Reflective Evaluation.

Dear Wendy,

Over the course of this semester, I feel that I have grown and learned so much as a writer. When I came into this class as a twenty year old freshman I was a little nervous about what to expect and what being in school again would be like. Honestly, I was primarily nervous about being in and English class because I don’t like group discussions or talking in front of people that I don’t know; but because of your methods of teaching I really began to feel at ease about it all as the semester went on. I have always been a big reader and I enjoy reading in my spare time but I have never, until now, enjoyed assigned reading. I understood each essay we were required to read and found myself identifying the central themes and arguments much easier than I had assumed that I would. Each assigned essay I found that the one’s that stuck out to me the most and chose to write about in each individual essay’s were the ones with the themes of silence, childhood, growing up, and abuse. Silence and growing up are the operative themes of my Textual Analysis, “In The Fourth of July, by Audre Lorde, the main themes are silence and the idea of not being a child anymore.” (Textual Analysis Essay, Page 1). “In the three essays The Rake: A few scenes from my childhood by David Mamet, Under the Influence by Scott Russell Sanders, and The Limit by Christian Wiman the operative relations between each individual essay are abuse (whether it physical, mental, sexual, or self-inflicted), silence, growing up, and family.” (Synthesis Essay, Page 1). In my Reader Response Essay, the theme that I chose was that of a rough childhood, “In The Rake by David Mamet, the main focus is his rough childhood.” (Reader Response Essay, Page 1).

Not only were we assigned specific essays that were required, but we were also given the freedom to choose what we write about in our blogs. Necessary blog writing helped me to open up and actually share my writing with the rest of the class. I understand that the reason behind having these blogs is to help us engage in one another’s writing an open up a platform for constructive criticism, which I always welcome. I feel that with each draft we were required to write, revise, and complete, that I found out a little bit more about myself as a writer and as a student. I discovered my own writing style and can easily determine what it is that I am trying to accomplish on my own.

When it comes to the questions “how does the language that the writers chose make meaning?” and “why does this matter?”, I wasn’t quite sure how to successfully answer those questions when I was first told that we should keep them in mind when reading assigned essays, as well as when we were doing writing assignments of our own. Now that the semester is over I feel that I can effectively answer both questions accurately and thoroughly. I found myself asking these questions in my head as I read and wrote throughout this semester. My writing and reading skills, in my opinion, were already pretty tactful, but as I was writing each essay, blog, or response I found that I had more flaws in how I chose to go about writing than I thought; but because of the essays that we were exposed to and mandatory to write, I found that I resolved most of these problems and furthered my writing knowledge to a great extent. Peer response is another thing that I’m not really a big fan of due to the fact that I don’t like getting into small groups and having people read and respond to my work to my face, that’s why I preferred the blog method instead. But over time I realized that it made me a stronger writer and made me strive to really make my essays make ends meet and strengthen how I explained and interpreted my themes. Overall the class was a positive experience for me. I feel that I am leaving the course with a new appreciation for each topic, author, and assignment we covered.

-EJ

My downstairs neighbors.

If I had any say in who lives in my building and who doesn't, I swear I would evict my downstairs neighbors. They're about the same age as me and Jake but seriously have no concept of what's okay and what's not okay. For example, playing Scar Tissue by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers on repeat for nearly three hours at a time, loud enough for it to sound like it's coming from my living room closet is not acceptable. The same goes for Nirvana's Heart Shaped Box. Not that I mind either of these songs but for hours on end? It gets real old, real fast. Another example, playing the bongo drums at 8 am on a Saturday is not acceptable. It's an old building, stuff echoes. And finally, having a party that lasts from the time I go into work at 9pm until well after I get home at 3am is absolutely not okay. I don't like looking out my window and seeing 20 strangers in my courtyard, it makes me feel uneasy. You'd think that after two noise complaints to the cops that they'd figure it out, but I guess not.

A kind of near-death experience.

Last Sunday I was eating toast in my living room and all of a sudden a piece ended up lodged in my throat. I stood up really fast and I could see in a mirror that we have hanging on the wall that my face was purple and my lips were blue. I ran into the bedroom where my boyfriend was on the phone and since he had just woken up from a nap the lights were off. I attempted to get his attention by waving my arms but he thought i was just being weird. In a panic, and in no shape to wait for him to figure out what was actually going on, I ran into the kitchen and began to perform the Heimlich on myself by pushing my abdomen up against the kitchen counter repeatedly. I got it out eventually, but in the process I accidentally hit my ribs a few times and now have battle wounds from doing so. The whole experience scared me to death and left me hysterical for about two hours. I had to call into work because I couldn't stop throwing up from anxiety. I was a mess. Thankfully Jake was able to calm me down and help me realize that even though I COULD have choked to death, I didn't and to be thankful for that.

11/15

List A--
1. my family
2. Jake
3. cats
4. friends
5. cold weather
6. wine
7. music
8. stormy weather
9. psychology
10. books
11. the internet

List B--
1. working until 3 a.m.
2. waking up early
3. distance
4. mopping
5. gas prices
6. war
7. Bush
8. sharks

11 & 8--
Both the internet and sharks are big and scary, because if you think of the limitless amount of things you can look up and find out on the internet is almost frightening. Sharks are literally, not figuratively, big and scary. They are both questionable in that you never really know what you're going to get. If you Google a certain author, a recipe or a movie, you can actually get millions of different results; if you get into the ocean there's no way of knowing whether or not you'll come in contact with a shark. There is a certain mystery behind both. Even the thought of sharks makes me feel uneasy and anxious, especially since there are no oceans in Memphis.

4 & 5--
My friends are not like cold weather because they aren't cold, a temperature and they can't result in snow or ice. Cold weather can't hang out with you, tell you when it believes you're being stupid or call you on the phone. I've never met a friend that has made me want to sleep or dress in layers. I don't empathize with the cold or hang out with it. It just exists and I exist happily along with it.

5 & 7--
Gas prices are like Bush in that I think they are both ridiculous. Gas prices make me feel uneasy, as well as the fact that our country is run by Bush, a complete and total idiot. He's to blame and is most definitely at fault for starting up this war. Bush will end his "presidency" but until there is some sort of scientific break through, gas prices are and will be here to stay.

Four Essays--
1. The Rake, by David Mamet, is an essay I'd consider using in writing my synthesis essay. The way that him and his sister don't tell on each other simply out of fear of the repercussions, is very mature. Living in a home without their real father figure, but instead an abusive step father and insanely strict mother forced them to grow up a little faster than they naturally would have had they had a more nurturing home environment as children.

2. Under the Influence, by Scott Russell Sanders is another essay that I would use in my synthesis essay. The way Sanders felt that he was at fault for his fathers heavy drinking is very heartbreaking and the way he uses imagery really helped to paint a picture in my head to where I could actually see each incident played out. Each memory seems that it was a huge deal to him, not only as a child but well into his adulthood also. Even as a grown man he chooses to stay away from alcohol and places where drinking would be prominent.

3. The Limit, by Christian Wiman was a very interesting essay to read and will be considered for my synthesis essay in that he starts the essay out with the same story he ends with. Wiman's grandmother gives a name to the family's sometimes angry nature and outbursts, "the sulls", I find this to be very much like my family; in that whenever we all have the same type attitude about one certain thing someone is bound to give it a name. The suicidal aspect is described so vividly that it makes me feel uneasy and when Wiman's friend, John, shoots his father that he's mistaken for a small animal, the description of his face and whatnot is haunting.

4. Hashish in Marseilles, by Walter Benjamin is another essay to be considered. Two of the three essays are a childhood response to some kind of abuse, whereas this is an adults perspective on experimenting with the drug, hash. Benjamin's description of walking through the streets of Marseilles makes it seem ghost-like. His confusion and hard time understanding things in every day life as part of the effects of the drug are a lot like those of a child. Even the simplest thing can be hard for him to understand and that's the way it is with many children, even those written about in the other essays.

When I write, I write just to be writing at first and can seem repetitive, when really I'm just setting up a platform to bring it all together. I sometimes forget that I'm writing for other people to see and assume that the reader will know what I'm talking about. I like long sentences and using words with somewhat multiple meanings. I'm a fan of synonyms a lot as well, and I frequently use them throughout my writing. I enjoy free-writing at first, then tying it all in together. When I talk, I don't use the same kind of speech and vocabulary I use when I write. Some people might not even realize that I like to write until they actually read what I've written.

My a-ha moment

When I was in about the 6th grade, I was pretty much the "go-to girl" for advice. As my mom will say, the phone was always ringing off the hook with phone calls from my friends that she finally caved and got me my own line (which I thought I was so cool for). I probably coached my best friend at the time through 20 different break ups, half the time with the same guy. It was 6th grade and the relationships were usually strictly phone and instant messaging, but every break up or "crisis" was treated as such. As I got into high school and things were still the same, people always asking me what they should do about a certain thing, what I honestly thought about the person they were dating, anything, I even helped my friends numerous times pick out what to wear to formals AND did their freaking makeup. During Christmas break of my freshman year, my best friend pointed all this out to me. I had helped him through a bunch of stuff, including a threat to wreck havoc on his cheating girlfriend, took him as my date to a formal so he could be their with his NEW and NICE girlfriend, who had already promised to go as a "date" with one of her female friends that had just been dumped (while I had pneumonia and was thisclose to skipping it all together, because honestly I didn't give two shits about formals and school spirit). He said that I was basically a shrink for all of our friends and joked about it being funny if I started charging for however long they bitched to me and I "helped" them work out whatever they were dealing with. People automatically trusted me with really strange things, and I never felt obligated to tell them something in return for them to gain my trust. So, all in all, I realized around my freshman-sophmore year that I wanted to be a psychologist. It wasn't until this year though that I actually decided that I want to get my doctorate and open my own private practice and work with mainly adults and young adults. I feel fairly certain that it will be hard and I will be in school FOREVER but that's okay, because when I think about myself in about 15 years, I don't want to still be working as a waitress at a 9pm-3am bar. I want to help people, and not for the money, but because I will know at the end of the day that no matter how much or how little I feel the person got out of talking to me, but the fact that they know that they had someone to listen to that wasn't there to judge, or tell them what they were doing wrong, but simply there to listen and help.

Family Ritual

One of my family’s rituals on Christmas Eve is that my grandmother buys things we call “poppers”. They’re shiny red, green, silver or gold long tube-like things. You pull both ends at the same time and they pop open. Each one has a different colored paper crown, a stupid joke, that always seems to be a lot more hilarious to us than they actually are, due in part to the drinking of wine and poinsettia’s (champagne and cranberry juice), and a small, silly plastic toy. The toys range anywhere from a “fortune telling” red, cellophane fish that you hold in your palm, a little pink plastic hair clip, or a little cardboard number game. Everyone wears their paper crown during the entirety of dinner, which when thought of in reality, seeing my grandfather and my twenty-nine year old male cousin, is hilarious because it doesn’t matter if they end up with a hot pink crown, they still have to wear it. Before we even begin to eat we open our poppers simultaneously at the same time and the things inside usually go flying out onto our plates. It’s a holiday tradition I remember following for as long as I can remember. I always look forward to it because even though it’s such a silly thing, it means a lot to me. My Christmas Eve wouldn’t be complete without it.

Free Write

I am always sick. If it's not one thing, it's another. I had mono around this time last year, and had pneumonia about a month and a half ago. Pneumonia didn't come as much as a surprise, seeing as i get it every winter, but it came early this year. My immune system sucks and it conflicts with school and work. Because when I get sick, unfortunately, I get REALLY sick. I even take vitamins on a regular basis and still manage to end up with the most random illnesses. I suppose I'm done ranting about that. I'm leaving for New Orleans tonight and I'm really excited. The one downfall is that right now, surprise surprise, I am sick. The weather while I'm their shouldn't make it any worse because the forecast for this weekend in Louisiana is sunny with a high in the 70s and low in the 50s. I'm going to pack prepared for rain and also accordingly to the expected temperature. It's me, my boyfriend Jake and our friends Lauren, Patrick and Bennett. We're going for Voodoo Fest and we're staying at La Maison St. Charles (long story as to how we ended up staying there). I need this vacation so bad and i especially need to get out of Memphis. School is kind of tough, but that's to be expected, there's drama at work, Jake and I have a sick kitty that we're trying to take care of and I'm all around just sick of Memphis.

"Under the Influence"

The green bottles in Under the Influence are very predominant throughout the essay. Sanders writes of these green bottles like they are more than just alcohol, but more like the demons that take his father away from him and his family. It is often mentioned how they are hidden in tool box drawers, crushed beneath hay in a barn, hurled into the woods and denied when found. He is just a little boy trying to protect and salvage as much of his family as possible. Not only does he write about the green bottles, but there is also another incident involving a bottle. His father threatens to "shut his mother up" by holding a milk bottle up above her face while he has her head yanked back by her hair. Sanders also uses the bible story of the lunatic and the swine, among others, to show his hatred for alcohol and confusion towards its appeal. Even on his 21st birthday, as well as throughout his adult life, he's very hesitant to even sip anything alcoholic. He see's how it affected him, his brother, his sister, and his mother and feels that it's his job as a parent to keep any thing of such nature as far away from his children as possible. He'd rather have his daughter label him a workaholic than an alcoholic. He fears the person he could become because of his father and his abuse of alcohol. Even though his father could go days, weeks, months, or years without a drop, Sanders and his family would still fear the day he would pick up those green bottles, beer cans, or wine and let the awful "dragon" back in that would control and change his father from a Dr. Jekyll to a Mr. Hyde. They all lived in fear, not only for his health, but fear of him leaving and really never coming back, fear of his harsh words and fear of the prospect of being hit. They were all so fearful and silent. The children felt the need to tiptoe around their sleeping father, or the dragon as he was labled in the essay, and they would lay still and quiet in their beds at night fearful of even moving an inch. His mother knew what was going on and did beg him to stop, but because of the angry nature of the beast and the disease as a whole, she never could quite get him to stop completely. It wasn't until doctors warned of how near to death he was that he put the bottle down, only to pick it back up 15 years later. Sanders never wanted to be like his father and that fear reflected upon his choices as an adult. He avoided bars, clubs, and parties where he knew alcohol would be served. He compared compared all the other neighborhood families and their own drunken fathers and husbands. He saw what they were capable of and feared it for his own family. He hated the gas station his father frequented for his booze. He even hated the picture of the brothers pictured on the label of the green bottles. He even wrote about how he would kill them if given the chance. His imagination went to great lengths when it came to thinking of ways to stop his father from having any sip of liquor. His 10 year old thoughts raced trying to come up with a way to change him completely. He wanted so badly to protect him of the nightmare he had become. He often wondered throughout his childhood if maybe he had been the perfect student or the perfect athlete that maybe the outcome would have been different, that maybe it was actually his fault. In all reality, it wasn't his fault or his familys, it was the fault of his father for making the decsions and poor judgements in his own life.

Reader Response to The Rake

The round kitchen table in the essay, The Rake: A Few Scenes from My Childhood by David Mamet, was made of wrought iron and had a glass surface. The author and his sister often associated this table with blood because of their violent and abusive step-father that often shattered the glass due to outrages of anger. The reason the glass and blood were associated with each other is because whenever Mamet’s step-father would break the glass, it seemed that he would also cut some part of himself from the impact and because when he or their mother would pick up the pieces, they would cut their hands on shards of glass thus resulting in it being the fault of the children for the whole incident. It is also mentioned that the glass was shattered by Mamet’s step-father multiple times due to his outbursts and angry nature. Therefore, in the minds of Mamet and his sister, that round, glass kitchen table created many violent scenes and resulted in replacing the top of it several times. Throughout the essay, the author refers back to yet another incident at that table. Not only were there the numerous incidents with his step-father shattering the table, but he points out another particular occasion when his sister was to be the lead in the school play. That night his sister sat down at the table for dinner and for whatever reason, she wasn’t hungry. This resulted in their mother pressing her for reasons as to why she wasn’t hungry and didn’t want to eat. It’s explained as nervousness and excitement from the events of the evening to come. Unfortunately for her, their
mother’s strict demeanor resulted in her calling the drama teacher and telling her that her daughter would not be attending the play that night and that it wasn’t because of illness and that she understood that the teachers and students had worked very hard on the play, but still gave no explanation as to why she wouldn’t be performing that night. All because she was excited about her part in the play and couldn’t contain her excitement which resulted in a lost appetite and a very stubborn mother. Although Mamet wasn’t present during this incident, he was aware of it. The glass table in the nook of the family’s kitchen isn’t considered as a good place for memories and happiness in their home, but rather a place of unfortunate and violent events.

Relation to "Hashish is Marseilles" and "Street Hauntings"

I relate to these two essays in two ways. One being that when I travel, I enjoy time to myself to walk around and do what I want to do. Never has it been in a foreign country because I haven't been fortunate to experience that yet. Second being that I'm intrigued by the unknown. I'm quite a curious person. If I'm not sure of something, I ask. If i don't know how to do something, I figure it out. In the end it all pans out to me being hard-headed and curious all at the same time, two characteristics of mine that rarely go hand-in-hand. Chicago and New York are two places that I've visited more than once and both times I found and discovered new things to love about both. Chicago is cleaner and the cab drivers aren't as neurotic, but New York has the better hot dogs and the cab drivers are just crazy. I suppose that is a generalization, but I find it to be true. I jumped on top of a not moving cab once and the cab driver didn't even blink an eye. He actually drove off, but I'm sure I would have done the same if I were in his position. It was almost like, who is this crazy chick from Memphis jumping on the hood of my cab, and why? The second time I was in New York was during the Presidents Day blizzard. It was awesome. My two friends were bummed that they couldn't go shopping because everything was closed, but I got them to appreciate it because we rarely ever get snow like New York does, actually I don't even remember a time that we've had snow like that. Chicago is the same way. I fell in love with the art school there and I was actually surprised to see how clean their city was. I went with my art class one year and that was one of the best experiences of my life. We were given the opportunity to run around and do what we wanted at least three different times. It's were I actually met and became close to one of my best friends now. I enjoyed both essays in that they were both almost completely opposite, yet had a lot of the same things going on. I like different approaches to writing whether it be a personal experience written about a few days after, or just a written out chronological order of things in a story. I couldn't pick which one I enjoyed most if I wanted to, really. Because they were both the same yet completely different. And I find that I am more and more of an ambiguous person every day.

Personal Response

Around 6:45 a.m. on Monday October 1^st, I received a text from a friend saying there was a shooting on campus. I was immediately freaked out, yet still went back to sleep. When I finally woke up for the day a friend of mine, Jessica, came over and told me it was a student on the football team. I immediately thought about and called my best friend, Mackenzie, because she is a cheerleader for U of M. I also thought about Keenan, the football player that’s in my English class. Before Jessica came over I went to lunch with my mom and that’s all we could talk about. I’ve lost friends through train wrecks and car accidents, but never a shooting. It ties my stomach into knots just thinking about it. Jessica is five months pregnant and we got to thinking and talking about how life is going to be in 17 or 18 years when her daughter is in college. It’s really scary to think of it that way. Later that night I heard about yet ANOTHER shooting at Ole Miss. It all makes me feel so uneasy, anxious and sad. What makes a person fell that they have the right to take someone’s life from them? How could they possibly justify their actions? They can’t. They aren’t God. I don’t know the motives behind either shootings but it certainly is unfortunate and horribly wrong all together. Taylor was only 21 years old, just a year older than me. I feel like my life has just begun and that his had as well. It saddens me that there are such cruel people out there. It would be nice if everyone could just get along but it’s human nature for us to hate. And it’s human nature for us to make bad decisions, and to do the wrong thing. But to take someone’s life? Someone that has a family, friends and a social life? It’s disgusting. I’m not saying that people that don’t have those things don’t matter, I’m just focusing on Taylor here. It’s really disturbing that Memphis is the number one dangerous city in the U.S. And this is just another prime example as to why it is.

The Textual Analysis Essay

In The Fourth of July, by Audre Lorde, the main theme is silence and the idea of not being a child anymore. “The first time I went to Washington, D.C., was on the edge of summer when I was supposed to stop being a child” (Lorde, 567). In the essay, the author identifies with 8th grade graduation as being the end of childhood. She also states how it was high school graduation for her older sister and she wasn’t sure of what she was supposed to “stop being”. Silence as a main theme is apparent in the essay by the author describing her parents as quiet after they are asked to leave an ice cream parlor because they are black. “My parents wouldn’t speak of this injustice, not because they had contributed to it, but because they felt they should have anticipated it and avoided it” (Lorde, 569). The author also states something pertaining to silence about her mother, “As usual, whatever my mother did not like and could not change, she ignored. Perhaps it would go away, deprived of her attention” (Lorde, 568).
Lorde uses many different things throughout the essay to describe and help the reader to really see what’s going on. She uses the descriptions of food at the beginning of the essay as a way to vividly show colors used throughout the paragraph. It also seems like a metaphor to the overall theme of black vs. white. Lorde describes her family as different in the sense that they were all somewhat of a different color. “But something always warned me not to ask my mother why she wasn’t white, and why auntie Lillah and auntie Etta weren’t, even though they were all that same problematic color so different from my father and me, even from my sisters, who were somewhere in between” (Lorde, 568). The whole reason the author and her family are in Washington, D.C. is because her older sister, Phyllis, was the only black person in her graduating class and the nuns at her school gave her back the money she had paid for the trip because she would have had to stay somewhere different and wouldn’t be comfortable. That and when the family went into the ice cream parlor and were told they could only take it to go are both examples of race related prejudice for them during the summer of 1947. The whole idea of not being a child anymore is another thing to be taken into context. The emphasis on the color white throughout the essay could almost be considered as a metaphor for white being a symbol of innocence. Another way the author conveys her ideas is through her description of the Lincoln Memorial. “[…] and I spent the whole next day after Mass squinting up at the Lincoln Memorial where Marian Anderson had sung after the D.A.R. refused to allow her to sing in their auditorium because she was black” (Lorde, 568).
Both the incident in the ice cream parlor and the trip as a whole had made Lorde hate the Fourth of July. “The waitress was white, and the counter was white, and the ice cream I never ate in Washington, D.C., that summer I left childhood was white, and the white heat and the white pavement and the white stone monuments of my first Washington summer made me sick to my stomach for the whole rest of that trip and it wasn’t much of a graduation present after all” (Lorde, 570). This quote is an example of why she dislikes the holiday, all because of one bad experience; an experience that was supposed to be a family vacation but really turned into a frustrating and angry experience for her. Another factor that should be kept in mind about why Lorde was bothered so much about her vacation is because of the fact that black people weren’t allowed to eat in railroad dining cars. “I wanted to eat in the dining car because I had read all about them, but my mother had reminded me for the umpteenth time that dining car food always cost too much money and besides, you never could tell whose hands had been playing all over that food, nor where those same hands had been just before. My mother never mentioned that black people were not allowed into railroad dining cars headed south in 1947” (Lorde, 568).
Once again, the main theme’s in this essay is silence, like her parents after the ice cream incident, and not being a child anymore, like her anger toward the racism and actually deciding to write a letter to the President herself, as an almost 9th grader. It’s both disturbing and sad that people were so shallow and ignorant then that they wouldn’t even allow someone with a different skin color in to a dining car or ice cream parlor, to name a few places.

Final.

Having the belief that everything happens for a reason really changes your outlook on life when looking at the big picture. I don't feel the need for an explination when something sudden happens, of course if it's something life threatening or involves losing someone I love and care about, it'd be different. But pertaining to all the little things in life that mean so much to me I don't need reassurance that it's real. Having someone in my life that cares about me just as much as I care about them is absolutely mind blowing. This not only includes Jake and my mom, but my sister, family, and few good friends that I have been blessed with. When I think of myself at 17 and 18, I think of how spontaneous I used to be. I still am, but I've put some rules up for myself now. I feel that happens with everyone at a certain time in their life. I have friends well into their mid-twenties that still scare me sometimes with their decisions and thought making process. Another scary thing to me is if I had ended up living in Chicago after all. Not knowing the people that I know today makes me feel sick almost. I've met a lot of people and lost just as many if not more and all of them have made impacts on my life, whether it was negative or positive. Being raised by a single mom has also influenced me and a variety of ways. I now think “what would my mother think?” before I decide something. This can be very unfortunate at times but in the long run I feel that it’s a good thing, almost like having someone watch over me 24/7. And the thing about that is, is that I know she would if she could. Not in the creepy controlling way, but in the sense that she really truly wants what’s best for my sister and I and she expresses that to us each chance that she gets. I also keep that sort of watchful eye on my sister and it’s all because of my upbringing. Having a family that has each others backs and would literally throw some punches to show how important we all are to each other really has a lot to do with the shape that I’m in today. I feel that I’m determined and stubborn, but also shy and true to my roots. There are so many things that have happened in my life that affect how things have played out up until now. My life has been what I almost see as a chain of events, reactions to one thing leading up to another. Meeting people that introduce me to other people, learning to let people in and really understand how I feel. There is constantly so much going on in my head that it can be overwhelming at times, but in the long wrong I know that it’s all for the best and shaping me into the person that I am today and will be in a few years.

Ideationally.

Things’ happening for a reason is something that I not only believe, but I have a mild fascination for. I’m always trying to tie things together about why this happened, how it happened and so on. If I hadn’t dated that weirdo, I never would have met my good friend, Rachel, who never would have introduced me to Jake. He’s a huge part of my life and I’m thankful for him everyday. If I hadn’t moved out at 18, I wouldn’t have made all my mistakes early on and I also wouldn’t have learned what I know now. If my family had chosen to move to Chicago, I wouldn’t have dated the weirdo, met my friend, met my amazing boyfriend, moved out at 18 (or would I have?), made mistakes, really screwed up, and I would be a totally different person. So much has happened in my life already it’s almost too much for my mind to process sometimes.

Significant Belief - Everything happens for a reason

Wonder
Excitement
Confusion
Happiness
Control
No control
Livid
Thankful
Adjustment
Learning

INDIVIDUAL ASSIGNMENT

Significant person - My mom

1) When I was 9 years old, I asked her to divorce my father. And she did. We were sitting in the den of our old house in midtown and we were watching a movie and i just looked at her and told her what I thought. I remember it so vividly, I even remember that I was wearing a big t-shirt, i was eating cereal, and it was still so early in the morning that it was dark outside. All it took was for her to realize that her 9 year old kid didn't approve of the relationship she was in. She then went on to raise me and my sister on her own. She's done an amazing job. She is THE MOST significant person in my life.

2) When I was 18, about 2 months after I got a tattoo. It's a very small heart on my foot. I kept it hidden from her for about 3 weeks. Then one day while we were at El Chico's eating, I just decided to tell her. She hated it at first but she's grown to realize that it's on my skin forever and ever and that I've accepted that. Still to this day I want to get her initials tattooed on me somewhere, just as a constant reminder of how important she is to me.

3) For my 3rd birthday I really wanted a Wizard of Oz themed birthday party. And included in that party I wanted a yellow-brick road. My mom is so awesome that two days before my party she painted this brick walk way in our backyard yellow for me. It was probably one of my fondest childhood memories. Even though she didn't want a bright yellow walk way to our backyard, she did it anyway, just so I could really feel like Dorothy.


Significant event - My mothers pregnancy with my younger sister/Her birth

1) When I was 4 years old my mom had my younger sister, Caroline. During her pregnancy I mimicked my mom's sicknesses, when she had hot flashes..I had hot flashes. When she got shingles, I pretended that I had them too. When she had morning sickness, I had morning sickeness. I would "crave" what I found to be weird foods. It was basically me getting my last bit of only child attention in before Caroline was born.

2) While my mom was in the hospital getting ready to have Caroline, I stayed with my grandparents (two more very significant people in my life). There was a garage sale next door and I walked over there with my grandfather. This was during my my little pony obsession, and lucky for me there were tons of my little ponys and accessories. My grandfather asked me which one I wanted and I told him that I had to have them all. Fortunately my grandfather was really good friends with the neighbors having the sale, so they gave him a deal. Those ponys never left my grandparents house, and are still there to this day.

3) The day Caroline was born I announced to my entire family that it was actually my baby. For hours and hours I would hold her and sing her the Muppet Babies theme song. It eventually drove my family crazy. I remember sitting in the living room with her in my lap expressing my frustration that she didn't have anything to say and that she wasn't very good at learning the words. She eventually did learn the words, but it was after a few years when she actually started talking.

Significant belief - Everything happens for a reason

1) I am a firm believer in everything happening for a reason. If I hadn't dated this one certain guy, I never would have met Jake, my current boyfriend. When that guy broke up with me his friends just so happened to continue to hang out with me and that's how I met my friend Rachel. At the time she was looking for a cool girlfriend for her best friend, Jake to date. She introduced us and was all for us dating up til the day he finally asked me out. I still give her credit and thank her regularly to this day, no matter how corny that sounds. So, if I had never dated that one guy, I never would have met my friend Rachel and she never introduced me to Jake, so who knows how my life would have played out if it had gone differently.

2) If I hadn't made the decision to graduate early, my life would probably be completely different. And my high school GPA definitely would have been different. By graduating through Gateway, I was given the oppurtunity to take time off from school and focus on working. I never would have moved out when I did and I probably wouldn't be as self sufficient as I am now. Some people say that "growing up" too fast isn't beneficial to a person at all but I really feel that it did me a favor. Being a momma's girl is really difficult when it comes to certain things, here I am at 20 years old and I still make my mom go with me to the doctor. But I also learned that things like rent and bills are all up to me. If they're going to get paid then it's going to be because I pay them, and because I chose to get up and go to work so that I can pay those bills. It's made me who I am today and I appreciate my mom and family for supporting me and my choice to skip out on senior.

3) When I was really young, I'm not sure how old, I do know I couldn't have been more than 2 years old, my family almost moved to Chicago. In some ways I wonder what it would have been like if we did move. But I look at it this way, if we had moved there, I never would have met the people that I know today. Throughout my life so far there have been many many important people that either pass through or stayed. I've taught myself to really learn to appreciate what God has given me and my family. It's hard to be thankful sometimes but I feel that I do a pretty good job of knowing what's important and what's not.

"Women's Work"

In the article that I chose, there are many things to consider when deciphering the tone of the article. Some of those things would be how the author actually feels about what he's writing about as well as his appreciaition for the exhibit as a whole. The tone is very enthusiastic as well as optimistic about the works in the show. His mention of the fact that the show includes some painting and sculpture but the mediums that dominate are photography and video makes it a lot easier for him to describe what is actually going on in the exhibit. It is obvious in his wording that this was exciting for him and that he thouroghly enjoyed writing the article on his experience at this art exhibit. The structure is also very well read. He includes a picture on the first page of the article as an example of what these women are showing. The photo is of two women in a photobooth making faces like they're screaming, laughing, smiling, and basically jut having an all around good time. There is a part of the article where the author is very serious, yet still has a sense of humor and that is when he mentions one of the females videos, it is of herself hoola hooping with barbed wire as a form of punishment for herself. The author says that he wishes she wouldn't, meaning he is sympathetic, yet understands her reasoning behind doing such a thing. There really isn't any order to the article, it's more of a personal experience than anything else. As far as the diction is concerned, the choice of words are very precise. When describing something to an audience that they may or may not have seen, he does so very well. He makes a point to say that the women are all from many different backgrounds, ethnicity and so on, as well as describing a few pieces in such depth that I could actually visualize them in my head. There aren't really any cliches in the writing, it's mainly just a description and appreciation of women's art. There is a very strong voice throughout the whole thing. It is quite certain that the author enjoyed his time at the exhibit, really thinks that it was great, and it really shows in his words. The point of the article is that feminism isn't just something that makes women "hate men" but it's a lifestyle. It's dead set on getting the reader to really see that these women are talented and use it to the best extent possible. Overall, I enjoyed the article and appreciated what the author had to say.