An Objects' Story

Sometimes I go through stages of depression.  There are high points, but then there are those moments that also have to come with it.  Sometimes I go through years of not having my pages combed through or even the opening of my cover.  “You don’t know what you got till its gone” I believe that is the line of my existence.  I actually just heard that playing on speakers in the room that I was forgotten in and I pretty much think that it sums up my life.  Or at least I hope it does to others.  But not all of that part about some sort of taxi or a paved parking lot.

My earliest memory is of me surrounded by my siblings.  They all looked exactly like me and we were all lined up on a clean shelf.  I don’t quite remember how I left them but one day I was on my own.  My best years were about 10 years after that.  I used to just go from one home to another before then but I didn’t have the tears and crinkles that I have today.

One of my owners brought me to Paris while on her journeys through Europe.  But being so important to her she left me in a coffee shop on the Champs-Élysées.  I sat there for hours listening to some bad cheesy French ballads.  I started to worry that I would be left there forever.  But then, a man with a rather large backpack and his simple black coffee sat down at the table.  He picked me up examined both of my covers, and started to read.  I am thankful for this man because he read me rather quickly and then introduced me to an amazing thing that I was a part of for years.  He dropped me off at a moving library.  It was set on this sort of truck that traveled all around Europe and people could only have me for a couple of days.  I felt so special.  I was read over and over again.  And one thing I loved most was the people that I met.  There were some that would smile when they picked me up, making me happy enough that I wished I could smile back.  There were others who would take me home having the intention to read me, but I would end up left alone on a bedside table.  But it was okay because a few days later I would be home, on the truck, headed for a new adventure.  I saw all the sites and met tons of  people.  I guess every book has their prime years.  Those were mine.  However some fool forgot to return me and I wound back up in the states on a dusty old bookshelf.  Now I am just a title on display.  But I never will forget my little adventure especially with the stamp on the inside of my cover claiming me as property of the that little truck that I met in Paris.

In a Second

I hear the vibrating noise that my sister’s phone makes up against the dashboard when she gets a text message.  I glance and see that it is a text from the friend that we are meeting in just about 15 minutes.

“Hey sis, can you grab that for me,” she says with a smile.  Of course I do, I’m just happy that I’m here with my sister driving downtown and being a part of her friends' outing.

I start to read it aloud to my sister, “Oh my gosh, Kay I know I’m about to see you, but guess what? Can you believe…” my sister takes the phone out of my hands and smiles.

“Not for you,” she taunts.  I smile and just lean my head against the side of the car.  I first hear the sounds of her fingers typing and then the screeching of the tires.  I look up and see my sisters eyes go wide. I look ahead.  She suddenly tries to slam on the brake and veer towards the right of the road, not seeing that she had veered into the left side of the two lane road when she had looked down for just a couple moments.  I brace myself as we go off the road into the sewage ditch high speed.  Then everything goes blank.  

I just remember being lifted up and seeing lights flashing before I actually open my eyes and I find myself on a hospital bed.  I try to sit up my head starts swelling and I get dizzy.  I touch my temple and find a bandage wrapped all the way around my head.  

“Shh, take it easy hun.” I look and to my right is my aunt who lives a good 3 hour train ride from my family.  I wonder how she got here so quickly and why she is here.  I smile but my face is tight and I just feel exhausted.  I try to talk but I just go back under the deep pull of sleep.

When I wake up again, I feel better besides the fact that a nurse is almost forcing me to drink some grape juice as well as some sorts of animal cracker things.  My aunt is still in the room and I’m finally able to say, “Hey Aunt Char” short for Charlotte.  She smiles.  “Where’s mom and dad, and sis?”

She just keeps a smile on her face, but I begin to question it.  “Don’t worry, they’re just in the other room”  I realize she isn’t telling me everything.  But in some ways no matter how curious I am, my brain just isn’t letting me say anything more.

In a couple of hours, I’m basically okay to leave.  I’m bruised pretty badly and still exhausted.  Except we don’t leave.  Aunt Char and I just move to this private waiting room.  There I see my little cousin, Max and my uncle.  My parents come out of a room and smile when they see me.  I hug them.  I can tell though that my mom is pretty upset.

“Hey Alex,” my dad says.  I smile.  “We need to talk about something.”  I notice that my aunt and her family aren’t in the room anymore.  I can just predict what they are going to say.  They are probably just a little mad at my sister and me and are going to tell me that my sister is in just about the same condition as I am.  “It’s about Katherine.”  I don’t look up but I hear my mom start crying.  “ Now listen, you guys were in a pretty bad accident, I’m going to be straightforward and tell you that your sister isn’t doing that well.  She is stable but there is obviously a lot of head and brain damage.  We’ve been talking to the doctors and it is going to take a lot of work to get Katherine to where she used to be.”  I’m a little confused but I let him keep talking.  “She’s had trouble remaining conscious and we are in no means to tell her anything that has happened.  I know that you have been hurt too, and your mom and I are just happy that you are okay.”

Katherine stayed at the hospital for a couple of weeks.  I tried to go as much as I could but I was also under strict orders to get rest and to heal up.  Right now I’m a little scared.  I don’t know if my sister will ever get better.  We haven’t been able to say a lot to her, and there is one thing that we aren’t even allowed to mention for a long time.  During the accident that Katherine caused, it ended up being that the other driver didn’t survive the crash.

A Babysitter's Nightmare

She heard the two little kids up stairs laughing and playing with some kind of toy that was making a loud beeping noise.  She smiled to herself.  Sometimes she wished that she could be that young again.  She was secretly sad calling the kids down and making them stop.

“Harry, Alison it’s time for dinner,” she had to yell in order for the kids to hear her.  She heard loud footsteps and Alison stood before her with a feathery crown on the top of her head and little fairy wings strapped on with elastic that dusted the whole kitchen with glitter.  Also, she smiled when she saw that Alison had her moms heels on her feet which were huge on her.

In a small yet hyper voice Alison said, “ Are we having pizza tonight?”

“Why yes, we are,” she said with a smile, “but also we have some good looking carrots and broccoli that your mom made.”

“Well I don’t know why she made that,” she said with a grin, “we don’t have to eat veggies when we have a babysitter.”

“For some reason I don’t believe you,” at which Alison giggled. “Now where’s Harry?”

“Oh I don’t know.”
“But you were just playing with him,” she said with a smile on her face.

“Yeah, but then he got mad at me and wouldn’t talk or play with me.”

“Ok then let me go find him.   But you guys really shouldn’t fight so much.”

With that she headed upstairs in search of Harry.  She grudgingly made it to the top of the stairs and went into Harry’s bedroom.  She couldn’t see him.  She just thought that he was probably behind some curtain or in his closet.  She opened the closet door but couldn’t find him.  She pushed back his Star Wars bed sheets thinking that he might be under his bed.  She started getting a little anxious ⎼ a feeling that any babysitter gets when she starts to imagine the worst.

“Harry?”

She starts looking everywhere bedrooms, bathroom, downstairs, always calling out his name.  She sees Alison and reminds herself that she can’t seem nervous.

“Alison, where do you think that Harry could be?”

“I don’t know, we do have a tree house out back,” she said so innocently, without knowing the fear inside of the girl she was looking at.

“Outside? He couldn’t be,” she mumbled to herself.  “You know what Alison,” she said trying to distract her.  “We don’t want that pizza getting cold now do we, how about you grab a couple a pieces? But don’t forget the broccoli,” she flashed a quick smile and saw Alison head toward the counter with a plate in her hand.  That is what she had to do.  Being a babysitter meant that no matter what situation she was put in, that she would handle it a always make sure the kids were okay.

Quickly she slipped on her shoes and ventured into the backyard.  It had started getting dark out which just sparked her nerves even more.  Being by herself and being in charge only made her think of all the bad things that could happen if a kid went outside by himself.  Horror movie titles somehow popped into her head even if she hadn’t seen a single one of them.  She climbed up the creaky, and spider webb filled treehouse and peaked her head in.  He still wasn’t there.  But being that high up she thought she saw something.  And if she was really quiet, she could hear soft whimpers.  She saw an orange shirt under the porch of the neighbors.  She almost jumped down and ran to the porch.

“Harry!” It felt as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders.  “What’s the matter kiddo?” She was trying to keep a light and happy tone when she really felt a mix of anger and her nerves made her stutter.

“I don’t know.  Alison got mad at me and when I got upset no one was downstairs to help me.”

“I was.”

“No. I mean no one as in my mom and dad.  I started thinking that they were never going to come back and that I had to go and get them.  Please don’t tell them this happened, they will be so mad and….” he started crying again.

“Hey, it’s okay.  I have done almost the exact same thing.  And you know what?  I won’t tell if you come with me a stop your sister from eating our whole pizza,” she said with a smile.  Harry smiled too and she began helping him from underneath the porch.  Then they began walking toward the back door.

Old Money, New Money

            In the book the Great Gatsby, the division between classes is emphasized.  This is shown between West Egg and East Egg.  West Egg is meant to represent new money, people that have just come into the wealthy class.  East Egg displays the beneficiaries of old money, people that have inherited their wealth.  With each place come different lifestyles.  New money is characterized by their flamboyancy and extravagance.  Meanwhile old money shows their wealth through tradition, such as attending a certain university.  And then there is everyone else.

            What I find interesting in the book are the characters who are in between it all.  Immediately I think of Nick Carraway, but it could also be argued that Tom Buchanan or Myrtle Wilson are also caught up with all of it.  It is established that Nick is from old money.  It makes the reader question why he might be trying to do things on his own.  Is he trying to prove something?  Or is he trying to get away from the lifestyle?  Nick can show the reader the positives and negatives of both lifestyles.  But these things also affect Nick’s own decisions.  He tries to balance both while still staying pretty grounded.  There is also Tom and Myrtle who seem to be trying to escape their own lifestyles and going for the ‘new money’.  And using these two characters Fitzgerald, the author, really shows the attractiveness of this lifestyle during that time.  The new money lifestyle attracted people who were dirt poor to extravagantly wealthy.  I think one of the underlying questions throughout the book is whether this lifestyle is good.  If it is just fun and games or a way to distract from one’s problems? 

Thankful

I think that this post is pretty important because I think sometimes people forget to thank or acknowledge those who are really important within the school community.  Given this prompt, I automatically thought of my best friend/classmate Emily.  Without her I don't know how I would function.  She always makes me focus and stay organized (even though my notebook can become sort of a mess).  And she is always there to answer late night texts about homework or any problem I have.  She is a great editor, thinker, and friend.  Always has tons of ideas and analysis, even though to some she is a little quiet.  She isn't just a classmate but a friend outside of that.  She makes me stay on course and really brings out some of the best qualities in me.  I wouldn't mind listening to her about her talking about her weekend, or obsessing over Harry potter, for hours because I know she would do the same for me.

Emily, thank you so much.  I really hope you know how important and amazing you are not just to me, but to everyone.

And to everyone: Happy Thanksgiving!

Celebrate Myself

I think that the purpose of this blog post is to make you reflect what kind of person you are and how you go about life.  For example, Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman all talk about this idea of going back to nature and reconnecting with all of it.  To be able to live off the land, so to speak. Which I agree with, I have been able to reconnect with nature, but not to the extreme that Christopher McCandless (from Into the Wild) took it to be.  I have taken some long camping trips with friends at places like Isle Royal national park, or the porcupine mountains. And when you go on these trips you loose this connection to the outer world.  You create this new schedule, waking up and sleeping with the rising and setting of the sun.  And in some ways I wish I could stay at these places because you tend to worry less, and there is something rewarding, like these authors say, to interact with the harsh yet beautiful nature that is around us.
But then I also acknowledge how I live when I'm back home, but what I find interesting is that it is not much different then when I'm surrounded by nature.  I think that I am naturally determined and attentive.  Which I guess I can celebrate.  I am always very determined whether it is doing better in my classes, or finally getting to my campsite after hiking twelve miles.  And I have noticed that I'm also pretty observant if it be that a storm is coming in so we better start walking quicker, or that my friend is having a hard time with something in his/her life.
And that last point is something that is really important to me.  I think that while I'm defined by who I want to be, I'm also very aware of the people around me.  Relationships are really important to me, and I try my best to take care of them.

Poe

I think it is interesting looking at an authors past because there are definitely moments and reasons that affect everyones writing.  I don't research authors usually but I think it is important to do so for Edgar Allen Poe.  And while reading his biography, I came to the conclusion that he had a pretty rough life.  He lost his parents, his foster mom, and his wife.  As well as his fiance left him, his foster dad excluded him, and he basically lived in poverty.
But what's cool is that Poe doesn't hide these things in his writing you can easily see the correlation of these events to what he writes about.  For example, there is his work of "Ligeria" which explains loosing someone that you love.  Which was probably based off of his experience with his wife.
And I think it was these losses he faced that maybe transformed him into a Romantic-style author.  I think because he faced so much misery that he didn’t feel guilty questioning his surroundings and what had happened to him.  From what we talked about in class, in The Raven he is questioning what really happens when we die.  If there is a underworld, a Heaven and Hell, or if there is simply nothing.  He definitely uses the 5 I’s in his writing.  And I think it is a combination of this and the somberness of his writing that make it so interesting.