2nd Quarter Poetry Journal Reflection

2nd Quarter Poetry Journal Reflection

Freedom is a mocking thing

As I sit in this class room and gaze

out the window

So close, so near

But invisible walls and invisible chains

And invisible locks and invisible forces

Lock me in until it is time to leave

What if I tried leaving?

When I can't leave?

Well, that's probably a stupid idea

My parents would kill me and kill me again

And I value my life very, VERY much

So instead I sit

I sit and wait for these 5 minutes to pass

Because let's be honest me

I suck at writing poetry

        The good (somewhat) ol' memories of this poem. I remember (not) like it was yesterday... long story short, I was having a somewhat bad day (I think) so I decided to write this poem about wishing that school was over while also exploring the idea of having to do things not because you physically have to, but because society tells you... then I got bored with the serious direction of the poem (aka I had no idea how to proceed from "invisible locks") So instead you get this poem that suddenly goes through Mood Whiplash (NOTE: If you value your free time, do not click on the link)

        As for actual, you know, reasons for choosing this poem, I feel like in certain ways this poem describes me in a nutshell, as my Honors World History teacher once said that I was like a rabbit and a turtle in one, sometimes I would be slow and methodical, then other times I would rush like a... rabbit? Something like that. But at the same time, it was just a poem I liked because it toys with the audience expectations about what would be a serious poem, which then turns humorous, and ultimately cynical and self depreciating, yet still humorous. (Don't judge my humor, kay?)

2nd Quarter Reading Reflection

Warning: This Blog Writer would like to apologize in advance for any and all cringe-like reactions from cringe worthy puns due to the author's current state of mind, if you do not like puns then run. Or you could just skip the 1st paragraph, whatever floats your (non-existent) boat.

        Disclaimer aside, in terms of books finished, I have finished 4 books this quarter, these books are The Color of Water by James McBride, which (hopefully) you've all read, The Wild Truth by Carine McCandless as my choice memoir (Which truth to be told, I'm too tired to post a picture, so have a hyperlink instead) Additionally I read Of Mice and Men By John Steinbeck (Which I thought would be a comedy... it's not. Farm from it) Oh, and there's also A Seperate Peace by John Knowles (No puns this time, but for some reason I got, yet again, a tragedy) While Wild Truth was somewhat low leveled, the other 3 books were (in my opinion, your opinions may vary) relatively higher class. Though to be honest I can't say why I selected those books because I just let Mrs Leitsch select all of those books to read. As for my favorite book, I have to say Of Mice and Men. While it's certainly not for everyone, Of Mice and Men just was one of the books that just resonated me beyond just "Hey, that was a fun read!" Through my reading this semester, I'd say my reading style is leaning towards the stereotypical "Classics" and towards my realistic stuff.

        And now I have to go back and check out my goals last quarter so I can make a glorified reflection about them. So my goals last quarter were to 1. Read more fictional genre books, and 2. Do more "spiritual" reading. In regards to goal #1, I've now read books of the realistic genre (Shocking, right?) But that's practically the only new genre I read. Probably the main reason why its the only new genre I read was because I, after writing my 1st Quarter Reading Reflection Post, promptly forgot about my goals, not only that, but I didn't try as hard as I could've to find new genres, but whatever the case, I somewhat accomplish my goal. On the subject of goal #2, I would say I did more spiritual reading in the 4 books I read, going over them much more slowly than I did with my books 1st Quarter. As for goals next quarter, I guess I should read more books than I did this quarter, and since Marching Band is not yet over because Pasadena and Rose Bowl Parade wants my soul over by the time 3rd Quarter begins, I'll have the free time to read more, so let's try and read 7 books next quarter. In fact, since I only kinda accomplished goal #1 from last quarter, let's try to read a book from a Mystery Genre and a Fantasy Genre, for the variety.

(UNNECESSARY PUBLIC NOTE: I'll make picture dumps of my books down here when I do not have 20 minutes before I go and check out some Band stuff)

The Elizabethan Fashion... Something...

Elizabeth Restricts Fashion

     Our majesty, the Queen, has decreed that effective this 15 June 1574- I give up, nope, I suck at writing in Elizabethan style, I'll just write in present everyday speak so you guys can actually understand me. Ok? Ok. So back in the times of you-know-who as of recent years, Queen Elizabeth passed a few laws called the "Statues of Apparel" which limited what you can wear because apparently people think that wearing cool looking stuff would elevate you to a higher class. (Well, it's actually a bit more complicated than that, but its one of the few reasons.) So she decided to impose restrictions on what the heck you can wear. 

     So one of the major things that the Statues of Apparel limited in terms of what you can wear is anything the color of purple. Because, according to TvTropes, Purple is Powerful purple was the color that was to distinguish the royal family. Only the royal family could wear purple to allow people to distinguish them from other lower forms of nobility.

     Quite interesting to note about the style of the upper class is the quite frankly odd fashion style of men, I mean just look at this dude:

     At the time, the popular fashion for Elizabethan Era Men were "puffy pants or breeches that ended at the knee." I mean, seriously, puffy pants. (Keep in mind also that the dude in that upper picture is wearing a skirt. Just saying)

     Thankfully, the lower class are far more sensibly dressed, being generally poor and not having money to afford for more important things, the lower class tend to avoid extravagant outfits.

See? Much less extravagant... I think

     Anyways, I've ran out of stuff to say about Elizabethan current fashion so I'm just gonna wrap it up here.

Picture This

Picture This (Or don't, because I've pictured it for you.)

Now not a broken image because apparently Google Drive Image URLs don't like Blogger

     My drawing is NOT as you might presume, somebody falling from a cliff while being impaled by a something, its ACTUALLY a person climbing UP a cliff to a tree with red (Red for apples) letters saying "Change". Now then, in my book memoir: The Wild Truth by Carine McCandless, Carine reiterates many times in the second half of the book about the concept of change and the receptiveness of the people subject to it. She described change as something that essentially comes only when people TRULY want to change. I depicted this through a cliff with a tree, symbolizing a new life or a change for a better, at the top. On the side of the cliff, there's a rope climber trying to reach change, symbolizing how change doesn't just "come" to somebody like gift at your Christmas(?) doorstep. Instead, it shows how change is actually something that you must truly want and are willing to work for it in order for it to happen.

     In my book Carine observes this "behavior" of change multiple times, but one of the most notable times she talks about this is where she talks about her husband, Fish, and how he became a meth addict and how she ended up arguing with him about it, she recalls how "Fish pointed out our extreme differences on the matter at hand. I was against any drug use, even the occasional pot smoking. He said that my standards were tough to live up to." (McCandless 167) She then points out that she was always like that and how she doesn't understand why Fish would then marry her. In response, Fish replies how he "'thought you would fix me.'"(McCandless 167), McCandless recalls how Fish's response made her "feel like I'd been cheated. I didn't enter into our marriage with the intention of changing him... Besides, I already knew that change doesn't come to someone who doesn't really want it." (McCandless 167)

     Change is not something that will come all because you become wishy washy for it. Change is something that you have to work for, something that you'll inevitably somehow suffer (Pessimism all the way) while trying to bring about change, but change is something that could be considered a crucial instrument for survival. Change is what keeps us human as a whole and not some mindless machines operating on some schedule.

     But enough philosophy about change today, you people probably have something better to do than read me ramble about change, (Unless you're grading this paper thingymabob, sorry!) so go on, find something better to do then.

1st Quarter Poetry Journal Reflection

Remy

The creature awakes

Long before the sun has revealed her form

To roam and stalk his territory

Eyes wide and black like onyxs

He lurks and watches

The fool gets up and is greeted by this creature

Who endlessly pesters for food until the fool departs

Annoyed and irritated, the creature slinks in the dark corners of its currently dark territory

Until

The sun reveals herself, and in her light

The creature relaxes his muscles

The creature sinks into his perch, his tower, slumbering, and

Bathes in the sun's brilliance

As the Sun fades and ebbs away

The creature awakes

One of the few poems I ACTUALLY like, if only because writing poetry does not come naturally for me, when it comes to poetry, words just don't naturally "come" to me, but this poem came really easily to me, I guess it's because I wrote the poem based off of my cat, Remy:

I pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of Remy, and to the Cat Dictatorship, for which it stands, One World, Under Remy, indivisible with as much food as possible for Remy

Every day, when I get up, I'm always greeted by Remy, who proceeds to constantly pester me over the morning for food.... even though I never feed him (If I feed him, then he tricks my Dad into feeding him as well, and he just becomes very flabby) Anyways, I wrote my poem based of his typical behavior in his day, which as you can see, consists of him waking pestering for food, eating (Not actually mentioned in the poem, but common sense SHOULD dictate that he's fed) and then sleeping. The perch I mentioned in the poem references his little "cat tower" that he always perches on and sun bathes in.

A rare moment where he's actually NOT sleeping on his tower

Anyways, as I wrap up this (admittedly short) reflection, I'd just want to end off with the fact that I really need to figure out another way to write poetry, because the rest of my poems are just cringe worthy bad.

1st Quarter Reading Reflection

1st Quarter Reading Reflection

And so here we are, a total of 9 weeks have come and gone for us, and instead of reading over and over fantasy books of magic and such, I've taken to reading memoirs about nature instead, such as Winterdance, by Gary Paulson: A memoir about Gary Paulson and his preparation for his first race in the Iditarod and the following (comical) troubles he had preparing for the race and racing in general. (Said troubles include nearly getting disqualified and getting absolutely off track) 

Other such nature memoirs I've read include A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson: A memoir about Bill and his companion Katz and their experiences hiking through the Appalachian Trail while having a few humourous (Yes I used the British spelling, does the addition of an "o" really matter that much?) encounters such as with the baffling Mary Ellen, who's notions about hiking are frankly really really stupid  absurd.

Then there was Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer, a book about the 1996 Mount Everest Disaster in which it details Jon's recollection of the events leading up to everything that happened-while admitting that his account may not be accurate due to the circumstances of the disaster (oxygen deprivation).

I also read Falling Leaves: The True Story of an Unwanted Chinese Daughter, a memoir where all I can really express is just one heartbreak after another. (In other words, if you don't wanna read a tearjerker story then this story is NOT for you)

Finally, there was House of Scorpion, a book that's NOT a memoir and is completely fiction, House of Scorpion, is a Science Fiction book that while the beginning might be considered weak (Then again, I have no patience for beginnings) overall is a great book covering the subject of the ethics of human clones (The main character is a clone of the drug lord Matteo Alacran) and the repercussions of being revealed dark secrets that lie in people that you care about.

Overall, I feel like I can expand more into different genres, as I've really only read memoirs (Most of them being about nature) and really only read one fiction book: House of the Scorpion, while reading memoirs are nice, I feel like I can expand into other fictional genres to see what themes they express. Speaking of themes, it's almost interesting that while I enjoyed all of my books, I could only really extract a concrete (well, as concrete as a subjective lesson can be) theme from the one fictional book I read: "House of Scorpion" I'm not sure if this had something to do with how I took my (what's little of it) leisurely time reading or memoirs just are harder to find a theme, I don't know, perhaps because I don't have that much time due to the many extracurricular activities I have I just read things faster than I should, perhaps.

....

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I WAS going to end my reflection there, but then I looked at the pseudo-rubric and realized I missed the required list of 2 goals, which I shall state plainly here:

1. I'll attempt to, in an ironic inversion of my reading goals last year, read more fictional genre books
2. I'll attempt to try and gain more "meaning" from my books, and by "meaning" I mean I'll try harder to figure out a theme from my book

A Poem and Analysis of Something Distinctively Darker Than the Last Post

Breach of Innocence - The Road Kill -

By Seema Joglekar

One sunny noon, while chasing butterflies you & me, 
Tried to unravel the mystery of the birds & the bees, 
We stopped at some broken wings, lying on the ground, splattered, 
Blackish red. To divert your attention I said, 
“See! , There goes a butterfly in your favorite color, 
Pink petals above your head hover.”
But you didn’t move & stood there
Watching, the first sight of destruction & its dark face.

Asked me where the bird went if it lay at your feet
Tattered like your ragged doll, with no tweet, 
Its feathers spread, its face vacant, so still, awake.

You asked me, “If it still lay there within”
“Why it lay there so dirty, muddied.”
“Why doesn’t God clean it up? It’s a poor small bird.”
Questions I have searched answers for an entire life, 
Your innocence springs open the Pandora’s Box.

In detail we inspect & see the ants have a galore, 
You said, ” Kill the ants they are at the bird’’, 
I said; “It doesn’t matter, now God has forgotten, ”
Puzzled you look at me, unsure, unsafe, and no longer protected.
Worried you ask me again –“Then where did it go? ”

I pointed to the skies & said –“It is with God- Up there! ’’! 
You said looking up —“ I don’t see- where? ’’
I said—“God is there but prefers to remain anonymous”
Then you ask –“Then how would you know who he is? ”
“You say he could be anywhere, here –there, ”
I said –“Yes, he is here, I see him in you—your sweet smile”
Again you give me that quizzical look
And with tender hands my arm you took.

We let it be & went ahead instead, 
Me in my daily pursuits, you withheld
By the wonders of childhood. Our separate ways, 
It’s been three summers now, 
Even today when unwell you scream-“A feather in my bed! ”
And again the same question stands, 
And stares at me-bold, daring, emphatic! .

        The theme statement in my narrative is that once innocence is lost, its lost forever, this I've shown through multiple details: The first detail I've shown through this narrative was how I reflected on the stupidity of my assumptions of Ripley's Haunted Attraction, the second detail I've shown through this narrative that demonstrated the theme was my symbol: The kitten climbing up the tree and getting stuck up there and needing outside intervention to get it down, which parallels with my situation with Ripley's Haunted Attraction where I enter it of my own free will, but getting down traumatized (At least, for 4 years) me. Near the end of my narrative is where I imply how innocence is lost forever with the description of how even though my experiences at Ripley's Haunted Attraction was over by then, my face still showed how I was terrified.

        In Breach of Innocence - The Road Kill - Seema Jogelkar is that innocence can be broken unexpectedly and once broken, its broken forever. We can see this through how in the second line of the poem, the narrator describes of how they're playing and then they suddenly just encounter a dead bird, introducing the narrator's sibling[1] to the harshness of death. The poem also goes on where the narrator makes claim that essentially says "God has abandoned us" to the narrator. Though the narrator's sibling uncertainly denies that. The end of the poem shows that the event affected he narrator's sibling more than they originally let on with the line "Even today when unwell you scream- "A feather in my bed!" .

1: Or maybe close friend, the poem is ambiguous to the narrator's relationship to this person, though the 3rd to last line gives the implication of this person to be a sibling.

Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud

"Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud."

Maya Angelou

    Maya Angelou was a African American Poet (You can find more information here) and was a civil rights activists who recently passed away (5/14/2014 to be exact), while she was living she was a strong civil rights activist and was one of the first African American Woman to write a memoir (She's written a couple, but the most famous one is I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings) 

    This quote showcases a philosophy that pessimists might scoff at (Sorry, pessimists out there!) But in all seriousness if you think about it, we've all had our bad days where we've gotten up from the wrong side of the bed (I have no idea where the heck that metaphor came from, is the wrong side of the bed THAT bad?) and just had a generally bad day. But even if you had a bad day, that doesn't mean everyone else does, (Somebody should give me the probability of that, I'm curious now) and that works vice versa, all because you're having a good day, doesn't mean that everyone else is.

  By I'm pretty sure you know what I'm getting at by now: Sometimes there will just be someone you know (Friend, Family, Acquaintance, Anthropomorphic Talking Animal) that is just having a bad day for some reason, and it might just be worth it just try and be that "rainbow" in their "cloud" (Man, that sounded so cliche) The sound of people laughing (hopefully with you and not at you) or just the look of somebody smiling (Assuming it's not some creepy smile) makes the effort of being their "rainbow" worth it, after all, admit it, there was a time when you had a bad day and just somebody made you smile. (Or maybe you just watched a hilariously bad scene- I'm not one to judge) So try to do your best to simply brighten other people's days, people will (hopefully) return the favor when you're down.

   (P.S (Also known as Post Script (Though that makes no sense whatsoever since it's typically after a letter or something, and never after a script)) Here's a random picture from Marching Band Rehearsal (Yes, I know: That's the wrong way to wear a bandanna but hey: It provides minor (EXTREMELY minor) protection from the sun!)

Man I look so weird in that picture.