I have relocated to earthtoellenphants.wordpress.com for the time being, but you never know... some new posts may pop-up here occasionally ;)
Here's to a fresh start...
I have relocated to earthtoellenphants.wordpress.com for the time being, but you never know... some new posts may pop-up here occasionally ;)
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Junior year has been a roller coaster. A coaster of emotions, energy and stress for many. I think that many of my peers have finally experienced so many of the various pressures that our parents forewarn us about. Honestly, junior year has given me several glimpses to the real life of a very real world. However, English III AP is special in that I believe it is one of the few English classes that has been able to broaden such an experience. As we have begun to grow up, we begin to treasure the little bits and pieces of precious information that we may attain, but I never thought that an English class or even any class at school would actually be able to play a role in that.
We've discussed various themes with characters undergoing their own trials as we attempt to navigate our busy high school lives. In similar ways to the characters of novels that we've read this year, we are grasping our own understandings--where we must begin to discover ourselves; what we value the most or even what we should choose not to value, and the difference between right, wrong and the small increments in the blur of in-between. That being said, this year of English was no breeze. We've endured several timed writings; for some of us, our first stand up tests; a research essay that required actual research; various practice AP tests, and blitz week. None of the things listed above may have been any sorts of life-changing, and may not stick with you for the rest of your life; however, all the different topics mentioned in class that you felt like you could relate to should leave at least some sort of imprint. It may be the lightest of prints like those that last only a few seconds on memory foam or the impact may lay deep in your soul. No matter the force of effect, I hope that we will all be able to appreciate this class and take from it at least an inkling of new knowledge into the future. Good luck to all of us as we continue to embark on this journey that we call life. In order to transcend.. oh wait, actually transcendentalism has no concrete "steps" to accomplish the process of transcending. Rather, transcendentalism is a philosophical concept that is very spiritual and involves being in touch with nature in regards to how one may live their life. Transcendentalism is still relevant in modern terms like various fundamental ideas such as not conforming to society, being true to yourself, and implementing nature into your lifestyle. The song Cigarette Daydreams by Cage The Elephant and the specific lyrics "Looking for the answers in the pouring rain; You wanna find peace of mind" remind me about how transcendentalism came to be and how people are often able to find a peace of mind in nature. Furthermore, the line "If we could find a reason, a reason to change" can relate to the process of "trying to transcend". Enjoy the song! I miss you. Not going to avoid any truths, but just candidly say it as it is. I still think of you all too much. I know in no way will you find out, and that's alright for now, but it's still my loss. I continuously think you might just carry a similar vacancy in your soul. I may find a wishing for a mourning to occur within you, but all that shows as I pass by you is a nonchalant look of sorts. I justify my sad mood by listing how important your part was. In fact, I think you'll always hold a part of my thoughts. I constantly bring about all things that apply to you although I should not do so.
Confidant. Companion. Always at hand. Now, all I can hang on to is nostalgia. So many songs you would link during a long night of studying. Hours of chats, and our laughs at night abandon this world. Although folks call you intimidating, I mostly saw your passion. I probably was impartial, but now I can say that you try too hard to mask your optimum traits. How caring you would act, and you always stuck to what you thought was right. Many contacts insist upon a position on you and how you act, but I think I truly know you, and I miss you. I call the receptionist just to verify my appointment. After dropping off my two kids at daycare, I roll into the parking lot of my oral surgeon's office, and run into the building. The receptionist, a young blonde lady in her early twenties, greets me with an overly-warm welcome, and a wide-mouthed showy smile. Soon, I am called in to begin prep for my surgery. I will be getting all four of my wisdom teeth removed.
The doctor, Dr. Dom, slowly lowers the mask over my nose and mouth, and the world slowly turns black . . . I feel my body moving as the blurriness slowly comes into focus. I awaken and attempt to lift my hand to rub the sleep out of my eyes, but find my left wrist in a handcuff latched to a briefcase. Quickly, I stand up and dig through my pockets to find a thick padded, folded paper that is yellowed with age. I slowly unfold the paper with my right hand. Layer after layer after layer. . .blank . . .the note appears completely blank as I continuously flip it from back to front. In my bewilderment, I forget to survey my surroundings. After a quick glance over, I realize that I am in a single moving empty train car. The only thing to be found in the entire car is a postcard-sized note on the ceiling that says, "IT'S HAPPENING." I sink to my knees, and attempt to open the briefcase, an old leathery brown covering with a large gold clasp. As soon as I undo the clasp, the briefcase swings wide open. Inside lies a single pen made of ethereal glass, and a sliver of paper which reads, "Use Careful, Be Wareful. Only once may you see." After clicking the pen, a violet-white light begins to illuminate from within the fragile glass container. Perhaps, the light would work like in those detective movies, I think to myself. Slowly, I move the light over my blank paper, and the word "NOW" appears. The glass pen bursts into a million tiny shards in the air as the briefcase slams shut and rams into my side as if blown by a gust of wind, and suddenly a wave of sleepiness causes me to drift into dream. I rub the blurriness out of my eyes as the world comes to focus . . . https://statuskuo2k14.wordpress.com/2015/03/15/b-o-o-spells-oklahoma-university/comment-page-1/#comment-24
https://marynotsocontrary.wordpress.com/2015/02/26/the-day-my-life-changed-forever-kinda/comment-page-1/#comment-39 https://radiantandreceptive.wordpress.com/2015/03/29/my-oversized-chihuahua/comment-page-1/#comment-30 That's Just Me
poem by ellen li I don't love who I was; I don't like who I am; I don't know who I will be. But, that's just me. Ralph Ellison begins by talking about how obtaining "the minimum sense of diversity and variety" is "a big challenge, and still is a big challenge," and how there are "so many excuses with not trying to grapple with it" (:26 to :40). This is still extremely evident even now in our society. Many times, we either brush aside the difficulties surrounding the issue of a sense of a diversity or we even simply overlook the fact that this is still an issue, a big challenge, that needs to be resolved.
As a writer, Ellison addresses the role of such issues in writing. He admits that "the unity of the American experience beyond all considerations of class, of race or of religion are all very very important" for writers; especially, since "the nation is still in the process of discovering itself" (4:40 to 5:00). In my opinion, this statement applies to society, and not just what is necessary for writers to do. Taking considerations of class, race, and religion are all extremely prevalent for a person to remain aware and not ignorant. Since we are still developing as a country where issues of diversity continue to exist, we are forced to take a stance on these problems. Furthermore, Ellison implies that writers must do the same and contribute to the nation's growth. Ellison's commentary reveals some insight on his view of things, which reflects many of the ideas in his novel, Invisible Man. Later, Ellison reads an excerpt from part of another work, Juneteenth, which begins with "They cut out our tongues and left us speechless. They cut out our tongues. Lord, they left us without words. Amen! They scattered our tongues in this land like seed. And, they left us without language. They took away our talking drums" (20:25 to 20:45). Although I haven't actually read this piece before, what Ellison read aloud made me make a connection between how Ellison felt about his voice as an author with his being an African American writer. However, he speaks strictly as an American writer when mentioning "techniques of eloquence," and with that seems moves past any other labels. |
ellen lia being on this earth purposeless items:
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