"My Girl Likes to Party all the Time"

I have not been to a party in feels like FOREVER!! That is soooo sad to me.
I miss going out, and dressing up, and looking as good as I feel!!!

Well, I am finally going to a party, I think. Wednesday. Fire and Ice. And I am sooo excited. I finally get to get out the house. I finally (almost) have my body back. And I am gonna have sooo much fun, even if I have to force it. :)

I am not really a "party every weekend" kind of girl. But I do like to party. (So maybe my blog title is a lil misleading, but the song just popped in my head as I was typing.)

As a college student I feel like I should have partied a long time ago. But we all know why that hasnt happened. I haven't been to much of anything on campus, not even a basketball game. I have been to one poetry reading and the reading with Joyce Maynard. These events were a lot more interesting than I expected them to be, but nothing compared to a real party at a real club.

I haven't been able to pull myself away from my baby ever since she got here. And I hate that I am going to school tomorrow, and she'll be away from me with her dad all day til I get back. But I have a Calculus test review and a MIS test to make up. Being a scholar, I have to do what I have to do. :) And I know I am going to be thinking about what my baby is doing when I go to that party. But I haven't been out the house in soo long, and haven't been to a party in months. So, when I heard about this party, I was like "I have to go!"

P.S. Today was Paris' first day at church. (First day out the house really) She was sooo cute. She slept almost the whole time, but I literally stared at her almost the whole service.

"Friends. How many of us have them. Friends. Ones we can depend on"

What is it about having a new baby that suddenly draws people to you?? It is so wierd. I have had people contact me that I barely ever even spoke to when I was in high school. Maybe their just curious and maybe their just nosy, but mostly I think they are so fake.

Like I have come across some fake people in my life, but it seems like now that I have had a baby more and more fakes seem drawn to me. What is it? I even had this chick who supposedly hated me in high school (who I barely knew by the way) send me a friend request on facebook. So I messaged her. I said "So all of a sudden you wanna be my friend?" and she says "What's that supposed to mean?" and I said "Hell, what do you think it means. We are not cool. I don't like you."

It's stupid. And so ridiculous. It makes me mad, but then it makes me laugh. Because I am not a grudge holding person, but I am not stupid either. I can see right through these people. I have very few friends and I am not to quick to jump and call someone my friend just because they send me a stupid request or message on facebook. Like what the fuck, people. Be real now!! Gosh! I mean I can get along with most people, but these people are actin like we are best buds all of a sudden (not the girl mentioned in the previous paragraph, but other people). Wierd...

Post-Thanksgiving Post

Sooo... Yesterday was Thanksgiving. But it was soooo lame. It was just me and my mom. (My little sister went with her dad to visit family in Florida) Not to sound ungrateful or anything...But it was sooo boring. We stayed in the house, just the three of us (me, my mom, and Paris, of course). The food was really good, but it was not like our usual holidays. Usually we go over to my grandma's with the rest of the family, but not this year. I didn't want to leave the house anyway, but I hate being cooped up in the house. I feel like a prisoner. The last place I was at when I was out of the house was the hospital. Ugh! And I couldn't really leave if I wanted to...the pain!! (We won't go into details, but yea I'm hurting a little bit.)

Granted, most of my family visited at the hospital and the house, when I got home, but no one came to visit yesterday. And I know everyone was over my grandma's house. And that really stinks, because I wanted to see everyone. I think they should have come to visit since they all knew I've been on house arrest basically--but that's another story all together. My aunt did call to see how I was doing, though. So I'll give her that.

Now that I have typed all this I kind of feel bad. Thanksgiving is supposed to be a day of thanks, but I bet I sound so ungrateful right now. But, we can't help how we feel right? Well, I do have a lot to be thankful for. Let me list those things, and maybe I can sort of make up for the negativity in this post...

...my brand new baby, my mother (who has been a BIG help), my dad (who always is a big help to me), my little sister (who has also done the best she can to help), my loving boyfriend and his family, my family, my brand new baby, my health, my strength, the fact that this semester is going so well despite everything, my God-given energy that has allowed me to do so well and keep myself motivated, my brand new baby, my friends, and my new baby

She's Here!!!

So, she came Saturday, the 17that 1:58 pm.---Paris Nicole Collins. She was 8 lbs 2 oz and BEAUTIFUL!! I can't tell ya'll how excited I am that she is finally here.

The labor, if you care to know(lol), was surprisingly easy. Once I had the epidural, I couldn't feel much of anything. And when it finally came time to push, I pushed about 5 times and that was it. It was over. It probably took like 10 min. But I had been in the hospital since 8 the morning before. (The first time they induced my contractions, it didnt really work. I guess they weren't strong enough; I don't know) But I was glad it was over. I finally had my baby, outside of my stomach. And I could finally eat (They wouldn't let me eat while they were inducing me, which was hours...)

So, me and Paris came home Monday at about 1 or 2 and I haven't really been able to put her down since. It is so wierd, because other people's kids start to annoy me after a while. But, I even love it when she cries!! How crazy is that?! All she does really now is eat and sleep, eat and sleep. I want to play with her, but she doesnt seem interested (lol). But, even so, I still can't get bored or tired of her. I know it's because she's new right now, but I don't think I could ever get tired of her....we'll see though. :)

So, thanks everyone for thinking of me. I have been truly blessed. And thanks Emily for the visit, I really appreciated it. (And the gift of course. As soon as I get the chance, I am headed straight for the mall. (lol)

Continue to pray for me and my BEAUTIFUL new baby...

No, It Didn't Happen...

Sooo, Emily called me today and said the class thought I went into labor. LoL. No, sorry guys, not this time. I just had a doctor's appointment. As a matter of fact when she called I was waiting to talk to my doctor. (It was super crowded today. I was there for hours!!!)---It's nice to know ya'll cared. :)---Anyway, so today, sadly, was not the big day. However, tomorrow is supposed to be...

...I am scheduled tomorrow at 8 in the morning to be induced at Baptist Memorial East. I am sooo excited. My mom says I should wait. As a matter of fact, my dad thinks I should wait too, or at least give it until Monday and see if she comes. But, I can't wait. Plus, they say it's my decision so... Plus, all I keep thinking about is how bad I want to see what she looks like and to hold her and smell her (I love how baby's smell) and to hear her cry even (although I know I will regret saying that-lol-). Plus, I have to think about school. And knowing and having her here is better than anticipating an unknown day, right?? I hope I'm doing the right thing. I'm praying about it really hard. So far, I haven't gotten any signs really that I shouldn't do it...Well with the exceptions of my parents saying I should wait. But, my mom is always paranoid about junk anyway and my dad didn't really advise me against it; he said he just gave his opinion because I called and asked for it.

So, wish me luck, and pray that all goes well tomorrow!!!

Column A, Column B...

EDUCATION is like OKRA.

Everyone knows that vegetables are good for us. Okra is not one of better tasting of these vegetables, especially slimy okra, but it is still beneficial. Education is like okra. Not everyone likes school, and not everyone likes to be educated. But education is something that individuals have to have in order to be successful. It may not "taste" good, or you may not enjoy it, but it is still beneficial. Education, like okra, is not a necessity to survival, but it is a wise addition if you wish to advance.

WHAT DO MY LIKES SAY ABOUT ME?

Looking at my Column A list, I am very proud to say that there are not as many material things on my like list. Most of the items that came to mind are qualities in myself or others that I value. God is at the top of my list, because I really value my faith, and I am trying to grow as a Christian. The only material items on my list are clothes, shoes, food, and money. I love to look nice and dress up, I can eat forever, and everyone likes to have money. But I also tried to think of the important things in my life. I listed education, self-advancement, being motivated, family, strong relationships, independence, music, being open to new things, and love. These are the types of things that I hold most dear. I am not trying to make myself seem deep, this is just really how I feel and what came to mind when making my list. So, what does this say about me? I would say that I am down to earth, and although I still have a lot of growing to do, I think for the most part I have my priorities in order. I try to pay attention to what's most important and what is going to last. Material things are not forever.

CLOSED-MINDEDNESS causes HATEFULNESS.

Hate is not a healthy emotion/mindset. Everyone has issues with people sometimes, but hate is an unnecessary evil. Hate arises from the unwillingness to be open-minded, to forgive. Closed-mindedness causes hatefulness. People hate because they are too stubborn to be open to other people's differences or whatever it is that may be holding them back. You have to be open-minded enough to say, "I am not going to succumb to hate."

"Ah Ha"

Everyone has had an “ah ha” moment at one point in their life I suppose, but most of mine are more like “ah ha” periods. They usually span over a length of time that eventually leads to that moment of realization where I would say “Ah Ha”.

One of my greatest “ah ha” moments, or time periods, would be the time span which led to me realizing that I really wanted to go law school. I have always been interested in law, but I have also had my doubts about it as well. I wondered if I really wanted to be in school that long. And I wondered if law was something I would really be dedicated to or if it was just a passing interest that I would grow tired of. At one point, I had even changed my mind and decided that I didn’t want to go through that much extra schooling. Little did I realize that I would soon change my mind yet again—this time permanently.

During my sophomore year in high school, I joined the Mock Court Trial Club. Like I said, I was interested in law, and I thought that it would be something fun to do. (I still had it in my mind that I did not have the patience to actually become a real lawyer.) Well, Mock Trial actually proved to be more serious than I thought. We learned actual courtroom etiquette, rules, and laws. Then, there was an actual attorney who came in and coached us on these techniques and guidelines. All this was in preparation for a competition against another school.

I would say that all this preparation and participation in Mock Trial at my high school led to the realization that I really was genuinely interested in becoming an attorney. But the actual “ah ha” period was the duration of the Mock Trial competition. The interesting thing is that my part in the competition was not that of a lawyer but that of a witness. However, the witnesses go through the same type of preparation as a lawyer. As a witness, I had to know how to answer the questions asked in ways that help my side and hurt the opposing side. I had to know the rules of the courtroom as well as laws in case my lawyer got tripped up and needed me to help him/her out. Witnesses also had to know the facts of the case better than anyone since we were portraying a certain character that had to be realistic. Not only that, but I was an expert witness. As an expert witness I had to know the facts and be able to recite them in an intelligent, professional manner when asked about them. My training for the case was really not all that different from the attorneys’.

So I was called to the stand, and I was so nervous. What if I forgot an important fact? Or what if I said something that hurt our case? But after the first couple of establishing questions like “Please state your name for the court.” and “What is your occupation?”, my nervousness died down. At the end of the trial, the other team/school was actually declared the winner, but the “judge” of the case, who was actually a practicing attorney, also had to name the “best lawyer” and “best witness” from each side. For our side, I was awarded “best witness”, and the “judge” said he even thought I was the best witness in the entire trial. I was actually surprised, because I thought I could have done so much better. This made the moment even more spectacular because it wasn’t even my best and it still turned out to be the best in the competition. All my studying and preparation had actually paid off, and I thought to myself, “This must be what it feels like to win a court trial.”

Even though my school did not win that Mock Trial competition, and even though I did not actually play the part of a lawyer, that moment when I was named “best witness”, and my feelings in response, proved my desire to be an attorney. I knew then, that I liked the challenge of studying all the laws and rules and then appealing to the judge or jury in the courtroom. I liked putting on the business suit and presenting those facts in a professional manner. It was fun to me, not work. I realized that law school would be much more of a challenge but that it would lead to the realization of my dream, so it would be worth it. The training leading up to the competition was the road to my “ah ha” moment, and the conclusion of the trial was where that “ah ha” moment came into full focus.

STILL PREGNANT

Well... It is the day after my due date, and I am still pregnant. I knew that I probably wasn't going to go into labor yesterday. But I am getting really impatient for some reason even though I know I could be a week or two overdue. I guess I am just so anxious to get it over with. And I don't know if I should go to school this week. I really don't want to miss any more classes than I absolutely have to. Then again I don't want my water to suddenly break while I am walking across campus or sitting in class.

I don't really feel close to labor. But, I really don't know how it feels when you are close to giving birth. My friend has a baby, and she told me that it will happen when I least expect it. But, shouldn't I feel some pains or something as some kind of warning? Well, I feel the same as I have been for the past nine months. I don't feel any heavier, any lower, or any more pain. So, I guess I probably will go to school tomorrow, and the next day if I am still pregnant. Let's just hope I don't go into labor while I am actually at school!!!

Last Day in Hell (and other true stories)

Ok, so yesterday was FINALLY my last day to work at Target!!! Yay!! I meant to blog about this then, but I had a Calculus test to study for. So anyway. . .

ONE THING about working in retail that I don't really like is how people who are in the store all the time feel that they know you just because they see you A LOT. It's one thing to be friendly, but some people honestly act like I am their best friend just because they see me in Target all the time. But lately all I get are the pregnancy comments: "Oh you're getting SOOO BIG!!!" (something you say to a growing 8-year-old, not a pregnant person) or "You must be having twins!!" (I am pretty sure I'm not, but I definetly do NOT want to entertain that thought) or "Wow! I couldn't even tell you were pregnant last time I saw you. Has it been that long?" (like I am an old friend or something, but 'I am pretty sure I don't even know you"-I think). It goes on and on.

THE WORST thing about being pregnant is the ASTOUNDING NUMBER OF STRANGERS with the sudden URGE to TOUCH ME!!! I might as well post a sign on my belly that says "Rub Here". I mean, you don't go around rubbing on complete strangers stomachs when they aren't pregnant. Why does the fact that someone is pregnant spark the idea that it is okay to touch them even when you don't know them. SOME PEOPLE DON'T EVEN ASK!! It's annoying, and wierd. It's just a belly. Would you go up to a FAT MAN and rub his stomach just because it's poking out?? I mean, really. It's one thing if I know you, but if I don't... It's just wierd.

OH BUT I WAS TALKING about my LAST DAY IN HELL. So, like I said, yesterday was my last day at work. I am officially on maternity leave. It feels soooooooooo good, like indescribably good. Nothing eventful happened really. Sorry I don't have some crazy event to rehash. I just got person after person telling me how big my stomach was and how labor was going to be. I don't know why everyone can't be like the occasional person who says "Congrats" and keeps it moving. I like that. Or the people who don't even comment at all. I get the fortune tellers who keep telling me I am having a boy because I am carrying so low (It's a girl; I have had 3 ultrasounds) or that I won't make it until Saturday (my due date--They always ask my due date, then basically say that it's wrong). And this phrase I must have heard 50 times last night: "Oh my! You look like you're about to pop!" I mean, what do you say to that?? And, a person can only fake a realistic laugh so many times before it gets REALLY REALLY OLD.

SO THAT was my last day in hell. But now that I think about it, there is nothing really here that makes it too much different from any other day. It wasn't so hellish really last night, just a little tiring and annoying...

My Random Post

I really don't know what to write about, so I guess I will write about my day...

So today I went to church. It was better than your average Sunday morning since I got an extra hour of sleep. I didn't have nearly as much trouble getting up. The service was good, and my mom drove (I usually have to drive).

After church, I came home, ate, and took a cat nap. Then I dragged myself off the couch to change so I could go to my dreaded job at Target...

Today at work was pretty average, except no one really yelled at me, which was good. I think I only got like one angry guest, but she wasn't too crazy. Nothing really interesting happened to tell the truth. The only semi-interesting event was some cashier took some counterfeit bills. I do not know why we don't have the little pens to check the bills, but we dont. And for some reason the cashier forgot to hold the fifties up to the light to check for the president's face in the background. I don't know how she ended up checking after the fact, but she did and told one of the managers. So a report was written and the fake bills were put in the cash office. It wasn't really a big event, because people come in and try to scam us all the time. Like some new cashier took a check a little while ago and ran it as cash because the lady told her that someone at guest service told her that it had to be done that way. Now if it would have been me, I would have at least called or took the check up to guest service and asked someone to be sure. That story doesn't even sound right. Why in the world would we run a check that's been declined as a cash transaction??? Well the cashier didn't ask, so whoever this lady was got away with a butt load of stuff.

I could tell a lot of stories about Target, but I don't like that place enough to keep going on about it, plus I have things to do--like write about my earliest memory.

So to sum this up: This was just a post about my boring, uneventful day.

WTF???

Ok so today is like the worst day of my life...

...Well not really, but pretty close.

Did anyone who is reading this know that there is a limit on the amount of financial aid you can receive?? That is the dumbest thing, right? If you earned it, it's yours, right? Ugh, wrong I guess. Apparently I was overawarded, which is the University's fault if you ask me. They figured out my refund check amounts, not me. So, now I OWE money. It's like they gave me the money and now they are taking it back. OOOkay, and I spent it. So, that's really great. And the only way I can get around it is prove I have medical bills, or rent, or something equal or more than the amount they are asking me to give back---which I don't. But that is the only way they can raise my "financial aid limit".

I am so pissed I can't even think. Like I have holds on my grades and I can't register until I pay this money back. Or I can fill out some form giving them permission to take the amount out of my refund for next semester, which I will probably HAVE to do. But I still think it's bull shit. I mean how do they expect to tell me this when the semester is almost over. And couldn't they have figured out that my award amount was over the limit before they sent me the refund in the first place. It makes no sense. But I have calles TSAC and I have been to Wilder to talk to someone. I don't have any other options. And this is really something they do. I didn't even know they could limit your aid. I mean, who can decide how much aid I need?? And if it was awarded to me, who gets to decide it's too much?? Just because it's not going to the school??

It's ludicrous. And I am outraged. And we are out of chocolate ice-cream. ugh!! All I can say is "What the fuck???"

Chocolate Ice-Cream and Cinnamon Rolls

It is amazing how something as simple as a favorite food can make you feel so good...

My little sister (she's 12) just finished making some cinnamon rolls. Well I was already eating chocolate ice-cream. But then I figured "What the hell?". So now I am staring at this big ass bowl of chocolate ice-cream (my favorite) and a plate with three cinnamon rolls. Does that make me sound greedy?? Oh well, I don't care. I have always been a big eater, ever since I was a little kid. And I have always been hella skinny regardless. Plus, I am pregnant. I'm allowed to endulge, right? LoL.

Ok. So I am still eating. Alternating between spoonfuls of ice-cream and big bites of cinnamon rolls. Am I really gonna eat all of this?? You could bet your bottom dollar!!!

It just feels so good to relax sometimes. This is like the perfect night. I just had like an hour bubble bath, and now this. I don't have to be at my first class tomorrow until like 12:40, so I don't have to wake up early. If every night was like this, I would never have a single complaint again. But since every night is not like this I better enjoy it while it lasts. So, I am going to put this stupid laptop away and concentrate on the task at hand...

...enjoying my chocolate ice-cream and my now one cinnamon roll.

And He Shall Hear My Voice (My Expansion of Sam's "Joy Comes in the Morning" which was an expansion of Lauren's essay)

As the rain began to fall harder and faster, Annie attempted to pull herself together in order to make the long journey home. She knew that she would have to face her problems head on if she ever wanted to accomplish anything. But, as she slowly turned around, she was surprised to be stopped by a familiar face—William’s.

“What are you doing here?” Annie asked in the steadiest voice she could manage.

“I come up here to clear my head. Even with the rain, this has always been the place I could come and really think.”

It had been months since they had seen each other. This was all too surreal for Annie. As she gazed into his almond-shaped eyes and watched his lips open and close, memories began to rush into her head. She remembered gazing into those dark eyes and kissing those soft lips. She remembered how those same arms he now used to pull his jacket off and put it around her used to hold her close for hours at a time.

Annie thankfully took William’s jacket and threw the hood over her head. William did not seem to be bothered at all by the large drops of water that fell and rolled down his kindly face and soaked his tan, striped shirt.

They walked silently back toward her car. William did not ask what was wrong, and Annie was grateful for that. She did not want to talk. She just wanted to walk in his arms and occasionally look his way as he offered that casual grin that she had fallen in love with so long ago. He always knew what to say, or, in this case, what not to say.

When the two reached Annie’s car, they stood there for a minute and looked at each other. Then, they both looked down at the sun-baked sand beneath them. Each attempted to speak simultaneously. “Look,” William endeavored to say. “I know that,” Annie managed at that same moment. The two looked up at each other. A couple of minutes passed. “I’m sorry,” William said.

“I know; it’s not your fault,” Annie replied while tracing circles in the sand with the toe of her shoe.

“I miss talking to you. I miss spending time with you. Lately, so many things have been happening in my life that I have wanted to call and tell you about.”

“Me, too. I mean. . .with my mom. . . and my dog. . .and Hannah. . .and. . .of course, you. . .” Annie’s words trailed off; she had begun to weep again. William grabbed her and held her and told her it would be okay. He said that one day it would all make sense. He told her that it could not have been anything less than God that brought them together again at that moment. He said that seeing her on the edge of that plateau against the backdrop of the warmly painted sky, he realized she was the most important person in his life. And, even though, they had to be a part for right now because he just could not fight with his parents anymore, he knew that one day they would be together again.

Annie looked up at William with reddened eyes and teardrop stains visible on her flushed cheeks. She had never known anyone as kind or as compassionate. She had never loved anyone so much. Just looking at him, she knew things would eventually work out. She trusted his judgment, and she knew that God had heard her cries and sent William to answer them. “Evening and morning and at noon I will pray, and cry aloud, and He shall hear my voice,” (Psalms 55:17).

Almost Saved (My Expansion on Sarah Lord's "Fire and Snow"

At first I thought it was just my imagination. People hardly ever travel these roads that late at night. But through the red and orange glow, I saw the car stop on the side of the road. My heart leapt with joy, but my body could not move. I ached—horribly.

It was my legs mostly. When I say the roof crashing down it was so surreal to me. But the pain I felt as the bars of wood added pressure to my throbbing legs could not feel any more real. But now, I thought, all I had to do was wait for this person who had pulled over in front of my house to come save me.

So I waited, and I thought to myself. People had told me it was crazy to live so far out by myself. I loved the privacy though. The serene surroundings of the large oak trees and the vast fields of snow capped grass blades provided a beautiful backdrop for my small country home.

Still waiting, I watched as the flames consumed most of my country home. I watched as wall hangings melted and disappeared down to nothingness and my wooden chair provided fast fuel for the rising flames.

The flames got closer and closer, and it seemed that they should have reached me by this point. Miraculously, though, they hadn’t. So I waited. I waited for whoever was in the car parked on the old dirt road in front of my home to run up and let me know that help was on the way. I waited for them to see me lying halfway out of my side door with this wooden ledge crushing my legs. I waited for them to free me from that trap and pull me away from the smoky haze which was filling my lungs and sending me into intense coughing fits at this point.

I finally looked again toward the road. The car was gone. The help that I had so desperately waited for had dissolved. Had it been my imagination? No, I knew I had seen that car. I had seen someone looking up toward my house and the blazing fire that was slowly consuming it. But where did they go? Did they assume the house was empty? Or did they even care?

Luckily, help finally did come eventually. Apparently, someone else a while later witnessed the flames and called the fire department. I was eventually rescued, but not in my entirety, not before I was badly burned. The fire fighter that saved me did not come soon enough to save my legs from being paralyzed and or to save my body and face from being distorted. Now, every day I look at myself in the mirror I always wonder about that first car I saw. I wonder how they could pull over and stare at my home ablaze and never help or even seek help. I wonder how much more of me could have been saved. I wonder if I would be able to walk today or if my face would still look normal. But I wasn’t completely saved and my face sparks horrible stares and compulsive screams from little children. All I can think is that I was almost saved, but almost doesn’t count.

And So the Journey Ends (My Original Creative Essay)

The doctors had told us that she wouldn’t even last a year. But my mother had surprised us all with three additional years of home-cooked meals, bright smiles, and immeasurable wisdom even through the pain. So as I sat near her hospital bed every evening last week, I prayed it was just another scare and that the doctors were wrong again. But I knew better. We all knew—my father and my sister and I.

My mother was so pale and weak. Lying there, she looked so helpless and so old. It was like all the life had been drained from her body before it really was. She was the living, breathing dead. She was a cancer skeleton with her bald head and frail body. If I hadn’t felt like I was dreaming at the time, I am pretty sure I would have been crying.

Tears wouldn’t come, though. All I could do was picture all the memories we shared. I kept thinking about how weird it was helping her pick out a wig in the morning when I used to help her pick out a hairstyle and how she tried to hide her weariness when she came back from chemotherapy. I could see her take a deep breath and put on a big smile for us kids to try and hide the pain and sadness we all knew she felt. She held on so long. We thought she would never burn out . . . until last Sunday.

Last Sunday we ended up in the hospital, where the whole journey started in the first place, where we first learned she had cancer. At that same hospital is where her journey ended and she died. When she closed her eyes and her monitor flat-lined, I was finally able to cry. I felt like I was crying for her as well, because she never felt comfortable enough to cry around us. I doubt she even frowned. I cried twice as hard.

Work on the Weekend

This weekend it seems like I have been doing things at an alarmingly fast pace. It is like I have so much work to do. And since I have no idea when this baby could come--she could be days early or days late--I want to get it all out of the way. So I have written a resume, a cover letter, three-page paper, and done a poster for ACAD.

And all that I did yesterday. And now I have been trying to start on this self-reflection essay for English. Going into it, I thought, this will be the easiest paper I do. It is actually difficult for me to come up with what I want to say. I mean I don't know how I have changed as a writer. I still use my same technique for the most part, and I just get the assignment done because I know it has to be done. Then I know it is supposed to be written like a letter. So do I say, "Dear Wendy" or "Dear Mrs. Sumner" or "Dear Mrs. Sumner-Winter" or "Dear Instructor" or what?? I can't even get past that part! It's frustrating. Everything else I have had to do for my other classes is so specific or so mindless that it did not take so much thought or so much time. But this thing is like a monster that keeps growing in the back of my mind. Then we have to cite specifics from our writing. It is hard to decide what is good and what is bad in your own writing. If I didn't feel like it was good, I wouldn't have included it in an essay in the first place. Oh well, I don't know. I will get it done eventually, I guess. But right now I just need to breathe!!

The Young and the Restless... Rapist

the story

Above is a link to only one of the craziest events in recent news. So how did I come across it? I was just browsing for local news, because I really did not have anything to blog about. And this story is just so backwards that I had to include it.

So if you haven't already clicked the link, click it.
Okay so now you know why I say this is so backwards. Who in the world would want somebody that is so old, so bad that they have to rape them? If you still didn't read the article, here's the jist...

A 17-year-old teen is accused of raping an 87-year-old woman. Just reading the headline made my skin crawl.
I wonder if this guy really went through this lady's window with the intent to rape her. It says he was taken in for robbery too. So maybe that was his original plan. But what about this old woman could have intrigued him so much that he felt the sudden desire to sexually assault her?? It is just so wierd. I really want to see what this guy looks like. He's probably some lonely desperate teen who thought he'd get a kick out of overpowering someone weaker than him. But then again he could be someone I wouldn't expect like the football team captain or something. Hopefully there will be an update though, because I have got to see this guy. I wonder what the lady looks like too. Maybe she is surprisingly attractive to be so old. Maybe not. But the site said that the identity of rape victims is kept secret, so I will probably never get to see her.
I know there is a lot of crime going on, but this is just really bizarre. It jumped out at me.

Listening to Maynard

Last night I went to the reading featuring Joyce Maynard as apart of the River City Writers program. It was a really interesting experience...not as boring as I expected. I have to say that she really compelled me to go and get her book At Home in the World.

The most interesting thing that Maynard talked about, though, was her relationship with writer J.D. Salinger. I was really shocked when she revealed the fact that she was only eighteen and Salinger was 53 when they began their relationship--a sexual one at that. I could never even imagine being attracted to someone so much older than me. I mean Salinger was nearly old enough to be her grandfather. It was so wierd. But the way she talked about how they wrote to each other and how he was so supportive, I guess she fell for him before they even met in person. It was also a shock to hear about what an ass he ended up being. Their relationship only lasted a year, Joyce said, and then Salinger dismissed her very coldly telling her she would never amount to anything. It is crazy how a person can seem so loving and supportive at one point and then turn out to be this bitter, hateful person not long after.

Joyce not only talked about her relationship with Salinger, but she also did a reading from her book. Well, actually, the part she read from her book dealt with Salinger also. It depicted a scene of Joyce some years later, after she had grown and had children of her own, going back to visit J.D. Salinger again. She showed up at his door and asked him what was her purpose in his life when they were together. Basically, Salinger proceeded to tear her down and never answered her question. The way Joyce read the scene made it so interesting. She read with so much feeling and emphasis. My eyes and ears were really focused on her the whole evening. She probably thought I was crazy because I was staring at her so hard. But that is just how intriguing and interesting the whole thing was to me.

Well my experience was a good one. And it makes me eager to go to other readings featuring other authors that may come up in the future. I never thought I would be so interested in something like that. But I guess you never know until you see for yourself...

"N---er, what?"

x
^ So I was reading an article about Nas on yahoo (the above "x" is a link to that article), and apparently the rapper is naming his new album after the "N-word". This has to be the STUPIDEST thing I have heard in a long time. It is bad enough that rappers even use the word at all, but to name your whole album after it?? What the hell is he thinking?? Well, he tells us what he was thinking. He says he wants to take the power out of the word. How in the world does he think that that is going to take any of the power of the word. As a matter of fact it seems like he is uplifting it. And who wants to say "Hey I'm about to go get that new CD" "What CD?" "N---er!" It doesn't even sound appealing, or like anything worth buying.

Then again this may just be another stunt for shock value. I mean I haven't been hearing much about Nas lately. So this could just be a bold attempt to get some attention again. You know what they say, "Any publicity is good publicity."

Can I at least get a refill??

I just got back from Buffalo Wild Wings on Airways, and I am like soooo tired but soooo mad also. My waitress was sooo freaking rude. She had an attitude from the beginning. First of all, when she came to our table she just stood there. She didn't say "Are you ready to order?" or anything. I didnt even know she was there until my friend nudged me. So that was the first thing; I let that slide. I know she may have had bad night. But, she took forever doing everything. She just handed us stuff, very rudely may I say. She had just a real "stank" attitude. It was horrible.

Okay and there was six of us, and how about she forgot to put in one of my friend's order. So on top of it taking forever just for us to get our food, then we had to wait that amount of time--again--just for my friend to get her food. I was soooo tired of this lady by now.

Last was paying. Oh we all were so tempted just to walk out of that place without getting our checks. That is how long it took her!! It would seem like if she disliked waiting on us so much she would be trying to get us out of there as quickly as possible--not!!!

She was too busy flirting with the guy at the table next to us. She kept sitting her big fat self down at his table like we weren't even waiting on shit!!

So did we leave a tip?? Hell no! Yea, she could have been having a bad night. But that doesnt explain her leaving out an entire order, which she wrote down, and never apologized about. Or her wasting our time flirting with the dude at the next table. Or her being so rude before we even got the chance to make her mad. I think she just had a stick up her butt. But whatever.

And it seems like everytime I go to a "sit-down" restaurant now, me and my friends get the waiter with the problems! Like I went to Olive Garden last night and our waitress came to the table wiping her nose and shit. So I was like "Are you sick?" and she said "No, I have been crying. I don't wanna talk about it." So she was all depressed and stuff, disappearing for long periods of time. I could hardly get one refill. And like a week ago we went to O'Charley's and our waitress kept bringing us like 3 rolls at a time for us (There was three of us). But we finished them in like 2 minutes, so we kept needing more. But no matter how we kept asking her could she please bring out more rolls, she would only bring 3 at a time. Plus, we were sitting right by the kitchen and she kept rushing out past our table like she didnt want us to be able to ask her for anything else...

UGH!! I am just so upset right now. I understand that people have outside issues to deal with and that people have bad days sometimes. I work in retail with stupid people all the time, so I can relate. But please don't play with my food!! That is one of the things I am most serious about--food and money. I don't like to be mean to people who are handling my food, because it is something going into my body and I get paranoid about people doing stuff to customers' food that are rude. This is why I am always polite...but the people that have been waiting on me lately have made me come out of that polite stage more than once. What is it?? I don't know. But now the sleepiness is outweighing the anger so I will leave it at that...

Freewrite...Subject:Bottles...(shortened version)

Scott was haunted by his father's bottles. He would find bottles under his workbench, in his toolbox, under the hay in the ban. It was from these bottles that an alcoholic found his "refuge". But if they were truly a refuge, a good thing, why must they be kept hidden? Bottles were hidden as if no one else knew they existed. But everyone in the family knew they were a haunting part of Scott's father's life. Scott's father's tendency to take gulp after gulp form these bottles caused nothing but pain and anguish.

The bottles represent the father's alcoholism as a whole. Their secretiveness is parallel to the fact that Scott's family would not talk about the problem with anyone outside the family. Both the bottles, and Scott's father's alcoholism, were two not-so-well-kept secrets. Everyone knew they existed, but no one wanted to openly acknowledge them.

The bottle is a concrete object, as well as a symbolic one. Scott's father actually did drink form actual, physical bottles. However, the bottles also represent his alcohol problem and the changes it caused in him. The bottle coincides with his metamorphosis from a sober man to a drunken one, form rational to irrational, and from a living man to a dying one.

Bottles are a very important image. They go with the whole theme. They provide a concrete connection to an abstract thought. They provide an image for the reader to clearly see the extent to which alcohol affected the father. The bottles were so important to him that he bought them in "secret", attempted to hide them, and lied about them. The father would never acknowledge the bottles themselves, or his problem, in front of his children. The bottles were like his "mistresses". He ignored his wife and his children to be with his "mistress", his secret pleasure, but, also, is inevitable downfall.

The bottles were his life, which is ironic, because they caused his death. The father's loyalty to the bottles was so much stronger than his loyalty to his family, and even himself, that he threw away years of being sober and gambled with death. Eventually, he lost, and death won. This happened all because of his love for a bottle filled with poison, basically. He poisoned himself, refusing to release his grip on the bottle. He would leave at times, but then he always returned, to his mistress...

The Funeral Scene (in reference to "The Rake")

At David's mother's funeral, a family secret is finally revealed. David and his sister finally learn the truth about their mother's childhood. Everyone but them had known about it, but everyone remained silent. It takes a death for the truth to finally come out. Because of this, the two children probably always wondered how their mother could be so accepting of such a violent man (their stepfather).

Through learning about the fact that their mother was beaten when she was little by their grandfather, a whole new world of understanding is opened up. However, it would have probably been better if they would have learned about this fact before she died. They probably had a lot of resentment toward their mother for allowing their stepfather to act so violently toward them and to be so abusive to David's sister. I know I would have a lot of resentment if it was me.

This scene reminds me of the saying "to take something to the grave". David's mother took her secret to the grave with her and left it up to someone else (the kids' aunt) to tell her story. She may have been ashamed, or maybe she was so hurt by it that she just refused to talk about it. This makes me think of women who are beaten by their spouses but refuse to report it. They walk around hiding ovious black eyes and making excuses, because they do not know how to handle it. Either they are afraid or ashamed. Or they really want to believe that the abuser really loves them and they only do it because of "this" or "that". David's mother wanted to believe that her father loved her. How could someone who helped bring her into the world not love her??

All of this brings me back to the scened where David's mother is in the closet crying and David's stepfather is begging David's mother's father to tell David's mother that he loves her. For some reason, he just can't say it. This is really sad to me. How can you stand up in front of your own child and be unable to tell them you love them, especially when they have broken down into tears? This must have really hurt David's mother, so she took her secret to the grave.

The Cycle of Violence/Frustrations (in reference to "The Rake")

The whole cycle of violence thing in "The Rake" always seems to stem from the family's different frustrations. The grandfather is frustrated because his wife will not ever have sex with him. He in turn takes his frustration out on his daugher (David's mother). David's mother then marries a violent husband who may be frustrated with the fact that David's mother can not get over her past with her father. He takes his frustration out on his daughter (David's sister). David is frustrated with everything--the violence, the silence, the dysfunction--and one day finally explodes with anger and ends up hurting his own sister.

The cycle of violence of violence things reminds me of two sayings or philosophies: that every generation repeats the same things from the previous one (as far as families are concerned) and that if we do not learn about our past then we are doomed to repeat it. David's family's cycle of violence is passed down to each generation of men from his grandfather to his father and to him. Not only that, but maybe if the family's issues would have been talked about instead of being suppressed for so long then the cycle could have been broken. But the family remained silent, and the cycle continued until David ends up hitting his little sister in the face with the rake.

Basically, this teaches us that people should not remain silent about things that are so crucial. Silence does not solve anything, it only makes things worth. The problem gets bigger and never goes away. Past mistakes are repeated and no one ever learns from them.

The Model Home (in reference to "The Rake")

The image of the model home sticks out to me more than any other object in the story. The irony of it, is just so compelling, I guess. When I think of "model home", in the literal sense, I think of the example home. It is the basis for how the other homes will be constructed and how they will look. It is the home that builders show off when they are trying to get a homebuyer to buy a home from a certain neighborhood. So, of course, it is the best looking and most well-kept home. It has the perfect little yard and the nice well arranged furniture on the inside.

In the figurative sense, the "model home" reminds me of the "model family"--the "perfect family". This is the family that everyone wants to be like, the family that everyone envies. This is the family that is always smiling and is always involved in everything. The parents are in the PTA, and the kids make great grades and play every sport. This is the family that everyone looks at and says how happy they must be.

When you think of the model home in either sense, you can see the irony in the fact that this is the home that David and his family live in. David's family may appear perfect to outsiders, but they are so far from perfect in reality. They are dysfunctional and violent, as a matter of fact. The father can not keep his anger under control, and the mother just goes along with it. The kids are anything but happy-go-lucky. And even though they might be involved in outside activities, when they finally get a big break, their parents do something to take that away.

Even though, things are so bad at home, everyone remains silent--to keep up appearances. It is all about how people perceive them. It doesn't matter how bad things get, they never let their anger or their pain leak out to the outside world. A "model home" could be built the same way. It could be thrust up in just a couple weeksn and have the weakest structure then made to look so good that you could never tell. The yard would be so well made, and the inside would be so fabulously decorated that you would never guess that it could be knocked down by the slightest wind. But then again, it's all about appearances.

A Matter of Life and Death

Is it just me, or are there an alarming number people dying lately?? It is crazy. Like every day you hear about yet another death. And what makes it worse is that a lot of those people are young people who should have had their whole lives ahead of them.

Well these deaths, though they may not be close to me, have got me to thinking. What is my purpose in life?? I mean I could die tomorrow. I don't think too many people wake up on their last day and say, "Okay, I am going to die today." A lot of times, they never suspect it. I mean if you are not old or sick, you are not going to spend too many days anticipating your last moment. (Unless you are just dark and depressed like that.)

So, like I said, these deaths have made me think. If I died tomorrow, what would I be remembered for?? Would I just be "that pregnant girl from my English class". I don't know what I could do at this point to be remembered. What big, great thing I can do so my legacy lives on. I just hope I live long enough to figure it out. There is so much that I have planned for my life. And so much that I want to see and experience. I haven't even reached my 21st birthday!! That's the most important one.

Well I guess all I can do is live each day to the fullest, work toward my goals, and roll with whatever may come in my life. This has just been on my mind, so I decided to convert it into a blog...

Shake Them Hatas Off???

So I was reading this article and the comments posted on The Commercial Appeal's site about Herenton and his 5th term. Ohhh... it was very negative. A lot of criticism, I think, from people who just have a lot of hot breathe to blow, but who will inevitably do anything to help solve Memphis problems. I do not agree with Herenton the least bit. I believe he is concerned about the wrong things, and he adds flame to the already blazing fire of racial tension in the city. And he is a pretty cocky fellow. He would not even debate any of the other candidates. He was too sure he was going to win, but I do have to hand it to him---he did win.

And now he is in office...again. The people who cared voted; and this is the result. But just because Herenton is in office does not mean that Memphis can not grow as a city. Change takes collective action. Everything can not be left up to one person to make change. We have to work together as a city.

And most of those comments on the site, I noticed were pretty racial. That is the problem. Race has nothing to do with the rising crime rate, the taxes, or anything else these people are bitching about. Everyone needs someone to blame, though. The blacks blame the whites for not supporting Herenton. And the whites blame the blacks for putting him back in office. Well the fact is that he is back in office, so we might as well support him. He is our mayor for another term. And as long as we stand divided, we will never be able to see the change everyone wants so badly----whether they are BLACK or WHITE...

I hate the fact that people are just sitting around complaining about how Herenton was reelected. How Memphis is going to go down hill from here. How everyone who voted for him is a complete idiot. How they want to move away. How bad a job Herenton has done. Blah blah blah. But what are they going to do about it? Herenton won; nothing can reverse that now. If you say things are going to go down hill, you're negative thinking just adds to the problem. Everyone who voted for him is not an idiot; what made the other candidates so great? People just voted for who they thought would do well. If you want to move---move! Herenton is not all bad, and maybe he would do better if more people took action and supported him.

I don't know what, if anything, Herenton will do to improve Memphis. With that being said, what is Memphis doing to improve Memphis??

WHAT A LOSER???

It seems like all of my friends are having guy problems. Like ALL of them, including myself. Well, I am not so much having problems; things are just not where I want them to be right now. But, the rest of my friends are having serious problems. I mean "break-down-and-cry-til-your-eyes-swell" problems. And I don't know why. Sometimes, I think we may have settled on dudes that are really not worth our time. I mean I love my guy to death, but I wonder all the time if I could have done better. But we have been together for so many years that I think we are sort of used to each other. Is that why I can't see myself with anyone else?

Who knows?

All I know is that it seems like once you are with a guy for so long, he just begins to get careless. I mean, when you first start dating, a guy can be so sweet and so romantic. Then, the sparkle wears off, and I think that years of being together is a signal for guys to drop all that "mushy" stuff which made us fall for them in the first place. And you can tell a guy over and over how you feel, and they can promise you the world. But nothing ever changes! I am just really frustrated right now. Between trying to console my friends and dealing with things with me and my guy, it is just toooo much. I'll be fine. I know everything will work out in the end. I just felt like this would be a good way to release some of this tension.

And I will be in Baskin Robbins Saturday with my friend Shan so we can vent and talk about her "no-good" boyfriend. (Well he is "no-good" for now anyway. Tomorrow he may be the greatest love of her life. LOL :)

Unintentionally Disconnected

When I first thought about it, I could not see many ways in which the death of Memphis football player Taylor Bradford affected me. Now I realize that my inability to see how I was affected is an effect in itself. That would be an effect of all the Memphis violence. I mean, you hear about things like this happening so much in Memphis that you become numb to it in a way unless it happens someone close to you.

Taylor Bradford was not close to me, but he was close to a couple of my friends. So, I feel bad about my inability to relate to how they feel right now. And it is not just me who feels somewhat numb to the whole situation. We had a class discussion in English about how we each felt the death affected us. Pretty much everyone felt disconnected from it. Of course, there was some sympathy and remorse, but not an overwhelming amount. It is just an all too common occurrence, which makes the situation even more heart-breaking. The fact that a University of Memphis student was killed and an entire class full of University of Memphis students can just shrug it off as just another statistic shows just how bad crime in Memphis has gotten.

To be honest, I have no idea how the tremendous amount of crime and violence can be minimized in Memphis. I just know that it is a problem that can not be ignored. I hate that I have become so disconnected from such tragedy, and I hate that so many tragic events are occurring so often. There have been so many people dying lately, and what makes it worse is the fact that it is mostly young people who should have so much life ahead of them. Like I said I don’t know what the solution is, but you must address the problem before you can come up with a solution. So, now that the problem has been addressed, what's next?

Self-Evaluation of My Evaluation

Writing my essay about Audrey Lorde’s The Fourth of July, I took a pretty basic approach. I read the essay the first time just to get the basic idea of what it was about. Then, I waited a little while and thought about what she was trying to say. After doing this, I reread the story as analytically as possible. I read and reread sentences, hunted for symbols and hidden meanings, and tried to see what tools Lorde used to get her point across. However, I admit, I did not spend that much time thinking about it. I just wanted to write my paper and get it over with. I was trying to connect with what I read, but it is so much easier to remain disconnected. I didn’t want to overanalyze the essay to the point that I was looking for things that weren’t even there.

I do not think I changed much as a writer, reader, or a person. I want to change; it just didn’t happen this time. The only thing I did as a reader, which I don’t normally do is read the story around four times. When I read, I usually just skim over whatever it is I am reading to get the main idea. This time, though, since the paper I had to write was not about summary but about writing style and deeper meanings, I had no choice but to read it closely. As I writer, I did attempt to portray my thoughts in a well-organized manner, and I did put more effort into my word choice than I normally do. So, there were a couple of changes, but I know I still need improvement.

Next time I hope to do a lot of things differently. I hope to spend more time looking over the reading. I want to put deeper thought into what I will write and how I will write it. I hope to be able to connect more with the reading. Basically, I know I should apply more effort and delve deeper into the analytical part of my brain.

My Walk and My Thoughts

When I walked out of the classroom, I had somewhat of a plan as to where I wanted to go. The same place I planned, however, is not the same place I ended up. I ended up here, outside, on this wooden bench, listening to the sounds of a passing train and bits and pieces of some strangers' loud conversations. And, even though this is not where I originally say myself, it feels good to be here. It's cool outside. It's quiet for the most part, except for this girl talking so loud on her cell phone. I like it.

My life mirrors my 45-minute "walk" almost perfectly. I set goals for myself all the time. I can plan things down to the final detail, but it never ends up quite as I plan. Yet, I am hardly ever disappointed when that happens. (Not in the end anyway.) I planned to leave for school and go to UT Knoxville. I wanted to get away from Memphis, and live on my own. I even had a full scholarship to pay for tuition and housing. Everything was set and certain. I didn't expect to find out I was pregnant. And, at first, I was hopelessly upset. But ending up at the University of Memphis is looking like a better situation for me so far. I don't stay on campus, so I got money back from my grant and scholarships. I was able to get my car, which may have taken longer if I would have moved to Knoxville. I now have money in savings that is a pretty big start toward living on my own. I am able to be here in Memphis with my boyfriend. And I have my family here to support me. So, even though I didn't end up where I wanted to be, in life or during my my 45-minute retreat, I am content (and blessed).

A Not So Independent Independence Day (New & Improved :)

The Fourth of July by Audrey Lorde is a short essay which depicts some clear cut incidences of racial discrimination which occurred in her life. Even though the essay is short and brief, Lorde’s intention is effectively portrayed in her tone, symbolism, and all around word choice. Lorde uses many descriptive details which successfully paint a picture for her audience and symbolize so much more than what is seen on the surface. Her narration intensifies as the story unfolds and we begin to see the irony of Lorde’s Fourth of July vacation.

The Fourth of July is an account of a trip that Audrey Lorde and her family took to Washington, D.C. after Lorde’s graduation from the eighth grade. The trip was important for Lorde’s older sister who was not allowed to attend her senior class trip to Washington since the class was to stay in a hotel that did not permit blacks. I believe Lorde purposely introduces this incident of prejudice early on in her story to show the reason behind their trip and to showcase an example of irony that becomes apparent at the end. (The same discrimination they go on the trip in spite of is what they end up encountering in Washington.)

Lorde describes the care and detail that was taken into planning for the trip. It would be the family’s first time taking a train in the daytime because they usually rode at night on the milk truck, which was cheaper. They took an entire week to pack and ended up with two suitcases and one box of food. This is when Audrey Lorde takes the opportunity to depict vividly the food that her mother put so much care into making. Lorde says her mother packed chicken cut into “dainty bite-sized pieces”, “little violently iced cakes with scalloped edges”, and “peaches with the fuzz still on them individually wrapped to keep from bruising” (Lorde, 567-568). These detailed descriptions are used as tools illustrate how important the trip was and how much detail went into its preparation.

While on the train, Lorde mentions, she wanted to eat in the dining car, but her mother would not let her. Her mother’s reasoning was that is was too expensive. Lorde’s mother did not care to divulge the fact that blacks were not actually allowed to ride in the dining cars. This is only one of a few instances where Lorde’s mother would rather remain silent about the racial injustice they encountered rather than speak upon it. Lorde states, “As usual, whatever my mother did not like and could not change, she ignored. Perhaps it would go away, deprived of her attention” (Lorde, 568). Audrey Lorde maintains that her father is the same way. American racism was her parents’ “private woe” (Lorde, 568). Her parents’ silence was how they dealt with the injustice. Lorde says she and her siblings were told to never trust white people but were on no account told why. Lorde intentionally brings up her parents’ avoidance of the topic of racism to show how she was never really directly exposed to it. She was ultimately sheltered from the truth. This in a way helps us understand the intensity of Lorde’s rage when she finally comes face to face with her first real encounter with discrimination at the end of the story.

Audrey Lorde describes her younger self on the second day of the trip squinting at Lincoln Memorial “where Marian Anderson had sung after the D.A.R. refused to allow her to sing in their auditorium because she was black” (Lorde, 568). This incident involving Marian Anderson, even though it is not an actual event from Lorde’s story, is ironic since the D.A.R. (Daughters of the American Revolution) is a group “dedicated to promoting patriotism, preserving American history, and securing America's future through better education for children” (DAR National Society). But the main point of the scene with Lorde squinting out at the monument is to point out her original reason for disliking the Fourth of July as opposed to why she doesn’t like it as an adult. As a child, she disliked the “agonizing corolla of dazzling whiteness” and brightness that played upon her sensitive eyes (Lorde, 569). The intense heat from the white summer brightness could is a symbol of the whites discrimination. Lorde did not have any sunglasses to shield her eyes from the blinding light, and her parents would not be able to shield her from the truth of racism for much longer. Lorde even describes the light and heat to be stronger in D.C. than back in her hometown of New York. The pavement was also lighter. Everything is different in Washington, and it is here that Lorde will finally witness the intensity of racial discrimination that she was always sheltered from back home.

The point where Audrey Lorde’s The Fourth of July reaches its peak of irony is when her family goes to get ice-cream. While sitting at the white marble counter, her family did not hear their waitress clearly at first and remained still. (Here is the pattern of silence again.) So the waitress moves in closer and repeats herself: “‘I said I kin give you to take out, but you can’t eat here. Sorry’” (Lorde, 569). Lorde portrays her family marching, not walking, out of the ice-cream shop “straight-back and indignant”. They were “quiet and outraged, as if [they] had never been black before” (Lorde, 569). This last statement about never being black before shows that that type of discrimination was the norm and should have been expected. But Lorde was outraged and could not understand why they had to leave even though they hadn’t done anything. Her parents silence made her even angrier. Her sisters were even silent, and Lorde could not understand why. She was the only one in her family who even attempted to break their pattern of silence. Lorde even recounts writing an angry letter to the President.

This, the end of Lorde’s narration, is when all of the vivid imagery and irony can be clearly understood. It is the point at which Lorde finds a new cause to hate the Fourth of July. The Fourth of July is an ironic title since this big injustice occurred on a day when all Americans were supposed to be able to celebrate their independence and freedom to do as they pleased. Also, the fact that it took place in the nation’s capital, where patriotism should reign most high, makes it even more ironic. Lorde also describes many white aspects of Washington to symbolize the hold the whites had: the white summer brightness, the white pavement, the white waitress, the white counter, the white ice-cream they never ate, and the white monuments. Each and every one of these instances of white represents white society and their prejudice.

I found The Fourth of July to be greatly effective in showing how one small incident of injustice can affect your entire way of thinking. Lorde’s word choices play an important part as to how the story affects her reader. The imagery she uses puts us in her position, and the many ironies portrayed help to make her story more engaging and thought-provoking. Lorde’s symbolism takes us beyond her simple tale of Fourth of July trip to Washington, D.C. and into the depths of racism. I really enjoyed reading it, and I feel like Lorde pieced her words together in a way that caught, and kept, my attention through the entire narration.


Works Cited

DAR National Society. 2005. National Society Daughters of the American Revolution. 26 September 2007. <http://www.dar.org/natsociety/whoweare.cfm>

Lorde, Audrey. “The Fourth of July.” Language Awareness: Readings for College Writers. 9th ed. Ed. Virginia Clark and Alfred Rosa. Boston, MA: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2005. 567-570.

A Not So Independent Independence Day: An Analysis of Audrey Lorde’s The Fourth of July

The Fourth of July by Audrey Lorde is a short essay which depicts some clear cut incidences of racial discrimination which occurred in her life. Even though the essay is short and brief, Lorde’s intention is effectively portrayed in her tone, symbolism, and all around word choice. Lorde uses many descriptive details which successfully paint a picture for her audience and symbolize so much more than what is seen on the surface. Her narration intensifies as the story unfolds and we begin to see the irony of Lorde’s Fourth of July vacation.

The Fourth of July is an account of a trip that Audrey Lorde and her family took to Washington, D.C. after Lorde’s graduation from the eighth grade. The trip was important for Lorde’s older sister who was not allowed to attend her senior class trip to Washington since the class was to stay in a hotel that did not permit blacks. Lorde introduces this incident of prejudice early on in her story to show the reason behind their trip, and it will also end up being a case of irony in the end. (The same discrimination they go on the trip in spite of is what they end up encountering.)

Lorde describes the care and detail that was taken into planning for the trip. It would be the family’s first time taking a train in the daytime because they usually rode at night on the milk truck, which was cheaper. They took an entire week to pack and ended up with two suitcases and one box of food. This is when Audrey Lorde takes the opportunity to depict vividly the food that her mother put so much care into making. Lorde says her mother packed chicken cut into “dainty bite-sized pieces”, “little violently iced cakes with scalloped edges”, and “peaches with the fuzz still on them individually wrapped to keep from bruising” (Lorde, 567-568). These phrases illustrate how important the trip was and how much detail went into its preparation.

While on the train, Lorde mentions, she wanted to eat in the dining car, but her mother would not let her. Her mother’s reasoning was that is was too expensive. Lorde’s mother did not care to divulge the fact that blacks were not actually allowed to ride in the dining cars. This is only one of a few instances where Lorde’s mother would rather remain silent about the racial injustice they encountered rather than speak upon it. Lorde states, “As usual, whatever my mother did not like and could not change, she ignored. Perhaps it would go away, deprived of her attention” (Lorde, 568). Audrey Lorde maintains that her father is the same way. American racism was her parents’ “private woe” (Lorde, 568). Her parents’ silence was how they dealt with the injustice. Lorde says she and her siblings were told to never trust white people but were on no account told why. Lorde intentionally brings up her parents’ avoidance of the topic of racism to show how she was never really directly exposed to it. She was ultimately sheltered from the truth. This in a way helps us understand the intensity of Lorde’s rage when she finally comes face to face with discrimination at the end of the story.

The second day of the trip, Audrey Lorde describes her younger self squinting at Lincoln Memorial “where Marian Anderson had sung after the D.A.R. refused to allow her to sing in their auditorium because she was black” (Lorde, 568). This incident involving Marian Anderson, even though it is not an actual event from Lorde’s story, is ironic since the D.A.R. (Daughters of the American Revolution) is a group dedicated to patriotism, historic preservation, and education. But the main point of the scene with Lorde squinting out at the monument is to point out her original reason for disliking the Fourth of July as opposed to why she doesn’t like it as an adult. She disliked the “agonizing corolla of dazzling whiteness” and brightness that played upon her sensitive eyes (Lorde, 569). The intense heat from the white summer brightness could also be seen as a symbol to depict the intense discrimination from the whites during Lorde’s childhood. She even describes the light and heat to be stronger in D.C. than back in her hometown of New York. The pavement was also lighter. These differences foreshadow the discrimination that Lorde will be subject to while in D.C. that she never directly experienced back home.

The point where Audrey Lorde’s The Fourth of July reaches its peak of irony is when her family goes to get ice-cream. While sitting at the white marble counter, her family did not hear their waitress clearly at first and remained still. (Here is the pattern of silence again.) So the waitress moves in closer and repeats herself: “‘I said I kin give you to take out, but you can’t eat here. Sorry’” (Lorde, 569). Lorde portrays her family marching, not walking, out of the ice-cream shop “straight-back and indignant”. They were “quiet and outraged, as if [they] had never been black before” (Lorde, 569). This last statement about never being black before shows that that type of discrimination was the norm and should have been expected. But Lorde was outraged and could not understand why they had to leave even though they hadn’t done anything. Her parents silence made her even angrier. Her sisters were even silent, and Lorde could not understand why. She was the only one in her family who even attempted to break their pattern of silence. Lorde even recounts writing an angry letter to the President.

This, the end of Lorde’s narration, is when all of the vivid imagery and irony can be clearly understood. It is the point at which Lorde finds a new cause to hate the Fourth of July. The Fourth of July is an ironic title since this big injustice occurred on a day when all Americans were supposed to be able to celebrate their independence and freedom do as they pleased. Also, the fact that is took place in the nation’s capital where patriotism should reign most high, makes it even more ironic. Lorde also describes many white aspects of Washington to symbolize the hold the whites had: the white summer brightness, the white pavement, the white waitress, the white counter, the white ice-cream they never ate, and the white monuments. Each and every one of these instances of white represents white society and their prejudice.

The Fourth of July was greatly effective in showing how one small incident of injustice can affect your entire way of thinking. Lorde’s word choices play an important part as to how the story affects her reader. The imagery she uses puts us in her position, and the many ironies portrayed help to make her story more engaging and thought-provoking. I really enjoyed reading it, and I feel like Lorde pieced her words together in a very efficient way.


Works Cited

Lorde, Audrey. “The Fourth of July.” Language Awareness: Readings for College Writers. 9th ed. Ed. Virginia Clark and Alfred Rosa. Boston, MA: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2005. 567-570.

The Significance of a Noose in a Tree

Links---> Blog on Slate ... Blog on Bill Maher's site

I read two different blogs about the Jena 6 incident in Lousiana...

The blog posted on Slate by Michael Weiss seemed to take a more factual rather than opinionated approach. Weiss attempted to maintain an objective view on the subject by mostly stating facts about the situation and posting quotes and views of other people. Weiss states in his Friday post: "Thousands of protesters turned out in Jena, La., Thursday to denounce what they call the too-severe prosecution of six black students accused of beating a white student to the point of unconsciousness." Notice he uses "they", trying to be objective in how he feels about the punishment faced by the six black students. Weiss does this through the entire post talking about others' reactions to what went on in Jena, Louisiana.

The post by HymitownPrez on Bill Maher's webpage did not attempt to take an objective view at all. He did not really state any facts about the situation. He just briefly told what he thought about what happened. Whoever this guy is apparently thinks that because the nooses were hung only about 5 feet high, that makes the incident less serious. He also calls the 6 students "6 black hoodlums" and thinks "This shit is so funny. . ." That's the jist of his blog.

I, myself, am in great support of the Jena 6 and feel like a noose being hung in a tree is far from a prank. This incident puts us so many years behind as far as overcoming racial barriers. I mean, the noose itself represents so much and brings back so many bad images of blacks being hung in trees so long ago. If those white students did not like the fact that those black students were sitting under "their" tree for any reason other than simply the fact they were black, why would they choose the nooses? It was obviously a racial attack. I do not necessarily support the fact that the Jena 6 jumped on that one person, but I do think that the charges placed against them were all too harsh. Attempted murder??? That shouldn't have ever even come up. They beat the guy up and did not use any weapons. And I also think that the action taken against the students who hung the nooses was all too lenient. It was a hate crime as far as I am concerned and deserves a little more than a few days suspension. It seems totally out of balance for me that the kids who hung the nooses were dealt with by school officials and not even charged, but the punishment for the black kids who retaliated went straight to the police. Students get into fights all the time and never get charged with attempted murder---and they don't even have to be provoked much. The entire situation is just ludicrous to me, and I can understand why so many people showed up to protest the charges. And whoever that guy HymitownPrez is on Bill Maher's site obviously does not understand the significance of what happened and how the nooses symbolize something all to serious. And no, this shit is not so funny. . .

Tasering at University of Florida

Links--------> Jack Dunphy's article ... article from Political Critic ... incident on Utube

The two articles that I read were on the subject of the student (Andrew Meyer) who was tasered by University of Florida police during a speech by John Kerry after asking Kerry if he had been apart of a secret society while in college. Both articles present the story from totally opposing viewpoints...

The first article I read was Jack Dunphy's. Dunphy basically supports the Florida University police and thinks that they did the right thing by tasing Meyer. Dunphy begins his article by saying, "There is an axiom in police work that goes something like this: If you have a lawful reason for wanting someone to behave in a certain way, first you ask them, then you tell them, then you make them." Many people have the viewpoint that the police were wrong in their actions, but Jack Dunphy comes to their defense. He says that the Florida police had good reason for wanting Andrew Meyer to settle down or leave the auditorium and that the police used reasonable force when Meyer did not comply with their demands. Dunphy points out that a man (presumably one of the university officials) can be seen in the Utube video giving a signal at which point Meyer's microphone goes dead, showing that Meyer's question was not one they wanted to be brought up. When two officers approach the student, he is loud an beligerant. He resists the officers and continues to yell throughout the auditorium. Jack Dunphy's point is that if Meyer had simply either calmed down or left without incident, the officers would have never even used the taser gun. So Meyer got what he deserved, right?

The article I read from the Political Critic site goes against Dunphy's argument and condemns the police's use of the taser. This author on Political Critic says that we should consider taking tasers away from campus officers all together. Why did Meyer need to be tasered if he had so many policemen holding him down, and he was already on the ground? The author also states: "The last time I checked, freedom of speech still exists in this country." All of this stemmed just from Andrew Meyer asking a question that someone else felt inappropriate. The author admits that Meyer was loud and obnoxious but also calls the policemen reckless and violent and says "if six police officers cannot handle an unarmed kid without tasing him, they need to find different jobs."

My viewpoint on the matter is this: I do not believe that the officers used reasonable force in this situation. When I watched the video I could not believe how loud and uncontrollable Andrew Meyer was acting. I mean he yelled throughout the entire clip... "What did I do?" "Help! Help!" "Why are you arresting me?" "Get away from me!" It was crazy. However, no matter how loud or crazy he was, he was never violent and never used force. It wasn't like he was trying to attack John Kerry; he never even went near Kerry. Plus, there were six officers detaining him. I just do not feel like the tasing was necessary. But then again, in the defense of the police, they did warn Andrew Meyer that he would be tased if he contin ued to resist arrest, which he did. So I am not sure if Meyer did not believe them or what, but for some reason he would not comply with their demands. So, as you can see, I am sort of torn between the two sides. Luckily, I do not have to be on anyone's side. I just have to talk about the two articles viewpoints on the matter, which I did. :)

P.S. I have seen "tasering" and "tasing". I thought it was "tasing". I've been doing searches, but it is still tough to figure out which is correct.

Prime Directive

In Prime Directive, David Griffith starts by presenting us with a doubtful, indecisive character. A character dressed as Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. It is the Saturday night before Halloween, and "Captain Kirk" is regretting not going to evening Mass. He is also regretting not being with his wife, who is in another state. Instead, he is on the street waiting for his friend to pick him up to go to a Halloween party. The entire time trying to remain inconspicuous to the people who pass by him...

I believe that David Griffith picked Halloween and the darkness of night for his story for a reason. He has taken his character out of his normal everyday element to prove his point--that we all can do things we are not proud of when placed in different situations. If it would have been any other day of the year at any other time of day, Griffith's character would not have been placed in the position where he ends up in the story. He would not have been at a party around people dressed in costumes, spooky decorations, and creepier than normal vibes. He would have never met his old friend dressed in the Charles Graner costume. He would have never posed for the picture he was so ashamed of just moments after it was taken. No, in order for all of this to happen, Griffith's character had to be placed in abnormal circumstances--and what better time than Halloween night? Griffith even states in the story that "Halloween is when unsettled souls roam the earth. Under that circus tent, past midnight, we were all roaming, asking to be seen, looking for a connection. I found it."

The main character in Prime Directive tries to analyze what he has done after taking the picture. He calls his wife and can't even tell her because he is so ashamed. But his shame is our shame. Griffith's purpose in writing the Prime Directive is to open our eyes to what we are all capable of. It is easy to condemn others for sins they have committed when we have never been put in that situation ourselves. We, as humans are all capable of doing shameful and terrible things when placed in abnormal circumstances.

This is Griffith's intent, what he wants to prove. However, after reading over several articles about what went on at Abu Ghraib, I can honestly say that I could have never committed such horrendous acts of torture. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about doing such things to anybody. Those soldiers humiliated, raped, and even mutilated those prisoners. I believe that in order to do something as terrible, you would have to have some kind of deep, dark, hidden desire to do those things in the first place. No matter how much contempt I felt for the prisoners or how much I loved being in command, I could not picture myself taking pictures next to pyramids of naked, abused prisoners!! I can't fathom it. I understand Griffith's point, that we never know what we are capable of until we are actually put in that situation. But some things you just know would be too horrible for you to bring yourself to do.

Now, the fact that Griffith's character poses with his friend in the Charles Graner costume is pretty sick, but it is nowhere close to what actually happened at Abu Ghraib. The guy who dresses in the costume is sick for even thinking to dress in that costume, and who knows what his intent was for doing that, but there is still no comparison. The main character in Griffith's story probably never anticipated that he would participate in something so shameful. This is a good example of doing something you never thought you'd do because you have never been in that situation before. But if Griffith is trying to say that everyone is capable of committing the same acts that the soldiers like Charles Graner did at Abu Ghraib, I would have to disagree. One, because I know I could never bring myself to do anything like that to another human being, or even an animal. Two, there were other soldiers there who did not participate and who testified against Graner and the others.

Reading over Prime Directive the first time, I didn't really get what David Griffith was trying to say. But then again, I did not know what Abu Ghraib was. After I read about the subject and about Charles Graner, I reread Prime Directive again from the beginnning. I slowly began to realize Griffith's point, and to a certain extent I agree with him. Human nature is an unpredictable thing. And as humans, we change in certain situations. However, Graner and the other soldiers who took part in the unthinkable acts that ocurred at Abu Ghraid could not have been your everyday, "sound of mind" individuals. Even though the circumsances they were in were new to them, something had to have been "out of balance" within them for them to act in the way they did.

stupid memphis police

i got a stupid ticket today!! for not havin on my stupid seatbelt. and i was only in stupid riverside parking lot. and the stupid police just happened to be posted up lookin all in my car. and i know it must have been like a thousand people that passed with no seatbelt on, but they stopped me. and that stupid man was like "You need to always wear your seatbelt, especially since your pregnant" But i hate havin that stupid belt around my fat ass belly...its uncomfortable. and i started to ask him does he always put on his seatbelt each and every time he gets in the car. but i kept my mouth shut... I NEVER GET TICKETS!!! That is why I have a freakin radar detector in my car. And i saw those stupid police officers sitting there but I did not think they would be lookin all in my car for a stupid seatbelt in the stupid parking lot by the stupid river!!!!! I can drive 80 down the street and not get a ticket, but today I get a stupid seatbelt ticket... I hate the stupid police!! that man did not have to give me a ticket for that! I wasn't even on the real road.

O J Arrested Again

U can find out more on this story by clicking [here].

Ok so O.J. Simpson is in the news...again. He is accused of armed robbery and could face up to 30 years in prison. How stupid can you be? I mean if I was O.J. and I was acquitted of murder charges (when we all know he was guilty), I don't care how many years have passed; I would not be trying to draw attention to myself. I mean didn't he do enough damage when he wrote that stupid book basically admitting his guilt? I know he can not be tried again for the same crime, but I still think he should be trying to stay out of the public eye. (Or at least out of the POLICE'S eye!!!!) I was in the kitchen and I heard part of the story on the news in the living room and decided to look it up since I was online. According to the article I read, which is linked above, Simpson allegedly...

"...burst into a Las Vegas hotel room and snatched memorabilia that documented his own sports career, long ago eclipsed by scandal."

Now was that really worth it???? I mean it wasn't even anything of value. I know I am talking about how stupid it was and he hasn't even had a trial yet... But it is.... soooooo stupid. And Johnny Cochran isn't around, so I am waiting to see who he hires to try to get out of this one!

insomnia?

I CANT GO TO SLEEP!!!!!!!

No one is on face book and the person I was instant messaging disappeared. So now here I am on Blogger. I even added more pics to this page. That is how bored I am. It is like I am tired, but I can not bring myself to get up and go get in the bed. This happens all the time. I never go to sleep until like 2 or 3 in the morning, even when I have to wake up early!! And I don't do it on purpose really. If I go lay in the bed, I'll just be bored and it will still take forever to fall asleep. So I sit in front of my laptop or I text until I get really really really tired...

I know this probably does not interest you the least bit. But I was so freaking bored that I needed something to do... Thanks for reading anyway :)

EnterTainMent...

Since the dawn of human life, people have sought ways in which to entertain themselves. From gory gladiator fights to violent video games and silent films to raucous music, entertainment has been vital to survival. However, these things can go deeper than just merely being entertaining. As a matter of fact, these things have had a positive influence on our lives, which is why we are writing this paper.

Many people have negative thoughts when it comes to rap music. And this could be understood with all the cursing and violence that comes along with a lot of it. However, there has been one great rap artist that has really influenced my life. Once you get passed the cursing and obscenities, you will see how great Tupac really is.

I think that I have always had a short temper ever since I was a little kid. Everyone needs something that calms them and helps them focus. My thing has always been music, and Tupac’s music has always been my “calm down” music. His songs always have a message, unlike a lot of rap stars’ songs today. Most rappers who are famous today got famous because they had banging beats, or great hooks, or an appealing image. Tupac was different, and, even though he is dead, his music will always live on.

Tupac’s music has influenced my life in many ways. For instance, I can calm down a lot quicker if I spend some time alone with a Tupac CD and just lay down for a while. I also think a lot deeper. I have different views on stuff, and I am a more open-minded person. Many of the scenarios in Tupac’s songs have inspired me to want to better myself and to do things to help other people. I am less selfish and more giving, and more forgiving. Basically, I truly believe I am a better person. To show you what I mean, here is a quote from one of my favorite Tupac songs “Keep Your Head Up”: “I know they like to beat you down a lot/And you come around the block brothers clown a lot/But please don’t cry/Dry your eyes; Never let up/Forgive, but don’t forget, girl keep your head up/And when he tells you you ain’t nothing, don’t believe him/And if he can’t learn to love you, you should leave him/‘Cause sister you don’t need him/And I ain’t trying to gas you up; I just call em I see em.” These lyrics are just one of the many examples of how Tupac’s lyrics have touched my life. Tupac Shakur is a legend, and I am so glad he wrote the way he did. His style of writing has greatly influenced my style of living.



I can never understand why most parents condemn video games. Take my mother for example: she has rallied against video games in our house since I was in kindergarten. Even though they have wormed their way into our home anyway, she still tries to regulate what my younger brothers play (although she fails miserably at that as well.) Many people consider video games of all genres and ratings a complete waste of time. However, think of all the academic computer games you were forced to play in early schooling or at home. I, for one, can attest too many of those. For most, gaming is purely a form of entertainment (although for some, a way of life) that cannot truly be put down as any more worthless than watching hours of TV or sleeping. My two favorite games (well, okay maybe they're also the only two games I've ever extensively played) are Doom and World of Warcraft. My dad ripped a copy of Doom from his brother not long after the game was released and I basically grew up playing it (along with the boring math and spelling games). In general, I do not really believe that I can say any form of sitting on my ass constitutes as "a positive experience for me," but I believe that it has affected me in small ways. For example, I am the only girl I know who has ever played Doom. That's something different about me that most of the people I know cannot match. During the past year, I've grown quite attached to World of Warcraft. Again, it's had its negative effects on me, but through the game I've become closer to friends, made new ones, and even became acquainted with people around the world. It also happens to be an infallibly good method of de-stressing and cooling my temper. Whatever your choice form of entertainment may be, it will always have some sort of positive influence on you. Why else would you spend your time doing it? That is, unless you're just lazy and don't have any qualms about letting your brain rot while "engaging" in mindless activity. It's true that most forms of entertainment are time wasters, but they make us more unique and attuned to the world around us.



Was the year that I spent playing World of Warcraft all worth it? I can’t deny that I had fun at first. At the end however it was more of a hassle than anything. I blew of schoolwork and studying, to play video games. In the end I probably would’ve found another way to blow it off anyways, but WoW made it easier for me to do so. However, the game did have some positive effects on my life. One valuable thing WoW has taught me is a skill that I use all the time. It taught me how to procrastinate and get by with a minimal amount of sleep. This skill is something I find myself using all the time while I’m in school. Another thing that has been a positive for me is the people I’ve met. Not only have I met friends across the world, I have met people in the world outside WoW, who share the same love of video games. Many of these people have become good friends, who I still jeep in touch with today. Although most of them have moved out of Memphis, we still keep in touch through the game. It is those people that made it all worth while.

Sources of entertainment are more than simple things to keep boredom from creeping up on you. Forms of entertainment serve as ways of life, calm stress and nerves, and develop connections between people. Despite the connotations that come with most forms of entertainment, they are conducive and help to establish individuality and personality.