Reflective Essay

My personal and academic growth was completely unexpected on my senior year of high school. Looking at my schedule in August I remember thinking colleges will only focus on your first quarter grades, and then you can just slack off. Although I completed the first part of my plan, slacking off just didn’t seem like the right thing to do. I felt the obligation to respond positively to the hard work of my teachers. Event though Posse took over my life for the first half of the school year, making it difficult for me to focus on my school work, I was highly encouraged by the quality of the assignment the we were given. Unfortunately, even though the assignments seemed fun, I had the hardest time getting used to explicating.

The first thing we explicated by the poem “Red Shift”. Although the poem was really interesting I just didn’t know how to take it apart. I was used to the literal analysis that I had been doing for the past three years, and finding the “deeper meaning” and the “author’s purpose” just didn’t come to me easily. The next explication paper was on the book The Stranger. After reading the book and having in depth class discussions I was really impressed with the character of Meursault. I am a very emotional person coming a cross character who didn’t show a bit of emotion at his own mother’s funeral was really sticking. I was impressed by how much his struggles allowed him to find meaning. I also like how he made me realize that just because society expects certain reactions from you in specific situations; it doesn’t mean that you have to abide by them.

Later on in the year, when we picked up A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, I was finally able to master the art of explicating. Having my own strand to work on made the explication and analytical process a lot easier. I was prepared for class discussions and ready to share my bazaar theories. Reading the Portrait, as well as the criticism at the end, have encouraged me to look at things in a feminist prospective. Although three of my best friends consider themselves to be feminist, I have never been too interested in the subject. I though the feminists were just women who were frustrated with their own lives and used gender discrimination to excuse their failures. After reading the feminist criticism and a little bit about its background helped me realize that my idea was completely wrong. Looking at literature with a feminist eye has helped me to discover new theories and explications for the actions of certain characters.

When we were assigned to pick a page from A Humument, I was really excited because all of the pieces were phenomenal. I ended up picking a portrait of a man, which seemed to be the least original of the bunch. Although it was not colorful and extravagant, I felt like when I was writing about it I was using all of the knowledge that I gained this year. I was able to explicate every detail with success and actually understand my own theories. I also used to feminist information from the Portrait to back up some of my points. Having this be one of my final papers was really great because I made me feel very intelligent. I knew what I was doing when I was writing and even surprised myself with some of the ideas I came up with. It was really rewarding to see that all of my hard work had paid off and that I actually remembered the majority of the things I learned.

These past three quarters have played a crucial role in my academic and personal growth. Although I still have a lot to learn about explicating, I feel like learning about it has helped me to understand literature better. I am able to make up my own theories and actually prove them, which is really rewarding. I am more confident with my writing bringing up new and diverse ideas. I know that taking this class and working hard has paid off because I am constantly taking the material I learned here and using it in other classes and environments.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

Part two of A Thousand Splendid Suns is about a little girl Laila and the events in her childhood. The section ends with her on the floor unconscious and unaware of what had just occurred. Her house had been bombed and her mother and father died.
In the first passage, Laila sees that “a fluorescent light shines from the ceiling above. “A woman’s face appears, hovers over hers” (174). The figure staring down at her is Merriam. The way in which Hosseini describes Merriam is almost as she were an angle; an angle with glowing light all around her. This is very significant because once Laila marries Rasheed and they all live together, Merriam is Lailla’s Angel. She protects her and looks after her as is she her mother. Towards the end of the book, Merriam even sacrifices her life for Laila. She kills Rasheed and turns her-self in to be executed.

The next passage describes a man looking down at Lila. This man is Rasheed. Hosseini writes that “his lips move but make no sound. All Laila hears is ringing.” (174). This is very important because once they get married, Rasheed’s comments are nothing but sound to Laila. He does not believe in women rights or education, therefore goes against all the Babi taught Laila when she was growing up. She thinks Rasheed is ignorant when he says that she should always be covered when in public and stop speaking with big words.

The third passage brings Merriam back in the picture. But this time, Merriam’s words are also just sound because “Laila can’t hear anything but the ringing” (174). Hosseini shows that there is a different side of Merriam. Since the ringing, which is associated with Rasheed’s mean character, is transported to Merriam, it is suggested that she has a mean character as well. This other side of hers’ is revealed when Leila marries Rasheed, even though considering Merriam’s disapproval. When Leila finally moves in Merriam snaps at her saying that she “won’t be [her] servant..[that] she won’t take orders from [her]” (702). This ringing that comes from Merriam is foreshadowing her future attitude towards Lila.

Finally the last passage begins with Leila remembering her father. Eventually she sees Merriam’s face again. Then, “mercifully, the pink pill again. Then, a deep hush. A deep hush falls over everything.” The order in which Hosseini writes the events in this passage foreshadows Leilla’s life. Her father Babi and everything he has taught her will no longer be. The “pink pill” will change everything and Leilla’s laughter and freedom will soon be “hushed” by her marriage with Rasheed.

Come on Peopl

“There is another thing that little boys don’t do anymore: go to church. When we were kids once a week we had to get dressed to the nines in clothes we’d rather not wear and spend an hour sitting and kneeling quietly in a place we’d rather not be. But this was a useful and necessary discipline… We learned self-control, and we knew the consequences if we didn’t… Today many boys don’t go to church and couldn’t even put their clothes on straight if they did… Sadly, the first real suit many of them get to wear is colored orange” (4-5).

Come on People blew me away just after reading the first few pages. This passage really struck me because religion seems to be a very big issue in today’s society. It’s really surprising to see how the majority of the student body in our schools doesn’t believe in a God. They don’t understand what it means to have faith in something that is greater than them. To be completely honest, as a raised Catholic I question my religion plenty of times. I was always contradicting what the priest said during mass and although my father always told me that faith is the key to any question, I never accepted anything. A couple of years a go, my sister and I were lucky enough to meet to exchange students from Italy. The belonged to a movement called Community and Liberation. The girls invited us to attend one of their meetings and eventually to join the movement as well. I’m not going to say that joining this movement was one of the best things that happened to me, but it definitely allowed me to understand my religion. I am a Catholic and I do believe in God and think this has helped me immensely at different moments in my life.
It’s really sad to see kids who say they are atheist with out even knowing what that really means or even understanding a certain religion.

Bill Cosby says that although little boys disliked going to mass, it taught them respect and self-control, something that is lacking more and more know a days. Although little kids don’t quite understand the meaning of faith and God, being in an environment that teaches them to be respectful children and the difference from right and wrong will help them become better people. Although I still disagree with many of the things the Catholic Church teaches, I do think that believing in something and being in an environment where people can relate to your feelings and believes is very important. Being religious does not mean one has to be restricted to do anything out of the norm, it means that one lives one’s life with meaning and awareness.

Grandpa Pedro

Can you imagine a large, angry ogre as a kind, loving man? Although these two sets of contradicting characteristics are hardly ever used to describe the same person, I can assure you that at different times in my life, each set described my grandpa Pedro.

“Hurry, Hurry, finish your food, grandpa’s coming!” is what was expected from grandma every night at the dinner table. Don’t get me wrong, grandma Elina was a great cook, but whenever she included bell peppers in her meals, it was impossible for me to even attempt eating whatever else was on the plate. I was never a picky eater, but like my mother, there were a few things that were not included on my “favorite things to eat” list. I hated peppers, and just about any other cooked vegetable. Whenever they happen to be included in the meal, it became a battle between my grandma and I when she tried to feed me. Unfortunately, I was always defeated in the battle as soon as grandpa set foot in the house. He was a tall, gray haired man with thick glasses and a deep voice. He never said hello when he entered the house, but you knew he was home when you heard the front door slam shut. He was a scary man. Or at least that’s what grandma wanted me to think. You see, she always got me to eat her food by saying that if I didn’t eat it, grandpa was going to get really, really upset. She said that he would take me to his workshop and punish me severely.

As you might have already guessed, growing up I never had much interaction with grandpa Pedro. He was always in his workshop building or fixing something. He spent long hours in the hospital and sometimes days at his religious center. He was always involved in the community and barely spent any time with his family. You see, he had a very big heart, and this I know from the many times he brought home homeless people in order to feed them and give them some clean clothes. One time, he even built a small shack in the back yard and hosted a homeless man until he died. Regardless to all of his kind actions, I had always dreaded his presence. After all of the fear my grandmother had built up in me against grandpa Pedro, I tried to stay as far away from him as possible.

On October 20th 1996 the whole family was to be united at my grandparents’ house to celebrate my uncle’s birthday. Two days before the party, my cousins and I had basically moved into the house so that our mothers would have time to organize and prepare everything for the big event. We all slept in one room like a herd of wolves under a cave and had adventures around the house. Playing pirates was one of our favorite games. We always pretended the treasure was in the same room, but somehow were always excited to discover it under the same bed every time.

On this particular occasion, my second cousins from Quito had been invited. They were the eldest of us all, and weren’t easy to get along with. We had asked them to play pirates with us and they responded “NO!”, in an arrogant manner. They always thought themselves better then us and too old to get involved in childish games. After long hours of searching for our treasure, we found the “hidden” room. But to our surprise, our evil cousins had locked the door. In desperation to dig out our treasure, I went for the set of keys on grandpa’s nightstand and ran back to the door. I tried every key and when I finally found the right one, I was struggling with the doorknob. As my cousins hurried me to unlock the door, we suddenly heard a crack and everyone stopped. I pulled the key out, but only half of the key was on the keychain. Right at that moment, we heard the front door slam shut and everyone, except for me, scurried in different directions.
As I felt the tall figure approach me, I closed my eyes and like a defenseless little ant, I waited to be hurt. Suddenly, I was elevated and when I opened my eyes, I was in grandpa’s workshop. This was when I knew the end had come. I looked around and all I saw were tools of massive destruction. There was a hand drill, a few hammers, wooden saws, wrenches, and even a long orange thing that looked like a snake. There were old pieces of machinery everywhere and the floor was covered with pieces of wood. In the back, there was a mammoth size fridge where I figured he kept the peppers he would use to torture me.

When grandpa finally appeared, he was wearing the green sweater with brown buttons we had given him for Christmas last year. He looked like a snapping turtle ready to attack, but surprisingly enough, he didn’t. Grandpa had taken off his glasses, and for the first time I realized he had hazel eyes. He took what was left of the key I was holding and placed it on the table. Out of the blue, he pulled out a lollypop and asked me if I liked the pink flavor. I told him I did and that pink was my favorite color. He gently took the wrapper off and before giving it to me he made me promise I wouldn’t tell grandma that he gave me a lollypop before dinner. We stayed in his workshop for a few hours and he told me stories from when he was a little boy.

That day was one of the most confusing days of my life. When supper was ready, grandpa Pedro sat next to me at the large rectangular dinner table and gave me a big smile. When grandma wasn’t looking, he took all of the cooked vegetables off my plate and pretended nothing had happened. Right before bedtime, I asked him if he would read me a story and with a tone of astonishment he replied, “me?” As he read me my story all I could think of was why this had never happened before. Why hadn’t I ever spent quality time with grandpa Pedro before this day? Why would grandma portray him as an evil ogre? He was so gentle and completely different from the image I had of him. His deep soothing voice slowly put me to sleep as he read me the story about the little pink bunny. As I felt his weight lift off the bed, I opened my eyes and thanked him for everything he had done that day and that I loved him very much. He kissed my forehead and said, “ I love you too mi longa, que duermas con lost angelitos”.

James Joyce DJ

"At last it had come. He knelt in the silent gloom and raised his eyes to the white crucifix suspended above him. God could see that he was truly sorry. He would tell all his sins. His confession would be long, long. Everybody in the chapel would know then what sinner he had been. Let them know. It was true. But God had promised to forgive him if he was sorry. He was sorry. Hr clasped his hands and raised them toward the white form, praying with his darkened eyes, praying with all his trembling body, sawing his head to and fro like a lost creature , praying with whimpering lips."

This passage comes from the moment right before Stephen confesses all of his sins. Joyce describes Stephen as taking on animal characteristics. He begins play wit his words and a rush of emotions come over him making him close his eyes, pray for forgiveness and eventually begins rambling, He says, "sawing his head to and fro like a creature." His moving back and forth reminds me of Icarus and his flight. Daedalus had told him to keep a constant path because either extreme would be dangerous. At this moment of desperation Stephen is rocking back and forth and feels emotions that resemble different extremes. He himself has gone to an extreme when he sinned with a prostitute. Both Icarus and Stephen were unable to find a middle way. Stephen want from being extremely religious and conservative to not having control of his emotions and having sex with a prostitute. Neither character was able to find a happy medium.

Ciao, Hola, Hello, Hi

BING. BING. BING. The elevator was on the fifth floor. I stood there, in the first floor of my brick apartment building in Malden, Massachusetts; my new home in a diverse town just north of Boston. With sweaty palms and stiff legs, I waited for the number one to turn red, praying with all of my heart that a gringo, as we would stereotypically call them back home, wouldn’t show up. A gringo in Ecuador was famously known to be and American citizen with blond hair and blue eyes; but soon enough, the people of Malden contradicted this common belief.

BING. The gray doors opened. I rushed in and franticly pushed the number three. The doors suddenly reopened and a tall white male stepped in. My attempt to make it home alone had failed. “Hi”, said the man. Waiting for a response he stared at me, but no words were said. His intimidating eyes forced me to look down, and for one more time, I wished my parents had rented the apartment on the first floor. I knew that the elevator rides would be awkward and uncomfortable because of my lack of language comprehension. Hi, que significa esta palabra? I had attended a bilingual school in Ecuador prior my arrival where I had learned the American ABC’s and a few phrases that were supposed to make me feel like I actually spoke English. Hi? Por que no me lo habian ensenado antes? After flipping through the pages of my dictionary, I learned that this word was the equivalent of Hello.

Although I had expanded my vocabulary by learning the meaning of the word hi, I found myself incapable of mastering the English language. I felt ignorant in my ESL classes and for the first time in my life, I regretted moving. My inability to communicate and lack of friends caused me to isolate myself and depend on my toys for play dates. Ballerina Barbie became my best friend. I admired her for her multiple talents and I began to master the art of mumbling by pretending I was speaking in English with my perfect doll. I used Barbie as a gateway for doing all the things I only wished I could do.

My family stepped foot on American territory for the first time on September 11, 1999. My parents were convinced that moving to a different country, like previous times, would be a success. Unfortunately, the language barrier deprived me from adapting to my new home, I felt like an outsider, an alien. But I didn’t truly experience the life of an outcast until Middle Eastern terrorist bombed New York City. The country suffered a drastic change. Some Americans began to discriminate against immigrants, accusing them of bring terrorists. After September 11, 2001, I was no longer seen as just a foreigner, but an intruder as well. Although it was evident that I was not of Middle Eastern background, I felt discriminated as a Hispanic. I stopped speaking Spanish at school. Afraid of being judged I forced myself to learn English.

In my four years of high school, I’ve encountered a greater variety of cultures than I ever would have in any other country. Living in Malden for eight years has led me to question my own stereotypical definition of an American. Although growing up I was always exposed to different cultures, I had never seen a large quantity of people from different backgrounds all in one place. For the first time, I encountered Asians, Indians, and African Americans. This enriching exposure to diversity at my high school has developed a greater interest in foreign cultures and leads me to selecting International Relations as a field of study.

I just recently attended the “Issues of the 21st Century Conference” at Bucknell University. After listening to an inspiring presentation on Darfur by an International Relations major, and participating in a discussion with my Social Justice group on the matter, I have come to the realization that International Relations is something I truly and passionately want to pursue. Before the conference, my knowledge regarding the ways in which an International Relations major would allow me to help third world countries was limited. However, after meeting an inspiring example of someone with an IR major who has made a difference in the world just by sharing his knowledge with the students at the conference, I am confident that with my future education I will too make a remarkable difference in the world of education itself in order to pursue political and social change in countries like Darfur.

A Humumnet (p. 27)

On page 27 of Tom Phillips’ A Humument, Philips is able to create a tragic love story. The page displays a black and white picture of a man with wording at different locations throughout the picture. The page also displays a frame composed of black and honey brown lines surrounding the picture itself. With his choice of words, the placement of these words, and the existence of the frame, Philip is able to tell the viewer the story of a lonely lover.

When viewing the page from top to bottom, the viewer immediately notices a cut out of words at the top left hand corner. Almost leaving the frame the words “That’s the lover” appear. This small phrase instantly reveals that a relationship is being discussed. The fact that the words are on the complete opposite side from the heat and are almost out of the frame suggests that this relationship has failed. The distance between this phrase and the man in the picture suggests that although the relationship has ended, the man is not willing to let go. He holds these words within the border of his frame or life because he is unable to move on. The fact that the words only have one set of quotation marks indicates that in this relationship only one of the two people cared the most about the other one. In this case, the man must have loved his partner intensely, but unfortunately, his love was not corresponded.

The next set of words that are lower down in the picture reveal the man’s way of coping with his broken heart. The caption reads “The lover, and his companions, of the grape”. This indicates that as a result of the man’s lack of companion he has indulged himself with liquor. The “grape”, which is used to make wine, implies that the man is using alcohol to overcome his frustration. Looking at the picture, this set of words is located on the right side of the man, exactly above his heart. This may imply that the man is not thinking about his actions, but is acting with his heart. His heart has taken control and it does not know how to deal with the man’s misfortune so it leads him to alcohol for comfort. The wet and warm feeling that the alcohol gives him, as a psychoanalytic might say, reminds him of his mother’s womb. By recreating his mother’s womb with in him, with the aid of the alcohol, he may feel the love and comfort that he does not find in his reality.

Right at the center of the picture, Philips places a longer set of words. This is the first set of words that touches the man and actually covers some of his features. “He happened to be taking from his pocket, a small photograph of an ancient English lover” is written across the man’s face, completely covering his eyes. The positioning of the words in the picture implies that the man’s action has caused his blindness. From a psychoanalytic point of view, it seem as if the photo of his partner has reminded the man of his castration. The simple glimpse of his partner’s image reminds him that he can not be with her therefore he is unable to function. Being the first set of words that actually touches him implies that it is only through the use of words that he can actually “touch” his partner. For the viewer, it is ironic that Philip uses that word “photograph” with in the photograph of the man. Perhaps Philips does this to show how like any picture, the man’s partner is nothing more than just a memory.

Towards the bottom of the picture, Philips places three different groups of words that happen to be connected by differently shaped lines. The first set of words says, “a certain part of” and it is located on the left side of the picture, touching the man’s throat. The incomplete statement suggests that the man attempted to slice his throat, but unsuccessfully survived. His attempt to kill himself out of desperation was incomplete. Connected to this statement by a wiggly line are the words “the lover”. The wiggly lines suggest the lost of control and the insanity that led him to attempt suicide. The man’s lover caused this lack of composure. Connected to “the lover” by a straight line is the last set of words that read, “was rigid”. The straight line that is approaching the heart indicates that the man is finally able to stabilize his emotions. The words “was rigid” are placed on the far right side of his heart. These words imply that the man’s heart has turned into a solid rock. He is no longer willing to let the sensibility and hollowness of his heart absorb any emotion that may cause him pain.

One final part, perhaps the part of the picture that is first noticed is the black and honey colored frame that surrounds the black and white picture of the man. The frame is the only element on this page that has warm color, which may evoke a sense of comfort. However, the black lines in the frame give the viewer an illusion that the entire frame is eternally in motion around the picture. This may symbolize the feelings of the man. His emotions that have turned his heart into a hot pot of turmoil that eventually stops when the word “rigid” touches the frame, and the man’s heart consolidates into a rock.

In A Humument, Tom Philips is able tell a story by carefully deciding how he displays all of the different elements within the page. The location and placement of the words reveals a different part of the story allowing the viewer to follow it from top to bottom. The sudden mixture of a warm color with black creates an allusion of movement for the viewer that connects back Philips’ story, the story of a man who will no longer love.