Observations, Inferences, Questions:
What I know for sure is that Melinda's grades are suffering because of the problems she's had. I also know some of the story of what happened and why she's pretty much hated at the school. I also know that the reason people hate her is because they don't know the full story. We aren't told the full story yet but she was at a party and she called the cops. So far it hasn't said why or what happened for her to do that. We can infer that it was something bad and that she's embarrassed to tell someone, or just doesn't know how to come out and say it. We can also infer that her art teacher has some understanding of what might have happened or at least knows there's something wrong that she isn't talking about. My only question is just how much the art teacher knows and what is Melinda, if she does, going to tell him? Also when is Melinda going to make up with her other friends? Although I do have to say that the relationship between her and Ivy seems to have improved.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Speak - First Quarter Response
Compare/Contrast :
I have so far seen many things inside the text that have me thinking of my life. So far I've been constantly hearing about how she feels so alone, isolated and has terrible parental communication problems. The story of my friend's life right there, she can relate so much to Melinda its sad. Obviously her troubles aren't on the same page as Melinda's because what my friend's going through is no where near as bad as Melinda has it. To be raped by someone that you have to see throughout the school year is just terrible. My friend's problems just basically consist of parental issues, motivational issues and the inability to feel anything but pain or numbness. Although she did have to say she felt a ray of sunshine penetrate her deep and deathly black hole of a heart in the beginning of October. For about three days she felt like she could fly or that this school year wasn't going to be as bad as the last. HAHAHAHA, boy was she sooooo freaking wrong. As soon as mid-terms came out she felt like the giant shark from Jaws had jumped out of the water and ate her. She was Melinda again, sitting at the dinner table with my fuming mother and just wishing she had the guts or the numbness to just walk away. Melinda did and she sort of envies that, not feeling anything when your mother is screaming at you would just be terrific. Well at least from her point of few, Melinda probably thinks how nice it would be to feel something again, other than pain and loneliness. Anyway that's completely off topic (well sort of) and so I'm going to get back on topic. Anyway Melinda feels like she has nothing left and I was comparing that to my friend's. Although not on the same levels they still have the same empty feeling and the same longing to belong.
I have so far seen many things inside the text that have me thinking of my life. So far I've been constantly hearing about how she feels so alone, isolated and has terrible parental communication problems. The story of my friend's life right there, she can relate so much to Melinda its sad. Obviously her troubles aren't on the same page as Melinda's because what my friend's going through is no where near as bad as Melinda has it. To be raped by someone that you have to see throughout the school year is just terrible. My friend's problems just basically consist of parental issues, motivational issues and the inability to feel anything but pain or numbness. Although she did have to say she felt a ray of sunshine penetrate her deep and deathly black hole of a heart in the beginning of October. For about three days she felt like she could fly or that this school year wasn't going to be as bad as the last. HAHAHAHA, boy was she sooooo freaking wrong. As soon as mid-terms came out she felt like the giant shark from Jaws had jumped out of the water and ate her. She was Melinda again, sitting at the dinner table with my fuming mother and just wishing she had the guts or the numbness to just walk away. Melinda did and she sort of envies that, not feeling anything when your mother is screaming at you would just be terrific. Well at least from her point of few, Melinda probably thinks how nice it would be to feel something again, other than pain and loneliness. Anyway that's completely off topic (well sort of) and so I'm going to get back on topic. Anyway Melinda feels like she has nothing left and I was comparing that to my friend's. Although not on the same levels they still have the same empty feeling and the same longing to belong.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Speak Statement Blog
Statement #4 : Students should not tell teachers about their personal problems, no matter how serious.
This statement is a very debatable topic because many people feel differently. My opinion lies with the people who believe this statement to be true. Although it is quite possible my opinion lies all alone and separated from others. I believe this statement to the very end of the period, no ''buts or well if they do this'' 's. I think that teachers:
A) make things much worse
B) don't help things at all
C) don't really care
* Wait for It * ........
D) all of the above
I honestly believe that they really don't care at all, that sounds meaner in writing, but I believe it to be true. I mean why would you care about an annoying, immature, obnoxious teenage child, that's not even yours? Why would they want to waste their time on a problem that will most likely solve itself? And if it won't go away, why not take care of it the old way and have a fighting match behind the building afterschool? If they actually do care, and actually attempt to solve the problem, 97% of the time they make it worse. If in the 3% of cases where they didn't make it worse 98% of those 3% don't help what so ever. So I give them credit for fixing a problem correctly about 0.00294% of the time. (Yes that is 98% of 3%) I don't mean to bash the teachers that actually care and do solve problems but this is my opinion of most of them.
This statement is a very debatable topic because many people feel differently. My opinion lies with the people who believe this statement to be true. Although it is quite possible my opinion lies all alone and separated from others. I believe this statement to the very end of the period, no ''buts or well if they do this'' 's. I think that teachers:
A) make things much worse
B) don't help things at all
C) don't really care
* Wait for It * ........
D) all of the above
I honestly believe that they really don't care at all, that sounds meaner in writing, but I believe it to be true. I mean why would you care about an annoying, immature, obnoxious teenage child, that's not even yours? Why would they want to waste their time on a problem that will most likely solve itself? And if it won't go away, why not take care of it the old way and have a fighting match behind the building afterschool? If they actually do care, and actually attempt to solve the problem, 97% of the time they make it worse. If in the 3% of cases where they didn't make it worse 98% of those 3% don't help what so ever. So I give them credit for fixing a problem correctly about 0.00294% of the time. (Yes that is 98% of 3%) I don't mean to bash the teachers that actually care and do solve problems but this is my opinion of most of them.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Things I value
What things are to be deemed priceless and what are to be deemed valuable? How are we suppose to know what things we should value? The following things are what I hold close and dear. They mean more to me than I can explain in any number of words.
I’m one of those people who constantly has crazy days. Like when school’s a drag and in the girl’s locker room we have hair tossing, shin guard throwing, sock whipping and scrambling to get jerseys on. Whether they realize it or not, my team is always there for me. At times where my life seems to be a total disaster, they really help to pick me up. I've never told them that but it seems that regardless of my mood, I always leave with a positive one. They are the true magicians in this world with their mood elevating mind tricks a total secret. On our bus ride to our game ,every one's piled in back and I’m in front with terrible bus sickness. I thought they were going to stop liking me because I didn't sit with them, but this wasn't the case. With wobbly feet, I got off the bus and tried to stop feeling sick. Everyone came over and started asking if I was okay. With a weak response of “I'll live”, they told me to take it easy until I started feeling better.
During our first game it was a terrible time, with us beating Central 6-1. Instead of everyone complaining we focused on the good parts of the game and had a fun time with it. During the bus ride home I sat in the back, regardless of the bus sickness, and we had a blast. With music blaring and head bobbing we talked about games yet to come. Unfortunately the games are still to come as all of our games have been cancelled or rescheduled, and it's been about five weeks since our first game. But the mood in our fantastic group of freshies has not been diminished, it's subsided but our good attitude never completely destroyed. Our patience on the other hand, has completely run out.
Do you know the feeling, that feeling where you seem in another dimension? I get that feeling a lot and for me, it comes from reading my glorious livres. With nothing to do for hours at a time I usually grab a book and plop myself down on my chair. My floor is extremely demented, so every time I sit down the chair rotates about 120 degrees to the right. Mumbling to myself about how terrible the designers of the house are, I open my book to the sight of tiny font and unusual dialect. With words spelled the olde way and extremely large words, that some people can’t comprehend the meaning of, I usually get lost between the pages.
Currently I’m reading a book called Die For Me by Amy Plum. In it’s pages I get so lost it’s hard to come back to the real world. For most of the books I read it's like that. I get so lost in how the authors describe the scenes that it prints an image in my mind and I get stuck there, like my own personal movie theater. Books are my extended imagination, it has to be true that the more you read the better of a writer you become. With books I don't have to worry about acceptance or belonging, I can have my opinion of them and the story they hold within. They are fine with being judged and criticized with no bad words to say back.
These two things are both priceless and valuable and have a very special place in my extremely tiny muscle known as a heart. While these things are important to me it doesn't mean that somethings should be deemed less meaningful.
I’m one of those people who constantly has crazy days. Like when school’s a drag and in the girl’s locker room we have hair tossing, shin guard throwing, sock whipping and scrambling to get jerseys on. Whether they realize it or not, my team is always there for me. At times where my life seems to be a total disaster, they really help to pick me up. I've never told them that but it seems that regardless of my mood, I always leave with a positive one. They are the true magicians in this world with their mood elevating mind tricks a total secret. On our bus ride to our game ,every one's piled in back and I’m in front with terrible bus sickness. I thought they were going to stop liking me because I didn't sit with them, but this wasn't the case. With wobbly feet, I got off the bus and tried to stop feeling sick. Everyone came over and started asking if I was okay. With a weak response of “I'll live”, they told me to take it easy until I started feeling better.
During our first game it was a terrible time, with us beating Central 6-1. Instead of everyone complaining we focused on the good parts of the game and had a fun time with it. During the bus ride home I sat in the back, regardless of the bus sickness, and we had a blast. With music blaring and head bobbing we talked about games yet to come. Unfortunately the games are still to come as all of our games have been cancelled or rescheduled, and it's been about five weeks since our first game. But the mood in our fantastic group of freshies has not been diminished, it's subsided but our good attitude never completely destroyed. Our patience on the other hand, has completely run out.
Do you know the feeling, that feeling where you seem in another dimension? I get that feeling a lot and for me, it comes from reading my glorious livres. With nothing to do for hours at a time I usually grab a book and plop myself down on my chair. My floor is extremely demented, so every time I sit down the chair rotates about 120 degrees to the right. Mumbling to myself about how terrible the designers of the house are, I open my book to the sight of tiny font and unusual dialect. With words spelled the olde way and extremely large words, that some people can’t comprehend the meaning of, I usually get lost between the pages.
Currently I’m reading a book called Die For Me by Amy Plum. In it’s pages I get so lost it’s hard to come back to the real world. For most of the books I read it's like that. I get so lost in how the authors describe the scenes that it prints an image in my mind and I get stuck there, like my own personal movie theater. Books are my extended imagination, it has to be true that the more you read the better of a writer you become. With books I don't have to worry about acceptance or belonging, I can have my opinion of them and the story they hold within. They are fine with being judged and criticized with no bad words to say back.
These two things are both priceless and valuable and have a very special place in my extremely tiny muscle known as a heart. While these things are important to me it doesn't mean that somethings should be deemed less meaningful.
Friday, September 9, 2011
The woman meets the Frankenstein
Victor Frankenstein is from Frankenstein
Lily Bart is from The House of Mirth
Victor Frankenstein shambled down an alley way, ignoring the stares of ignorant people. They had no idea what hard work went in to being a scientist, and then for your own creation to turn on you! The illness that was in control of his life was terrible, but there was one thing worse then that. His grief was all consuming; the monster had killed everyone he ever cared about. First he killed William, his younger brother and next came poor Henry an innocent friend. The final straw was when the monster killed his wife, and indirectly his father too. That sent Victor into a downward spiral, one that he could never recover from.
Lily Bart, a young woman with no husband, had set her eyes on a few eligible bachelors. With several gone out the window she had invested in stock markets with a man named Gus Trenor. After an affair scandal, started by a woman who was cheating on her husband, Lily’s social status goes down. From there on her status was completely and utterly ruined. At one point when she sees a man that had asked her to marry him, she tells him that she will. But her status has been soured to the point where even the man she despised says no. No one has ever heard the story about how the two depressed people met, at least until now.
One dark and gloomy night a man waited impatiently on an iron bench. His timing had been off and it cost him a whole day, a day spent waiting. His annoyance was growing by the hour, and with nothing to occupy him it was getting foul. As his mind wondered to people of the pass, he spotted a woman walking through the train station. She walked as though she were gliding over the cobblestone, and looked as though she could be part of a dream. She was of medium height and build, but of great beauty and magnificent elegance. Victor pondered for a time why such a woman would be out at this hour or on such a dark night. He did not ponder long for she made her way over to him, stepping with care as to not break a heel. She sat down silently and did not speak a word, a strange silence stretched on, only to be broken by an owl’s hoot. Victor sighed inwardly; women were so complicated to begin a conversation with. Getting up the courage to speak he hesitated, not sure of how to tread with such a woman.
“My name is Lily Bart, what’s yours?” she asked suddenly.
Startled by the sudden noise of conversation Victor jumped in his seat.
“Victor is my name, Dr. Victor Frankenstein.” He responded.
With a nod of her head she acknowledged his response, and looked the other way as if hoping the train would arrive at that moment. Lily was nervous about talking to such a sophisticated man, it was all too obvious just how educated he was. She had never really talked to a doctor, at least not in too much detail. Victor seemed nice enough and there was nothing better to do, he didn’t seem to care about talking to someone with a no status. Then again he may be a dangerous man, being out at a time like this, just waiting on an iron bench. That made her laugh, the same could be said about a woman at a time like this, yet here she was.
“Why fair one, do you sit upon this bench at such an early hour? Should you not be in bed or at least in your own home? Do you not have a husband who would be worried of your whereabouts?” Victor inquired softly, choking up on the last question.
Lily thought about what she was going to say, should she lie in order to make it sound as if she really was cared about. Or should she speak the truth to this stranger, a person whom she strangely had the urge to open up to. As she looked up into the man’s eyes for the first time, she saw pain and guilt. He would understand her situation and perhaps she would her out his. That way they each had the possibility of helping out each other with uplifting words or a plan of action.
“I was once a woman with status; I had friends and a family member that actually cared about my welfare. Now I am…….”
Lily continued her story well passed and ended close to in the morning. When she was finished recounting her tale she gave a big sigh and looked down at her feet. Victor sat in a thinking state for a few minutes before finally placing a hand on top of Lily’s.
“Young woman you seem just shy of thirty years of age, you have time to find a husband and make a nice living for yourself. He should not necessarily be rich, but you should definitely love him for what he is.” was Victor’s intelligent reply.
Lily smiled at this; Victor definitely was a man of great intelligence and ingenuity. While she herself felt slightly better, Lily wondered what Victor’s problem was. As she found out, she did not have long to wait for he began his tale about half pass three.
“When I was younger I fell in love with science and the secret of life. I had an experiment that I desperately wanted to perform, in order to see if I could construct an animate creature, a superior being if you will….”
Victor’s story was short then Lily’s because he could not go into the level of detail that she did. It was too painful and some graphic details just weren’t for the ears of a lady to hear. Lily was on the fringe of tears because of how sad Victor’s life has been, which was extremely unusual because she doesn’t get emotional often. She also felt bad in a way; she had not words of wisdom for Victor like he did for her. As she looked off to the east, for the first time she noticed just how light it was getting. With a disappointed sigh she stood up and stretched ever so slightly. Victor looked up at the sun, just beginning to peek up behind the church several streets away. Just as the clock tower rung out, indicating it was , a train whistle could be heard in the distance. Victor looked to Lily and Lily looked back at Victor, each knowing that they would most likely never see each other again.
“I’m sorry that I have no words of wisdom to bestow upon you but I do wish you luck in your hunting of the allusive creature. I shall never forget the words that you said to me Dr. Frankenstein. I thank you with all of my heart.” Lily commented quietly.
Victor nodded and headed towards the loading dock, “Farewell, Lily my dear.” He called.
Lily waited until Dr. Frankenstein had gone onto the train before she walked away; still pondering all that was said that night.
Those two never met again and unfortunately they both died before accomplishing their desires. Lily overdosed on sleeping medicine and Dr. Frankenstein died of an illness cause by his grief.
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