Adults are strange. Does it become harder to be happy when
you grow up? Even things that I thought would bring a smile to anyone’s face couldn’t even seem to make
my family lighten up. Grandmama got sad when she became rich with ten thousand
dollars, and Daddy was angry when we found out that we were moving into a
house! Only mama reacted normally to the house—I didn’t even get a beating that
night! However, mama always seems tired, but tries to hide it. I always hear
them yelling in the other room when I’m in the other room. I hope everything
will change when we move into the new house that Grandmama bought for us, or
maybe I’ll be able to go to a room far enough that I won’t have to hear them
yelling. Sometimes daddy gets really drunk, but I still love him. “Sometimes
when I tell [mama] that I want to be just like [him]—she says she don’t want me
to be like that and sometimes she says she does…” (546) I can tell that mama
loves him too, though. I guess that loving is hard as an adult, also. I don’t
want to ever grow up if it means that I have to worry and be angry all the time
too.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Sunday, December 14, 2014
"But Money = Donuts = Happiness"
“Money can’t buy happiness”, but it can buy a Fitzgerald
novel to teach you why this is so. To say that one did not ever once dream of
wealth and luxury is something that everyone knows is false. Even from a young
age we dove headfirst into stories about princesses rising from rags to riches,
unaware that this is “once upon a time”: a time that cannot exist. The direct
correlation of happiness and wealth are as real as pink elephants. A common
theme among F. Scott Fitzgerald’s literary works, both Dexter and Gatsby find
that their desire to have the image of a perfect life—a big house, money in the
bank, and the prettiest girl in the city on their arm—turns out to be their
tragic flaw. Fitzgerald uses rhetoric such as color symbolism with white, gold,
and green to symbolize wealth and purity; however, each are concentrated with
irony that is commonly found among satires. Although Fitzgerald’s famous
satires take place in the 20th century, the same flaws in human
nature and society are still prominent today. Unlike Moses, who may have been
able to part the red sea, society is not as able to part its subconscious flaws.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
The Do's and the Donut's
What place does a dream/vision have in one's life/relationships?
As a part-time angsty teenager, I myself am all too familiar
with the pondering of existence and the “meaning of life” as I lie awake in the
dark at 2 A.M. on a school night.
“Would I be more successful in my journey if I had more
motivation?”
“Would I be more dedicated to the journey if I had a set
destination?”
I wish I could say that I’ve got it all figured out, but
then what fun would that be? However, I have learned that dreams are powerful,
but success is dangerous.
Humans tend to work off of the reward system: if we work
hard now, we will be rewarded with economic stability/emotional
equilibrium/toys from Santa/etc. So it is the incentive that there is a light at
the end of the tunnel that keeps us motivated. Those who know exactly what
their light looks like are at an advantage. Their vision of success is no
longer an abstract concept, but instead a scenario. Gatsby, with the vision of
a life with the wealthy and highly demanded Daisy, is able to build himself up
from an irrelevant soldier boy to, eventually, the talk of New York.
However, a touch of success is where it becomes dangerous.
Success to us is similar to power. A taste of it is enough to throw one off the
edge. Eventually, even those that once upon a time had a vision could end up
chasing something that will always be an arm’s length away. How one can find
success and not fall into its trap is something I’ll save for another night to
ponder about.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Santa Baby, Slip a Donut Under the Tree
There is not a specific required age at which Santa is
revealed to just be one’s parents on a budget and which the stork is actually the
birds and the bees, so when do parents decide that the time is right for kids
to come out of their bubble of ignorance to face the harsh realities of the “real
world”?
My parents were never the type to celebrate the holidays
traditionally. I’ve spent most of my thanksgivings at Chinese restaurants
because they’re the only ones still open. It’s not surprising that I also never
believed in Santa. In third grade, I asked my mom for a Christmas present, as I
was jealous of my classmates, who would always boast about their new toys and
gadgets after break. My mother told me that I would have to compose to her an
email fully in Chinese of my wish list as a tactic of making me practice my Chinese.
The email took a good chunk out of my TV time, so you can imagine my excitement
when I woke up that Christmas to see boxes underneath the tree. The label said “From,
Santa”, but I was no fool. I've seen that wrapping paper hundreds of times in
the hallway closet.
Turns out, my mother had actually just re-wrapped the clothes
from my closet that she got me from Gymboree on black Friday. However, that’s
not the point. Every time I tell someone that my childhood did not include
Santa, they look at me with pitying eyes. What they don’t understand is that
just because I didn't live off of the ignorant whims of childhood does not mean
that mine was not fulfilling. Childhood is not defined by ignorance. Instead,
ignorance is prominent in youth because it is just a product of censorship, a parental
instinct to protect one’s child from any means of danger. The history teacher
from Billy Collins’ poem “[tries] to protect his students’ innocence,” but he
just doesn't understand that the truth of reality can also make his students
stronger and more grounded. Santa’s missing presence from my life taught me to
work for my rewards, even at a young age.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
d-o-n-u-t DO d)o n(ut) nUt ! O ?t
hi friends this is my bog post about punctuation or in this
case the lack thereof after you are finished reading this long sentence please
comment below your level of confusion and why
so
does my lack of punctuation leave me with less credibility
an impression of an uneducated wannabe author or just an artist with a unique
writing style that can convey a deeper meaning than with words alone perhaps a
stream of consciousness so rapid that there is no time for , ; . ? !
am I breakingtherulesorjustcreatingnewones
after all
there are no precise rules about punctuation
Lewis Thomas
after all
there are no precise rules about punctuation
Lewis Thomas
I would have typed the whole post like that but then I
realized that I actually need two hundred words for a passing grade
anyways
After all weren’t we the ones to create the rules if there
are twenty seven amendments to the constitution then what is stopping us from changing
the rules of punctuation
Does this make me a poet like Emily Dickinson because my post can be perceived as
more art than language
and I gotta say I do feel as if my possibilities are pretty endless right now
I could put a period anywhere between any of these two hundred (or more) words
watch out it could catch you by surprise
and I gotta say I do feel as if my possibilities are pretty endless right now
I could put a period anywhere between any of these two hundred (or more) words
watch out it could catch you by surprise
what is this mess e.e. cummings
^beautiful
You are a fool let me strip you of
your Harvard degree and the ten awards you received over your lifetime
I mean if you write properly you
shouldn’t have to punctuate
Cormac
McCarthy
An oxford comma huhmay I create my own comma and call it the fan comma
seeing as how neither are technically necessary if embodied in context clues
Sunday, November 9, 2014
The Tastiest Donut
“We had defended ourselves since memory against everything and everybody, considered all speech a code to be broken by us, and all gestures subject to careful analysis; we had become headstrong, devious and arrogant. Nobody paid us any attention, so we paid very good attention to ourselves. Our limitations were not known to us—not then. Our only handicap was our size; people gave us orders because they were bigger and stronger. So it was with confidence, strengthened by pity and pride, that we decided to change the course of events and alter a human life” (Morrison 191).
Let me just say straight up that I may have fallen asleep
once or twice while trying to complete the reading assignments for The Bluest Eye. There have been times
that I have looked back at my sticky-notes to realize that this:
Does not make any sense. However, it is passages like this
one that make me sit up straighter and my handwriting neater. In the novel, Claudia
is nine years old. I don’t remember many specific details of my ninth year of
life except for the fact that I would blackmail my dad to tell me where my mom
hid my Halloween candy, and I somehow was able to fall off the piano bench
while playing piano, causing a nice scar right next to my left eye. Never can I
say that I had to wake up or go to bed with such heart-breakingly beautiful
perspectives as Claudia. Diction such as “defended”, “headstrong”, “limitations”
and “handicap” show that these are not the words of a child, but instead, of a
fighter. Childhood is not defined by an age, but by the protection and nurturing
environment brought by the parents and the community, the innocent and carefree
mindset of an oblivious soul, and the guiltless selfishness that would always
be excusable in the end. Claudia, Frieda, and Pecola have none of this. They
are forced into maturity to “change the course of events and alter a human life”
when they themselves still have to plan out their own course of events.
Morrison continues to prove that even a beautiful and eloquent string of words
such as this passage has the ability to yank my heart through my chest.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Straight Hair, Donut Care
In The Bluest Eye,
Toni Morrison brings up how women tend to “worry about the edges of [one’s]
hair, and how they spend countless hours every year straightening their hair in
order to conform to beauty standards. Characters in the novel, such as Pauline,
are looked down upon when they don’t straighten their hair to make it resemble Caucasian
hair. During our discussion in class, I found this topic incredibly un-relatable.
I have stick straight hair—you could say it’s an Asian thing. Ever since I can
remember, I’ve always wanted anything but stick straight hair. I dug out my
mother’s archaic curling iron the day I learned of such a tool, and even got a
perm in seventh grade. So you can imagine my surprise when I started hearing
about and seeing girls show up to school with their hair looking very similar
to mine, but obviously straightened. I didn’t understand why girls would put
effort and sacrifice precious sleep in order to make their hair blander and
less individualistic. Now that I better understand the desire to conform to
society and the danger of individuality, I understand why girls and women worry
about the edges of their hair. But then…why do women curl their hair? It’s
alright boys, I don’t understand women either.
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