Journal #20

Where do we begin? A small thought in our mother's head, one day hoping to become real. After time and love. As we grow in our mother's stomach, gradually, physically expending it, we get bigger and bigger. We feed from or mother's body, feeling the great love she gives, but after time, we must leave. As our journey to life begins, we start as a young, naive child, viewing the world as a magical place, full of surprises and mystery. Slowly as our legs and arms grow longer, and our minds get bigger, we view the world as a new place. A place full of people to meet and sights to see, we come to realize it is not that magical, but just where we have been dropped upon to go on and live our life. As adults we become, we feel the wisdom and experience set in. Our skin is not the youthful, clean skin it once was, but a canvas of the past we have had. We then see our children go through the same things we once did, and wish for it again. Our close relationships stay strong, and the distant ones fall, as we realize our true fiends. Then we get to the state of elderly, where we have finally realized we are not the young child running to our parents when they return from a long day at work, but the grandparents that get visited every so often. Our bodies to longer fit, but aching along, showing years of life and past events. Our children now come to us and ask for advice they expect to be knowledge and wisdom filled. Then as the curtain of our life begins to fall we get slower and slower, realizing it is the end. As we silently pass and are buried in the ground, we begin to become one with the earth, its dirt emerging us and its animals making a home. Our bodies remain but our spirit lives on, joining our parents and doing as they have done since they have completed the cycle of life also.

Journal #19

Waving and standing tall above the ground,
The American flag easily found.
Many bright colors lighted the dark night,
As we remembered the soldiers hard fight.
The stars framing the fireworks up high,
As families and friends parted with bye.
Parades and festivals early that day,
have now been abandoned, no more have stayed.

On this day each year we think of the sound,
of Americans rejoicing around.
1776 was the height
of the Independence Day,  its first site.
Jefferson, Adams, and Franklin had sighed
As "Freedom from England!" the people cried.
But what makes this day worthy of such pray?
The release from England's ruling decay.

How do we celebrate a day profound?
With games, reunions, going to fairgrounds,
are all ways to celebrate with great might.
Sometimes airliners even take a flight,
High up above in the crystal blue sky.
To get along with all is what we try.
"The land of the free" is what we all say,
As we commemorate this holiday.

Journal #18

      As I pondered the multitude of eyes beaming at me from the magnificent creature, I gazed beyond it to the rolling meadows, burnt from the hot summer sun. I leaned back as the creature buzzed around my head, resting on the hard ground beneath me. The creature settled on my nose. As I got a closer look at the creature, I noticed its deep purple, scaly skin, its wings so thin they were translucent. I scrunched my nose and the small creature took off from my nose and into the stark summer air. I rolled myself off the ground and continued to walk through the dry meadow. As i walked, the creatures below me startled and flew around my legs as the cut through the tall grass. When I arrived at the river, the deep blue water glistened in the bright sun. I dipped the very end of my toe in, feeling the temperature. The cool water soothed my warm, sun kissed skin. I gradually walked further and further into the river. Finally all the way in, I leaned back and closed my eyes, taking in the cool breeze, coming from the water, and the fresh smell of the forest. I swam further and further down the river, when I heard a pouring of water nearby. As i continued on, I felt mist getting thicker. The water settled into a deeper cool, colliding with a thirty foot water fall. Large, slick rocks surrounded the area, framing the waterfall. Beyond it I could see an opening. I swam to the cave, and stepped onto the rock, careful not to slip. Looking up, I saw the dark, musty cave walls, covered in old pictures. I looked around in amazement, studying the clay covered walls and dripping crystals hanging above. The sound of the drops hitting the ground and the waterfall rushing behind me were the only sound I could hear. I rested my eyes shut and took a deep breath in.

Journal #17

As the light blue fuzz feathered through the warm current of air purring from the heating vent, the amber kitten rubbed his moist nose against the frozen window. The brisk air outside kept all at home, and in the comfortable, warm heat. The girl twisted herself into the rugged, over sized chair, attempting to conserve her warmth. She stretched slowly towards the wood table that sat aside from the large chair. Slowly she picked up the rose colored mug which sat upon the table, overflowing with steam from from the boiling hot chocolate that was inside. As she carefully took a sip, the light blue fuzz landed slowly on her leg. She sighed as she wiped it off, thinking of being confined in the small old house on a cold winter's day as this one. She kissed lovingly at the young kitten, who had settled into a curled up position on the window sill. He looked up attentively, as his small fragile legs melted from the tall window sill to the paisley rug below. As she picked up the kitten, the silky new fur felt warm in her chilly hands. As she cuddled the newborn kitten, its wet, sticky tongue licked her rosy cheek. They awaited in the warmth of the chair for her husband to arrive home after his treacherous dive through the thick, white snow. The dim yellow lights shown through the frosted window,signaling his arrival. Both the kitten and the girl got up from the comfort of the old chair to greet him. As the front door swung open, the brisk air poured into the house surrounding the girl. She quickly shut the door to save as much of the warm heat as possible. He unwrapped the thick knitted scarf and his snow covered jacket. She hugged tightly as she showed him into the living room. He sat down on the old recliner as she settled in next to him, taking in his warmth.

Journal #16

       I do not remember a specific time when a person dressed differently. I do know that it has happened before. When someone wears something different than what people are used to, they tend to make fun of that person or talk about it behind their back. I think that this tends to happen in smaller schools, or with people that are with the same smaller group of people. This usually happens in small groups because they get into this comfortable little rut that they only except what fits into that rut. When something makes them feel out of their comfort zone, it makes them thrown off and they feel like they have to call it out and not like it. In a bigger group of people, this does not really happen at all, or at least nearly as much as with small groups. The more people, the bigger the diversity. If you are around all kinds of people all the time, you probably get used to it and do not think much of it if someone changes their style or dresses differently.This also most likely happens more in teenagers and young adults, than someone like our parents. We both do it, just in different ways. The styles we find different can be drastically opposites, which make us find some things okay, and some things just plain odd. I think that unless the clothes are inappropriate,too revealing or vulgar, then people should not make fun or call people out for wearing something different. Clothes are a part of self expression, and if people are made fun of for this, they will never find who they truly are and be just another ordinary, boring person. If anything, we should encourage people to dress however they please. When we do this, we are bound to be more accepting of anything, and in turn more well likes than someone who does not accept people who choose to dress differently.

Journal #15

         A person that I miss very much is my cousin, Lauren. She is like the big sister that I never had. She did not have her mother around when she was in high school, so my mom was kind of like her mom. Although she is almost ten years older than me, we have more in common than expected. She always tried to include me in things at family events, since I was an extremely shy kid, and did other things that big sisters do, minus the fighting. Lauren bragged about me to her friends, so when they saw me I felt like the coolest kid ever that high school kids liked me. She even gave me a nickname. Although I am not exactly fond of it, it is growing on me. She calls me Claire Bear Amadeus Mozart because I was a very artistic kid. When she graduated she moves to New Orleans to go to Tulane University. I obviously did not get to see her nearly as much as I used to. I missed her so much and felt like my best friend moved away. In order to stay in touch with her, we talk on the phone, text, email, and more recently we have become pen pals. By doing all of these things, it makes it easier to be closer to her. In our letters to each other we talk about everything, and it is fun because mail does not send as quickly as texts, so the anticipation makes it worth the wait. Every chance we get to visit her or she comes home, we make the most of. She always comes home for Christmas, and it just puts everyone in a good mood. We can share holiday traditions that we have with her, who never really got the Christmas experience that the majority of kids get to have.I cherish her visits home, and our rare visits there as much as I so that it will last until the next time we get to see each other.

Reflection Blog:The Pit and the Pendulum

“A fearful idea now suddenly drove the blood in torrents upon my heart, and for a brief period I once more relapsed into insensibility. Upon recovering, I at once started to my feet, trembling convulsively in every fiber” (Poe 265). This quote is not something that would typically be thought of as romantic, but this quote gives an example of what Romanticism is. The dark, mysterious, physiological thrill is exactly what Romanticism writing embodied, and exactly what “The Pit and the Pendulum” describes as we see the narrator go through intense struggle to save his life while trying to figure out what was going on around him. Poe’s short story exemplifies Romanticism, and more specifically Dark Romanticism in several ways.

To begin, one overall Romanticism trait the short story has is its very descriptive wording. The way Poe writes gives such specific details the reader can almost feel, smell, and sense what the character is feeling. When the narrator awakes to discover the pendulum swooshing closer and colder to his chest, Poe describes it in such a way the reader can almost feel every heart beat of the narrator getting faster and faster in anxiety and fear. This type of descriptive writing was a very common trait of the Romanticism time period.

Additionally, Dark Romanticism traits are also exemplified in “The Pit and the Pendulum”. A major emphasis in this kind of romanticism writing is physiological fear, emotions, and mystery. It is safe to say that all of these points are shown in Poe’s short story. The narrator is put through this prolonged torturous death, with this pit and pendulum used to force the man to fight for his life or face the painful death (Poe). The fear this puts on the man in addition to the fading from conscious to not make this even more of a challenge. He must wake himself from the befuddled haze of the drugged water enough in order to defend himself against the next strike thrown at him. In addition, emotions play a huge role in these fears as he must decide to fight, how to do it, or just give up. The fear itself is enough to make a person not able to function and make rational, quick decisions. Along with that he must deal with the death he faces. He does not even want to open his eyes because the emotions from the fear of what surrounds him are too great to handle (Poe 265). Overall, characteristic of mystery ties all of these elements into one great fearful situation of unknown circumstances faced by the narrator as he is thrown into this undiscovered chamber (Poe). This situation is so fearful for him; the way he deals with it is really a test of his character and nature.

Furthermore, this short story brings out an additional characteristic of Dark Romanticism. The human nature of the people being put though these physiological fears and mysteries are observed and described in this style of literature. Poe explains what is going through the narrator’s head as he is being nudged closer and closer to the put. This vivid description was something the people of the time had never really seen before, which made it all the more intriguing. The reader never knows what will happen next, how the man will handle it, and if he will still continue to fight (Poe).

Overall, the writing of Poe in “The Pit and the Pendulum” very much so exemplifies the Romanticism period, and Dark Romanticism characteristics. The way the story is so vividly detailed and mysteriously attention holding give the story an overall sense of human nature and fear, exactly the Romanticism style. Poe does a beautiful job of detailing each and every feeling the narrator has as he goes through this physiological fearful situation.   

  May, Charles E. "Alternate Realms of Reality." In Edgar Allan Poe: A Study of Short Fiction. Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1991, pp. 96–97. Quoted as "Dreams and Reality in the Story" in Harold Bloom, ed. Edgar Allan Poe, Bloom's Major Short Story Writers. Philadelphia: Chelsea House Publishing, 1998. (Updated 2007.) Bloom's Literary Reference Online. Facts On File, Inc. http://www.fofweb.com/activelink2.asp?ItemID=WE54&SID=5&iPin= BMSSEP39&SingleRecord=True (accessed November 4, 2012).

Poe, Edgar A. "The Pit and the Pedullum." Glencoe Literature. Ed. Jeffery D. Wilhelm. Columbus: McGraw-Hill, 2009. 263-73. Print.

Journal #14

I have been scared very bad only a couple of times before. I do not deal with scary things very well, so I try to avoid them at all costs. If I do end up in s scary situation, such as watching a scary movie, I usually try to hide my eves of do something else. When my friends made me watch Paranormal Activity, I avoided watching it by falling asleep. The time when I have been most scared was a long time ago. When my family and I went to Disney Land for the first time I was in first grade. We decided to go into the 3D theater for a showing of Bug's Life. I loved that movie as a kid, but I was not aware that the movie was going to actually make it feel like there bugs everywhere. I felt them running under and over my feet, flying in front of my face, and worst of all on the seat of my chair. I could not handle all of them and got so scared I ran out of the theater. My parents followed me and asked me what was wrong. Through my tears, I told them that the bugs scared me so much I could not be in there any longer. Ever since them I have had an extreme fear of all kinds of bugs. I never got over that fear even now, almost eight years later. The fear that that movie put in me made me never watch the Bug's Life since then. The only other time I have really been as terrified is when I went on my first and only haunted hay rack ride. My friend and I had gotten there late, so we had to sit on the very back on the trailer. I was already scared of the area we were in, so I pulled my sweatshirt over my eyes. As we went through, I could hear people chasing the car, and was terrified to look. All of a sudden I heard someone grad the end of the trailer, and my friend grabbed me and we jumped into the center. After that I was shaking until we got back. Since then I ave never gone on a haunted anything.