REFLECTION : Part two

When I'm reading a really good book
That's Loki BTW, for the uncultured amongst us

I love the idea of reading. It makes me cultured,less ignorant and powerful. Powerful because reading is linked to education. And throughout history, to limit the power of people you take away their education. It even happens today. Education is power. And if you're not educated you wouldn't even know that education is power. I'm lucky enough to take advantage of it. But still, I am a regular American teenager. I get lazy and I only enjoy books based on the content. And reading was a challenge this year because after school, there's post-school. School after school. And  I don't have the time to read. Track, volunteer, training, etc. And homework doesn't help either. The biggest obstacles were finding books to read. My best reading experience this year was probably Infinite Jest even though I barely got through it because it has to be the hardest book to get through. You really have to focus on what's going on. The worst experience was... uh.. there really was none. Last time I got lost in a book was Divergent and The Help. You just get sucked in. You get adopted by the characters, you're now apart of their lives. It's not that important that I choose my own books. I mean books are books, their value isn't deterred by how they were discovered. Future goals:read faster, read longer, and more intellectual books.

When Blogging makes you feel
 like a philosopher

Blogging was cool. It was interesting seeing how my reflection on books reflects and translates into real life. My blogs ultimately end up turning into an analysis of society. But books reflect life , no matter how ugly and disgusting life is. It's real. I can appreciate that. Blogging publicly online, from a superficial standpoint, makes you pay more attention on your content, grammar, and ignorance. On a deeper level though. blogging online allows you to see patterns in your reading and provides and outlet for you to spout whatever nonsense you want. And if the reader doesn't like it, they don't have to read it. I don't really have any suggestions because our class honestly had the most liberal blogging requirements than any other class. If anyone complains about the dates they don't know how good they have it. It could be worse.

Pretty much speaks for itself

Ehhh... Freshmen year....As a student I realized the value of an A. At first I thought it was just something that you should always get. But it's not as easy anymore. Thankfully I was able to accomplish all A's in all classes but still.This year you have to actually study too. As a person I learned that you need connections. And people are two-faced. Things that seemed important once aren't as important anymore. People can see the fake now a days. Cruelty is weakness. Track was fun. It was fun showing up the upperclassmen. Age doesn't matter. Don't put yourself in a box for other people. There is no list. You don't have a reserved slot. Sophomore year goals (superficially): Study more. suck up to teacher (need though recommendations), join more clubs. On a deeper note, be less honest. I know that sounds terrible, but being a straightforward person can get you in trouble. Smile more because apparently I'm too serious, which can be lead with being perceived as unapproachable and intimidating. And do what I want. Draw, write, workout, sleep, drive, whatever. You gotta do this for yourself. Pleasing others is tiring and isn't rewarded.

IN A WORD, A SLICE OF PERSPECTIVE.....By Mary Schmich

After reading In a Word..., I think the author wants the reader to feel grateful and reflective. I think the author wants the audience to reflect on their own "portions" in life and if they might have overreacted when they didn't get their way. The column also makes the reader feel conflicted and makes us wonder want makes something more valuable than something else. Is material things like "granite counter-tops"(21) more valuable than not  being "abandoned by [your] family"(23).
Mary Schmich wants the audience to remember most is that people are blinded by what other have that they can't see what they have. This creates the illusion that the privileges we have are really just standard necessities.
The purpose of the column is to make the readers reflect on their own situations and lives and think about current events and how others are losing more than they ever would. It also makes the reader reflect on the defintion of value and how we get in the situations we're in. Like why does this person have more than me and is it something I can control.
The author often uses diction to almost exaggerate situations and show that no matter how bad things are they could be worse. Like when Schmich says how her sister, with a mental illness "literally trembles with medicine and the fluctuations of a troubled mind" (23). This situation sounds pretty hard and the struggled is emphasized with the hyperbole "Trembles with medicine". But then the author continues to show that someone else has it worse.
This column makes you wonder what it means to have truly nothing. It also shows society that the value of something is in the eyes of the beholder. Cause a man can lose his family in an earthquake but and to him, he has nothing, but it's still better than those who are dead. But maybe that man would rather die than live without his family. People make things valuable. Gold be worth anything if no one wanted it. Our generation is known as the ME-generation or the selfish generation. This article could be targeted to those consumed with those who have more and need to be more grateful. Overall this column shows us we need to look through the perspective and that jealously is inevitable because we all value somethings more than other.

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL

Temp season is active and it seems like everybody is learning how to drive. This includes me. So I tried to balance studying for my test with independent reading. But anyway Counting sevens is getting easier to read. Willow was staying with her friend Mai after Willow's parents died. But then a social worker came and took Willow to take her to a foster home of some sort. But when she was waiting in the home she saw for the first time a newspaper of her parents death with an actual picture of her parents totaled van. She passed out like any normal human would do and hit her "glabella"(you need to read the book to get the reference). It was a pretty serious injury and Willow was rushed to the hospital, where after getting nine, not seven, stitches, she ran away. Willow's old counselor Dell Duke in notified and he asks Mai if she would have any idea where Willow is. This part surprised me because Mai didn't seem the least bit concerned about Willow running away as if she knew that's what she needed. It was kind of strange. Right now the goal is the find some type of climax or turning point because it almost feels as if the death of Willow's parents was rushed and it doesn't get anymore dramatic than that. I try to come up with criteria of what makes something a good book, or what I like about books but I can't seem to make a rubric. I know what I like and I'll enjoy it when I see it. It's been a long time since I've found a book that I would hold on my lap and read during class. A book that I was so desperate to get back to that I would try to finish my classwork early. I haven't found that book yet. The last book that made me feel like that was Divergent.

Keeping it Short & Simple...

I realized that I didn't conclude Salvage The Bones. It ended simply and sweetly and shortly, which is how I'm trying to write this post. Short and simple. It was a good read. I dragged it out a little larger than I would have liked to but I wasn't a bad book. It was an on-and-off kind of book. Some parts were interesting and moved fast, others were slow and dragged on. In the end Esch and her family are on a life threatening adventure. Their house floods to the ceiling and they have to escape from to the roof through the attic. They some how have to jump from roof to roof with glass and wind and debris whipping them around. They carry their dog China and her puppies but ultimately the puppies are lost and when they finally get to safety, China leaves in the storm to find her puppy. Esch's brother Skeetah who is China's true owner goes after her.

The storm dies and the family observe the aftermath. That's pretty much how the book ends. They find Skeetah at their house which is now  ruined. China is still lost but he has hope. I guess the book is about hope.
Oh yeah, while they're fighting for their lives, they find out Esch is pregnant. The father at first is stunned and almost seems angry. But after the storm he shows he cares more about Esch and her brothers and will take care of her. It's an a'ight book. I like open-minded things.
I am continuing COUNTING SEVENS. I want to read Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. Be part of the controversy.

Counting by SEVENS..

Unable to make a choice on my next quick read by myself, I've resorted to recommendations. So here's basically a quick summary of what I've read so far. It's so far about an ambiguously racial genius who has to attend counseling for being so misunderstood. Tragedy strikes  very early in the book and right now my character, Willow Chance, is dealing with it.
Counting by 7s, by Holly Goldberg Sloan seems like a mid-sized book, but is actually a easy read. Me, a very slow reader, is moving through it pretty fast. It has a fairly small amount of words on a page. Sloan clearly is going for a more of an artistic approach in her writing. She often changes perspective, ignores chronological order, and has a poetic-like way of speaking through her characters. It almost feels like sort of overly forced artistry, but I sometimes use the same techniques when I write, and I try to avoid hypocrisy. It's an easy read, but characters sometimes annoy me as usual. Especially Willow's so-called counselor, Dell Duke.
SPOILER ALERT: the tragedy is that Willow's parents die in a car crash after finding out the mother has cancer. They were returning from the hospital when a emergency vehicle & their car collided. The IRONY. It's painful.
Anyway.one thing that always bothered me in stories is that authors can't seem to reach or describe the deepest and realest and painful-est emotions. Like who can put into words what it feels like to lose a loved one?Cliche phrases used are, "My world came crashing down". We have to use metaphors and similes and hyperboles to describe the rawest parts of the human experience. Some things are too real to be recorded maybe.
As an observer of the human society I have realized that people are of afraid of real life. The moment real life enters television or books or music, it has to be censored. We have to protect the children from real life. Maybe books are supposed to be cheery and easy escapes from a dark and evil world. But I don't want to use books as an escape. I want the dark and evil and real stuff from the world personified and made easier to understand. I want to learn from the evil to understand human nature and see things the way they're supposed to be seen. Well it's easy for me to say cause I've never really been censored. I remember my favorite childhood author was Judy Blume. I read through all her books from Fudge to Iggie's House and even Are You There God, It's me Margret. I read all her kid books by the time I hit fourth grade. Then one day I discovered something called the YA section and Judy Blume had books there... Let's just say things went over my head. One thing about kids who have parents that make them read a lot is that you plow through books pretty fast. And soon all the young popular books get old and go exploring into different sections of the library. I taught myself a lot of things growing up.
But that's because the books I read were about real life. I can now look back on them and understand what they meant.

DOVER BEACH... Extension

Keeping her head down, eyes running along the sidewalk, vision moving faster than her own feet Mrs.Phelps shuffled home. Foreign tears curled around her face, they were children. She the motherland, them the citizens unable to build civilization. Crying was a strange thing. Only occurring in the privacy of one's own home. And even then you can distract yourself. Don't think, don't think don't think. The family,the shells , the pills, the family, the shells, the...Mrs. Phelps's mantra. Crying originated from the eyes, invaded the throat. It swelled and muffled, sometimes escaping in desperate bursts of hiccups and gasps.  It was late. Every blink was like a light switch, homes becoming dark, silent. The sidewalk seemed to glow in the dark. Mrs. Phelps paid unusually close attention to the sidewalk. Eyes tracing the cracks. She found herself moving along the path of the small fractures.
"I wonder how those got there," Mrs. Phelps thought. She shook herself.
"I doesn't matter. Cracks in the sidewalk. Doesn't matter. Has no value to me. A waste of time. Being happy, that's not a waste of time. What silly thoughts. Must be those books. Making me think unnecessary thoughts. Moon looks pretty. Against the sidewalk. Almost moon-blanched, the sidewalk. NO. Stop thinking, stop thinking. Stop thing about thinking. Stop thinking about stop thinking about thinking." Mrs. Phelps's internal struggle. Her feet moved faster into the night, up her steps, hands moving swiftly along the fingerprints scanner. She waved once,twice, so frantic to get in the house. Feeling as if her thoughts were outside and they wouldn't follow her in her safe book free home. She eventually got in. But her own mind followed her in. Overwhelmed with racing thoughts she tried leaned against her walls trying to support herself. While simultaneously trying to escape her self. The family, an escape, the family. She half sprinted to the family. Must distract herself. Colors crawled up the walls creating a new world. Something Mrs. Phelps could be a part of without being mentally a part of. Her family looked happy. They were happy. Unlike that family in Montag's blasphemous poem. They weren't happy. They were loved, newly wed and yet unhappy. She and Pete were happy. Right? His face replaced the family. No matter how much she tried to engage herself in her family's life, trying to forget her own,Pete is all she saw. Sweeping over her like waves of sadness. Her throat began to swell again.Darkness. The Family disappeared with Pete's face. She Retreated to her bedroom, crashing into the bathroom, trying to forget sadness the only way she can. She shuffled the smooth white tablets in her palms. They quickly disappeared. A gulp and 2 more disappeared. They weren't working fast enough. Mrs. Phelps soon lost track. She ran out. The suffocating crying made it hard to breathe.Trying to regain her breath, she leaned in to the sink, back hunched over, hyperventilating. Refusing to look at herself in the mirror. Mrs. Phelps wanted for the pills to take her away, drift her off. But not fast enough.
Draws were pulled out in a desperate attempt to find the shells. she plugged her ears an fell into bed. She needed to escape sadness, which she is. She needed to leave herself. Mrs. Phelps fell into her bed and closed her eyes. She tried to morph the waves of depression into tides of sleepiness. Shells,waves and sand being swept away. She wanted to be swept away. But thoughts move in paths. Shells to beach to ocean to wave to Dover's Beach to sadness. Family to real family to Pete to love to Dover's beach to sadness. She rolled over in the covers sleep not coming to her. Her mind rebelliously wondered. Using hands to press the plugs deeper, Mrs. Phelps broke. She screamed.
"Get out of my head!" A tsunami of white smooth pebbles broke off the cliffs and crashed and drowned her finally. Productively and swiftly. She got what she wanted. She slept, she slept, she slept. She never had to think again.
(sorry for it being so dark)

SALVAGE the BONES....(continued)....(again).....

I hate taking forever on a book. I feel like every week I'm writing about the same thing. I know my blog post are sometimes painful to read because they're sometimes really long so I'll try to keep this one short. Once again I'm reading Salvage The Bones. I only have about thirty pages left and Hurricane Katrina finally hit. I'm really trying to hurry up and finish because the book is already two days late from the library and I hate fines. I was hoping that most of the book would consist of the hurricane and the family trying to survive in harsh conditions (no matter how terrible that sounds) but It was an okay book. I kind of wish it was a longer book because I want to see what happens to Esch and her baby. One of the only new things that happened was that Manny found out Esch was pregnant and she, after attacking him, confessed her love for him. But Manny being the jerk-face he is, clear;y let his opinions known and I honestly hope I don't have to encounter him ever again in the remainder of the story. I do blame Esch greatly for the situation because I wish she would have some self respect. I know her mother died so she doesn't have a role model but still, pull it together.

As of now, the father is still bed-ridden from his recent injury resulting in the removal of three fingers. Being an alcoholic, Esch's father often consumes his pain meds with beer causing him to grow more ill. Because of their father's handicap, the children are forced to prepare for the hurricane themselves. Like boarding up the windows, making sure they have food, water, etc. In the exact part where I'm reading, Esch and her brothers are huddled in the dark house as the hurricane smashes around them outside. Where I stopped yesterday, a tree has fell into their roof creating a house in their sickly father's bedroom. All in all a pretty miserable situation.