This time, she would have a hard time lying to cover up the gash: running from nearly her elbow to the middle of her forearm and deep too. Washing it with care, not a wince, she wrapped the cut and pulled over a sweatshirt. Sweaty as she was, she knew mom would ask fewer questions this way.
Ellie-Anna loved adventures. The outdoors was her turf, and no matter how tough the terrain, her spirit was always tougher. Ellie had found an old pair of hiking boots for real cheap one time at a garage sale, and begged and pleaded till’ her daddy got um’ for her. They were a bit large at first, and rubbed at her heels making blisters. But she loved them no less, and loved most what they stood for: excitement. In time, she grew into them perfectly, and they never left her side.
Ellie had treasure boxes brimming of trinkets she’d collected on all her excellent expeditions. A perfectly smooth rock, with streaks of red in it, an acorn a squirrel forgot to store away for winter, even a single sleek falcon feather, which was of course, her favorite treasure of all.
All of this adventure business would have been just fine, except for the fact that Ellie’s mom didn’t agree with her daughter “romping around in the mud,” and contracting “every disease known to man,” in the “dirty, slimy bacteria infested woods,” as her mom put it. “Nature is for those savages and wild beasts Anna, not my darling girl,” her mom would say. Ellie hated when her mother called her Anna. Ellie and her mom didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, and in fact, there was really only one person who did understand Ellie the best: her dad. Ellie’s mom and dad had split up when she was around seven. Ellie’s mom somehow ended up getting her more of the time than her dad did, which suited Ellie’s mom just fine. She liked to teach her daughter proper etiquette and manners. Yet, “Anna” was obviously miserable being inside all day, not free to roam in the wild like she so loved to do.
The only reprieve that Ellie had from being confined to the house was when her mom drove into town, to run an errand, or to see her boyfriend for an hour or two. Ellie would wait for five minutes after hearing the screen door down stairs spring shut. Then she would bolt out of the house, hopping into her old boots, backpack in tow, flinging open the old gate, and break into a sprint for the mystical forest. Before she even reached the edge of the forest, she would stop, and take a real deep breath. Ellie could smell the moisture, the decay, the foliage, even with her eyes closed. She could hear the calls of birds to their mates, and see bugs scampering across the forest floor. Trees spread their leaves out overhead, so barely any sunlight poked through, and mosses carpeted the rocks and roots engulfing the land with green. Ellie walked with her head tilted back in wonder, eyes searching the canopy, watching nature’s splendor unfold before her. Untouched trail, she was alone, but never had she felt so alive before. Up ahead there was a little stream, it tinkled on its way thorough the forest. Something glinting between the river stones caught her eye. She reached down to grab it, and fished out a tiny moss covered gold pendant with a “D” engraved on the back of it. Someone must have long lost it before: people rarely visit these woods.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Paris Is Burning!!!
Paris Is Burning
Drag Queens and their Fantasy Balls
From the perspective, of any one of the numerous drag queens in the film, we would be highly encouraged to go to one of their “Drag Balls.” Many of these transvestites are suffering from the harsh views and misconceptions placed on them by society, and family members who have rejected them, and simply struggling with their day to day lives in making ends meet. At their “Balls,” they can first off, be in a comfortable and supportive setting where people understand them. The can, build their self confidence, and understand that they are not alone in being transgender and transvestites. Lastly, they can make have their glitz and glamour for one night, and forget about the hustle and the ghetto until they walk outside the drag house. I think these are the three main reasons why, we would be encouraged, from the perspective of people in the film, to go to a Drag Ball.
The first thing that I noticed about the Drag house setting, wasn’t only all the heckling and laughing going on, but the support and the kinship that went on. The Drag house created an atmosphere, where the guys don’t have to feel shy about being women. They were proud, and they strutted their stuff! Everyone pushed each other to be better, and you could tell that it was a community where everyone had each other’s back. For these people, where many people had deserted them in their lives, a drag house is a very comforting place. This was even more evident, when some of the Drag Queens changed their last names to the house names. Drag house friends become family for those that no longer have families because they have been kicked out for being a transvestite. Drag Balls seemed very accepting, and they didn’t judge. They just supported each person through what life was throwing at them at the time.
Secondly, the activities that the Drag queens did at their balls built confidence, while people were critiquing them all the while. They may not have realized it, but while they are having their fantasy ball, they were practicing many of the skills needed to deal with people that they would encounter on a daily basis. For example, during the competition, the constant would have to walk with their head up high, portraying their category as best as they could, while all eyes were on them, and people were critiquing them. Noise, yelling and distractions were going on but they were to remain in character. If you’ve ever seen a mahu walking around Chinatown, she walks the same way: head up high, like it’s none of your business, disregarding the stares, just strutting on by. The Drag Balls help build the confidence of these transgender and transvestites, and prepare them for situations that they encounter every day. They also get to meet other people just like them, and create friendships and relationships, so that they don’t feel alone or lost as a transgender in the world.
Lastly, I think we would be encouraged to go to a Drag Ball, because from a transvestite and transgender perspective, this is the one special night where we can make the ball out to be whatever we want it to be, and can have all of our fantasies come true. They live in such a world of judgment and stark reality, and while participating in these balls, they can get away from it all, while being with a crowd that gets them. They don’t have to think about where their next meal is coming from, or the fact that they don’t have the money for rent. They just want to escape the struggle: they’ll even steal a dress to wear so that they can come and compete in the ball. This aspect, I believe is the most alluring of all if I were attending a Drag Ball.
In the end, Drag Balls provide much solace and a sense of family for these transvestites, and transgender men who have been rejected from their families, and have in-turn adopted their drag house friends as family. The balls have a comfortable atmosphere, where everyone is supportive and can understand where you are coming from to some extent. The balls build confidence, and at the ball, anything is possible. You can have your wildest dreams come true, and with this attitude, the Drag Balls leave transvestites reaching for their dreams, and believing that they can succeed.
Drag Queens and their Fantasy Balls
From the perspective, of any one of the numerous drag queens in the film, we would be highly encouraged to go to one of their “Drag Balls.” Many of these transvestites are suffering from the harsh views and misconceptions placed on them by society, and family members who have rejected them, and simply struggling with their day to day lives in making ends meet. At their “Balls,” they can first off, be in a comfortable and supportive setting where people understand them. The can, build their self confidence, and understand that they are not alone in being transgender and transvestites. Lastly, they can make have their glitz and glamour for one night, and forget about the hustle and the ghetto until they walk outside the drag house. I think these are the three main reasons why, we would be encouraged, from the perspective of people in the film, to go to a Drag Ball.
The first thing that I noticed about the Drag house setting, wasn’t only all the heckling and laughing going on, but the support and the kinship that went on. The Drag house created an atmosphere, where the guys don’t have to feel shy about being women. They were proud, and they strutted their stuff! Everyone pushed each other to be better, and you could tell that it was a community where everyone had each other’s back. For these people, where many people had deserted them in their lives, a drag house is a very comforting place. This was even more evident, when some of the Drag Queens changed their last names to the house names. Drag house friends become family for those that no longer have families because they have been kicked out for being a transvestite. Drag Balls seemed very accepting, and they didn’t judge. They just supported each person through what life was throwing at them at the time.
Secondly, the activities that the Drag queens did at their balls built confidence, while people were critiquing them all the while. They may not have realized it, but while they are having their fantasy ball, they were practicing many of the skills needed to deal with people that they would encounter on a daily basis. For example, during the competition, the constant would have to walk with their head up high, portraying their category as best as they could, while all eyes were on them, and people were critiquing them. Noise, yelling and distractions were going on but they were to remain in character. If you’ve ever seen a mahu walking around Chinatown, she walks the same way: head up high, like it’s none of your business, disregarding the stares, just strutting on by. The Drag Balls help build the confidence of these transgender and transvestites, and prepare them for situations that they encounter every day. They also get to meet other people just like them, and create friendships and relationships, so that they don’t feel alone or lost as a transgender in the world.
Lastly, I think we would be encouraged to go to a Drag Ball, because from a transvestite and transgender perspective, this is the one special night where we can make the ball out to be whatever we want it to be, and can have all of our fantasies come true. They live in such a world of judgment and stark reality, and while participating in these balls, they can get away from it all, while being with a crowd that gets them. They don’t have to think about where their next meal is coming from, or the fact that they don’t have the money for rent. They just want to escape the struggle: they’ll even steal a dress to wear so that they can come and compete in the ball. This aspect, I believe is the most alluring of all if I were attending a Drag Ball.
In the end, Drag Balls provide much solace and a sense of family for these transvestites, and transgender men who have been rejected from their families, and have in-turn adopted their drag house friends as family. The balls have a comfortable atmosphere, where everyone is supportive and can understand where you are coming from to some extent. The balls build confidence, and at the ball, anything is possible. You can have your wildest dreams come true, and with this attitude, the Drag Balls leave transvestites reaching for their dreams, and believing that they can succeed.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Brainstorming (Documentary prep)
In this documentary on Academic pressure, I would like issues such as student pressure, teacher pressure, and parent pressure to be addressed. I think it would be cool to follow to students, one boy and one girl around who are in the midst of preparing for college, and show all the things that they are doing to better their education and to get into college. You could show all the extra curricular activities they do, and show just what length some students have gone to, to get into college, or what they have done for a grade. I think the target audience would consist of teens mostly academy students, and maybe even teachers. I would hope that after they watch they documentary they understand that students here, and throughout our country will push themselves over the edge for grades, and that maybe we should create a better way to handle the college and grades issue. Kids shouldn't be stressing out this much, or working this hard, they'll spend the rest of their lives working. High- School is a time to enjoy.
Possible research and interview questions:
What extra things do you do that might prove as scholarship opportunities?
Are you part of any clubs?
Did you do these activities for a scholarship or for the fact that they looked good, or just because you enjoy them?
Where would you like to go to college?
Can your family afford you school of choice?
What lengths have you pushed yourself to, to get a grade, or for something school related?
What time do you go to sleep every night and how late have you stayed up doing homework?
Do you ever feel pressured regarding your academics, college etc.?
Who puts these “pressures” on you?
What things do you like to do in your spare time?
I think that before I go on interviewing, I think I would want to get multiple perspectives from teachers and students on college, and the workload to get in. Ideally I would want to follow two extreme cases and see if their methods were successful or not in getting into their college of choice. I would also want to talk to admission people at High- Schools here, and at colleges in Hawaii. Maybe we could even find clips of Admission people from colleges on the mainland speaking about the entry process and what they are looking for.
I just want students, teachers, and parents to get an inside look at just what it takes to get into college, and what we go through with school, social lives, sports, the list is endless. I think it might prove valuable for other students to know what worked and what didn’t work as far as college admissions, and what can set you apart from the rest. It should be an issue that would hit home for a school of such academic excellence.
Possible research and interview questions:
What extra things do you do that might prove as scholarship opportunities?
Are you part of any clubs?
Did you do these activities for a scholarship or for the fact that they looked good, or just because you enjoy them?
Where would you like to go to college?
Can your family afford you school of choice?
What lengths have you pushed yourself to, to get a grade, or for something school related?
What time do you go to sleep every night and how late have you stayed up doing homework?
Do you ever feel pressured regarding your academics, college etc.?
Who puts these “pressures” on you?
What things do you like to do in your spare time?
I think that before I go on interviewing, I think I would want to get multiple perspectives from teachers and students on college, and the workload to get in. Ideally I would want to follow two extreme cases and see if their methods were successful or not in getting into their college of choice. I would also want to talk to admission people at High- Schools here, and at colleges in Hawaii. Maybe we could even find clips of Admission people from colleges on the mainland speaking about the entry process and what they are looking for.
I just want students, teachers, and parents to get an inside look at just what it takes to get into college, and what we go through with school, social lives, sports, the list is endless. I think it might prove valuable for other students to know what worked and what didn’t work as far as college admissions, and what can set you apart from the rest. It should be an issue that would hit home for a school of such academic excellence.
Ellie tucked the pendant into her back pack’s front pocket and zipped it up tight as not to lose it. It was another treasure that the woods had given her and she sure didn’t want to loose it. The woods had special things to give you, as long as you were open to receiving the gifts. Ellie stood up from the crouched position she had been in, and turned towards home. This forest had the ability to make you loose track of time, and mom would totally flip if she ever caught her outside the gate, or worse in the woods. She started to walk home but as if in slow motion she felt her self slipping on the wet mossy ground near the trickling stream. The soles of her faithful boots had already been wet from leaning in the stream, and she went right down as her boots slid across the moss. Lying there on the forest floor, she felt a stinging pain on the underside of her forearm. She lifted it to see a rather large gash, blood beginning to bead at the cut, running nearly half the length of her forearm. This couldn’t be good. If mom saw this she was done for. Ellie got herself up, slowly, and washed the cut with her water bottle. She trudged home, wondering if mom was on her way home or not, and how much time she had to clean up her cut before she got home.
When Ellie was cleaning her cut, she could hear mom coming up the road. She hurriedly pulled over a sweatshirt, as the downstairs door sprung open and her mom walked inside. Luckily, it was getting late and mom got straight to cooking dinner, and Ellie was left with some time to herself to analyze the comings of the evening, and check out the pendant she had found earlier in the forest.
Ellie unzipped her bag pocket and dug around until she felt the cold smooth patch of gold in her fingertips. She took her hand out of her bag, and while sitting at her desk, examined the “D” that was engraved on a heart shaped charm. Who had the charm belonged to, she wondered. Was it a “Diane,” or perhaps “Debbie,” and who had given it to them? It seemed like something special, and although nearly half of the pendant was covered in moss, some of the gold still glinted through. Ellie figured that the pendant had been in the stream or forest for probably as long as she had been alive.
Ellie carefully scrubbed the moss and grime off of the pendant. It came right off with a little water, and she cleaned it and rubbed it down with one of her shirts. The gold glinted and sparkled, it was the unveiling of a diamond from the rough, and something in her admired this beautiful transformation. She so wished that one day, her life would take a drastic change, and someone would come along and polish her life up into its finest possible state. Ellie was destined for bigger things than the ones that her mother had planned for her. Both Ellie and her mom, Dora, knew that.
Ellie was walking back to sit down at her desk, when she saw her mom standing there. Her mom had been watching her every move. How long she had been standing there, Ellie didn’t know, but she did know that her mom’s expression meant she had some questions coming her way.
Ellie noticed that her mom wasn’t so much starring at the pendant in her hand, but rather at her arm. Then she realized she still had the sweatshirt sleeve pulled up because she had been cleaning her treasure, and her mom could see the bandage and all. Her gash had started to soak through the gauze in just a few places, but it was apparent that she the cut was serious, and she sure didn’t get it from anything in the house.
Ellie’s mom watched her as she came slowly over to her desk, and sat down, still clutching the pendant in her hand.
“What’s that you’ve got in your hand Anna?” she questioned
“And where did you get that awful cut!!!”
Ellie just shrugged and mumbled that she was always being clumsy and had fallen and scrapped her self on something sharp downstairs, something that she couldn’t remember. As for the thing in her hand, she had just found an old thing of hers and was putting it back where it belonged. But before Ellie could say another word, her mom had pried open her hand and picked up the pendant she had found. Her mother looked it over and rubbed it a couple times between her thumb and forefinger, as if trying to recall anything she knew about it. Ellie’s mom’s eyes grew teary, and she sighed,
“Ellie…” she called her by her name “ From the cut you have and this charm, you must have been outside today, but you know what, I never thought that I’d see this again.” She said, holding the heart charm up to the light.
“You see, when I was a little girl, I used to love to explore just like you. Every day, I was in those woods, trekking, camping, you name it, I had done it. But my father, who died before you were born, died of an infection from bacteria that he picked up while hiking in these woods. I never visited them since, and lost this gold heart on my last forest visit. You are so much like me, Ellie, but I lost my taste for adventure after my father passed away. I guess I’ve really been too hard on you, and I’ve controlled too much of your life and what you can do with it. I got to do what I wanted to do with it, and that’s all I really want for you. I just want you to be safe, for your sake.”
She took Ellie’s hand and kissed each finger like she used to do when she was a little girl, and brought over a chain for the pendant so Ellie could wear it. For Ellie, Life’s adventure’s had just begun.
When Ellie was cleaning her cut, she could hear mom coming up the road. She hurriedly pulled over a sweatshirt, as the downstairs door sprung open and her mom walked inside. Luckily, it was getting late and mom got straight to cooking dinner, and Ellie was left with some time to herself to analyze the comings of the evening, and check out the pendant she had found earlier in the forest.
Ellie unzipped her bag pocket and dug around until she felt the cold smooth patch of gold in her fingertips. She took her hand out of her bag, and while sitting at her desk, examined the “D” that was engraved on a heart shaped charm. Who had the charm belonged to, she wondered. Was it a “Diane,” or perhaps “Debbie,” and who had given it to them? It seemed like something special, and although nearly half of the pendant was covered in moss, some of the gold still glinted through. Ellie figured that the pendant had been in the stream or forest for probably as long as she had been alive.
Ellie carefully scrubbed the moss and grime off of the pendant. It came right off with a little water, and she cleaned it and rubbed it down with one of her shirts. The gold glinted and sparkled, it was the unveiling of a diamond from the rough, and something in her admired this beautiful transformation. She so wished that one day, her life would take a drastic change, and someone would come along and polish her life up into its finest possible state. Ellie was destined for bigger things than the ones that her mother had planned for her. Both Ellie and her mom, Dora, knew that.
Ellie was walking back to sit down at her desk, when she saw her mom standing there. Her mom had been watching her every move. How long she had been standing there, Ellie didn’t know, but she did know that her mom’s expression meant she had some questions coming her way.
Ellie noticed that her mom wasn’t so much starring at the pendant in her hand, but rather at her arm. Then she realized she still had the sweatshirt sleeve pulled up because she had been cleaning her treasure, and her mom could see the bandage and all. Her gash had started to soak through the gauze in just a few places, but it was apparent that she the cut was serious, and she sure didn’t get it from anything in the house.
Ellie’s mom watched her as she came slowly over to her desk, and sat down, still clutching the pendant in her hand.
“What’s that you’ve got in your hand Anna?” she questioned
“And where did you get that awful cut!!!”
Ellie just shrugged and mumbled that she was always being clumsy and had fallen and scrapped her self on something sharp downstairs, something that she couldn’t remember. As for the thing in her hand, she had just found an old thing of hers and was putting it back where it belonged. But before Ellie could say another word, her mom had pried open her hand and picked up the pendant she had found. Her mother looked it over and rubbed it a couple times between her thumb and forefinger, as if trying to recall anything she knew about it. Ellie’s mom’s eyes grew teary, and she sighed,
“Ellie…” she called her by her name “ From the cut you have and this charm, you must have been outside today, but you know what, I never thought that I’d see this again.” She said, holding the heart charm up to the light.
“You see, when I was a little girl, I used to love to explore just like you. Every day, I was in those woods, trekking, camping, you name it, I had done it. But my father, who died before you were born, died of an infection from bacteria that he picked up while hiking in these woods. I never visited them since, and lost this gold heart on my last forest visit. You are so much like me, Ellie, but I lost my taste for adventure after my father passed away. I guess I’ve really been too hard on you, and I’ve controlled too much of your life and what you can do with it. I got to do what I wanted to do with it, and that’s all I really want for you. I just want you to be safe, for your sake.”
She took Ellie’s hand and kissed each finger like she used to do when she was a little girl, and brought over a chain for the pendant so Ellie could wear it. For Ellie, Life’s adventure’s had just begun.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Documentary Ideas:
I came up with several ideas for our class documentary. I was a little confused about the assignment, but I hope this is sufficient!
Keolamau's possible topics:
What is an educator- views: parent, teacher, student
Cliques & groups of friends- views: inside clique, outside of clique, teacher
Drug and Alchohol use- views: users, friends affected, deans
The striving student ( wht lengths children will go to, to succeed these days) - views: those types of students, cruise students, teachers
I think that any of these topics would prove to be interesting and relevant because i made sure that they each had something to do with school, and something that a majority of the student population could relate to. Should be fun!
Keolamau's possible topics:
What is an educator- views: parent, teacher, student
Cliques & groups of friends- views: inside clique, outside of clique, teacher
Drug and Alchohol use- views: users, friends affected, deans
The striving student ( wht lengths children will go to, to succeed these days) - views: those types of students, cruise students, teachers
I think that any of these topics would prove to be interesting and relevant because i made sure that they each had something to do with school, and something that a majority of the student population could relate to. Should be fun!
Monday, August 27, 2007
"Seven Ways to look at his hands."
“ Seven ways to look at his hands.”
His outstretched palm hides a surprise
one
defined line distinctively his own,
runs the width of his hand.
He has re-defined who I am,
he is my own,
my one.
His rough hands
brush my bangs out of my eyes.
Their callouses are from years as an athlete
as are mine. Working hands,
work better,
together.
His agile fingers strum
and finger a sweet song.
steady hands sliding up and down the neck,
picking out a familiar tune.
He is the lyrics, and I am the melody,
together harmony.
Few are left handed
He is one of those few.
Skateboarding left him a scar on his left hand, forever,
as he left me with one on mine,
in nearly the same place.
My scar will last a lifetime,
but his impression
on me,
just might last longer.
Their warmth
fills my whole body.
He slides his fingers
into mine, as we walk: hand in hand,
heart beating with heart.
I twirl his class ring;
glinting gold, it’s brand new.
I hold the hands
I so adore.
They are my hands,
for
one
more year.
He squeezes my hand,
As a final goodbye,
and lets my hand slide out of his;
the warmth going till our fingertips release.
Then he’s gone in a sea of people.
All I’m left with
is the
warmth
of his hand,
and
his heart.
His outstretched palm hides a surprise
one
defined line distinctively his own,
runs the width of his hand.
He has re-defined who I am,
he is my own,
my one.
His rough hands
brush my bangs out of my eyes.
Their callouses are from years as an athlete
as are mine. Working hands,
work better,
together.
His agile fingers strum
and finger a sweet song.
steady hands sliding up and down the neck,
picking out a familiar tune.
He is the lyrics, and I am the melody,
together harmony.
Few are left handed
He is one of those few.
Skateboarding left him a scar on his left hand, forever,
as he left me with one on mine,
in nearly the same place.
My scar will last a lifetime,
but his impression
on me,
just might last longer.
Their warmth
fills my whole body.
He slides his fingers
into mine, as we walk: hand in hand,
heart beating with heart.
I twirl his class ring;
glinting gold, it’s brand new.
I hold the hands
I so adore.
They are my hands,
for
one
more year.
He squeezes my hand,
As a final goodbye,
and lets my hand slide out of his;
the warmth going till our fingertips release.
Then he’s gone in a sea of people.
All I’m left with
is the
warmth
of his hand,
and
his heart.
Monday, April 30, 2007
A gentle heartbeat, my ear to your heart,
I bet you can feel my heart pounding too,
Amazed to find, that this is just the start,
I am fully content right here with you.
Your knuckles gently rub along my arm,
we talk forever and laugh all the while,
We hear the neighboors; it's a false alarm,
Were still alone, you look at me and smile.
They say that certain things are meant to be,
and that true love's not chance but destiny,
I know it must be quite easy to see,
That I was meant for you and you for me.
What a beautiful and wonderful start,
To a newfound art for both of our hearts.
I bet you can feel my heart pounding too,
Amazed to find, that this is just the start,
I am fully content right here with you.
Your knuckles gently rub along my arm,
we talk forever and laugh all the while,
We hear the neighboors; it's a false alarm,
Were still alone, you look at me and smile.
They say that certain things are meant to be,
and that true love's not chance but destiny,
I know it must be quite easy to see,
That I was meant for you and you for me.
What a beautiful and wonderful start,
To a newfound art for both of our hearts.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
A day at the Ocean
Fanning out infront is sea and sand,
The sky, the wind, this place is my home turf,
As I watch little kids skip hand in hand,
With outstrtched arms I frolick through the surf.
I search for shells and bits of worn down glass,
And build sand castles sitting side by side,
My afternoon so quickly it does pass,
As the castles wash away with the tide.
At home I run my fingers through my hair,
To find something unexpected and neat,
That salt, and sea remain entangled there,
And that some sand grains still cling to my feet.
I learn the sun, the sky and mostly sea,
Will forever be a large part of me.
The sky, the wind, this place is my home turf,
As I watch little kids skip hand in hand,
With outstrtched arms I frolick through the surf.
I search for shells and bits of worn down glass,
And build sand castles sitting side by side,
My afternoon so quickly it does pass,
As the castles wash away with the tide.
At home I run my fingers through my hair,
To find something unexpected and neat,
That salt, and sea remain entangled there,
And that some sand grains still cling to my feet.
I learn the sun, the sky and mostly sea,
Will forever be a large part of me.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Sonnet Analysis
Sonnet Analysis
I thought I saw a sparkle in your eyes,
And could it be to my pleasant surprise,
That I'm the one you are now aiming for,
I wish you'd let them sparkle like that more.
For me, all it takes is that single glance,
To suggest we've got a chance at romance,
I know you can tell by my downcast eyes,
That in my stomach I've got butterflies.
Wrapping your arms around me am I just,
A best friend or an object of your lust,
My heart gets caught between the want and real,
Because you've never told me how you feel.
As I confess to you out my love pours,
And every last ounce of it I am yours.
In life, sometime or another, most people find themselves in the position of really caring for someone and not knowing exactly how that person feels about them.
I myself have personally had this happen, and I know that I have been on the other side also, where someone has feelings for me though they aren’t mutual. The first stanza of my poem attempts to describe that moment where you think there could be something going on, and because it’s only for that quick second, you wish it would happen more often. That one moment teases you, possibly suggesting that they’ve got something for you, or on the other hand that you misinterpreted the spark for something that you would like it to be. The third line in the first stanza “That I’m the one you are now aiming for,” talks about the persons past love interests. It can be really discouraging to be interested in someone especially after they’ve just had a serious relationship or a falling out of one. You don’t know whether they’re ready to move on, or are still stuck on a former love.
The second stanza in my sonnet expresses the feeling of sparks flying. I tried to describe those crazy games that eyes and hearts can play without words ever being spoken. Butterflies and nervous giggles usually accompany a pounding heart, and you find yourself oblivious to everything going on around you, except for that special person. I used “I know you can tell by my downcast eyes,” to show that insecurity and feeling of vulnerability that caring about someone can bring. The fact that you are too shy to really talk to them, and spend more time looking at their feet because you like them too much to look them right in the eyes.
In my third stanza, I wanted to show that confusion that being sweet on a best friend brings. When they hug you ,and your heart skips a beat, you begin to wonder if their heart skips a beat too, or are they thinking that they are giving their best friend a hug and that is simply all. It’s easy to get confused by their actions especially if you are close friends. What actions are friendly and more than friendly? The line of friendship can be so fuzzy at times. Your heart wants one thing but it’s often not what’s actually going on. That’s why I used the third line “My heart gets caught between the want and real.” The last line “Because you’ve never told me how you feel,” expresses the frustration of not knowing if there is anything going on and how they feel about you. I think it would be much better if they straight out told you that you were strictly friends, than leading you on to think that the more than friends thing could work out. Not knowing leaves you holding on to something that may be false. In the end, if they can’t feel the same way then all that time waiting for them to feel the same way is wasted, and you could have found someone else in that time instead.
In the last two lines, I wanted it to end with a confession. I wanted to close with the author telling their friend exactly how they feel. The confession of telling someone how much you care about them and that down to every last drop of life, love and soul in entirety is theirs. It would be liberating and hopefully the person receiving this confession of the heart would feel the same way.
I thought I saw a sparkle in your eyes,
And could it be to my pleasant surprise,
That I'm the one you are now aiming for,
I wish you'd let them sparkle like that more.
For me, all it takes is that single glance,
To suggest we've got a chance at romance,
I know you can tell by my downcast eyes,
That in my stomach I've got butterflies.
Wrapping your arms around me am I just,
A best friend or an object of your lust,
My heart gets caught between the want and real,
Because you've never told me how you feel.
As I confess to you out my love pours,
And every last ounce of it I am yours.
In life, sometime or another, most people find themselves in the position of really caring for someone and not knowing exactly how that person feels about them.
I myself have personally had this happen, and I know that I have been on the other side also, where someone has feelings for me though they aren’t mutual. The first stanza of my poem attempts to describe that moment where you think there could be something going on, and because it’s only for that quick second, you wish it would happen more often. That one moment teases you, possibly suggesting that they’ve got something for you, or on the other hand that you misinterpreted the spark for something that you would like it to be. The third line in the first stanza “That I’m the one you are now aiming for,” talks about the persons past love interests. It can be really discouraging to be interested in someone especially after they’ve just had a serious relationship or a falling out of one. You don’t know whether they’re ready to move on, or are still stuck on a former love.
The second stanza in my sonnet expresses the feeling of sparks flying. I tried to describe those crazy games that eyes and hearts can play without words ever being spoken. Butterflies and nervous giggles usually accompany a pounding heart, and you find yourself oblivious to everything going on around you, except for that special person. I used “I know you can tell by my downcast eyes,” to show that insecurity and feeling of vulnerability that caring about someone can bring. The fact that you are too shy to really talk to them, and spend more time looking at their feet because you like them too much to look them right in the eyes.
In my third stanza, I wanted to show that confusion that being sweet on a best friend brings. When they hug you ,and your heart skips a beat, you begin to wonder if their heart skips a beat too, or are they thinking that they are giving their best friend a hug and that is simply all. It’s easy to get confused by their actions especially if you are close friends. What actions are friendly and more than friendly? The line of friendship can be so fuzzy at times. Your heart wants one thing but it’s often not what’s actually going on. That’s why I used the third line “My heart gets caught between the want and real.” The last line “Because you’ve never told me how you feel,” expresses the frustration of not knowing if there is anything going on and how they feel about you. I think it would be much better if they straight out told you that you were strictly friends, than leading you on to think that the more than friends thing could work out. Not knowing leaves you holding on to something that may be false. In the end, if they can’t feel the same way then all that time waiting for them to feel the same way is wasted, and you could have found someone else in that time instead.
In the last two lines, I wanted it to end with a confession. I wanted to close with the author telling their friend exactly how they feel. The confession of telling someone how much you care about them and that down to every last drop of life, love and soul in entirety is theirs. It would be liberating and hopefully the person receiving this confession of the heart would feel the same way.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Sonnet
I thought I saw a sparkle in your eyes,
And could it be to my pleasant surprise,
That I'm the one you are now aiming for,
I wish you'd let them sparkle like that more.
For me, all it takes is that single glance,
To suggest we've got a chance at romance,
I know you can tell by my downcast eyes,
That in my stomach I've got butterflies.
Wrapping your arms around me am I just,
A best friend or an object of your lust,
My heart gets caught between the want and real,
Because you've never told me how you feel.
As I confess to you out my love pours,
And every last ounce of it I am yours.
And could it be to my pleasant surprise,
That I'm the one you are now aiming for,
I wish you'd let them sparkle like that more.
For me, all it takes is that single glance,
To suggest we've got a chance at romance,
I know you can tell by my downcast eyes,
That in my stomach I've got butterflies.
Wrapping your arms around me am I just,
A best friend or an object of your lust,
My heart gets caught between the want and real,
Because you've never told me how you feel.
As I confess to you out my love pours,
And every last ounce of it I am yours.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Heritege paper
Blood Secret
She stroked the wet locks of dark locks of hair on the girl's head. Startled to be out in the cool smoothness of an evening, the infant searched with glistening lips for the woman's breast. The mother shifted farther on the lauhala mat, away from the mess of childbirth, wiping her damp brow with a kihei corner. She rocked the newborn gently as it suckled for milk; the nose her own, thought he lips and eyes the fathers. The woman lay down flat on her back, watching moonlight poke through the tree branches of Aala Park; her breath and the baby's perfectly in sync. She thought about how beautiful her Hawaiian- Chinese baby would be, as a gentle breeze caressed her body into slumber. The year was 1884. It was the sixteenth of October.
I never was told the true story of my birth. I would have always imagined it to be like this, my mother holding me tenderly for the few and final hours I was hers. I never dared to ask my father about what went on between him and my unmentionable mother. I was nonetheless grateful to live under his roof instead of as a bastard child. Sometimes I would wonder if she was perhaps the Hawaiian lady working at the corner store. Or was she one of the many single Hawaiian mothers I often passed by on the way home: a baby on her hip, topless with her pa'u billowing in the wind, bare feet kicking up the burning dry dirt as she walked. I wondered if I ever did meet up with her, how would she know that I was her baby? Did she know me by a different name, a special freckle, or a birthmark? Did she watch me grow up knowing all along who I was, while I loved my life without ever officially meeting her? In my mind, my father was the unmentionable one, not my no name mother.
My family knew about my mixed blood but the matter was discarded at birth. I was family and that was all that counted. You would have never known I wasn't pure Chinese by my actions and my looks.
I was brought up in my Chinese culture, but most of my knowledge of costume came from my visit to my father's home in Chiak Nam, China. Upon arriving in the village all five of my brothers and sisters and I were greeted by Gong Gong, Cousins, Ayi and her husband. It was a joyous time and rich slices of meet were already roasting for a welcome home dinner. Eating meat was such a luxury and it was only spared for special times like these. We ate nosily: Chinese tongues spewing words across the room harmonizing with chopsticks clattering on clay bowls to sing the melody of a family reunited. This was the first time I ever met Baba's family, but I felt right at home with them.
The next four months that we spent in Chiak Nam were not quite as pleasant as that first day. I was twelve going on thirteen that summer, and Baba had decided that the time had come for me to marry. He had come back to Chiak Nam to have Nai Nai bind by feet. Nai Nai, was Baba's crotchety, stubborn and strict old woman of a mother. Since her childhood she was but skin, tendon and bone, with there never being enough to eat growing up. Her calloused hands were rough from the years in the field and her face awash with age spots from working in the Southern Chinese sun. Her decision was what went, "No talk," she would spit through her teeth, "Bie Shuo a!"
Nai Nai bound my feet that summer and I never complained once. But much to her disappointment we had to leave before they were completely one folding toe to heel. She would have slapped me over my ears and pulled at my braided locks if she had known I had married with my feet unbound as if I was a lowly country bumpkin. I unwrapped the bandages myself, and because Baba didn't trust anyone back home to redo them for me I never had them rebound. If Nai Nai knew about my Hawaiian blood, she would have told me to leave and never come back again. No granddaughter of hers would be a mutt. She never did find out about my feet or my blood secret.
I never told my husband about my Hawaiian. Even when I was pregnant with hid first child I never confessed to being anyone other than whom he thought I was. If I told him, the truth would unravel much like my feet bindings did, ripping my life apart until the painful sores of secrecy were revealed. It was a mater of safety: my own, my husbands, and our children.
The baby was born in December. It was a son, a good omen, and a male to carry on the family name. I cleaned his face, as I pushed my dark locks of sweating hair out of my face. His little lips suckled having found my milk. I leaned back against the bedpost rocking him gently, our chests heaving as one. The moon spilled light onto the dusty floor; curtains fluttering open in the smooth breeze of evening. He had the lips and eyes of my husband though his button nose was like mine, and my mothers. From my mother, to me, to my son, the blood secret now coursed through new veins.
She stroked the wet locks of dark locks of hair on the girl's head. Startled to be out in the cool smoothness of an evening, the infant searched with glistening lips for the woman's breast. The mother shifted farther on the lauhala mat, away from the mess of childbirth, wiping her damp brow with a kihei corner. She rocked the newborn gently as it suckled for milk; the nose her own, thought he lips and eyes the fathers. The woman lay down flat on her back, watching moonlight poke through the tree branches of Aala Park; her breath and the baby's perfectly in sync. She thought about how beautiful her Hawaiian- Chinese baby would be, as a gentle breeze caressed her body into slumber. The year was 1884. It was the sixteenth of October.
I never was told the true story of my birth. I would have always imagined it to be like this, my mother holding me tenderly for the few and final hours I was hers. I never dared to ask my father about what went on between him and my unmentionable mother. I was nonetheless grateful to live under his roof instead of as a bastard child. Sometimes I would wonder if she was perhaps the Hawaiian lady working at the corner store. Or was she one of the many single Hawaiian mothers I often passed by on the way home: a baby on her hip, topless with her pa'u billowing in the wind, bare feet kicking up the burning dry dirt as she walked. I wondered if I ever did meet up with her, how would she know that I was her baby? Did she know me by a different name, a special freckle, or a birthmark? Did she watch me grow up knowing all along who I was, while I loved my life without ever officially meeting her? In my mind, my father was the unmentionable one, not my no name mother.
My family knew about my mixed blood but the matter was discarded at birth. I was family and that was all that counted. You would have never known I wasn't pure Chinese by my actions and my looks.
I was brought up in my Chinese culture, but most of my knowledge of costume came from my visit to my father's home in Chiak Nam, China. Upon arriving in the village all five of my brothers and sisters and I were greeted by Gong Gong, Cousins, Ayi and her husband. It was a joyous time and rich slices of meet were already roasting for a welcome home dinner. Eating meat was such a luxury and it was only spared for special times like these. We ate nosily: Chinese tongues spewing words across the room harmonizing with chopsticks clattering on clay bowls to sing the melody of a family reunited. This was the first time I ever met Baba's family, but I felt right at home with them.
The next four months that we spent in Chiak Nam were not quite as pleasant as that first day. I was twelve going on thirteen that summer, and Baba had decided that the time had come for me to marry. He had come back to Chiak Nam to have Nai Nai bind by feet. Nai Nai, was Baba's crotchety, stubborn and strict old woman of a mother. Since her childhood she was but skin, tendon and bone, with there never being enough to eat growing up. Her calloused hands were rough from the years in the field and her face awash with age spots from working in the Southern Chinese sun. Her decision was what went, "No talk," she would spit through her teeth, "Bie Shuo a!"
Nai Nai bound my feet that summer and I never complained once. But much to her disappointment we had to leave before they were completely one folding toe to heel. She would have slapped me over my ears and pulled at my braided locks if she had known I had married with my feet unbound as if I was a lowly country bumpkin. I unwrapped the bandages myself, and because Baba didn't trust anyone back home to redo them for me I never had them rebound. If Nai Nai knew about my Hawaiian blood, she would have told me to leave and never come back again. No granddaughter of hers would be a mutt. She never did find out about my feet or my blood secret.
I never told my husband about my Hawaiian. Even when I was pregnant with hid first child I never confessed to being anyone other than whom he thought I was. If I told him, the truth would unravel much like my feet bindings did, ripping my life apart until the painful sores of secrecy were revealed. It was a mater of safety: my own, my husbands, and our children.
The baby was born in December. It was a son, a good omen, and a male to carry on the family name. I cleaned his face, as I pushed my dark locks of sweating hair out of my face. His little lips suckled having found my milk. I leaned back against the bedpost rocking him gently, our chests heaving as one. The moon spilled light onto the dusty floor; curtains fluttering open in the smooth breeze of evening. He had the lips and eyes of my husband though his button nose was like mine, and my mothers. From my mother, to me, to my son, the blood secret now coursed through new veins.
Monday, February 26, 2007
The BEST part of my day...
The best part of my day would definetley have to be driving to practice after school. It's so nice to sit in the car and not have to be doing anything for the thirty minutes it takes me to get to practice.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)