A shot on the tv
a mass of children
half naked
tattered clothes
blowing in the wind

the ground below is muddy
and their feet can't be seen
through the caked on dirt

the well
the towns source of water
is not much better
a sea of brown
with a line
of children drinking,
that's been their only food for a week

and someone changes the channel
"Those money mongers"
he spits in disgust
as I ponder it in my mind

how dare I
hate my life
when I've seen
the likes
of that?
- (c) Life101, 1999
Children

By Metacognizant


Daddies go and Mommies stay.
Children watch the grand parade
of lovers, killers, liars, thieves,
actors laughing, actors grieving.
And some ride on the float,
the oreo cookies float,
delivering orea cookies to the masses,
casting out the single cookie packets.

Daddies go and Mommies stay.
Children work when they should play
at games of hate and death and war,
diluted hints of what’s in store.
Monopoly tycoons
can do whatever they want to do
and Indians are meant to suffer genocide.
We’ll kill each other once our enemies have died.

Daddies go and Mommies stay.
Children, by existing, say,
“I took your youth and then I flew,
but left a brat to laugh at you.”
So some receive the blows,
as anger steadily grows.
But they can’t help it if they sound just like him.
She fights them because she cannot fight him.

Daddies go and Mommies stay,
but children are the ones who pay
for theft, betrayal, lies, and boasts,
a world of boogies, monsters, ghosts.
They all lay down and die,
much too hopeless to try.

Where does our future lie?

It lies in ashes,
bleeding from a million mortal gashes.
Individuals capable of piloting the Evangelion who are selected by the Marduk Institute, an advisory body under the direct control of the Instrumentality Committee (the Marduke agency is in fact NERV). They are called First, Second, Third, etc., according to the order of their selection. What is common to these Children is that they are all young boys and girls who have lost their mothers. Incidentally, the candidates for Children were grouped into Class 2-A of the First Municipal Junior High School of Tokyo-3.

Source: The End of Evangelion : Glossary contained within The End of Evangelion - Theatrical Program.


The use of “Children” in the titles the First Children, Second Children, Third Children, is not a mistake. It should not be First Child, Second Child, Third Child; the use of “Child” is incorrect (no matter what AD Vision tries to tell you). GAINAX chose to use the English word “Children” as the identifier of the Evangelion pilots, it is not a translation mistake, it was intentional. In Neon Genesis Evangelion the terminology used to describe the pilots is written "tekikakusha" which translates to "qualified/adequate person", however it is pronounced "Children". It was an intentional choice to use Children, and as the series progresses the reason behind that choice becomes clear.

Sounds serious… what is it, and where does it come from?
Children are the larval form of the bipedal organism Homo sapiens sapiens (sometimes referred to as “human” or simply “man”), and are as prevalent as, if not more than, the mature form, although their dependency on adult humans limits their expansion to areas already colonized by mature organisms. Children often, though not always, display less coordination, intelligence, and wisdom than their mature counterparts, especially at younger ages, although this becomes less true as the child continues to mature.

Infection (called “conception”) most often occurs during sexual contact, although mature humans (usually those without children of their own) sometimes take a child not directly descended from them as their own. Other methods may exist, of course, but those should be taken on a case-by-case basis. The two given here are the most common.

When infection occurs, it is almost exclusively between a male human and a female human, with the female human becoming the host. Due to lack of proper interfacing equipment, infection occurring between a male and a male or a female and a female is both improbable and impractical. Other forms of disease can, however, be passed between partners at this time, and proper precautions should always be taken (see below).

I think I caught a child. What’s going to happen to me?
The gestation period for a human host carrying a child is 266 days, or about nine months. During this time, the child will increase in size from about 0.14 mm to an average of 17 to 22 inches, with an average weight of six to nine pounds. As this happens, it will become increasingly difficult for the female to perform physical activity. The female host may also experience a wide variety of symptoms, including, but not limited to:

At the end of the nine months, the child will exit the host in a painful process called “labor” and “birth.” The child is not yet autonomous, but through psychophysiological changes in the host, she will usually continue to nurture and care for it until it is able to survive on its own.

I don’t want that to happen again.. ever. How do I prevent it?
The only surefire way to prevent yourself from becoming infected with children or another disease of that nature is to abstain from sexual activity. Barring that, you can use contraceptives to reduce your risk. Note that, while various forms of contraceptives may prevent conception, only a condom that stays on the entire time you are engaged in sexual activity can prevent other forms of sexually transmitted diseases, and even this is not completely certain.

Sources:
http://web.ukonline.co.uk/webwise/spinneret/human2/pregn.htm
http://wy.essortment.com/bodychangesdur_mli.htm

My life as it is now is basically how I want my future to be. Comfortable. Filled with love. A life of quiet and peace and faith. Truly I can’t imagine any other future for myself than this sort of "happily ever after".

When I think about children, I usually think in terms of my youngest daughter, Amy. She’s a talented, bright, caring person, and I wonder what the world holds for her.

Like all mothers, I have dreams for her. A husband who loves her, healthy children, a career (if she wants one) that is filled with successes and keeps her mind challenged.

But the truth is that with the way the world is right now, I find it hard to think about the future at all. When I try to look down that pathway, all I see are flames and burning, war and death, and I can’t handle that. I see a country going to hell in a handbasket with a Hitler-wannabe president who only cares about his little war. I see religious extremists wanting to kill everybody born under Old Glory. I see a world that is headed down the road to disaster, and I want to put on a blindfold and block it out, so that I can continue to have hope for my little girl and her future.

The future to me is a big question mark. I do what I can every day to try to make it the best possible future that I can. I only hope that the world wakes up and realizes that right now we, the adults, the decision makers, are endangering the futures of every child on the planet, American, European, Asian or Middle Eastern, Christian, Muslim, Jew or atheist.

The future belongs to these children, the ones we see in news photographs with tears in their eyes, hungry, bleeding, dead. Celebrating acts of war in the streets, or mourning these same acts of war. What we teach these kids now, today, is what they will carry throughout their lives. Remember that old "A child learns what he lives" story? "If a child lives with hostility, he learns to fight". What are we teaching our kids? How many miniature terrorists are being raised right now? How many Hitlers? How many warmongers? And on the side of hope, how many Mother Teresas and Jimmy Carters? How many sinners, how many saints?

The kids are our future, a future we are molding every time we open our mouths to speak to them, and every time we take any action in their lives. What we teach them now is what they will do later.

Personally, I’m scared as hell.

She ran out into the light
suprised,
her arms are open- her mind's eye is
seeing things from a better side
than most can dream

and then I laughed, thanks to life, I laughed. Because in this sixteen-year-old brain, just a sliver of a warm ray of clarification and understanding will sometimes slip through the cracks of confusion and childhood, and it will warm the golden fields of innocence and teendom that linger and blossom there.

I'm never told "You'll understand when you're older," it's just assumed. But how much will I really understand? Can experience and age really compare to the instinctual innocence and imagination of a child?

Do you understand life, Mr. Mailman?

Why does it make sense that tacking on a few more years would ever help one with the ability to wrap their brain around this world and its mysteries? I say, leave it to a five-year-old to solve such mysteries. When a five-year-old is simple and unrefined and free of blemishes, free of scars, and there's no rush deciding on optimism, pessimism, or realism - there's just serenity.

Are we blind-sided by the world's biased bruises that we accquire as life's "experiences" knock us down? And as we reach sixteen, will our confusion and stubbornness envelop our naïveté until it is sucked up and hidden, like a blanket on your feet? A big blanket that convers you in the middle of a snow storm and doesn't let a hint of rainbow in to catch you cold.

and I laughed because this is ridiculous but brilliant- human life, it's absolutely terrifying and ridiculous but glorious and wonderful. It was one of those moment at the end of the movie where the camera pans back and the music begins for the credits. I have those moments a lot. And I think, what if it is about being that simple. What if it is all about summer day popsicles, true love, life and death, and wishes on stars? What if there is no blanket hiding our imagination and innocence? And if I, at sixteen, can have thoughts that some fully grown adults haven't experienced, then maybe that's the key. Maybe all that it takes to unlock this world's mysteries is to unlock your own and to think like a child. I don't know.. it's just a thought.

Chil"dren (?), n.;

pl. of Child.

 

© Webster 1913.

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