Roethke’s Poetry Exercise

Roethke’s Poetry Exercise

The eye, hot to bruise itself;

a throat to ruin the cool, soft burn.

A wavering slag to curve red leather

and too sharp to cut a rock.

Blue kiss to mourn belief

of the surprised frog and on its cloud

a tough bite to cut mud

for its once important merriment.

Sing and say, no dog should know

to swing the moon and rightfully lay.

Blush, done, over, anon.

No longer is its revelry.

A Reflection of English 1102

Where to begin, where to begin; I suppose the beginning is as suitable a starting point as any, so here it goes. In the beginning of the semester, to be quite honest, I was a tad skeptical of what this class would be like and how it would play itself out. I previously attended Berry College, which is where I took my English 101 class (the equivalent of 1101 at Georgia Highlands) and can honestly say I thought I had lost it, "It" being the immense love of literature and the written word that I had developed so easily during my High School years.  I graduated from Woodland with every intention of becoming an English major with an education minor; a dream which was diminished single-handedly by one bearded, balding man with an understanding of literature as narrow as my pinky and an ego that could have spanned every square inch of Berry’s 36,000 acre campus.  He took everything I loved and enjoyed about literature and writing and turned it on its head, leaving an unsavory taste in my mouth for what might come. To my pleasant surprise, the first day of class felt like reuniting with an old, beloved friend. “It” had been restored. The structure of the class was so much like what I had experienced in high school that often times some of the readings were even the same, but that was exactly what I needed. A taste of the old, as well as the introduction of the new; a little something to say here is what you loved before, and this is why you loved it. This class has been a haven of sorts for me this semester amongst the midst of daunting math classes, multiple jobs, and the stresses of home. No matter what was happening that week, or what had gotten me down, all I had to do was think “I’ll have English tomorrow” and everything else seemed to be okay. It has been a wonderful journey, and I was blessed with a class who truly cares (or can at least fake it very well) and that has made it even more than I could have ever imagined it to be. And we cannot forget the teacher,  a teacher that has such an infectious passion that made even those who before wouldn’t have given literature a second glance, the confidence to voice their opinions and reactions on a daily basis. Every element of this class seemed to come together in a way so perfect in its imperfections, that my passion and adoration of literature has been once again restored. I am genuinely sad to see it come to an end.

My Car

This is not my car.
Infected with rust,
no longer whole.
A Frankenstein of motor vehicles,
original parts missing,
defined by the replacements.
This is not my car.

Unfamiliar.
Touchy Steering.
Sensitive Pedals.
No. Control.
This is not my car.

Defined by age,
lousy with experience.
Miles on miles on miles,
But this is not my car.

My car is
controllable,
innocent,
"reliable."

Been nowhere.
Going nowhere.
Getting there fast.
This is my car.

Fresh paint,
Matching tires.
Seemingly Perfect
Fearfully Sheltered
This is my car.

In the "now."
Much like most.
Invisible.
Judge if you must,
Because this is my car.

Library Spectacle, Class Debacle

Last Wednesday, in celebration (or recognition, depending on how you look at it) of Woman's History Month the Drama class volunteered their time and efforts to speak to what portion of the student body wanted to listen, or just the portion that needed extra credit perhaps, to bring light to the true nature of Woman's History Month. By highlighting quotes, poems, stories, and memoirs authored or spoken by Women throughout history and in the present day, these students brought forth the issue of gender equality (or lack thereof) in global society. This demonstration later sparked quite the conversation in class. Both those who did and did not see the scene in the library had something to say. For the most part we seemed to have similar core beliefs on the issue and everyone was quick to voice said beliefs. I did not, rather, I sat back and listened. Absorbing the mayhem that unfolded around me, I waited for the opportunity to be persuaded by or at least further informed on the ideas of others. I know what my beliefs are, and because I am in fact a woman, I can assume that others might be able to guess my general position on the subject as well. What I discovered in class is that I am a tad less feminist than I had originally perceived myself to be. Don't get me wrong, I am still all for girl power, but I also believe more in the power of the individual now, than I ever have before. What I realized once we were dismissed from class on Wednesday was that it is not an issue of gender, but an issue of individual people making poor or misinformed decisions or judgments based on lack of open-mindedness, which in my personal opinion develops with the continuation of formal education. It was touched on in class, and I truly believe this with every fiber of my feminine being, that until the individual chooses to educate him or herself we will always live in a world in which "issues" of race, gender, social class, mental and physical ability and so on will cause prejudices and hate to prosper in a place where it could be so easy for love to grow.

Hypocrisy At Its Finest

This instance that I have experienced (and continue to experience) is less of a situation that directly involved me, but is more of something that I observe a friend do. There is a friend of mine whom I have attended church with on a regular basis since 5th grade; when I moved to Cartersville. Without fail, every Sunday, he was at the service. Even more than that he is an active member in the church's youth program and always takes the annual mission trip in the summer. During the fall semester of our junior year of high school (so about 4 years ago now) he took an astrology class, which completely altered his religious beliefs to the extreme that a once devout Christian is now an Athiest. The hypocrisy occurs in the fact that he still regularly attends church, and youth group, sings the songs, prays the prayers, and thinks all of it is a giant crock. He lies to the congregation on a weekly basis in doing this, and comits hypocrisy in its most basic form. After talking to him about this he has made it clear that he likes the people, and church is the only time he gets to see his "friends" so he will continue the facade until it no longer pleases him to do so. But plainly; he is a liar, and he is pretending to be someone he is not for personal gain. Hypocrisy.

Thoughts to share

So this week the blog post was to be a free range, go for it, all out, anything you want type of post. And although my mind is a buzz with thoughts and ideas I feel most of them are best kept to myself most of the time. One in particular feels like its okay to share, however. In the last two years, and especially in these last few months I have been truely figuring out who I am as a person. This has been a question I have been struggling with throughout my teen years, and continuously brushed off because I am still young and it isn't something that should matter right now, but more and more lately the answer has been unfolding before my very eyes. I have learned through talks with people, job choices, and overall decisions that I have been making recently that I know exactly who I am supposed to be. Though the explination of who I am would be quite lengthy I can take comfort in myself knowing that I now have this knowledge. And who knows, the journey ahead is still long, and I might realize that I am who I am meant to be at this moment only, but for now I feel like I have a purpose and fulfilling it here and now has given me more satisfaction than I can ever express.

Troy Maxon: Bitter Rasist or Product of his Time?

Fences, a play by August Wilson, portrays the life of negro trash collector Troy Maxon and his family. Throughout the play many slang and derogatory terms are thrown about in regards to African- Americans and whites alike,  and at first glance it may appear that Troy himself is a rasist, but upon further inspection it becomes clear that he is only a product of the time in which he lives. In a broader analyzation of things we see that Troy is a character (created by Wilson) who is cleverly used to comment on the real-life senarios that played out in Wilson's own reality. Wilson used the characters to highlight the progression of negros in society during the early 80's even though the play was set in the 50's when rasism ran rampant (just some alliteration for you). Troy thought very highly of the African American community and his use of words such as "nigger" were terms of endeerment and showed progression of society's tolerance. There was still a definite seperation in Troy's mind about the social standings of whites and blacks during this era, but it wasn't the spiteful seperation. Troy Maxon was not a racist, he was simply brought up in a way that in today's much less rasist world may appear that way.

Material World

In Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller, Willy Loman strives to make something of his life, and desperately wants the same for his children. In the play, his neighbor Charlie says to him "The only thing you got in this world is what you can sell." The neighbor finds it amusing that he (Willy) is a salesman and he seems not to know this. I believe what Charlie is really saying here (or what Miller wants us to take away) is that all his life Willy has sold himself short, and everything he could wish to have in order to be happy are all things he already possesses. He has a house that's almost paid off, a devoted and caring wife, and two healthy sons. Willy; however, is too obsessed with the material. When it comes down to it in Willy's mind the only things he has that matter to him are the material possessions that can be sold and easily replaced. Charlie is trying to tell him to open his eyes. See that there is more to life than being a salesman until the day he dies. In this time period it is a noble and expected thing to have a good job, make good money, and support the family you have, but in the end that is what matters, not sales numbers or promotions, but the love and support of the ones you are doing this all for in the first place. Willy seems to have lost sight of a lot of things, but most significantly the love he has in the home he has fostered. Charlie is trying to open his eyes to that. Americans today are much the same as Willy. With our fast-paced, get-to-the-top mentality we are quickly losing our morals and values and placing them on impermanent things like money and social stature. America needs a wake-up call like the one Charlie gave to Willy.

American Dream Revisited

I realize that I have already posted in response to the "What is the American Dream" prompt, and I know that this may never even be read by anyone, but I cannot stop thinking about it and wanted to get it out there. And besides, whats a blog for anyways, but I digress. The other day, upon completion of what I thought was a very acceptable answer as to what I thought the American dream was, I put on my headphones to escape from reality and something struck me. It was "Song for the Suburbs" by Ben Rector. I have liked the song since I got the CD months ago, but I never really listened to the words until they became relevant to me. The song begins by saying "This American Dream is/ Not what it seems/ Maybe we're still breathing/ but we're all asleep." This brought to light for me that the word "dream" in its most literal and basic understanding to me is just that; a dream. Dreams are what we have when the harsh reality of life scares us into thinking what we have isn't good enough. And then I heard towards the end of the song the verse "If this dream is what your after/ Then Dreaming is where you'll stay." Dreams as we see them are limitless, and to put a cap on our dreams is only limiting our chances for happiness and success in life. Dreams are had, goals are accomplished. I believe it is important to have a dream, don't get me wrong, but goals are the things we wish for and strive to make happen. Dreams are the things reality can't foster. As the song goes; "I want to live, until I die" and this is what has been resonating with me so frequently since the last post. Life is meant for living. If all we ever do is sit in the present and hope for a better future, then the time we have now is lost forever. I say a dream is good, have a dream, but don't make the accomplishment of that dream the sole basis for your happiness. Set goals and work to attain them, but more importantly than all that, live your life the way you want. It is yours, and you only get one. Don't limit yourself, just BE yourself. In retrospect I suppose that is what our modern version of this American way of living is. We have that freedom, the freedom to be whoever we want to be, and do whatever we want to do. So from now on I am done working towards what society thinks is my "dream." I am who I am and knowing that I have the freedom to do with that what I wish is my American dream.

A Casting Call of Sorts

Death of a Salesman was a play written in the late 1940's by Arthur Miller, depicting the life of an average American family desperately chasing the American dream ideal. Over the years, it has portrayed by countless companies, and high schools alike, and each has had to face the task of casting each of the roles by finding the most appropriate actors for each part. Death of a Salesman has also seen its day on the cinematic screen in the 1985 rendition starring Dustin Hoffman. Casting a role can be a difficult process, because often the casting director may search for qualities in each actor that are similar to those of the role they audition for; however, in reality, all you need is an actor willing to set his or her personal attributes aside and become fully enveloped in the role of the character they have been chosen to play. The actors I have chosen to star in my faux production of the work are those which I feel are capable of becoming the characters they are chosen to play. These actors may have also starred in other productions in which they proved they were able to play certain parts, and that was the criteria for the actors I have chosen.  

For the role of Willie Loman, Jeff Bridges. I feel as if Jeff Bridges could portray quite nicely the role of an average, aged, working class male in search of a better life for himself and his family. From starring in old westerns to new comedies, Jeff Bridges has shown that his acting ability is far beyond many of the other candidates to be considered for this role. Bridges is also good at "crazy" which may come in handy before the conclusion of the play.

As for Linda Loman, I would choose Meryl Streep. Lets be honest, there isn't much that Meryl can't do. I also chose her because I actually do feel as if she would be able to draw from her own personality, making the role of Linda truly come to life. Linda is a very loyal spouse to Willy, and plays the role of what "wife" was supposed to mean during the time which this play is set, but there is also a strength in her that many people may miss while reading the play. She is much stronger than Willy is in an emotional sense. We get the impression often that Willy has swayed her into his way of thinking, but that is all part of the facade that she puts on in order to offer the support a wife is supposed to offer. In reality Linda is a strong-willed, emotionally stable woman, who is also dutiful to her husband. That is why I would have Meryl Streep cast as Linda. 

As for the brothers, Biff and Happy, I based my decision on roles that these gentlemen currently play.

I would cast Chris Pratt as Biff based on his current role as Andy on Parks and Recreation. Biff is a likable character. Though he may not be as book-smart as most, he is a strong person who is able and willing to work with his hands, and has a kind heart, making his presence enjoyable to most people. Though his approval from his father is important to him, I don't feel as if it is as strong as Willy's desire for Biff to try to gain that approval. Overall I feel as if Pratt would do an astounding job playing the role of Biff.

Happy would be played by John Krasinski, better known for his role as Jim on The Office, I actually cast John for the role he played in Leatherheads as Carter. John would be the more stable, more reliable younger sibling who is living in his less-educated older brothers shadow. 

As for what I have read of Death of a Salesman, I am very confident in my choices and am curious to see how the story unfolds and develops, and which of my characters I may have to end up re-casting. 

My American Dream

A house, a job, and 3.2 kids. The white picket fence. A fancy car. Many people define the American dream in many different ways. It is different now than it was 40 years ago, and even 20 years ago the American dream was different than the way people view it now. A lot has changed over the decades, but one thing still remains true. Anything can be accomplished through hard work. I believe the American dream is to get higher education (whether or not that helps in the long run is up to you), find a career (not a job) that you are passionate about and love more often than not, and the rest is completely dependent on what makes you happy. To say that the dream is to have a family or to drive a certain car is unfair to those who do not wish that for their lives, but just because they don't hold value in those things doesn't mean they aren't living their version of the American dream. That is the beauty of America, we are free to dream the dreams the way we want to dream them. In short, I would say one who has accomplished the American dream is one who has worked hard and gotten themselves to a state in which they are happy more often than they are not. Happiness, in whichever way you as an individual choose to accomplish that, is the American dream in my opinion.

Memories in Abundance: of Lobster

Immediately after reading the prompt my mind took me back. Not to one particular memory, but to every memory I could muster up in my mind of the times my family and I took trips to a beach. Any beach, Panama City, Orange, Myrtle, Tybee, you name it, if there is a beach out there that I have been to there is only one thing I can think of that brings all those memories rushing back like the waves on those shores. Lobster. Seems trivial that such a simple thing, and food no less, is the one shared memory I have of all these trips. After all, a vacation to the beach is not a vacation unless you eat lobster at some point before making the long voyage back home. Even in the large 16 person circus I call "family;" that can never seem to get along on any other day of the year (even Christmas brings arguments of one sort or another), all seem to come together in perfect unison when we go on vacation with each other. Its like with each changing of the tide on shore, comes a "changing of the" of sorts in my family as well. As if the waves washing on shore are washing over my family and allowing us to forget about all other strife's if only for that week, cleansing us of worry and doubt. We become closer for that week, and for a short period of time I get just a small, brief glimpse of the true bond we share. It truly is a beautiful thing, and in turn, swoons me with precious memories I will treasure forever. Yes the lobster is good, and for some reason always tastes better when eating it on an outdoor patio that overlooks the ocean, but nothing beats the quality family time and memories made there on those white, sandy shores.

Recent Meal

The other night my family and I had lasagna for dinner. Our lasagna was paired with garlic bread and salad.
This meal consisted of:

• Stouffer's Family Size Box Lasagna (frozen).
• Pepperidge Farms Garlic Toast (frozen).
• Salad
• 1 Head of lettuce from Ingles
• Grape Tomatoes, also from Ingles
• Kraft's shredded cheese
• Hormel Bacon Bits
• Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing

Absolutely nothing I had for this dinner was "fresh" by any standards,and even more disturbing, this is a typical pattern in my daily eating habits which is very disturbing to me when put into perspective. Many of the meals I eat are "Family Size" frozen dinners, which due to the time constraints my family has to deal with, in conjunction with the ease of popping a frozen hunk of false Italian into the oven, makes for a simple fix to the common question "What's for dinner?" I know that time is always an issue for my family between school, work, ball games, and the hustle and bustle of everyday life that comes with living in a 9 person household, but it would be nice to maybe eat something that wouldn't withstand a nuclear holocaust every once in a while.

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