2nd Response on "Girl In Translation"

In the book Girl In Translation, Kimberly goes through her coming-of-age process in America, having moved there as a complete foreigner around age 11. There are many similarities and differences between child and adult Kimberly, but a change I see clearly is how much more mature Kimberly became as she ‘came-of-age’. One of the primary aspects of coming-of-age is maturity, including how you deal with problems and face your responsibilities. As and adult, people expect you to be mature, even if it can be very hard to be the ‘bigger person’, and Kimberly takes on that expectation head-on.

Kimberly and her mother are extremely poor, working in an illegal sweatshop for long hours and living in a roach-ridden apartment in the projects of Brooklyn. One of Kimberly’s only friends in America, Annette, doesn’t have a clue what a rough life Kim has. Besides the language barrier, it is extremely hard for Kim to deal with, much less tell her wealthier best-friend, about her home and financial situation. In the beginning, Annette doesn’t seem much to notice, and their friendship glides along, but as they get into high school, Annette starts to wonder why she can’t call Kim, and why Kimberly can’t even afford to wear nice underwear to gym class. Later on in the book, Kim finally comes clean about how she lives when Annette shows up at her house. “I knew you didn’t have a lot of money, but this is ridiculous. No one in America lives like this.” [Annette said]. I stated the obvious. “Actually, they do.” (p. 242) A part of maturing is accepting who you are, and if you don’t like, then you try to change it. Kim does both those things, by toughing it out in her home and working her butt off trying to make a better life for her and her mom.

Another part of maturing is voicing things and taking stands for what you believe in to get things done, rather than waiting around for things to happen on their own. Since the beginning, Kimberly’s Aunt Paula has held over her head that she was the one that brought Kim and her mother to America. She makes them pay her back almost immediately, and puts them in a crappy apartment, secretly not wanting them to ‘make it’ in America. “America! If I hadn’t brought you here, you’d still be in Hong Kong. I even gave you another address so you could go to a better school.” [said Aunt Paula]. “You did that because it’s illegal for us to be living where we are.” [said Kimberly]. In this moment, towards the end of the book, Kim finally voices what she knows, and then she and her mother quit their jobs in Aunt Paula’s sweatshop so Kim can go to Yale, something Aunt Paula didn’t want her to do since it was a sign that Kim was better than her son.

One last way that shows how Kim matured is by getting a boyfriend, and showing Matt that she cares about him. I know this may seem like an odd example of maturity, but telling and showing someone you like them is incredibly hard, which I would know from personal experience. In the beginning of the book, Kim acts as if she is afraid of boys. While reluctantly going on a motorcycle tour with Matt, she says “I did desperately want to put my arms around him but...shyness overwhelmed me just at the thought of it.” Telling someone you like them not only shows bravery, but it shows that you have the power to lay-out who you are and what you’re thinking, instead of being afraid and hiding your whole life.

In conclusion, the main aspect of Kimberly’s coming-of-age that shined through was how much she matured, and took life by the reigns. As a young adult, you can’t always wait for life to make the decisions, you have to, even if that can be scary or tough. Life doesn’t always work out the way you may want it to, and the only way you can try to fix things is by getting up and fixing them yourself.

Response on Prompt #6

Rebelling, I feel, is a necessary part of growing up. Rebelling is such a general term though. When I say we should all rebel, I don’t immediately think about going out every night to drink and party. Everyone has their own boundaries, and we should rebel to our own limits. If you’re born n’ raised in a religious suburb, your tolerance for ‘crazy’ may be slightly lower than a born-and-raised New Yorker like myself.

To me, the term rebelling just means a way of going ‘against the system’, whether the system is the authority in your life, social norms etc. To learn who-we-are, we need to see where our moral beliefs and stance is. For example, do you think it is ok to be gay, or not? Going against the ‘system’ is also good just to, maybe, see how you deal with things you don’t believe in, whether that’s thinking it’s not fair to have to say ‘please’ or having a curfew before midnight. Part of getting our feet stabilized on the ground is learning how to fall. Like the saying “Forward two steps, back one step”, life isn’t always going to be up, so we need to fall a few times and see which way we can pick ourselves back up.

The thing about rebelling though is that it can have major consequences. While going against the ‘system’, we find that we like it too much and take it from experimental zone to a more permanent place in your life. For example, though I don’t want to take drugs, I understand if maybe you try it out. Well, maybe not understand, but I probably won’t blow up on you and give you an intervention. I think if we don’t try something ‘bad’, we will never understand ourselves that they are bad or disgusting. All we will know is what everyone else thinks, which to most people isn’t good enough. When this one-time thing though becomes permanent, that’s where the problem begins.

Why would so many people rebel though, if it does come with a high risk? Besides my opinion of it being necessary, the honest answer I have is that rebelling can be fun. Since I am a bit grounded, rebelling to me is not too huge, but I still remember the time I openly chewed gum in class and put my legs on the table. Wild, huh? Though it sounds stupid, a small moment of rebellion like this leads to a huge feeling of satisfaction that for many people is enough. Ok, I tried it out, I’m cool now. Rebelling is definitely something to avoid if you tend to maximize problems, but small moments of breaking the rules teach you who you are and what you can do (without hopefully getting in too much trouble...)

Response on "Girl in Translation"

Though I believe Kimberly Chang began her coming-of-age process as soon as her feet hit American soil, there is clearly a difference in her from the beginning to the end of the book Girl In Translation. Alongside the many differences though, there are many similarities between adult and child Kimberly. I feel like being a kid is a time we all cherish, and though we come-of-age, we never completely get rid of it. Many parts of us as a kid actually follow us into our adult life, whether prominent in who-we-are or just another one of our hidden personalities.

An aspect of child Kim that seems to creep up on us in adulthood is being insecure and wanting to fit in. “It became harder and harder to pull the sweater over all the under-layers I wore (unlike the other girls), but I had no choice.” This feeling of needing to be like the other kids is one I know well. Though I am far from being poor, I am not the most ‘in-with-the-trends’ and find it hard to deal with the other kids that will laugh at you if you aren’t. I think we all want to be normal, since then you can live under the radar without any negative attention. This happens more so when you’re a kid and a teenager though. It’s human nature to want to ‘fit-in’ and be normal, but as an adult you know yourself better and are more stable overall.

A second trait of Kim’s that follows her into adulthood shows when Kim goes to school in America for the first time. She gets outcasted, accused of cheating, and naturally becomes very upset. “After my talk with Ma about Mr.Bogart, I did what any sensible kid would do: I started playing hooky.” Instead of solving the problem (by maybe talking to Mr. Bogart about her trouble accustoming to American culture), she decides to cut school. Though this could be looked at as a form of rebellion, in the context she does this action in, I don’t consider it rebellion. She is not trying to make the authority (her mother and teacher) angry, she is trying to hide from her problem. Though hiding from any problem is a childish thing to do, Kim does something very similar in the end of the book. When she becomes pregnant at age 18, she doesn’t tell Matt, the father, in fear of making a bigger deal out of it. She didn’t want to “Tye him to her with a baby”, so she runs off to Yale, being a college student by day and a mother by night. Adults and parents are supposed to be the people that solve problems and face their duties, but as Kim matures, she still hangs on to her childhood shy and scared self.

The last way Kim acts like a child is by being afraid to stand-up for herself. Now, I say that like it is an easy thing, which it’s not, but another part of coming-of-age is being able to take care of yourself in a world that does not always play in your favor. When Kim and her mother treat themselves to ice-cream, they get ripped off, and they both know it. “When he rang up the price, it was three times more than it said on the carton...I didn’t know if I should speak up or how you complained about prices in English, so I kept silent as well.” The interesting part is that her mother, who in theory has already experienced her coming-of-age, didn’t stand up for herself or say anything either. I guess none of us completely turn into an ‘adults’, since most times it is just so much easier to be a kid.

As I flipped back through the pages of my book, I realized that many aspects of being a kid follow you to your adult life. Though I would like to think that as an adult you are always in control, that’s not true. As I read about Kim getting scared as a police called from behind, I immediately thought Not ready to be an adult and play it cool yet, huh? After some thought, I realized most people, kids or adults, would be scared in a situation like that. I also need to give credit to Kim for having to experience her coming-of-age in a completely foreign place with a very different language and culture. Coming-of-age means changing, but more in the way that you build on what you already know. Though being a kid and being an adult are so very different, and coming-of-age feels like a slap in the face sometimes, we always have a part in us that still wants our old teddy-bear to hug or our mommies to tuck us into bed at night.

Extended Response to Prompt #7

Ready or Not, Go

Ready or Not
Go

The whistle blows,
the bell chimes.
It’s your time,
it all starts now.
What are you going to do with the rest of your life?

Ready or Not
Go

Run too fast and you’ll get tired.
Totter too slow and you’ll trip.
Will you pick yourself up,
or stay down awhile?

Ready or Not
Go

The path twists and turns
never staying constant.
Up mountains, down valleys,
through rain and fog,
thick and thin.

Ready or Not
Go

Sometimes it’s good
sometimes it’s not,
but don’t claw at your eyes
they’ll get tired.
Just keep your feet moving
don’t freeze now.
Aren’t you sick of being frozen?
Isn’t being free what you wanted?

Ready or Not
Go

Mama can’t pick you up no more,
she can’t keep up.
You’re going too fast,
you have to

You have to.

***I wrote this poem based of my entry for prompt number 7, basically stating that when you’re a kid, you hit the earth with your feet and get to explore a bit, but as soon as your time to grow-up comes, it’s as if something drops you in a new world, and the only way to survive is to hit the ground running. If you make a mistake, the thing that may define your life is how you get out of it, not the mistake itself. If you stumble, get back up and keep going because at this age, anything can happen.***

FINAL response on "My Papa's Waltz'

Recently we read “My Papa’s Waltz”. I read this poem last year, and immediately remembered the tranquil and sad feeling I got the first few times I read it. This time around, though I still kept in mind what I thought about the poem last year, I made new connections that in some ways reflects what is going on in my life now. Interesting how poems can do that, huh? Anyway, last year I associated the poem pretty immediately with heavy drinking and abuse. T hough I still think the child is getting hurt and the father is at least tipsy, I am more open to the emotional and beautiful side of the poem. The little boy clings onto his fathers shirt through romping and stumbling around. Even with all the ‘drama’ of having a tipsy father, the little boy may see his drunken stumbling as playing, and his pushes and light hits as dance directions. The son may be getting hurt, but the little boy calls this a waltz because it is hard for people to see the bad in their parents.

I’ll start with backing up to the father being tipsy/drunk. The little boy says that there is “whiskey on your [his father’s] breath to make a small boy dizzy,” (line 2) possibly the small boy being himself. Though having whiskey on your breath doesn’t automatically make you drunk, when there is enough to “make a small boy dizzy,” yes not uncomfortable but DIZZY, something is up. Also, “every step you miss” (line 11) indicates that the father may not be completely aware of his surroundings. Another thing that leads to the father being at least tipsy is that the father is dirty with a “palm caked hard by dirt,” (line 14). Having a battered knuckle could mean that either the father is a construction worker as Charlie suggested in class, or that the dirt is from being out late, roaming the streets in a drunken frenzy, getting into some messy tussles here and there.

Another belief I have is that, whether purposely or not, the father is hurting the son. “My right right ear scraped a buckle” (line 12) sounds pretty harsh, and “you beat time on my head” (line 13) could mean a number of things, from hurting the boy physically to threats of memories and the future. Also, people say that since the mother is pretty much just being a bystander, the father isn’t drunk and isn’t hurting his son. If the father was hurting his son, the mother would do something, right? Well, I hate to break it to people, but not everyone is brave. What if the ‘papa’ drinks a lot, and in the past has hit the mother, too? From mother’s we expect there to be a lot of protection for their children, especially growing up in gentle Park Slope. What about protecting yourself? This poem, to me, seems as if it took place at least a few decades ago, when it was more common for mother’s and father’s to be more ‘disciplinarian’ toward their children, and men to be more hostile with women. The mother may be scared for her own self, and may not want to make the scene worse by cutting in.

I also believe that the waltz is actually the father staggering around while his son clings to him. “Romping” (line 5) means acting in a rough and noisy (boisterous) way, which could show up if the son is clinging on, and the father is angry and wants him off. The boy also says “BUT I hung on like DEATH,” (line 3). The fact that the son used the word ‘death’ rather than something like ‘I hung on tight’ shows that possibly he is in a situation not so far from what brings death, or what emotions come with death. Maybe the boy doesn’t exactly know what being drunk is, but he is scared of his papa staggering and trying to push him away.

Adding on to my previous point, usually when people say ‘but’, they are trying to justify or explain something. In the poem’s context, what is being explained or justified is that the whiskey on the father’s breath could make a small boy dizzy. The thing about this poem that I truly find so beautiful and true is that the little boy clearly loves his father. Whether actually dancing or getting abused, and being with a drunk or just tipsy father, the little boy wants to dance and play with him. He defends the whiskey on the breath, and clings on to him for dear life, whether for support or simply wanting love when ‘waltzing’ and being sent to bed. As I mentioned, for us (especially little boys, but even me sometimes), we look up to our parents, and so we find it hard to fault them. No matter what, (hopefully), we love our parents even if they ground us, take away the computer, etc. We all as teenagers have those times of ‘No one understands me!’ or ‘WHATEVER MOM!’ and then the occasional ‘I hate you!’, but how can we truly hate the people that would give up so much for us? The son may be in risk of getting seriously hurt by his drunk dad, but instead of thinking of that, he thinks his father’s staggers and pushes are a dance or waltz of a kind. The waltz of a son and his father.

Response to Independent Book

-- I use my November Reading Challenge Homework Pass on this response --

Sonnet

Are teens going to get a break someday?
A catchphrase can’t be ‘wrong’, or ‘no’ or ‘bad’.
We have unique emotions that convey
What’s the problem with following the fad?

We are not pesky and little like mice,
We are humans and have a big, loud voice
Can’t you forgive us just this once or twice?
The changes happening are not our choice

I do like my tight jeans and baggy shirts
I think they are stylish and cool and hip
And though we may be big, obvious flirts
It all pays off when we get named as ‘chicks’

We are who we are; I am who I am
You may not like it: we don’t give a damn

BRAVO to my fellow Blog-Mates

When deciding whose responses to look more closely at, I decided to not read some of my shall I say ‘top-hit’ blogs (sorry Sarah!). Why not take chances, right? What I found was very interesting and pleasing...

The first response I will talk about is Marek’s response to ‘Please Don’t Take My Air Jordans’. Marek clearly has a strong voice which I completely admire, since I like to think I have one too. Also, Marek starts off by, you know, giving a brief summary of the poem, questioning things etc and then comes up with this amazing and unique interpretation of what the gun symbolizes! When reading this poem myself, I honestly didn’t look twice about what the gun may mean. I kind of just decided I thought the poem was weird, and that was the end of it! Not only is Marek’s interpretation unique, but it’s so justified in a sense that I now completely see a new side of the poem. I think that is truly the sign of a great response.

The second response I will say ‘bravo’ to is Julia’s, on once again ‘Please Don’t Take My Air Jordans’. Her interpretation, though more similar to mine than Marek’s was, is also eye-opening. I love how she turned the immediate reaction to the main character completely around. No more is he simply a bad kid, but a kid that doesn’t know who he is anymore! Julia also made her interpretation more convincing and real by putting her personal experience touches on it. Overall, it was a very sophisticated and well backed-up response.

The last response to a poem I am going to credit is Molly’s response to ‘My Papa’s Waltz’. She brings up a good point: any poem can be interpreted differently, based on how you apply it to your life and mood. In this response, Molly also asks many ‘thought-provoking’ questions about the poem. Lastly, I love how Molly sort of described her thought process of analyzing the poem, something which is crucial to coming up with ideas and questions.

In general, I think a good response has to have a strong voice, a unique angle on the subject backed-up with personal things, elaborations on ideas, some questions for the reader to think about etc. Though not mentioned above, I also enjoy reading Sarah’s blog, Micaela's blog, Tomin’s blog, Alberta’s blog, Lena’s blog, Ana’s blog, Fiona’s blog and Sammie-Jo’s blog.

Poetry Project: Divorce

Foreword:
Whether it is having to deal with new art on the walls, new food in the fridge, or a new face to wake-up to, divorce causes many problems, solutions, and changes. These changes, for better or worse, impact us all in a myriad of ways. Some are glad to have their parents living separate lives, while some are still looking for the parent that got away. Even with divorce being so common in these modern times, with married couples breaking up daily all across the nation via text message or phone calls, the feelings that are brought from it are all so different. Happy, sad, confused, lost, fresh, bright, or stupefied, divorce can turn things upside down.

Growing up with divorced parents, divorced since I was 4, there have been many bumps along the way. Whether it’s my parents fighting, having to deal with potential step-parents, or juggling time to see both of my parents, being a child of divorce has made me who I am. Divorce has made me a girl used to having to suck-it-up, or just blast some music and stay in my room the entire night. With a new house and family, I try to live my life regularly, but with having moved 3 times in the past 4 years, it has been hard.

Writing about divorce isn’t easy. When writing these poems, emotions that I tried to bury for a long time were unleashed, screwing with my mind. Some people say it’s easier to have your parents get divorced when you are young; you won’t remember the time spent with both parents there, so you won’t miss and long for it. I think it works both ways. I haven’t ever had a time where me, my mom, and dad have spent the night together in the same house, or had a nice dinner with a round-table sharing of what each of us did that day. This is one of the things that haunts me daily.

Through my poems, I hope that other kids of divorce will see that other people share their worry, hate, and confusion about divorce. I am aware that my parents will read this collection, and maybe it will give all parents a bit of insight to what their kid thinks about throughout their whole life because of the divorce.

All kids want is a voice, a hug, a kiss, and a choice.

It.

It kind of just
happened
I don't remember it at all
how could I really?
I was only four
a toddler to life
a baby to my parent's problems

One day he was there
Next day gone
the house a bit emptier than before
ok. i was ok. fine.
I had 2 houses, 2 sets of toys, double the amount of clothes
I thought that was

cool

what mommy didn't want me to have
I could always ask daddy for

great

no dent in my heart
why would there be?
I saw him on the weekends,
I stayed in her ‘suitable’ house,
and their fights just breezed over my head

Life through my glass-clear emerald eyes was
fine. cool. great
It kind of just happened.
and I kind of just ignored it


He says, She says

He came
bearing matzoh ball soup
She smiles
He laughs
eager to come in
"I know you are sick, so here is the cure. My famous soup."

i look up at him
and He looks down
His eyes pop out of his head a bit

“This must be your daughter.”

yes,
She says
and brings her hand to my back
and pats it once
twice
three times before i stutter a hello
satisfied, Her hand goes away to close the door and motions for Him to
“come in, come in, it’s so cold out there.”

He walks in with a bounce in his step and places the soup on the counter
“whenever you are sick, I will make this”
He says
that would would be nice,
She says
and then flits her eyes around the room a bit, looking for the good cutlery
well, let's eat!
She says
fantastic, I'm starving
He says


Questions

What I never understood was

Why?

As I got older
I questioned
but answers to my own questions
weren't satisfying anymore

I tried to ignore these questions that popped into my head daily
more and more and more
bursting on my lips
that only got shot down

Why do I have two houses, mommy?
Why do I only get to see daddy on weekends, mommy?
Why don't you like mommy anymore, daddy?
Why do you fight so much, mommy?
Why can’t you just hug and make-up?

"When you're older, sweetie."
The inevitable answer

The only answer I ever did get
was the one I’m still not quite sure
if I really want to know the answer to

Was it my fault?


A Choice

I found about the move-in by accident
I never really got the option
the quick let’s sit down
and question of
is this ok?
how do you feel about it?

Instead I got the
“Oh. She knows. I guess the cat got
out of the bag.”
Yep. it did
and with it, the cat scratched me across the face

how long have they been planning this?
did they ever think to ask me?
just ask.
a mere question would do
they probably wouldn’t give a shit
to what I said
but the fact that I could think
even for just a moment
that I had a choice

well,
that would have been nice
real nice

It’s funny
how we can trick ourselves
and they can trick us
“You are the most important thing to me.
You know that right?”
uh-huh
ok
so the fact that the ‘no-one’
is now a permanent house guest
was ok by me?

new art on the walls
new food in the fridge
a new face to wake up too

why not just up and turn my whole life upside down
shake the last bit of
my
out of it

and sure this food may taste better
and the art may look better
but the face
not always better

it was fine
the way we were
I can deal with
my old food
old art
one face
me and her
where does he fit in the equation?
in my moms heart, pushing me aside
or maybe in her brain
worried about him, thinking about him,

I could be off
by her side
trying to fight for her attention
and not a glance would come my way

how does that work?
she bore me
and yet she loves him
where is my voice?
my kiss hello?
my hug when feeling sick?
no thank-you
I won’t take your pity
I just want a voice
a hug
a kiss
and a choice

***EXTRA CREDIT: ARS POETICA POEM***

Everyone’s Piece of Steak

Chew
chew
chew

can’t

you spit it out

on the plate it looks different
a bit gnarled and chewed
but still edible
definitely edible

the flavor will remain on your tongue,
the precious flavor,
salty, spicy
mean
different for everyone
some automatically rejecting it
others trembling in it’s delicacy

people have a different takes on it
a kaleidoscope of colors
more than one blue, red, yellow
and black if you think that’s a color

the texture is ever-changing
one time soft as a pillow
the next maybe sharp as a nail
or dense as concrete

the effort it takes to make it
may rise or fall
but that comes naturally
with our progress of life

the world changes before us
and we change with it
one day our steak may look juicy
the next dry
as our own hearts are too

EXTRA CREDIT 3RD QUARTER poem

Next Week

How can I fit you in?
my jam-packed schedule is filled with friends and homework that I always seem
to find a way to blow off for some tv time, since my show is on tonight
It'll be a tight fit, but maybe we can have lunch tomorrow?
in my neighborhood, almost an hour away from you
how convenient
and don't forget, mom needs that money pronto
I want to go to camp this year, so work extra hard
and, um, did I forget to tell you I'm sick?
and that I had a trumpet show? yeah it was great
and that: oh yes! belated high five! my report card from 2 weeks ago had all As on it!
Oh, BTW, I'm going away for 2 weeks? Did I not email our itinerary to you?
I didn't?

oops...

sorry!
maybe we can, oh I don't know, skype sometime in the middle of the week?

new txt from tulah: sorry, video chatting with a friend...u free l8r?
l8r: I have stuff to do so (sorry), I have to go quickly
tomorrow? wait...never mind...can't see you tomorrow
does next week work? I will try to make it work
I promise I will try to make it work
...
sorry it didn't work out
sorry it almost never does
next week ok? :)

*dedicated to my dad

Response to "My Papa's Waltz"

***Finally, I can express my opinions in a place where every 2 seconds people aren’t shouting ‘racist’ or ‘H.A.M’ (cough cough Aaron and Gabriel, no help from Tomin)...***

So today we read ‘My Papa’s Waltz.” I want to start off by saying that every one has their own interpretations, and that is ok, but here is mine: I think the father is drunk, I think the ‘waltz’ is the father’s staggering around while his son is clinging on to him, I think that though maybe not intentionally, the father is hurting the son, and that even with all of this ‘drama’, the little boy calls it a waltz and still loves his father because it is hard for people to see the bad in their parents.

So, I’ll start with backing up to the father being drunk. First, there is whiskey on his breath. And yes, whiskey on your breath doesn’t automatically make you drunk, but when there is enough to ‘make a small boy dizzy’, yes not uncomfortable but DIZZY, something is up. Also, ‘every step you miss’ to me seems as if not that the father simply is getting the counts wrong, but that he is at least ‘tipsy’. Another thing is that the father is dirty with a ‘palm caked hard by dirt’ and a battered knuckle could mean that either the father is a construction worker as Charlie said, or that the dart is from being out late roaming the streets in a drunk frenzy, hurting himself or other people getting his hand dirty.

Another belief I have is that whether purposely or not, the father is hurting the son. “My right ear scraped a buckle” sounds pretty harsh, and “you beat time on my head” could mean a number of things from hurting him physically or by threats of memories and the future. Also, people say that since the mother is pretty much just being a bystander that the father isn’t drunk and possibly hurting his son, since if he was she would do something. Well, I hate to break it to people, but not every one is brave. What if this is a normal thing for the papa to be drunk, and in the past he has hit the mother too? Sure, I guess from mother’s we expect there to be a lot of protection for their children, but what about protecting themselves? If they get hurt, who knows what could happen to her son’s life without a mom?!

Another thing I believe is that the waltz is actually the father staggering around while his son clings to him. “Romping” means acting in a rough and noisy (boisterous) way, which could show up if the son is clinging on, and the father is angry and wants him off. The son says (the poem is in the boy’s perspective) “BUT I hung on like DEATH.” Hmm, interesting. The fact that the son used the word ‘death’ rather than something like ‘I hung on tight’ shows that possibly he is in a situation not so far from what brings death, or what emotions come with death. Maybe the boy doesn’t exactly know what ‘drunk’ is, but is a bit scared of his papa staggering and trying to shrug him off.

Also, usually when people say ‘but’, they are trying to justify something, or explain something. In the poem’s context, what is being explained or justified is that the whiskey on the father’s breath could make a small boy dizzy. The thing about this poem that I truly find so beautiful and true is that the little boy clearly loves his father. Whether actually dancing or getting abused, and being with a drunk or just tipsy father, the little boy wants to be and possibly dance with his father. He defends the whiskey on the breath, and clings on to him ‘for dear life’, whether for support or simply wanting love, when ‘waltzing’ and being doomed to bed. As I mentioned, for us (especially little boys, but even me sometimes), we look up to our parents, and so we find it hard to fault them. No matter what, (hopefully), we love our parents even if they ground us, take away the computer, etc. We all as teenagers have those times of ‘No one understands me!’ or ‘WHATEVER MOM!’ and then the occasional ‘I hate you!’, but how can we truly hate the people that provide so much for us? *rhetorical question* The son may be in the risk of getting seriously hurt by his drunk dad, but instead of thinking of that, he thinks his father’s staggers and pushes are a dance or waltz of a kind. The waltz of a son and his father.

Narrative Poem

Hello

Goodbye
I say as I wave to my parents

Though I’m nervous, I am a big girl
and I can do this
I can do this
and if my friends can do this
Then I Can Do This

right?

This place, it’s not a monster
it’s my new home, kind-of
I will love it, I’m sure
my friends love it
and I will love it

I walk up to a women waiting for me at the door
“Hey,” she says all i-won’t-remember-your-name
but why not tell it to me anyway?
I stutter it out and tell her about myself
say where I live, what pets I have, what I like to do
and she nods and points me up ‘that way’
I don’t see where she is pointing but I know I can find my way
my friends found there way and
I will find my way

am I cheating if I ask her again?

I walk up the hill, looking around as I go
it looks like a typical camp
trees, birds, rocks, plants
I take a left, like she said
and walk into the log cabin
other big-people greet me and I repeat everything I said to the other one
and since they seem a bit more interested
I tell them a bit more
and ask if I can have a top-bunk even though I am afraid of heights
but I can get over that
my friends got over their fears
and so I will get over mine

they say 'sure' enthusiastically
and one says “just like me. Adventurous”
I nod once and look down
they take my bags and put them in a closet
I walk up to a bed and wonder how the hell I am supposed to get up
climb? jump? fly?
I step onto the lower one, and for dear life fling myself up
my muscles strain, but thank god, I make it
and then I almost fall down a bit dizzy from the journey
but I stay put

A girl walks inside now, looking a bit pale like I’m sure I do
she follows the status-quo and keeps polite
her hands stick-straight at her side and then
she looks over at me
her eyes widen
she takes her bag and puts it
hesitantly
on the bed below mine
she waits a few seconds
I don’t move
and she sits down and looks up at me
I lean over, forget that there is a 99 percent chance that I will fall, and whisper

Hello.

Poem On An Important Event in My Life

He came
bearing matzoh ball soup
she smiles
he laughs
eager to come in
"I know you are sick, so here I have the remedy"
I look up at him
and he looks down
his eyes google out of his head a bit

this must be your daughter

yes she says
and brings her hand to my back
and pats it once
twice
three times before I stutter a hello
satisfied, her hand goes away to close the door and motions for him to
come in, come in
he walks in with a bounce in his step and places the soup on the counter
whenever you are sick, I will make this
he says
this will be good
she says
and flits her eyes around the room a bit, looking for the good cutlery
well, let's eat!
she says
fantastic, I'm starving
he says

Poem off of 9/11 photo

Once was America

2 down
A whole country to go

It's a beautiful day
A great day to kill
or starve a wife of love
and frighten a kid
when their mommy doesn't come pick them up from their clean and bright haven
maybe panic a nation
when hundreds die
under their pointed-up noses

We are the best
we are the beast

we hate them
they take and take and never give back
they put us in hell
so now
here and now
finally
we give it back
throw it in their faces

we will no longer live under their rule
we have come to conquer everything
from the moon to the core
the blazing hot core they believe they had a right to put a price tag on

we were here first
we will do the living
free from the chains of so-called democracy
they will regret all they ever did to me
me and my people
my country
my world
our world

they sit their running and screaming
asking what oh what lord did they do to deserve this
I will tell them
I will tell them loud and proud
we are the best
we are the beast

ha-ha

photo
photo credits to Rafael Fuchs, my father, shot as a view of 9.11 on 9.11

Response to Anne Sexton's "The Starry Night"

An aggressive peace, the words I think best capture the essence of emotion of Anne Sexton in her poem Starry Night. She frequently talks about dying, and getting swallowed, boiled, drowned, and isolated from the town down below, all things that can point to major anger and depression. But at the same time, through the anger, she sees the beauty of the starry night, with ‘no belly or cry’, alive parts of nature, and stars shining bright. Can we see beauty through even the most complicated and depressing (for lack of a better word) things?

In The Starry Night, it seems as if Anne is acknowledging that she is upset. In a way, being aware of your feelings calms you, giving us a sense of security. When we are angry, some like to let it boil down and maybe have some alone-time, where being isolated isn’t such a problem. We can all be our worst enemies, and sometimes when we can just think freely we can come to terms with ourselves, instead of storming off in a rage because of our anger, trying to punch someone. Maybe Anne isn’t so much of a crazy suicidal, but just trying to relate her feelings to the things around her. I know when I am angry, I think about dying. Ok, well, maybe less dying, and more simply leaving where we are and who we are, and being an observer (possibly on a hill looking down at a town and up at the stars, like Van Gogh). Dying is a natural part of life, it just happens to be what most people believe to be the end of our cycle, end equalling yikes.

At the same time though, we learned that Anne committed suicide! Huh. Interesting. I must say, some parts of suicide are sort of creepily simple. You control who you are, so why not control how you go? I know suicide usually makes people shudder, but is it always wrong and plain awful? Yes yes, it’s complicated, but maybe through Anne’s repeated ‘This is how/I want to die’ she was trying to say their is a beauty to death. It can be so peaceful, and even though she actually committed suicide from carbon monoxide poisoning in a locked car, drunk, you have to give her applause for coming up with a death that many people would be happy to live through. We all just believe what we see in movies, but in truth, death doesn’t have to be so bad, and anger doesn’t have to be so violent.

Analyzing Paintings

Painting: 'Landscape of Butterflies' by Salvador Dali


Observations
- wall of some sort is blocking out blue skies
- butterflies' shadows are distorted a bit
- butterflies are glowing
- small mountains in background
- butterflies are flying to get deeper in protection (?) of the wall

Inferences
- since they are flying more into wall, the wall may be protecting the butterflies
- the mountains and sky are some sort of reality, and maybe the shadows being distorted are showing how that reality is breaking
- the clouds in the sky represent a troubling thing
- the butterflies are (or think they are) in a better place than they were, with the wall protecting them
- mountains may represent past emotions or events

Interpretations
I think Dali is trying to say here is that when something upsets us, we believe that if we escape, everything will be ok again. The distorted shadows represent who the butterflies truly are, and we always try to leave behind who we are if we think we aren't good enough or are too afraid to take the next steps in our life. We as people tend to give in to critique and build an internal wall to try and stop it from hitting us, sometimes only working in the opposite way. We think disconnecting ourselves from the world will save us (hence the glowing of the butterflies), but really it hurts us even more.