My final blog!

So this is the last blog I will be writing as AP lit is now coming to a close. I am certainly going to miss the class and all the fun times I had in it, as well as what I have learned. But, unfortunately…. Blogs will be one thing that I will not miss.

Anyways in today’s blog I am going to speak of the preparation for the AP exam, as my multiple choice is fairly decent the one thing I have to focus on are my essays as they have not always been up to standard for what I wanted them to be. I have decided that I want to focus on three things for my essays, these three things will guarantee me higher grades if I do them correctly.

Number 1: Thesis

Number 2: Organization

Number 3: Support

These are the three things I seem to struggle with most… I have a decent understanding of what diction I need to use and how it should flow, I also know of quotes that I can use and I think I write long enough essays. But the three above are things I struggle upon and need to fix

Thesis- My thesis has always been a problem for me as I insert information that is not necessarily relevant. What a thesis should be is something that I write about that has a main point, a main idea, or central message. The argument I make in my paper should reflect this main idea. The sentence that captures your position on this main idea is what we call a thesis statement.

So my thesis must be shortened and only include what I am writing about, my point, and who the author is.

Organization is another thing that I have always had problems with. I have decent ideas that can be very interesting but sometimes it gets lost in the mumble jumble sporadic fragmented organization that I have. The essays that I have written and have been taught to write follow a very chronological sequence. So we have an introduction and then three points which finally lead to an ending conclusion. My problem is that I will get side tracked and talk about things that do not really relate to what I should be talking about. So What I Need to do is stay on topic and perhaps talk about extra tid bits in the conclusion

Finally I need to work on support. This just means adding more information or going deeper to make sure the reader understands the “so what” so I could add more quotes or talk more about certain events that happened in the story. Simple things such as that will help my essay go from a 6 to maybe a 7 or even an eight if  I do well enough, hopefully studying this will help me prepare more for the Ap exam this week. 

Poem

For my poem I chose Oscar Wilde because obviously he is what we are studying right now. The poem goes

Helas!

To drift with every passion till my soul

Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,

Is it for this that I have given away

Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?

Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll

Scrawled over on some boyish holiday

With idle songs for pipe and virelay,

Which do but mar the secret of the whole.

Surely there was a time I might have trod

The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance

Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God.

Is that time dead?  lo! with a little rod

I did but touch the honey of romance—

And must I lose a soul's inheritance?

Interestingly enough, although Frenchmen hated Englishmen and Englishmen hated Frenchmen, Oscar wilde starts this poem off with a French word “helas” which is similar to “alas”, but it has a negative connotation… so even from the beginning we can realize that the poem generally is going to have a very negative feel to it. Wilde then alludes back to an old French type of poem (Which was actually in our list of things to study for the final) this shows a reflection on the past, but the diction is fairly romantic even if it is fairly negative.  The instrument that is present is also another allusion (Lute, no pun intended) is also another ancient item brought into the poem, both of these things can be combined to believe that the speaker of the poem doesn’t have a strong affinity for the present. Music is also very present throughout the poem,  with a beaty undertone as well as concise allusions to musical items and parts of instruments. This combination of French culture, Music, and appraisal of the past specifically refer to Wilde’s life. Wilde had a strong affection for French culture, unlike other Victorians, he often spent time in Paris or reading French works. Although I could not find data about Wilde’s musical affection we do know that in “The importance of being Earnest” references to Mozart and a piece of his specifically inside the play. I like to think the poem refers back to the simplicity of youth, children are generally seen as musical components with beats and melodies and moods, they also have much more freedom than adults do… not realistically but theoretically their negligence of being noticed kind of loans them the free will of demeanor and etiquette that adults simply did not have. Perhaps Wilde is looking back at his younger life (the poem was written when a lot of people criticized Wilde’s character)… his poems were also being discredited in large part by organizations that begged for traditional social order that would not include the vibrant flamboyancy that Wilde displayed in action and in dress.  So in this instance I equated Wilde and his beliefs with the speaker. A comment on decadence is also placed which Wilde traditionally has been known to satirically poke fun, but there is less satire in the poem then his other works. But essentially he asks how much he has to give up for this decadence… does he have to “sell his soul”.

Why I hate Oscar Wilde's comment on class.... yet find it absolutely perfect.

Looking at traditional Horatian satire we obviously see elements of witty banter and clever stage direction, this sarcastic yet somewhat playfal mocking is aimed (almost always) to poke fun at an existing society.

As we have learned these comedies usually have three distinct movements.

Existing Society<>Confrontation<>Reformation

and if we look at works such as "The importance of being Earnest" and "Romeo and Juliet"... perhaps "Age of Innocence as well" (Although it is less comedic.) We can patently see that the ridiculed is the existing society, and the new society is quickly appraised... and found worthy. This old society... this strict, rigid, often rude society is quickly replaced by our new and improved community, although it only last a moment.

I tend to dislike most of the plot line of these predictable tales for two specific reasons.

1. They are predictable.

2. It isn't fair to the old society.

In looking at Wilde's more famous comedy and the definition of Northrop Frye's theory of Archetypes we know that the beginning of each story or play or tale focuses around the absurdity of a law that must be broken.

I believe that Wilde is unfair in his comment on Victorian society. I enjoy the hard work that is valued by the more serious individuals... and the protection of private matters is also another matter I believe is not so wrong as one might believe.
Also I believe that any society that exists, and continues existing does so for a simple reason. Order and structure is ever so important and Wilde's quick wit, though it may be interesting, negates this order. And I am not referring to Wilde's obvious flamboyancy because that can still be accepted in the system. I am speaking of his calling of some sort of chaos and sporadic destruction of a solidified system.

But I do understand the necessity of the system, because without the society there could be no Horatian humor, and therefore no clever satire... and therefore no Wilde. Because the society that is so stiff bends to more than we believe. In fact, rather then it being the repressive device believed by many to be... it is actually a creator, this is because it yields to abnormalities... it lets them exist. And whether these abnormalities are very dark and mysterious or otherwise perky and curious they are an offspring of that which directly opposes it.

IF this existent society quickly became the reformed society we would have NO abnormalities.... the normal would quickly become the not-normal. And if their is complete acceptance (Which Wilde indicates) then there would be no exuberant personalities such as Wilde or Shelley or Hemingway. There would also be no hero's because none would be needed, and suddenly the classics would become the contemporaries and the world is an eternal cycle.

Noah

This past weekend I went with my brother and my father to see the movie "Noah", we sat apart from each other as seats were limited... this also gave me the opportunity to dissect the movie with my own free will rather than having my father comment every moment about what he thought. The movie contained a lot of symbolism that confused me and intrigued me, going through a year of AP Lit I had a lot of thinking to do and the obvious want to understand what I was seeing. Once we walked out of the theater my father and brother commented repeatedly on how much they disliked the movie, being Christians, they thought the movie distorted the bible way too much.

I then thought "Perhaps that is true but is the message of both not the same?"

and as I replayed the rather dark scenes in my head "Invisible Man" quickly was connected to various things. Noah alienated himself and his family from the majority of people because he believed they were sinners and stood for unlawful ideologies. This to me was very similar to what the narrator did, the narrator quickly became very cynical in his actions as he went into hiding as well. While this happened he tried to achieve as much knowledge as possible while almost waiting for an apocalypse to occur just as one did in Noah. The riots and anger and hate that was seen in the book was evident in the bible as well. My question was, "Did Ellison perchance connect these two together at all?" Now I don't know whether or not he did so but I can interpret for myself that he did. The narrator hides in a coal cell with a lot of lights over him... in fact the same number of light-bulb's as Ellison's age (squared) when he wrote the book. This can prove a connection between Noah as well, for Noah stemmed from the line of Seth and remained holy and obedient to God, this squaring of light bulbs almost emits this same ideology as if the narrator thrived and learned knowledge alone under a heavenly source. A lot of apocalyptic imagery was present in the chapters prior to the Epilogue... almost as if the narrator is inside his own ark and is remaining until the world is cleansed of all those hateful and sinners such as Mary and the Brotherhood. Lucius is also in both stories... tempting both people to act a certain and eventually leading to a rebirth of both people. But the main similarity is in the actions of both characters after this cleansing happens, both come into a sort of drunk sense... the narrator a little more abstractly with his obsession with knowledge while Noah actually becomes drunk and is seen by God and his sons naked. So these similarities may be a little far-fetched but they are just what I saw while I was watching the movie. There are of course many differences as well. 

Appraisal

I think one thing that I always forget to look at is the difficulty that must go with writing a book such as “Winesburg Ohio” or “Invisible Man”. I look at authors such as J.D Salinger and Ralph Ellison and I wonder how minds are capable of thinking and creating such complex works of art. I also wonder if it is an esoteric gift only given by God to the most unusual of individuals, or is someone who is rather insignificant (Such as I) able to conjure such interesting thoughts and ideas that challenge the traditional thinking of the Hoi Polloi? This also brings up the matter of whether or not writing literature in such a manner is a gift or is it a skill that is honed by countless hours of practice and thinking. Sometimes I would like to believe that it is a special skill because that makes it so much more wonderful, and I wish to have such a skill… I often believe I haven’t discovered it yet and I am on my way as I grow older and learn more about the world. But often I also wish it to be something that I can practice and master at my own accord, and that the creation of this wordily art is able to anyone that wants to change something or just write for the purpose of writing. I also wonder if these words will last forever, there are times when I get very sad and that is because there is a possibility that these famous works will not last, if we look at enormous revolutions such as the French Revolution or the Nazi occupation of Europe during the second world war… or Mao’s communist rule over China books are often engulfed in flame and destroyed just for the sake of destroying knowledge this is a very depressing thought as even though we may have the internet it is still destroy-able and some censorship or crazy natural anomaly can negate those beautiful and clairvoyant complex works of art. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradburry shows me the effects of a society without knowledge, not only is it extremely cold and lifeless but it is extremely harmful to those that live in the system. The small community that searched for the light was consistently hunted and killed because the books and words hidden from the population contained such valuable depth that it could spark a revolution. Words and books have always been a source of this, writings by Voltaire, Locke, or Rousseau were vital in editing and becoming the edited that helped formulate what modern philosophy today is. All I know is that reading is something that must remain key in the educational system, and if ever that reading is not required or taught to be loved then I must act as a spokesperson for a future filled with cantankerous ideology and hate. 

Invisible man-invisibility research

Invisibility by narrators definition- invisible by virtue of how others react to him. They do not accept his reality and thus live as though they do not see him. He gives a more direct example by explaining how he almost killed a white man whom he bumped into on the street. He continued to attack the white man as long as the man refused to apologize and kept insulting him. The narrator then realized that the man does not see him as an individual and the narrator walked away laughing at the thought that the man was almost killed by a "figment of his imagination".

The boys are blinded by a white blindfold which the narrator circumvents in order to approach the Battle Royal slightly less like an animal.  He had never truly experienced darkness before and it scared him. In this manner, his invisibility is again foreshadowed as the reader knows that he will fade as a character into more darkness as the novel progresses. During the speech men don’t even listen instead they laugh at him while he chokes on blood…. He then accidently says “social equality” instead of “social responsibility”. The audience becomes outraged and he swallows his blood and takes it back. He still doesn’t understand his grandfather because he can not spit out the blood and speak for himself. The boys’ literal blindfolding in the ring parallels the men’s metaphorical blindness as they watch the fight: the men view the boys not as individuals, but as inferior beings, as animals. The blindfolds also represent the boys’ own metaphorical blindness—their inability to see through the false masks of goodwill that barely conceal the men’s racist motives as they force the boys to conform to the racial stereotype of the black man as a violent, savage, oversexed beast. During the speech the narrator quotes Washington’s 1895 expo and realizes that being an upstanding citizen makes him even more invisible.

So we can understand Ellison's comment on invisibility mirrors that of characters such as Cauffield or Huck Finn who are unable to exist in the society so eventually they actually embody the one thing they are trying to escape... so the narrator shuts himself off from the modern world to make the final step to escape invisibility, he does this by letting no reaction happen to his actions and letting no influence take place in his life. He escapes the grid and figures out who he is for himself. Yet we notice that this is not heeding the grandfathers advice either... so he is directly obeying warnings given to him by someone who seems to understand the depth and scale of being invisible. He is then shown as an extremely sinister sort of being who rejects other beings and ends physically invisible.

Poem

Kiss of my love.

Your beauty overwhelms me
As I wrap my arms around you
I press your softness tight
Great passion fills my inner being
I'm captured in your embrace
Your eyes control my very soul
The touch of your lips, heaven
Forever frozen in time
All else fades into nothing

This is one of my favorite poems of all time, although it is short and has an extremely literal meaning anyone can identify with it. Whether it be an 80 year old couple or little children meeting in their neighbors garden, love is all around us... and it transforms the way we think about a person, for we can look at what the world may perceive to be a worn and sea ridden oyster and see it as the potential to uncover a pearl. And not only does it change the mindset of the observer, but the observed as well. For once people understand that others do find them beautiful it unlocks a sort of mentality of power and possibility, and anyone can be considered beautiful. Although my generation focuses a lot on looks and we often become distracted by it we truly do value quality of feeling, and passion. My favorite lines of the poem have to be "Forever frozen in time/ All else fades into nothing", because often the search for this beauty is a crazy complex chase in where we can be burnt, bruised and almost buried as a result of the difficulty of finding that person. Yet once we do, the sum total of all our bruising's, burning s and metaphysical burials can be destroyed in an instant. For once we find that moment, be it a heavenly kiss or a smooth embrace, nothing else truly matters in the world... there is no past or future, there is no history or literature. Science means nothing and religion is absent, its a marriage of a sort... a joining of two actions in a single movement that dispel anything else in the brain, it creates a focus on a single thing to achieve a certain result so strong that we are unable to focus on anything else. Suddenly our soul is blended into two and you are quickly becoming a force that can control and destroy but also a delicate, frail balance of emotion that can, with one offset, whirl into a dangerous and equally destructive being of pain and hurt. This is why it is so vital to balance love with other things, since it can completely consume someones world it can potentially create a lot harm.
I guess what i'm trying to say is that from personal experience with people, love is both the most beautiful, altruistic, and powerful emotion known to man.... but it is equally the creator of pain and anger. And sometimes after we go through these amazing moments such as melting away into a kiss we become addicted to the feeling and once that feeling is lost... we cannot find love again, until we find that moment.

Individual man

Out of all the themes in Invisible Man, whether it be the radical ideas of communism and their abstracted use of the black community or whether it be the mindset of White's regarding that black community, I have always found the struggling of individuality and invisibility to be the most interesting. 

The narrator throughout the book consistently struggles to understand who he his, what purpose he serves, and how to achieve that identity. Yet, he never reveals his true name... and for the majority of the book he goes by an alter-ego which we still don't know the name of. This struggle of identity might have served a different purpose then what I perceived, but literature is extremely interpretative. I think Ellison meant for this individuality to be looked at as a historical lens, because the brotherhood acts in a way as if the narrator were an abstract idea instead of an actual person. Brother Jack seems to be wonderful and magnificent paying copious amounts of money to the Narrator and giving him lodging, but he turns out to only want the narrator for what he can do... and then Brother Jack attempts to control what he says by saying things such as "So it isn't a matter of whether you wish to be the new Booker T. Washington, my friend. Booker Washington was resurrected today... He came out from the anonymity of the crowd and spoke to the people". So essentially, the narrator isn't speaking for himself he is acting as a mouthpiece for Booker Washington, he has to take up an identity and change his manner of being to suit the needs of the mass. The purpose of the brotherhood itself was just that "We do not shape our policies to the mistaken and infantile notions of the man in the street. Our job is not to ask them what they think but to tell them". This is showing that the Brotherhood is trying its hardest to restrict people's freedom of thought and expression, and this leads into the restriction of history... on one side of the face of Brotherhood we can see that they are powerful unit attempting to express the will and want of the community, but the underlying truth is simple and obvious covered merely by its own optic white... that the Brothers just want to exert domination over the community. This in totality shows the stagnation of history as a result of these powerful organizations that are just as evil as its oppressors, as long as there is someone to control the people's will to such an extent were they feel subjugated and mislead there will be no revolution or progress of history

Free blog for fun- Quintessence- Free writing

“What can I get ya?” The bar tender had a scruffy beard and a once white rag on his shoulder that almost blended in to his caramel-colored t-shirt that stretched to fit over his bulging beer belly. He smacked his gum while he waited for me to order something, anything.

“I don’t know, make it hard.” The bar tender looked at me and knew that he sat exactly where I did, he understood agony. What does taste matter? Just seconds later he slid a glass across the counter that stopped right in front me, the result of countless years stuck inside a tavern, repeating the same thing day after day, all the while promising yourself that tomorrow you’ll move on to bigger and better dreams. I sat and stared at the golden-brown liquid sitting within my reach, knowing that there’s no going back once I take a sip. I heard the bell over the door ring behind me, and a worn man sat a few seats down for me and asks the bartender to give him his favorite.

The barman took out a mixing glass and spoke roughly.

“This is my favorite… a rum daiquiri, a little rough going down though”

“Sweet liquid, it’s been a while.” He seemed to be saying it out loud to herself as a way of justifying the act more than anything else, but I answered anyway.

“Me neither, you know Ernest Hemingway loved the rum daiquiri mix” Both of us kept looking forward in our moments of immense sadness. He spoke again.

“Well, only the best for the best…right?”

I chuckled and slowly grabbed my glass and brought it up to my lips. I could see the elderly man look at me from the corner of my eye.

“What?”

He shook his head

“Oh nothing… do you drink a lot?” I pondered the question for the moment and put the glass down, I could see him smiling.

“No I have never had a drink in my life, but they say it can make you forget”

Minutes passed before the white haired man spoke again, the bartender cleaned glasses as his mind also thought of memories and scenes he wish he could have relived and changed.

“I’d have to drink a whole lot to forgot these past thirty something years”

At that moment a sense of interest overcame me like no other, this man had a lot to say.

“What do you mean, sir?”

He replied quickly “Don’t call me sir” he paused for a moment and brought his drink up to his eyes for inspection. He swirled the drink in his clear glass and smelled the liquor, he then released a depressing sigh.

“I loved this woman with a love that never existed before, I dreamt of her and woke up with her in my mind and I went to work being propelled by the fact that I would see her…” at this point the man’s eyes were shut and his hands were shivering, his frail skin seemed to feel a cold air that didn’t truly exist.

“Go on…” I said

A single tear splashed into his shot.

“And she loved me, we spent every day in a thick bliss, thick like a marmalade teeming with tough sugar…and I asked her to marry me, I asked her right outside this bar. She said yes, we grew up happy and singing like the tiny weightless birds in the trees of the park. One day she was teaching a pottery class in a nearby store and a mom and her child walked in… she told me that the mom looked at the child as if a florist looked at the last flower on earth. We made love that night and conceived Lyra, 18 months later came Jasper and suddenly I was all grown up…”

The bartender and other customers were also now intently listening; the old man appeared to be speaking not to me but to himself, to something inside him. I urged him to continue once more but he erupted into a fit of helpless sobbing, no one around him paid notice… we all just waited to hear his story.

“We owned a rather large loft right near the park, I would wake up next to hear and hear those soft birds sing every morning… even in the winter, they even sang in the winter. Jasper and Lyra were growing up at this point, doing well in school and art and football. One night I went out to dinner with colleagues and had too much to drink, my lady laughed it off and nursed me to health… but that experience was so numb that I came to it the next day. Soon she became worried and spoke to my friends but at that point there was nothing that could stop me, I had fallen even more in love with alcohol. One night I came home stumbling drunk and she scolded me. In my drunken rage I hit hear on the side of her temple and she fell…”

The man looked down at his drank and the wet spots of salty tears around it, he looked straight at me and peered into my soul.

“She fell and hit her head on the side of a table, my son walked in the room at this moment and attacked me in anger and disappointment… knowing his life had been changed forever and he had no choice over that matter. So I grabbed him by the neck to tell him to stop and I yelled “STOP JASPER STOP STOP STOP” but it was not him that needed to stop for my intoxicated action squeezed the happiness and life out of his growing limbs. I phoned the police immediately and collapsed on the couch shortly after… I woke up in a hospital with a sheriff at my bedside. The sheriff told me that I would go to court and so I did and I spent the next 35 years in jail, my daughter never visited me.”

I sat in complete awe and stared at those around me, this man had committed such a violent act and I am sitting right next to him. The bartender quickly grabbed the drink and spoke to him sternly.

“When did you get out?”

The man replied so softly as to signify that no anger could grow inside him again, to show that we could trust him. “I got out today” once again silence carpeted the crowd and it was my turn to question him.

“So what are you doing in a bar?”

He gazed even deeper into who I was that day. He understood the quintessence of happiness in that moment.

“I am in a bar, outside of where I proposed to the woman of my obsession to look at the one thing that I have desired so much and that has caused me so much pain… so that I could look at this tiny glass and smell its delicious scent and be able to walk away and know that I am ready to realize what beauty truly is. As harmless as it may look if it hurts your heart, and steals your joy… then it is not worth your breathe”

I began to cry in that moment, for I no longer needed Anna.

Hamlet conversation

Recently my group in Hamlet had a discussion of the third act of Hamlet, the third act is one of my favorite and it contained a lot of topics that could have been discussed for hours, unfortunately the bell had to ring sometime. We spoke particularly about Hamlets famous lines of-

"To be, or not to be". The reason these lines are so important is because it adds too Shakespeare's ability to make his scenes, and characters for that matter... very three dimensional. Hamlet is a character who has a subconscious that only the audience seems to understand. Hamlet himself never says the words "I or me" in the speech itself, almost as if he does not consider consider killing himself. He does not express himself in agony or pain, which could possibly lead him to only pose the question as a matter of philosophical debate on the topic... almost. When he states that anybody would kill themselves if they weren't certain about afterlife then he is almost arguing for a certain belief instead of commenting on the fact that he might want to actually kill himself. It is hard for us to know exactly what Shakespeare intended for the "to be or not to be" line, did he directly refer to this idea of suicide? If so then Shakespeare was years ahead of his time, in fact it was forbidden to think such thoughts during the turn of the century. Did he mean to be as in to act or to take action? that could be a possibility because he certainly had revenge set in his mind and wanted to act upon his wishes and wills of his ghost father. Or he could mean to be as in to appear as himself and to not be as to not be himself, Hamlet does seem to know a lot about appearing a certain way and he consistently lies to others.... but we see a true release of Hamlets and who he is, this is his biggest speech that he gives alone.




The only big question remaining for this speech is whether Hamlet is crazy or not, my group had varied opinions on the matter, I thought he was just as crazy as we are all and that any of us in the situation would end up like he would.That Shakespeare was trying to make a comment on how each of us lived our lives to the perception that we are all sane, yet if we look at what we do then we truly are crazy creatures.

We know that we are going to die, yet we completely ignore that fact.
To put it into very very very simple terminology.

"When you admit that we are all crazy the mystery goes away and all else stands explain"- Twain

This quote by Twain really emphasizes to me Hamlets last lines "The rest is silence".

Poem

For my blog I decided to do a poem which I ended up writing.

I can see the shadowy night, and the dark silhouette of giant trees
And the dissolving snow, preparing for spring time
I can touch the cold chair with sensitive hands
And I can smell the earth as rain touches its surface
I can hear the whistle of an old swing, neighbors laughing, and the croaking of lonesome frogs
I can taste your sweet kiss, soft and harmless like the breeze against my skin
These are my senses, all five of them encountering pure beauty
But what do I feel?
I feel like the giant trees, alone and still and waiting for something magnificent
I feel like spring time, eager and ready and excited
I feel like the sensitive hands, curious and delicate, powerful yet small
I feel like the water… spiraling down in hopes and dreams to be caught by a beautiful net
I feel like the croaking frog, shouting and begging for its other half
And in this pensive moment I realize
I may be encompassed by graceful and alluring sights filled with awe and wonder
Surrounded by flowers with suns and muted grass
I may be next to happiness and joy and delight
Yet I do not feel content
Because I am the water plummeting towards an abyss, without a net
Because I am that tiny earth in the huge galaxy, without rain
Because I am the flower in the depths of winter, without a sun
Be my net,
Be my rain,
Be my sun,
Be my valentine.

I wrote this poem on valentines day because my valentine was very far away and I was overcome by the mood and general feel of the night, I was sitting outside and rain began to slightly fall against my face. The rain and smell of the earth reminded me of home so I decided to write and that is what I came up with. I think its important to express yourself, whether that be through poetry or some other method that is unrelated to literature. I like poetry because it is beautiful enough to be feminine yet strong and powerful enough to be masculine. I generally write to understand, not to express though, to understand how I feel in that moment... then I feel as if I go through an almost cathartic experience. Even if no one reads your work its still important to create something out of the emotions that you are going through.

Delicate Little hands (Shape made to look like a girl)

She sighed, such a soft breathe

As if her exhale were the gentle cry of angel

A sorrowful smile stared obverse me 

Even her tears, comparable to the sun

Her delicate little hands frail and cold

Yet the most beautiful things on Earth

As if God created them with light and love and snow

She; a single dove; white and pure, illuminating that dark before the sunrise

Like a single hope, a belief in beauty, faith in the savior

My savior,

My guardian,

My white rose,

Does she love me? It matters not

She is a beacon for the lost sailor, unable to find home;

Proof that stars still shine

To explain her would be unattainable;

Perhaps God spoke to the devil

Proving his humble, begging for peace

And for a moment, evil relented

Creating delicate little hands

We started Hamlet today,

Not completely sure why because a certain Mrs. Kelly Clinch wasn't present and we weren't able to go really in depth with the first two scenes because we had no one to guide us.

So for my poem and my blog I said. "Hey Sven, why don't you write a little poem?"

Okay if you insist. The poem is known as 

"What's it like with no guide"

As I sat there in my cold hard seat,

I stared blankly at the book,

interrupted by little Kylie

"Stop kicking your damn feet"

The sub asked us for page 1

"Who wants to be Francisco?"

Wait, so quick?

Are we not exploring theme 

or language

or anything?

irritation, I wanna scream.

With no guide

how can we expect to learn?

The sub was really nice

Yet she was empty, I sighed

She didn't understand Shakespeare.

She didn't get the diction

or significance of the plot 

I'm screwed, oh dear.

Just a funny little poem I thought I would introduce, but in all seriousness… it’s a very interesting conflict to explore. Having a good teacher is such a vital part of being in a classroom it’s sad to see the line between a country such as United States and one such as Sudan divide even further. I live in a country where teachers are underpaid from the outset, in a country where there is less development… such as Sudan, not only are teachers paid nothing… they aren’t able to get qualified either.

“But Sven schooling in other countries isn’t so bad… and why do you care anyways, you have a wonderful education”

Well because I don’t see myself as a member of Georgia, or the United States, or the North American continent. I see myself as a member of humanity, a genus we often forget that we belong to, high schoolers don’t often think of education. Yet when they do it isn’t of how we can better education in general, or how we can get more qualified teachers into classes… it’s about when anchor time is going to start. Fundamentally a world where having high schoolers push for better learning themselves is not possible, but I fully believe that there are individuals that believe to be a part of the human race and first and foremost want talented teachers for every child that is born. A more clever society can open the possibility to so many things, what if the next Einstein or Mark Twain is stuck inside one of India’s 70+ children classrooms?

It would be really wonderful if each school could require a class that would team high schoolers and teachers together that could figure out ways to help individual schools across the globe and help set goals and pitch ideas that could change the course of humanity.

Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.

The invisible man

The prologue to Invisible Man has officially been read.

I am pretty impressed with myself honestly, starting the year off right. More importantly, starting the year off with what seems to be a decent book. 

I like the narrator, I think.

Kind of pretentious, almost to the point where I do not feel sorry for him... not yet anyways. But the whole point of the book is a little unclear to me so far, am I supposed to criticize the role of morals in a racist society? 

This I am confused with because the few touches of interaction I have had with the narrator are fairly irritating. He has beaten a man half to death merely because of an insult, he also steals from a power company by implementing  1,369 light bulbs into his house as well as living in a light hole with free rent. 

He then goes on to exclaim that his only sin is in his skin, did he not commit sin with beating a man? Or cheating rent, taxes, and bills? 

If the narrator lives in a society were a certain group is profiled as dangerous and cheap, why would he intentionally hurt someone or intentionally steal? So actual racism hasn't been completely introduced to me, and I am sure it will.

Society is a pretty confusing thing I think.

Because we can look at the fifties and criticize racism all we want... but racism isn't born, it's taught. And its difficult to un-teach something that has been hammered into your head since birth, and I am by no means condoning racism... I am just wondering what is hammered into my head that is absolutely completely wrong. and I want to stand up against whatever that may be... like a MLK Jr. or an Abraham Lincoln or a Jane Addams.

But I think it's kinda reversed now, increasingly I see instances where whites are becoming subject to racism. Examples?

When asked which president I would vote for I was called racist when I answered Mitt Romney. When stating that I believed Malcom X was a violent human being I was called racist.

When stating that Floyd Mayweather Junior was not as good a boxer as Manny Pacquiao I was called racist.

When stating that W.e.B DuBois pushed racial advancement to early in a rigid, dangerous society I was called racist.

Where is our right to opinion? Somebody or some group is always being criticized by another, and I kind of hate that... can we never live in a truly free society?

Maybe that's what I get to stand up for, standing up for anyone against everyone... perhaps I'm just rambling, but I am trying to find my benefit to humanity... what I can do to make the world a better place.

I am sure as hell not racist against anyone, but I can see it in front of me... although it may be more hidden then fifty years ago, its still there... and its no longer white vs black, its white vs black vs brown vs yellow vs white vs green vs purple, and its becoming increasingly rampant. It saddens me to think that universal love truly isn't graspable.

Invisible Man seems to explore existentialism, maybe that's the reason to exist.

To exist fully is to stand up for something.