There was an incredible feeling of peace as she watched her friends slowly make their way over. The field was wide, open, the hydro wires above weren't big enough to block out the sky. It was summer, the one time of the year where the people could finally stretch, breathe, and smile without black eyes and grey, pinched skin.
--------
It just came out, wishing for summer, I guess. So an update. I've been studying, ish. Not totally slacking like usual, but at the same time I don't know if I'm ready for this. Okay I'm not ready for this. Two of the essay questions are on "Notes of a Native Son" - 2 of them. I've never read notes of a native son and I missed the lecture (apparently). Ok...so, he said he's going to ask us about 2 of the 4 essay questions. Meaning one of them is DEFINITELY going to be on notes of a native son. But then again...that means the other one definitely wont. A blessing? No...never. lol.
Anyway, not too worried at this point just suddenly very exhausted after writting that above snippet. I need food but I don't want to eat because at 5ish Keane will be bringing home food. Maybe I need more tea..but that led me onto a sugar rush.
I feel comfortable, sleepy. I can't wait for summer. It brings a rush of excitement and wonder, happiness, peace. It makes me smile to think of the friends I've been missing.
Ah tired again. -yawns- One more outline. Need to make sure I get down Baldwin's main points.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
And so it begins...
I have recently been slacking huge-time in rebellion to the intense stress I was in during school. This was not procrastination...this was blatant, "well, I guess I'm going to screw myself over". But, way I see it, at least for my AM LIT exam, is that if I survived his first yr courses without studying much...perhaps I have a chance now. (Although mind you I may have passed those courses, but that doesn't mean I did *well*). Ok so it looks like first year I got A- in his first term and then a C in his second....hahaha...-eye twitch- OMG look at those grades!! 55% for Critical Writing about Literature! Oh wow! Almost failed...holy smokes. *swts* I hope I'm not taking these memories of slacking and succeeding from the second term...because clearly that went to shit.
Anyway...I think at this point the worst damage I can do is drop myself to a C (I hope). My average has gone up from 2.65 (I believe) to a 2.77 because of last term. Wait not I'm not sure...there's a cumilative and a sessional...omg if it's cumaltive then I'm at a 2.27............
Ok I can't worry about these things. Gotta focus. Just pass the exams........bad marks we can worry later.
Again I start thinking, maybe uni isn't for me?!?!!?
Anyway...I think at this point the worst damage I can do is drop myself to a C (I hope). My average has gone up from 2.65 (I believe) to a 2.77 because of last term. Wait not I'm not sure...there's a cumilative and a sessional...omg if it's cumaltive then I'm at a 2.27............
Ok I can't worry about these things. Gotta focus. Just pass the exams........bad marks we can worry later.
Again I start thinking, maybe uni isn't for me?!?!!?
Monday, April 6, 2009
Snow
You used to smile for me.
Now you curse me; you frown. You wish I would leave sooner than I should. How come you don't smile anymore? Now fire burns around you; you seek to destroy me - you push me away.
What happened to when you were younger? You would spend hours with me, just the two of us. You were content. You would laugh and play in the snow; your heart was warm even if your nose was cold. You knew me as well as I knew you, once, you thought you were me.
Do you remember? The thick snow that rose above your front door, the ice tunnels you built under the snow? Can you smell the pine trees, thick and laden with snow? Do you still consider me beautiful?
Your father would say, "You'll hate it, one day."
"No!" you'd cry, everytime. "Never." You'd love me forever, you promised, you'd always smile when you saw me.
Every birthday you insisted that I must come. Without me, it wasn't the same, you claimed. Now you think on that sorrowfully, if I don't come, a look of disapointment crosses your eyes but you don't complain. Somewhere within you, you wonder about me. You love me but you intend to push me away.
Was this always our fate, or did you make it this way?
Well, if it's war you want, then so be it. But you love me, I know you love me even till this day.
Now you curse me; you frown. You wish I would leave sooner than I should. How come you don't smile anymore? Now fire burns around you; you seek to destroy me - you push me away.
What happened to when you were younger? You would spend hours with me, just the two of us. You were content. You would laugh and play in the snow; your heart was warm even if your nose was cold. You knew me as well as I knew you, once, you thought you were me.
Do you remember? The thick snow that rose above your front door, the ice tunnels you built under the snow? Can you smell the pine trees, thick and laden with snow? Do you still consider me beautiful?
Your father would say, "You'll hate it, one day."
"No!" you'd cry, everytime. "Never." You'd love me forever, you promised, you'd always smile when you saw me.
Every birthday you insisted that I must come. Without me, it wasn't the same, you claimed. Now you think on that sorrowfully, if I don't come, a look of disapointment crosses your eyes but you don't complain. Somewhere within you, you wonder about me. You love me but you intend to push me away.
Was this always our fate, or did you make it this way?
Well, if it's war you want, then so be it. But you love me, I know you love me even till this day.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
And so...
There was no way he'd wear it.
Every night off, when we weren't running special errands for Anthony, she would be knitting away in a little corner of own room. Whenever I asked her about it all she would say was, "Just making myself a scarf." As if she needed a scarf. The cold barely bothered her anymore. What's worse is that sometimes I'd catch her at night working at it..."Winter will be over soon", she'd say, "If I don't finish it then what'll be the point?"
"You'll ruin your eyes," I'd tell her grumpily from my mattress, half-asleep.
"No," she'd assure me through the darkness; I couldn't see her at all. "Trust me, I wont."
It took her about a month to finish and days flew by. The land was still covered in a heavy winter, as if spring could never come; as if it has never existed. It was on one of the colder days that Tory presented it to him. The three of us were alone in his 'office' at the front of the school, across from Carter's room. Everything was in order, as usual. His desk was bare, all paper, pencils, and typical office supplies were probably locked into his drawer; resources, such as paper, were rare. His desk was under the window, which I found curious but it had to be the coldest location to sit under. There were moderate chairs, two in front of the desk, one behind it - the one behind was obviously the most comfortable. On the other side of the room there were three books shelves, all packed. I couldn't make out any titles since the light from the window didn't touch there. The most shocking aspect of the room - the single decoration - was a line of pictures (mostly taking from colouring books) coloured by children, lining the far wall. Each one had something scribbled along the lines of, "I love you Anthony!" I had to resist laughing. His bed was a completely covered mattress on the far wall to the left, parallel to the window. On each side was a bookshelf. It appeared to be perfectly ordered.
We took off our shoes which was custom before entering any room - the hallways allowed for shoes - and placed them on a matt just inside the door. We stepped forward, Tory closing the door behind her, and waited. Anthony was standing, looking out the window - we could see a side view of him. As usual, he appeared as haunting, mysterious - annoying.
I looked over to Tory with a little bit of a smile, forgetting, painfully, that she couldn't see it. I was smiling because of the way she gripped the scarf. I had always known it wasn't for her, but to see it all happen...well, it made me all gooy inside. I wanted to run, I wanted to bury my face in the sand. I was Tory's eyes. I could see Anthony's expression, and I would be the one to get embarrassed. My stomach clenched while waiting.
"Anthony," I jumped, not believing she had went straight to the punch; this girl was brave.
He turned slowly, narrowing his eyes while adjusting to the light to see us.
"What is it?" he asked, noticing, with a sort of curiousity, the scarf in her arms. It was long...extremely long, and wide; she had chosen black from the stores room. It seemed fitting, I couldn't imagine Anthony wearing any other coloured scarf. The thing was oddly spaced out too, with stretches in the stiching here and there. I tried to analyze what Anthony thought of it as she held it out to him, but his eyes only showed confusion.
"This is for you," Tory said earnestly, holding out the scarf awkwardly.
In the case of offered items, you will come across two different kinds of people. There are the kind who will instantly take what you offer them, even if, let's say, it was a piece of garbage. Then there are those who have most likely been tricked this way too many times in the past, or, are not very trusting - as in Anthony's case - who simply stare at the items offered. This is precisely what happened; my stomach tied knots on itself for Tory and my face flushed.
She pushed it forward, a little impatiently, and I could see her blushing.
"Did Angel put you up to this?" he asked slowly, finally deciding to take the object. "I didn't know she could knit."
Tory hesitated, then said, "Yeah...she did."
I snapped my head around to her, surprised; she nudged me a little with her arm, since we were standing close to each other.
"She said she wanted to make you a scarf, since you don't seem to have one."
My eyes timidly went towards Anthony, who touched the scarf gently; something that resembled a grin peeked from the corner of his mouth.
"Well, I'll have to thank her..."
"No, don't!" Tory interrupted, hesitating. "She...was too shy to give it to you. If you say thanks, it'll make her embarrassed."
At this point Anthony seemed to notice something was up. He looked at Tory for a few moments, skeptic and analyzing. It seemed, at least in my eyes, that he understood - or at least guessed - the situation. He wouldn't, or couldn't rather, say anything though because his mind probably couldn't wrap around the idea of a guy making him a scarf. It was not that Anthony was homophobic, or that knitting was a 'girl's job', but rather he was so used to the codes set between males, that the circumstances were heavily unlikely to him. Hesitating, while most likely working these things out in his head, he wrapped the scarf around his neck.
"Well, thank you," he said, not sure who he was thanking. "This will help."
Tory's smile radiated, it was a sun of its own. I felt myself blushing, trying to hide my face with my hand. It was time for us to get down to business or else I'd have to get the hell out of there.
"Yeah..." I said quickly, "nice scarf, we'll let Angel know. Anyway...you called us?"
He nodded, scarf forgotten. As he was telling us the duties for the day I looked over to Tory who seemed to be staring out the window. Lost in a world of her own, her small smile was enough to show all her hard work had been worth it.
Every night off, when we weren't running special errands for Anthony, she would be knitting away in a little corner of own room. Whenever I asked her about it all she would say was, "Just making myself a scarf." As if she needed a scarf. The cold barely bothered her anymore. What's worse is that sometimes I'd catch her at night working at it..."Winter will be over soon", she'd say, "If I don't finish it then what'll be the point?"
"You'll ruin your eyes," I'd tell her grumpily from my mattress, half-asleep.
"No," she'd assure me through the darkness; I couldn't see her at all. "Trust me, I wont."
It took her about a month to finish and days flew by. The land was still covered in a heavy winter, as if spring could never come; as if it has never existed. It was on one of the colder days that Tory presented it to him. The three of us were alone in his 'office' at the front of the school, across from Carter's room. Everything was in order, as usual. His desk was bare, all paper, pencils, and typical office supplies were probably locked into his drawer; resources, such as paper, were rare. His desk was under the window, which I found curious but it had to be the coldest location to sit under. There were moderate chairs, two in front of the desk, one behind it - the one behind was obviously the most comfortable. On the other side of the room there were three books shelves, all packed. I couldn't make out any titles since the light from the window didn't touch there. The most shocking aspect of the room - the single decoration - was a line of pictures (mostly taking from colouring books) coloured by children, lining the far wall. Each one had something scribbled along the lines of, "I love you Anthony!" I had to resist laughing. His bed was a completely covered mattress on the far wall to the left, parallel to the window. On each side was a bookshelf. It appeared to be perfectly ordered.
We took off our shoes which was custom before entering any room - the hallways allowed for shoes - and placed them on a matt just inside the door. We stepped forward, Tory closing the door behind her, and waited. Anthony was standing, looking out the window - we could see a side view of him. As usual, he appeared as haunting, mysterious - annoying.
I looked over to Tory with a little bit of a smile, forgetting, painfully, that she couldn't see it. I was smiling because of the way she gripped the scarf. I had always known it wasn't for her, but to see it all happen...well, it made me all gooy inside. I wanted to run, I wanted to bury my face in the sand. I was Tory's eyes. I could see Anthony's expression, and I would be the one to get embarrassed. My stomach clenched while waiting.
"Anthony," I jumped, not believing she had went straight to the punch; this girl was brave.
He turned slowly, narrowing his eyes while adjusting to the light to see us.
"What is it?" he asked, noticing, with a sort of curiousity, the scarf in her arms. It was long...extremely long, and wide; she had chosen black from the stores room. It seemed fitting, I couldn't imagine Anthony wearing any other coloured scarf. The thing was oddly spaced out too, with stretches in the stiching here and there. I tried to analyze what Anthony thought of it as she held it out to him, but his eyes only showed confusion.
"This is for you," Tory said earnestly, holding out the scarf awkwardly.
In the case of offered items, you will come across two different kinds of people. There are the kind who will instantly take what you offer them, even if, let's say, it was a piece of garbage. Then there are those who have most likely been tricked this way too many times in the past, or, are not very trusting - as in Anthony's case - who simply stare at the items offered. This is precisely what happened; my stomach tied knots on itself for Tory and my face flushed.
She pushed it forward, a little impatiently, and I could see her blushing.
"Did Angel put you up to this?" he asked slowly, finally deciding to take the object. "I didn't know she could knit."
Tory hesitated, then said, "Yeah...she did."
I snapped my head around to her, surprised; she nudged me a little with her arm, since we were standing close to each other.
"She said she wanted to make you a scarf, since you don't seem to have one."
My eyes timidly went towards Anthony, who touched the scarf gently; something that resembled a grin peeked from the corner of his mouth.
"Well, I'll have to thank her..."
"No, don't!" Tory interrupted, hesitating. "She...was too shy to give it to you. If you say thanks, it'll make her embarrassed."
At this point Anthony seemed to notice something was up. He looked at Tory for a few moments, skeptic and analyzing. It seemed, at least in my eyes, that he understood - or at least guessed - the situation. He wouldn't, or couldn't rather, say anything though because his mind probably couldn't wrap around the idea of a guy making him a scarf. It was not that Anthony was homophobic, or that knitting was a 'girl's job', but rather he was so used to the codes set between males, that the circumstances were heavily unlikely to him. Hesitating, while most likely working these things out in his head, he wrapped the scarf around his neck.
"Well, thank you," he said, not sure who he was thanking. "This will help."
Tory's smile radiated, it was a sun of its own. I felt myself blushing, trying to hide my face with my hand. It was time for us to get down to business or else I'd have to get the hell out of there.
"Yeah..." I said quickly, "nice scarf, we'll let Angel know. Anyway...you called us?"
He nodded, scarf forgotten. As he was telling us the duties for the day I looked over to Tory who seemed to be staring out the window. Lost in a world of her own, her small smile was enough to show all her hard work had been worth it.
Monday, March 30, 2009
sigh...all flustered out
I was looking up "put on a pedastal" on google because I wanted to find a word that matched that sort of meaning...and somehow I found a blog called: White Women Suck!
I couldn't resist my temptation. I just had to reply...and i must say that I put way more effort into it than I did with this essay. (I hope this guy doesn't find my blog...lol) Apparently, and not surprisingly, your comment has to be approved by him before it will appear. This is another reason why I want to put my reply to it here...I can't have worked that hard for nothing, right?? Right?!??! lol
My comment:
Quite frankly...I don't even see the need for the creation of this blog. Is it even relevant that white woman were treated "better" than other women in the past (and present)? Why are women grouped by the colour of their skin? Why should that be relevant in an age like today? We are all individuals, and we live in individual situations. A person's suffering should not be compared to another's. Everyone lives their own lives and are faced with their own challenges. People who suffer should not bring each other down by saying petty things like "you are not suffering as much as me so you shouldn't talk!" We are in a day and age where every person is unique, and every person's problems are unique. I have less control of the past as anyone else today does, and I'm sure that women, no matter how they were mistreated, had no control of theirs either. I hope you are not suggesting that white women should have been thankful for not being treated as badly as other women were, and therefore accepted their fate? And exactly what do you mean by "white women"? You are making a large generalization about groups of people who were all very different in their own regard.
I do agree that some people have an overpowered sense of feminism...people are far too politically correct, sometimes, but at the same time that applies to anything, not only women. It can apply to politics, religion, and nationalism.
The impression I'm getting from you is that you are bitter about certain women you have met in your life that you have tried to appeal to but failed (I am not blaming either party) and you are taking it out on the majority of them. This 'chivalry' you speak of btw...do you actually even know it's origins? Can you even comprehend what it means? There is a whole history behind that, that I wont get into. Perhaps you should put more research into it before talking about it, especially since you seem to know so much about history when it comes to the suffering of "coloured" groups of women.
But anyway...it's necessary to see that we are living in an age where gender roles and expectations have rapidly and very suddenly changed in only the past - what, fifty years? (In America). Even longer than that, and unfortunately people get caught. All of us get caught within gender confusion, especially men who are given a double standard - to be 'chivalrous' and yet to 'still be a man' and yet to 'give women rights'. It is confusing, but it's confusing for everyone.
We are all changing together, and in the process, let's try to remember the *person* not the group. One person does not make the face of the whole. Reach out to people, don't push them away, no matter how many silly ones you come across. Don't loose faith in the masses just because of a few sorry individuals...and because of the confusion of current gender issues.
I couldn't resist my temptation. I just had to reply...and i must say that I put way more effort into it than I did with this essay. (I hope this guy doesn't find my blog...lol) Apparently, and not surprisingly, your comment has to be approved by him before it will appear. This is another reason why I want to put my reply to it here...I can't have worked that hard for nothing, right?? Right?!??! lol
My comment:
Quite frankly...I don't even see the need for the creation of this blog. Is it even relevant that white woman were treated "better" than other women in the past (and present)? Why are women grouped by the colour of their skin? Why should that be relevant in an age like today? We are all individuals, and we live in individual situations. A person's suffering should not be compared to another's. Everyone lives their own lives and are faced with their own challenges. People who suffer should not bring each other down by saying petty things like "you are not suffering as much as me so you shouldn't talk!" We are in a day and age where every person is unique, and every person's problems are unique. I have less control of the past as anyone else today does, and I'm sure that women, no matter how they were mistreated, had no control of theirs either. I hope you are not suggesting that white women should have been thankful for not being treated as badly as other women were, and therefore accepted their fate? And exactly what do you mean by "white women"? You are making a large generalization about groups of people who were all very different in their own regard.
I do agree that some people have an overpowered sense of feminism...people are far too politically correct, sometimes, but at the same time that applies to anything, not only women. It can apply to politics, religion, and nationalism.
The impression I'm getting from you is that you are bitter about certain women you have met in your life that you have tried to appeal to but failed (I am not blaming either party) and you are taking it out on the majority of them. This 'chivalry' you speak of btw...do you actually even know it's origins? Can you even comprehend what it means? There is a whole history behind that, that I wont get into. Perhaps you should put more research into it before talking about it, especially since you seem to know so much about history when it comes to the suffering of "coloured" groups of women.
But anyway...it's necessary to see that we are living in an age where gender roles and expectations have rapidly and very suddenly changed in only the past - what, fifty years? (In America). Even longer than that, and unfortunately people get caught. All of us get caught within gender confusion, especially men who are given a double standard - to be 'chivalrous' and yet to 'still be a man' and yet to 'give women rights'. It is confusing, but it's confusing for everyone.
We are all changing together, and in the process, let's try to remember the *person* not the group. One person does not make the face of the whole. Reach out to people, don't push them away, no matter how many silly ones you come across. Don't loose faith in the masses just because of a few sorry individuals...and because of the confusion of current gender issues.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
More rambles...
I successfully MASS-BSED my essay...it was amazing. I wrote eight pages straight of the most useless things ever! I must say I'm proud of myself. But now I have to go back and source...and correct, everything I bsed about in order to make it sound...
heh...
Like a univeristy student's paper, is the word, I suppose. At least, I need to not get kicked out of school for completely failing to source anything...
(although everything I wrote came from my own mind...heheheheh so I'm not sure they could)
Either way, I need to bring it up to my own standards. This brings me here...flipping through books, searching for supporting evidence, discovering that I totally facked up on various pieces of info...
HMMM This is the hard part, my friends!!! Don't think you can get away with doing mindless blam blam blam on your keyboard. Even English requires you to flip through pages of the novel your studying and say...
"Well clearly by SUCH ____ passage we see that THIS PERSON is completely...etc...etc."
You get my drift. In this case, I'm shooting off random claims without any support. And...repeating my claims over and over, at that. My thesis really has no grounds in the work as a whole...
Ohhh fackers...I'm really just hoping for a sixty at this point. But honestly...I can't see myself just giving up on it. If anything...there's no way I could lower my standards to that level.
FIGHT FIGHT!!!!!!
heh...
Like a univeristy student's paper, is the word, I suppose. At least, I need to not get kicked out of school for completely failing to source anything...
(although everything I wrote came from my own mind...heheheheh so I'm not sure they could)
Either way, I need to bring it up to my own standards. This brings me here...flipping through books, searching for supporting evidence, discovering that I totally facked up on various pieces of info...
HMMM This is the hard part, my friends!!! Don't think you can get away with doing mindless blam blam blam on your keyboard. Even English requires you to flip through pages of the novel your studying and say...
"Well clearly by SUCH ____ passage we see that THIS PERSON is completely...etc...etc."
You get my drift. In this case, I'm shooting off random claims without any support. And...repeating my claims over and over, at that. My thesis really has no grounds in the work as a whole...
Ohhh fackers...I'm really just hoping for a sixty at this point. But honestly...I can't see myself just giving up on it. If anything...there's no way I could lower my standards to that level.
FIGHT FIGHT!!!!!!
The question....
The only question this time, is if I really do finish all 8 pages will I be satisfied with the result? These hands...they've produced too much bs. these past few weeks -- is there anything left?
3 out of 8 pages in. 4ish more to go.
After this. One more essay due. (Not started).
The last essay I wrote was crap (I know it). This one is turning out shit too...M. if you really thought I tend to bs., you haven't seen anything yet. At least with my Mac. King essay I actually felt some sense of pride...now all I have is exhaustion. Every word I type is exasperated...
Even this...like dead leaves falling from my lips...I breathe in but I choke on them. It's not beautiful...none of it. Outside the birds chip...Spring slowly creeps in -- can it reach me from in here?
3 out of 8 pages in. 4ish more to go.
After this. One more essay due. (Not started).
The last essay I wrote was crap (I know it). This one is turning out shit too...M. if you really thought I tend to bs., you haven't seen anything yet. At least with my Mac. King essay I actually felt some sense of pride...now all I have is exhaustion. Every word I type is exasperated...
Even this...like dead leaves falling from my lips...I breathe in but I choke on them. It's not beautiful...none of it. Outside the birds chip...Spring slowly creeps in -- can it reach me from in here?
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