Posts

an internal monologue

i still remember one distinct afternoon in freshman year, coming home from school after being dropped off my neighbor who happened to routinely chauffer me to and from school on days when my parents jobs stretched across the majority of the hours in the day, and sending myself into a sort of panic as i punched in the code to the garage door. as an adult reading this, it may be funny to think about how high schoolers tend to perceive levels of seniority as more mature or deserving of respect (or fear). i get that all four years are still babies on the grand scale, but i do believe that there is a large difference between a younger teenager who is closer to 10 and an older one who is closer to 20. personally, i spent my "closer to ten" years being told that i was very mature for my age in comparison to my peers. of course, i did not understand until later that this was not because of some grand disposition that i had been born with or admirably raised to be, but from traumatic

waiting for godot: what not to do

this is something i already wrote a little bit about in my discussion post. didi and gogo are maybe not consciously but purposely providing these placeholders for themselves as they wait for godot, even though we don't know what or who godot really is. writing as someone who is yet to see the full story play out, i feel like there must come some point in time in which they are brought to question their motives and reason for constantly extending their waiting in hopes of godot's arrival. i'm waiting for a moment of doubt and reflection that will make some sense out of the varying stability and flow of this plot, but now having familiarized myself with the basics of absurdist media, i know that most likely will never come. .. just like godot. that's the thing that i keep coming back to with absurdism, i immediately provide myself with a conclusion because it's the answer that i would search for in my personal perspective. and then absurdism comes in and throws whatev

three brain cells = one essay

 sitting here with my potato chips fighting for my life trying to think of a good blog idea rn lol ok i got one (it's been 15 minutes) believe it or not, it's actually easier to write an essay when you have two other people helping you write it and only a handful of hours before said essay is due to be turned in. you'll never believe the type of stuff you and some group project members could crank out when running against a deadline!! that's what happened to me and my pals last week, sorry to snitch and possibly disappoint you mrs feldkamp, but it's the truth for most likely the majority of your students. but you're a teacher, so you probably already know that. i definitely would have endured a lot more mental distress and turmoil and suffering And And And if it had just been me writing that essay, so it's very nice to have people to experience communal suffering with! i love that we have a lot of partner projects in this class, it takes a lot of the academi

life update: starting to hate poetry a little less

shocking and revolutionary statement-- i think i'm starting to figure out ways that i can enjoy poetry! the mentor poet assignment actually helped me discover a lot of poetry that i really enjoyed. doing research on audre lorde made me realize that maybe not all poetry is just boring symbolism and metaphors about nature or the vagina by annoying and dusty white men or suffragettes, and that's the type of poetry i'm going to keep an eye out for. after learning a lot more about her for my project, i have such a huge respect and admiration for audre-- as a writer, as an anti-capitalist, as a queer woman. it's strange how much someone can imprint on you in such a short amount of time, i really did not start working on this presentation until last night. this poem specifically , when i was reading it i just went.. damn . i don't know, i guess this is literally so simple and i guess i'm just an idiot for not thinking about it, but maybe Looking For Themes That Entice

here's a post for you

the following is the notebook entry i wrote last week after we were asked to reflect on poetry and what it means to us on a personal note. there are probably going to be format issues since i wrote it on my phone.  I  think I resist poetry because i don’t understand it and i am too lazy to try and figure it out. I guess that makes me look pretty good if i’m willing to admit it but that’s the truth. I have gone through my academic career ignoring poetry as much as possible. I remember my dislike for poetry beginning in the 8th grade. I hated learning about sonnets and lyrics and AB AB or whatever, it was annoying to try to memorize and it made me angry. And then we had to go and write poems and it’s like, I’m thirteen what do you want from me, and then my poem got reported to the counselor for being concerning. Like goddamn I can only express my trauma I don’t have anything else to write about!!! AND THEN Mr. Bodick's class rest his soul truly but i remember once again trying to mem

i don't like movies and sorry this is late

Image
alright so i have not seen any three of the movies suggested to write this blog post because i dont care about them and i was originally just going to let the senioritis overcome me and take the L on this assignment, but ridaa has convinced me to do it. therefore, i will be utilizing the informational and educational resources of google and wikipedia to write this week's blog post about the parallels between siddartha and star wars .  me looking at the prompt for this luke skywalker is just a sad orphan living on a farm with his aunt and uncle, and siddartha is the son of a brahman who is following in his father's footsteps and is full of potential. in siddartha , the call to adventure will be classified as when siddartha, as a young man, decides to leave his family and the life of a brahman to embark on a pilgrimage to find himself and reach enlightenment. in star wars , this happens in a similar manner when luke skywalker discovers that his aunt and uncle have been killed and

reflection

when this year first started, i wasn't exactly confident in the educational merit it would bring as my last year of high school in a newly-normal period of history. while this wariness is still prominent in a handful of my other classes, this english class has actually proved to be a pleasantly surprising challenge. something that immediately comes to mind is my improvement with the in-class essay. though nothing can ever change the sinking feeling of dread and horror that one feels when sixty minutes are allotted for you to somehow transform your muddled thoughts into expectedly eloquent words, i really think that i've gotten a lot better at the ICE in this one semester than i have over the span of a couple years-- and i'm pretty confident in my explanation as to how. the answer is technology. i've always hated hand writing essays, they always end up way too messy and my thoughts are never put down onto paper the way they are arranged in my mind, and i often find mysel