Stuck in Frozenness

“A book should be an ice-axe to break the frozen sea within us.”

-Franz Kafka

'How can a book be an ice axe?' I asked myself when I first read Kafka’s quote, befuddled. I kept on reading the quote over and over again. Then it occurred to me what a strong impact this simile has, how true it is. A book contains a thousand ideas, ideas that don’t exist in reality. A sea contains a thousand colorful creatures. Sometimes thunderstorms create the biggest of waves that tower above us, waiting to come crashing down and wiping everything in its path out of the way. Sometimes it’s very calm and very soothing, the constant rhythm of the waves rolling to the shore. What an exciting place it is. The image of frozen sea, almost an impossibility, except at the extremes of Earth. The things you look for, where are the thunderstorms that make us panic? Where is that constant rhythm that soothes some like a lullaby? Where are those colorful creatures that give the sea its spark? The worst part of it is that you know these things exist, but you are forced to go through life without it. Like you are inside a prison that bans life itself! The dullness of it all burdening you inside your prison, there is no way out. So the sea in its frozen state is inert.

Frozen seas are reality. I’m not one who lets myself live a life of darkness. Life is short, why be a prisoner? The only way of denying this desolation is entering the lively realm of books. There is so much potential in one person, everyone has an imagination, everyone has ideas, everyone has a sea within them. But it is frozen, because in reality there is cruelness. It paralyzes us and blinds us from all the finer things in life, and people are so used to this that no one ever tries to break free. People get stuck in this horrible frozenness that burdens us, locks us deep in a dark, dull prison for eternity. It’s so motionless that some people don’t even bother to try moving.

The frozen sea is ‘within’ us, implying that it is engraved in our soul, buried deep under the surface, the act that we put on to fit into reality. We are so occupied with our boring reality, frozen in our mundane lives, that it never really occurs to us what could really be. But the people that have the strength to break free, they are the ones that should be valued most. For they are the ones who climb higher to show their potential to create an ice-axe to break this frozen sea; the light that we need to shine on us in this darkness. They are the ones who write the books that give us the hallucination of being set free from our lifeless prisons. But if the hallucinations are powerful enough, they can be transformed into a reality. And one day, people will be set free.

A Rainbow in the Darkness

Books are more powerful than anything else in the world; the key to unlock our prisons. I consider myself to be lucky because it only took me twelve years to find the ice axe to break the frozen sea; I’m not gullible enough to be sucked into this illusion anymore. I appraise Stephenie Meyer for she has a well-sharpened ice axe. Her book Twilight helped me open my eyes and un-freeze my sea. It is so cleverly written that it has opened the eyes of thousands, and has made people fall in love with a fictional character, Edward Cullen. Stephenie Meyer explores so much with romance, heroes, journeys and most importantly, courage. Bella, one of the protagonists in the story, explores herself and finds out who she really is. She goes on a journey to seek the truth behind a mysterious boy, Edward Cullen. It takes courage to stay with him even after finding out he’s a vampire, and it takes more courage to love him. The ideas behind the book relate so much to teenagers’ lives; exploring one’s self, romance, idolizing people, journeys, friendships, and courage. In addition, the vocabulary is so strong it has enhanced mine more than I am able to measure. Twilight is so beautifully written, such a sharp ice axe that all the creatures of my sea are swimming, the colors are there to give the sea its spark, the rhythm a lullaby.

I am now able to imagine creatures, things, which I would not have been able to concoct before reading her book. Sometimes, in my dreamiest days, I ask myself, what if? Can we control our darker sides? Why can’t there be vampires or werewolves? But the science of it all comes in, and then I know why it can’t be. That doesn’t matter though; the beauty of it all is that I was able to consider it to be true for a moment. The book has influenced me so well, I now write differently, aware of the techniques I use in my pieces of writing. I even talk a little differently now, sometimes thinking of other words to dazzle my friends. Stephenie Meyer created a rainbow in my prison, and it shines so brightly, it grows bigger and brighter everyday until soon enough my prison will be a prison no more, and the darkness will vanish.

Thus, the picture of the rainbow over the sea symbolizes how a book alone can provide us with so much. Even though the sea is not literally frozen, it is still a dark day in which the rainbow provides so much light, so much life. The sea may not be frozen because the ice axe has chipped a little bit of it, and only the surface moves. Meaning that in this case, one may have read an interesting book and has opened his or her eyes to more possibilities but much doubt still exists. And so the person reads another book, creating a light in the darkness which may keep on setting them free from the dullness of life, until everything is moving and there is so much light, doubt does not linger anymore in the person. In the end, all it takes is a book to break the frozen sea within us. One book to make a rainbow on a dull day.

Wingless Angel

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Angel. Golden hair, blue eyes, stout little arms and legs. Of all my dolls and stuffed toys, she’s the one. She’s the one I treasure the most. My parents gave her to me when I was about a year old. But at that time, she didn’t look anything like what she does today; prettier, more elegant, her dress tidy. Her hair wasn’t unruly at all like now. I could run my short, little, baby fingers through her hair and not encounter one knot.

But as the years passed, slowly, gradually like the hour hand waiting patiently for the next hour, her hair started to become kinkier and kinkier. Her hair started to bunch up into chunky knots, and no matter how hard I tried to brush her hair, there was no hope. I was even lucky that the tiny, yellow, Tweety bird brush did not get lost in her hair. Her hair looks like a haystack, but I still like it. My nanny then helped me and suggested putting Angel’s dirty blonde and knotted hair, into a ponytail. The bunchy hair was fluffy, soft to the touch. It was comforting, the feeling of her hair alone took away my worries.

If I had not cleaned her face, her ocean blue eyes, if I had not wiped it till it shone, it would be hard to tell that her cheeks were rosy, and that the color of her skin was a gorgeous tan. Being in my closet for two years now, I expect her appearance to be near unrecognizable. But still, I would look at her like she was the most beautiful doll ever. And I bet if she was a real girl, she’d be turning heads and breaking necks.

Importance of an Angel

And why is Angel important to me? Why is this doll that has been with me since I was a baby so important to me? She’s not even as beautiful anymore, not as wonderful, not as amusing, for she does not talk anymore. No, it was not just my infantile imagination that made her talk, it was the battery and the buttons on her back that made sound come out of her little led lips.

Angel accompanied me when I had no one else to play with. I taught her the things I learned everyday in school. I read to her. She became a very important part of my life because I needed her there for me when no one else was around. Like the baby sister I never had…only better. Because unlike a real baby sister, I doubt Angel would tell my mom or dad the secrets I told her. She was anything I wanted her to be. Except a mom of course. She was my sister, my best friend, and my little baby. (Hey, I was no more than a little girl back then. Playing mom is not an unusual thing for little girls.)

She’s been with me since I was a baby. A gift from my parents. The most important people to me in the whole entire world. (Not to exclude my brother or anything, he’s also the most important person to me in the whole entire world.) And that’s why it made her even more special. Now I can’t even imagine how my early childhood years would have been without her.