Looming Question 3

Essay practice! (Kinda) Like what we did in class!

1. “Select a novel or play in which a tragic figure functions as an instrument of the suffering of others. Then write an essay in which you explain how the suffering brought upon others by that figure contributes to the tragic vision of the work as a whole.”

Purpose: Explain
Book: Frankenstein
Tragic Figure: Frankenstein’s monster
Suffering he causes: Death of Victor’s brother, death of Victor’s wife, terror among townspeople
How it contributes to whole: Each event cumulates. The monster didn’t know his own strength with the first murders, and they become more intentional. His first kill wasn’t meant to kill and the repetition of killing makes the story hit home more and more. His final murder was intentional and a lover, hitting what could be the strongest heartstring that Victor possesses.

2.  “In  many works of literature, past events can affect, positively or negatively, the  present activities, attitudes, or values of a character. Choose a novel or play  in which a character must contend with some aspect of the past, either personal  or societal. Then write an essay in which you show how the character’s  relationship to the past contributes to the meaning of the work as a whole.”

Purpose: show
Book: Their Eyes were Watching God
Character’s relationship with past: Janie is always being shoved into one category or another. She was a child, then a women, then black. Never unlabeled throughout her life.
Contend with it: she proves to society that those labels don’t define her.
How it contributes to whole: Janie’s entire life was run for her as a child, and she hated that. After her grandmother planned out her life then passed away, Janie ran away because she didn’t like that she had no choice. As a woman, she was labelled as “delicate” but she proved that she was not. She was black and lived in Eatonville with her “manly” husband that treated her like a soft rose. She hated that being black and being a women defined how she had to live her life so she left. She had to come to terms with the fact that she was born into this life and this realization drove her choices throughout the novel that told her story.

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The Dog Days are Over

“I DON’T WANT TO GO!”

“Erin… you have to go…”

“Nope. Not going. I hate people and I hate work and I hate..”

“Stop saying hate.”

…HAAAATE.”

“Now you’re just being immature… go to work, Erin, you’re almost done with Kohl’s!”

NO! I’d rather wallow in self-pity. While I was wallowing, I said some things that I didn’t mean. I don’t haaate work. I don’t hate people. But man working in retail can make it really difficult sometimes to want to go there. The worst part about going in on this particular night was that I was working in the kids section! Two fitting rooms, boys clothes, girls clothes, toys, and baby clothes are all my responsibility. Um okay, you try to clean all of that up in 4 hours with little children running around you when you’re used to folding towels and rugs peacefully back in the home department. Working kids was not my cup of tea.

As a begrudgingly walked in, I scanned the children’s department on my way. I stopped a coworker who was on her way out and asked what the hurricane that came through was called, and why Red Cross hadn’t arrived yet. I slowly checked out my electronics that keep me connected to everyone on the floor. I clocked in and got to work. A child’s shirt here, boys jeans there. A constant beeping toy in the girls underwear. I’d never seen it like this before.

As the clock slowly creeped towards closing time, my tireless efforts didn’t seem to make an indent in hurricane recovery. The manager on floor sent over Matt, the boy who was working my department – he finished his peaceful towel folds early and needed work. She must’ve heard my secret pleas as I drowned in AA bras and milk bottles, because she asked him to come help me in kids.

PRAISE THE LORD! I’d never met Matt, but he is a physically able human being that can make my life easier, so I automatically liked him for that reason and that reason alone. As he came over to help me fold boys graphic t’s (sidenote: if you’re one of those people who unfolds every single tee to see what it looks like… you aren’t my friend), we made awkward small talk, typical of two strangers.

“Kids are so messy sometimes” I said with an I-feel-uncomfortable giggle.

“Yeah so are their parents..” Matt said, with the same giggle.

“Hah yeah..” was my witty and conversational comeback.

“Okay.” was his.

In an attempt to start a real conversation, I asked, “Are you into college football?”

“Not really… *3 second pause* Are you into college football?”

“Uh.. not really.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well anyways… if you were… you’d know who my friend Conner is! He just came out as bisexual and is kind of a really big deal in college football right now. You look a lot like him! …But, uhm, not that you look bisexual or anything..”

“Okay…”

“Yeeaaahhh…”

“I’m going to go fold clothes over here….”

And on that note, Matt and I parted ways. Of course people don’t look bisexual, that comment didn’t even make sense! Why did I have to do that? Ugh…

In a few moments our new conversation was beautifully normal. We got to know each other a little better. He’s a really cool kid and pretty smart too! Eventually we both went home and will probably never see each other again, because I am no longer a sales associate at Kohl’s. I am finished with that chapter in my life, and this story is a good example of why that chapter should be over…

Sleepless Nonsense

Hello friends! I am practicing my writing craft. I’d consider this a prose. If you’d like to practice yours, identify the literary devices I use to describe my night, and what makes it relatable. 

“croak. croak. croak. 

Those are the sounds that haunt me on this night. After a timeless day that dragged on forever, I am finally at a time for rest.

‘But wait.’ cried the inner workings of my mind. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know where you’re headed. You’re scared. Think about it. But wait…’

Thoughts cloud my mind. Thoughts of the future, fear, and fantasies of freedom. Thoughts that pantomime claustrophobia. What if I get stuck here? How will I make money? Who will stay in my life and who will be eliminated? But wait.

It’s time to sleep, it’s very late. I can’t escape my own brain in the wee hours before dawn. They are trapped, and threaten that I will be the same. They are trapped and never rest. They are trapped. They have no where to go, so they circle like wolves in the light of a full moon; hungry, waiting to be fed… yet satisfied with the latest accomplishment. Never ceasing to seek what’s next, but never forgetting what happened before. But wait.

Life’s too short to not do something I love. Life’s too long to always do what I love. I will be content with where I am when I am there. I will never be content until I’ve accomplished everything. I will accomplish everything I have set out to do. I will never cease to create new goals. But wait.

These are the thoughts that haunt me at night; clouding my mind, confusing my plans, and heisting my sleep. Round and round and round they go until the sun comes up. These cloudy thoughts burn off with the sun and finally I can rest.

Silence. The croaking has finished, my thoughts are mute. Silence.

It’s time to get up, and begin a new day. Restless nights call for restless days. The wolves and croaks come back in this cycle without fail and rest becomes an elusive figure, an unattainable entity. It becomes unreal. Was it ever real at all?”

So Sorry

Life can be crazy. Hectic, really.

So I’m sorry for my lack in posting lately.

I’m basically Eminem. I was discouraged for a bit… but I’m going to be back. I know this is a lame short little post but I’m just warning you all…

I’m back. Be prepared for crazy.

🙂

9 Years of my Life

I came to be without knowing a thing

But I learned a few things quickly
By my second year of living

I discovered my likes, my dislikes, it was very simple really.
I distinguished friends from strangers,
A task much harder nowadays.

Learning how to make kids like me
And learning how to read
Already learning what it feels like to be hurt
disappointed and suffer loss

But Kindergarten, that was the most exciting of all
Until I realize that I wasn’t actually meeting new kids
I thrived in an academic setting
And my challenges were trivial
Like hiding from my parents when they picked me up from a play-date.

I made a really great friend who moved here from Africa.
She is white, as were most of the kids at my school.
I never really had an indication of diversity until much later in life.
I didn’t like boys, but I could spell really well.
Well, except for my friend Donny, we drew trees during recess.
And I can’t forget Ronnie, my buddy at the zoo.

Our teacher was in a car accident;
We didn’t know her very well, and never got the chance to.
While she was still alive, we missed her in our class.
Our little hearts felt loss for hopefully the first time.
In second grade, I knew some kids who parents weren’t together.
“How strange,” I thought, their parents said forever,
Didn’t they? Regardless, they felt loss at the age of 7.

This wasn’t uncommon, I soon found out, in the years to follow.
Kids don’t just lose their parents –
they can lose their pets, grandmas, and others.
The older I got, the more I learned
No one can be perfect.
And sometimes a hard situation makes acting “normal” hard.
I had a buddy Corey who rode my school bus.
He bullied other kids a lot and had a broken home.

At first, we assumed he was just really mean.
A kid who loves others pain.
But time on the bus showed us all
The pain is in his soul.
By the time I realized this, I had memorized my multiplication tables.
I was best friends with a tennis player
and I got in my first friend fight
I learned that girl scouts was a lot of fun
And that I can’t take care of everyone.

Here’s my poetic (kind of) summary of the first 9 years of my life. ❤

Your husband doesn’t have to earn your respect

I really do like the topic! I don’t agree 100% with every statement made… but I do agree with his general idea. This is a good read for anyone who likes this kind of controversial stuff.

The Matt Walsh Blog

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I can’t tell you where I was or who was there or when it happened. I don’t want to add to this guy’s humiliation, so I am keeping this vague and generic. I can simply tell you that, some time ago, I found myself in the same vicinity as another married couple.

I certainly can’t read their minds, and I don’t know what goes on behind the scenes, all I know is that the husband couldn’t seem to utter a single phrase that wouldn’t provoke exaggerated eye-rolling from his wife.

She disagreed with everything he said.

She contradicted nearly every statement.

She even nagged him.

She brought up a “funny” story that made him out to be incompetent and foolish. He laughed, but he was embarrassed.

She was gutting him right in front of us. Emasculating him. Neutering him. Damaging him.

It was excruciating.

It was tragic.

It also was, or…

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Reflection On Poetry

I’ve had a great time with the poetry unit. I really enjoy learning about poetry and it’s so fun being able to write it. Poetry displays raw emotions in a complex way. Although that may seem like a bit of an oxymoron… it’s true. 

That’s why this poetry slam is hard for me. It is personal, but impersonal all at once. While I am relating it to a personal experience, it is an experience that many have been through and that many can relate to. It feels odd to know that I will be bearing my heart to our english class. Not that I’m worried, because we have an awesome class and what not… but it’s just an odd feeling to me because it is so raw.

Poetry is raw. If there’s one thing I learned from writing my own poem and displaying it for the class, it’s that it’s hard to display such raw emotions. While the class may not understand it (or anyone for that matter), to me, the poem is very obvious, forward, and open.

But based on the discussions that we’ve had in class, I know that the poem’s intent is not always so visible. Everyone interprets a poem based on their own experiences and own opinions of why an author wrote what they wrote. So it’s interesting to be on the other side of it, feeling so incredibly vulnerable! 

Anyways, those are just some thoughts that I have on what we’ve done on poetry so far this year. I’m looking forward to continuing to read poetry.