Post by Simone Haagen on Mar 10, 2012 14:52:29 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,475,true] [atrb=height,380,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #000000; border-top-left-radius:4em; -moz-border-radius-topleft:4em; height: 350px; width: 125px; border-top: 2px solid #C7A317; border-left: 2px solid #C7A317; border-bottom: 2px solid #C7A317] [style=border: 5px solid #C7A317; width: 100px; background-color: #C7A317; border-top-left-radius:1em; -moz-border-radius-topleft:1em]  [/style] | [atrb=style, background-color: #000000; height: 360px; border-top: 2px solid #C7A317; border-right: 2px solid #C7A317; border-bottom: 2px solid #C7A317; width: 350px; border-bottom-right-radius:4em; -moz-border-radius-bottomright:4em;][style=border-bottom: 10px solid #C7A317; color: #EBEBEB; font-size: 15px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -2px; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia; line-height: 11px; text-align: right; width: 325px; margin-top: 8px; padding-right: 10px; text-shadow: #080808 5px 1px 1px;]remember this feeling, how it feels to be alive[/style] [style=padding: 20px; overflow: auto; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; color: #FFF380; height: 290px; width: 295px; background-color: #595454]Ha. The lows in which the human mind could sink found no true bounds. Not anymore. Each and every day, Simone was reminded why, exactly, he found the hypothalamus, amygdala and what other limbic systems, proved active, were so incredibly emphatic. Emotions were one thing, but to give name to systems that actually proved their existence in each and every human being.. well, it was sketchy to Simone, and more than most other scientific exploitations, he really couldn't find an excuse for the manners in which this one had gotten out of hand. Sure, a man could say that the hypothalamus was the biological cause for anger and aggression, but the truth behind the matter was that it simply controlled the functions for physical arousal, hunger, thirst, pulse, response to pain-- simply put, it was the brain's thermostat, telling the nerves when some sort of feeling was running "off the charts". What connection did that really have with an emotional coordinated response? Very little. And any scientist that said otherwise was probably making money by giving zoloft to little girls with "daddy issues". Yes, many human beings had over-active emotions, but what in the brain actively gave out legitimate emotional signals? Very few. And the closest that the young scientist could rationalize was the tug in a man's chest that sent a signal for his eyes to produce tears from involuntary emotional submission. The lacrimal gland under the eye lid grow irritated and create more salty fluid than usual. Directly being tied into emotional situations, it was a simple explanation. But not all people had to constantly produce such emotions. No. It just was not necessary. And such things were the exact reasoning behind Simone's newly found engagements with the Imperial Cinema. As hard to believe as emotions were, he loved watching idiotic actors attempt to imitate the psyche. With copied plots, easily depicted romantic toils, eerily avoidable quandaries, and absurd vocal admissions in lieu of literal solutions, Simone could feel overtly intellectual. Why did he go to the films? Simone wanted to feel the smarter among his less science oriented peers. True, even at his place of occupation, he was the superior of scientific spoils, but even then, he never really felt... welcomed for his intellect. Here, however, he could talk freely to his neighbors about what idiotic mannerisms were portrayed upon the screen. Now and then, he was a given a soft "hush" in response to his words, but how could he not expect one person or another to disagree with him? Even in his line of work, there had to be disagreement of view. How else would compromise and study be performed? Most would grow upset with such counter, but Simone encouraged it, giving hearty reply of his own views on the subject. In opposition to his work in the lab, here.. he always had someone to strike conversation with. It made his loneliness subside, if only for ninety-seven minutes and some twenty-odd seconds. Once back at the research facility, he would no contact such as this-- but to think of such things merely brought him down. As he was here... he was pleased. "Dit you see thet?" he "whispered" to the man sitting to his left, leaning as close as he could to the other's face as he popped a candy into his own mouth, "Thet man only had ten minootes to get to the staschion, and tventy miles to get there. Thet is not even poosible! Don't you think thet is funny? I think it is ridiculous. Right, right?" The odds that any person could reach a destination that far in such an amount of time was next to none. Had the man been in a jet plane, maybe it would have worked in his odds... but taking a taxi in such a crowded environment? No. There was no possible way that the man would get to the girl before she left to choose her career over her love for the male protagonist. And why had he been the one crying? When only moments before, he had called her every foul name (allowed in a PG-13 rated flick, mind you) that could be thought of. And it was just as Simone was trying to explain just that to his left-hand companion that a young man with a flash-light shimmied his way down the aisle, hovering the luminosity into the scientist's face. Audacious, the lighted man made his accusation. "You've been disrupting other patron of the cinema. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave," muttered the man, as if he did not even care what he was asking Simone to do.. Leave? Leave? He could not just up and leave. Not when he had made a new friend-- his seating partner who had, during the previews, named himself as George. At least, he had been led to believe that they were friends. George had only disagreed with his statements three or four times during the movie.. and he had silently listened at other times. Yet, when the flashlight dawning man asked if Simone had been disturbing him... he practically begged for the man to take Simone away. As if he had been pounded in the back, the young man gasped, murmuring, "George.. no.." At which point he caved into the suggestions of the worker for him to depart. With a prideful pip to his step, Simone walked toward the theater's Exit, stopping only to look at the screen, and, like a reprimanded child, he pouted, wondering if he might ever learn what happened to the lovely little couple of the flick-- though he was pretty certain how it was going to end... He still wished to see it for himself.[/style] [style=border-bottom: 5px solid #C7A317; color: #EBEBEB; font-size: 14px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -2px; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; font-family: georgia; line-height: 11px; text-align: right; width: 323px; margin-top: -16px; padding-right: 12px; text-shadow: #080808 5px 1px 1px;]you can't break the broken,[/style][style=padding-right: 20px; padding-left: 20px; padding-top: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; overflow: auto; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9px; color: #FFF380; height: 55px; width: 295px; background-color: #4E4848]TAGGED: Open. WORD COUNT: 958 NOTES: Sorry that the writing in this one doesn't flow very well.. :c [/style] |
