I've been in Austin coaching gymnastics meets all weekend and just got home, 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon. I have five classes of homework to finish before the season premiere of Desperate Housewives and Brothers and Sisters, which I sit down with my mom and sisters to watch at 8:30. Swamped, swamped, swamped; what happened to senior year being blow off? Oh yeah, my inability to settle for easy classes.
So, I'm gonna finish this blog, do my weekly essay, government, calculus, anatomy, and find time to work out and clean my room, before settling down for my Sunday night TV shows.
Any thoughts on our Bedford reading from Wednesday-Friday?
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Week 4, All About Poems
We Old Dudes
Joan Murray
We old dudes. We
White shoes. We
Golf ball. We
Eat mall. We
Soak teeth. We
Palm Beach; We
Vote red. We
Soon dead.
This poem takes a funny, humorous view on death. It gets away with such an approach through it's use of diction and tone. The author brings in irony through the use of the word "dudes" and incomplete sentences. The use of these types of sentences would be used more in a younger voice, like a teenage boy. The fact the author uses Palm Beach as a description of the men shows these men are young at heart. The approach on this poem through the diction and syntax give the poem a light hearted tone, making death just seem like any other part of life.
Joan Murray
We old dudes. We
White shoes. We
Golf ball. We
Eat mall. We
Soak teeth. We
Palm Beach; We
Vote red. We
Soon dead.
This poem takes a funny, humorous view on death. It gets away with such an approach through it's use of diction and tone. The author brings in irony through the use of the word "dudes" and incomplete sentences. The use of these types of sentences would be used more in a younger voice, like a teenage boy. The fact the author uses Palm Beach as a description of the men shows these men are young at heart. The approach on this poem through the diction and syntax give the poem a light hearted tone, making death just seem like any other part of life.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Week 3, Can you believe it?
We've already gone through three weeks of school, crazy huh?
I wrote a silly little poem for my journal on Friday, so I figured I'd share it for this weeks blog. I picked the phrase "imaginary friend." Here goes nothin.
I once had a friend by the name of J.R.,
even when he left he never went far.
Day after day we spent by the barn,
talking about life and spinning our yarn.
He was my best friend all through the summer,
and when school came back it was a big bummer.
But he was always there waiting for me,
when I hopped off the bus by the big old tree.
We would talk and hold hands as we walked down the roads,
and I'd spill all my rage about that mean, old Miss Hoads.
When we got home he'd make me a snack,
and I'd teach him math to pay him back.
Winter rolled around and still J.R. stayed,
making snow angels on the snow which we layed.
As winter left and spring took its place,
J.R. was still there but now with no face.
Day by day his spirit would face,
until his place is my heart was as dark as shade.
As I grew older I tried getting him back,
but my childhood innocence was now empty and black.
The innocence of childhood I could not learn,
and that's when I knew he wouldn't return.
My heart goes out to my dear old friend,
with hopes one day my children will meet him around the bend.
I wrote a silly little poem for my journal on Friday, so I figured I'd share it for this weeks blog. I picked the phrase "imaginary friend." Here goes nothin.
I once had a friend by the name of J.R.,
even when he left he never went far.
Day after day we spent by the barn,
talking about life and spinning our yarn.
He was my best friend all through the summer,
and when school came back it was a big bummer.
But he was always there waiting for me,
when I hopped off the bus by the big old tree.
We would talk and hold hands as we walked down the roads,
and I'd spill all my rage about that mean, old Miss Hoads.
When we got home he'd make me a snack,
and I'd teach him math to pay him back.
Winter rolled around and still J.R. stayed,
making snow angels on the snow which we layed.
As winter left and spring took its place,
J.R. was still there but now with no face.
Day by day his spirit would face,
until his place is my heart was as dark as shade.
As I grew older I tried getting him back,
but my childhood innocence was now empty and black.
The innocence of childhood I could not learn,
and that's when I knew he wouldn't return.
My heart goes out to my dear old friend,
with hopes one day my children will meet him around the bend.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Week 2, What's on your mind?
This weekend I got to thinking about why people end up at certain colleges. There's a ton of different colleges, in different cities, all over the world. Each campus has a different student body, different atmospheres, with hundreds of clubs and organizations to get involved in. So, I asked myself how a group of students, all brought up in the same school with the same teachers, can each view a different college as their
"perfect fit." I understand individuality, but I find it amazing. Some teenagers are attracted to Austin, the "never sleeping" city, while some teenagers are completely in love with the home feeling of College Station. I guess the time has just finally come where we get to make our decision, a time we've been waiting for since middle school or before, and I love hearing everybody's two cents on where they want to go and what they find so compelling about the location and atmosphere of the school. We've been one body of people for so long, and now we're about to all split up and go down our own paths to the next chapter of our lives. Time really does fly, even if it isn't always fun.
Why am I blogging about this, where does it fit into what we've been learning about? I quickly realized how far we want to travel for college and where we want to go depends on our past experiences, just as our past experiences determines how we perceive fiction. If we have a controlling, over bearing parent, most likely we'll want to get farther away than someone who already has the freedom they've gained through their parents trust.
Stories, stories, stories. On the hour long drive home from Austin, nothing good was on the radio, so I turned it off and thought for a while. I realized our story isn't ending as we graduate and move on from everything we've always know. We aren't shutting the book forever and never looking back at the pages we've taken so long to put together, we're just simply starting a new chapter, building on the foundation we've started here in the eighteen years we've spent here in our hometown. Eighteen years of singing the school song on Friday nights, dressed in red and white, yelling until our vocal cords are done. Eighteen years of driving down the same road to get home from school every day, so by the time you're sixteen you don't even have to think twice about where you're going. Eighteen years of memories, all in one small town. It's quite compelling to think about, always giving me the chills when the memories finds their way into my brain. As we spend these last 8 months together in good ol' Belton, Texas, think about the things you want to squeeze into the end of your chapter: a friendship with a person you've always been interested in, a club you've always wanted to start but never took the time to. This is the time. Throwing all fears and doubts beside, this is YOUR story, and leaving something out of your story because you're afraid of failing is a tragedy. Listen to your heart, and follow your heart. It will get you where you want to be.
"perfect fit." I understand individuality, but I find it amazing. Some teenagers are attracted to Austin, the "never sleeping" city, while some teenagers are completely in love with the home feeling of College Station. I guess the time has just finally come where we get to make our decision, a time we've been waiting for since middle school or before, and I love hearing everybody's two cents on where they want to go and what they find so compelling about the location and atmosphere of the school. We've been one body of people for so long, and now we're about to all split up and go down our own paths to the next chapter of our lives. Time really does fly, even if it isn't always fun.
Why am I blogging about this, where does it fit into what we've been learning about? I quickly realized how far we want to travel for college and where we want to go depends on our past experiences, just as our past experiences determines how we perceive fiction. If we have a controlling, over bearing parent, most likely we'll want to get farther away than someone who already has the freedom they've gained through their parents trust.
Stories, stories, stories. On the hour long drive home from Austin, nothing good was on the radio, so I turned it off and thought for a while. I realized our story isn't ending as we graduate and move on from everything we've always know. We aren't shutting the book forever and never looking back at the pages we've taken so long to put together, we're just simply starting a new chapter, building on the foundation we've started here in the eighteen years we've spent here in our hometown. Eighteen years of singing the school song on Friday nights, dressed in red and white, yelling until our vocal cords are done. Eighteen years of driving down the same road to get home from school every day, so by the time you're sixteen you don't even have to think twice about where you're going. Eighteen years of memories, all in one small town. It's quite compelling to think about, always giving me the chills when the memories finds their way into my brain. As we spend these last 8 months together in good ol' Belton, Texas, think about the things you want to squeeze into the end of your chapter: a friendship with a person you've always been interested in, a club you've always wanted to start but never took the time to. This is the time. Throwing all fears and doubts beside, this is YOUR story, and leaving something out of your story because you're afraid of failing is a tragedy. Listen to your heart, and follow your heart. It will get you where you want to be.
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