions hinder me
From speaking to you ever so softly
One part of me says let it be
While the other half won't leave so quietly

Forever yours,
Rando

You Can't Always Get What You Want

In life, the greatest challenges we face is with ourselves.  To me, these challenges are usually decisions that greatly alter my future.  Figuratively speaking, these decisions are like two diverging paths; where by taking one path, you must stay with it and not backtrack to take the other.

One of the hardest decisions that I have made was during the summer of 2008. I had just finished the eighth grade and I was set to attend yet another school for the ninth grade.  This was one of the most challenging decisions in my life for it greatly affected my future and I had to choose between what I wanted and what I needed.

It was one of those hot summer days where you woke up late in the afternoon and yet, still wanted to stay in bed all day.  I was lazing in my room, windows open, feeling the warm summer wind brushing my cheeks.  I liked being indoors for it was without the punishing heat of the sun's rays.  I was thinking about my old home, for it had been roughly a year since I arrived in Canada from the Philippines.  Those were difficult times for I had yet to call Canada home as I do so now.   I had just finished the eighth grade and I learned that I was moving to another school for the ninth grade.  It felt like I wasted one year of building confidence and a reputation just to go back to having a a fresh start.  It's safe to say that I was not looking forward to the coming September.

As I was deep in my thoughts, my mother came in the room holding a cordless telephone.  She looked slightly stressed and more tired than usual.  I contemplated if I should have been helping her with the house chores, but the soft feel of the bed was tempting; and I was not one to resist temptation.

"Phone for you."  She informed me.

"Who is it?"  I asked.

"It's your grandmother from home.  It's a long distance call so be quick." She replied.

I quickly took the phone, and despite my mother's warnings talked for about an hour on the many good memories I had with my grandparents.  Whenever I would visit their house, there would be a grand feast with my favorite foods.  The delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen were enough to drive a hungry man insane.  One couldn't help waiting impatiently tableside for lunch and dinner to be served.  The food, needless to say, was delicious to the point where gluttony was difficult to avoid.  The hypnotizing aromas and the mouthwatering dishes still haunt my senses to this day.  Another highlight of my many visits was how often my grandparents and I went out to do numerous activities with my uncle and aunt.  We usually went to the many malls near my grandparent's house, where we would walk accompanied around and enjoy each other's company.  When my grandparents got tired we let them rest on the benches while my uncle and I went bowling or to the arcade.  I was also slightly spoiled by my grandparents when I was a kid; whenever I wanted something all I had to do was put on my best smile and ask them to buy it for me.  But some of the best memories I had with my grandparents was probably the monthly trip to the beach.  I loved the powder fine sand, the cool temperature of the clear blue water on a hot summer afternoon, and the immaculate view when the sunset gives the gentle waters an orange colour.  The soft sound of the waves that make me feel like I'm in another, more peaceful dimension, away from all the blasting horns and the screeching tires one cannot avoid in big cities.  I could lie on the seashore all day, my feet submerged in the refreshing water, while my back rested on the sand, as smooth as powder.  Those days really were the best of times. If only I could go back to that paradise for one more day.

"Oh dear, the phone card only has five minutes left.  I'll talk to you soon!" My grandmother stated, waking my wandering mind.

"Really?  Well talk to you soon then!" I replied, slightly dazed.
I hung up the phone, and suddenly realized that I was starving.  I was craving peperoni pizza so I went downstairs to the kitchen, hoping that there were a few instant pizzas inside of the freezer.  The kitchen was brightly lit by the scorching midday sun when I entered.  The kitchen was a bit too stuffy and hot for my preference so I planned to get out quickly.  I then noticed my mother who had just got off her cellphone.  The look on her face told me that she had big news; I was right.  Apparently my father called and he was planning to go back and visit my grandparents in the Philippines next week.  Normally I would be disappointed and envious by this, I was for a while, until my mother told me that my father wanted to bring me with him in his trip.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing at first; then I was filled with such bliss  that I danced like a fool and did laps around the house.  The sheer joy extruding from me could not have been more obvious.  After that nostalgic conversation with my grandmother, how could I pass on this opportunity?  I was all set to go on a vacation.

My mother went to mark the leaving date on the calendar when she suddenly frowned.  I took a peek at the messy calendar to see what was bugging her.  The date I was supposed to leave was a week before I was scheduled to be interviewed at the new school that I was going to.  It was an interview to get into this special class called "Spectrum."  Supposedly I had to apply in the eighth grade, but my mother asked around and apparently there was one slot open.  I quickly asked my mother if I could reschedule the interview but it was impossible.  My mother quickly called my father to inform him about the setbacks.  Both of them thought that I should take the test because it was for my future.  The day, which had been a pleasant daydream had become a horrid nightmare.  I silently went to my room and pondered about this important decision.

"Do I pick what I want?  Or do I choose instead what is best for the future?"

I pondered as the scorching yellow sun turned orange. I pondered as the orange glow faded into darkness.  I silently wished that the passing cars outside would keep quiet so I could hear myself think.  The decision was obvious, I should choose the interview for it was my future at stake.  But I just couldn't bring myself to make such a decision; to condemn myself to more work when I desperately needed a vacation.  I feel asleep. Dreams of lavish feasts and peaceful beaches taunted me in my restless sleep.

Two days after the interview, I was informed that I didn't get in the special class.  I was not the least bit surprised, for making the decision to take the test annihilated my concentration.  My usually composed thoughts became a mess of bland, unimpressive and repetitive words that I could not compose into a polished sentence.  In my sorrow I wondered if the interviewers laughed at my pitiful attempt to prove myself to them; I would have.

For the next few days I wallowed in self pity, yet I did not show anyone my weakness for I hated looking weak.  It was during days like this that I wished that I had vices instead of virtues.  As the days passed, I felt less regret, for I've always known that I can't always get what I want.

In life, everyone has, at least one, made a life changing decision where they faced themselves.  To me, this decision was difficult challenge for I knew that this decision would greatly affect my future.  I ignored my instincts and used logic; I resisted temptation and choose to do, at that time, what I felt was the right decision; I took risks, when I should have played it safe.  This lead to my downfall, where I lost valuable opportunities and gained nothing.  This truly was the greatest challenge that I have ever faced, for unlike many other challenges, I feel like I failed this one, thus failing myself.