What?

Can I kiss the hot mud on the moon?

No, the cloud may bruise the leather rocks

 And the truth about the burning dogs will swing,

While the water kills what is left of the soft dreams.

The curve of the sharp frog is important.

The cool eye may bite the slag,

But the ruined throats will surprise the king,

While the wavering ghosts cut the pin.

Don’t hit the blue before you scare the lie

You will anger cool, red wings.

Maximize the used and talk as a branch,

But forget the words of the woman’s fingers.

Our Class

This class was by far the best class I have had so far. Everything you taught us, you did in a way that allowed us to interact. Interaction, in my opinion, is a key factor in learning. For me, anyway. You always had us speak out, answer questions, do activities, etc.
Everything that you taught me has stuck with me. Ive learned so much from you. Before I stepped into this class, I didn't appreciate literature, especially poetry. Now, I have poems hanging on my wall! Your class gave me a better outlook on literature and allowed me to understand. I would choose to read Arthur Miller over Nicholas Sparks any day.
The assignments weren't always easy, but I didn't expect them to be. It was a TON of work, but it was always worth it in the end. Especially all of the work you had us to for the research paper. I wouldn't have made the grade I did if it weren't for the "notes and quotes" and the deadline on the bibliography. (Thank you for that)
All of our discussions were fun. It was more than just work; we laughed, we made jokes, we stayed interested. I didn't want to ever miss a day of your class, honestly. I looked forward to it.
I can't forget everyone in the class either. I don't think it would have been as fun if it weren't for the group of people in there. And, the smaller the class, the better. We all got to know each other and we got work completed in a timely manor.
I can honestly say I loved everything about this class. I would have changed nothing. Not even all the work, or all the reading.

Poem

So, I know this may not be the best poem in the world. (I am by NO MEANS a poet.) But this poem does have meaning to me. I wrote this for a class assignment in high school EXACTLY one month BEFORE my brother's death. (Again, I'm not a poet.)

I know you will always be at my side,
Though you may not be alive.
Always looking down from Heaven above;
Never failing to show your love.
Even on my darkest days
You're there to erase the tears from my face.
I know you will always be at my side.
I know I will never have to say good-bye.

It gives me goosebumps that I wrote that before he died. He died on 2-4-2011 and I wrote it on 1-4-2011!!! Creepy!!!

Womens Rights

So today at 12:00 in the library, a group of people got together and did a little performance for about 20 minutes or so. Each person in the group took turns standing up on a table in the center of a circle reciting quotes and speaches from great women's rights activists. Some of the people memorized the quotes, while some read off of a sheet of paper. At the end, they all stood up and recited the same thing.

I feel as if what they did was very moving. It allowed everyone who watched to become more understanding and aware of how far woman have come, since the age of unequality. I think what that group of people did was beautiful and amazing.

My favorite quote was the second one recited. The woman who first said those words had such a strong voice. She knew what she wanted and she strived to achieve her goals. I thought it was amazing how she repeated "And aint I a woman?" over and over again. It was very, very moving.

I LOVED IT.

Racism?

So, after much contemplating and arguing with myself (NOT out loud), I decided that I do not think that Troy Maxson is a racist. Obviously, Troy makes it very well known that he doesn’t exactly favor the white race. He is constantly complaining about what white people do or what white people say, how white people do the things they o and who they do it. (He mostly complained when it came to sports, and also when talking about his job early on in the play). It is not that Troy is racist, because I don’t think he is, but I think he just thinks that he does not owe white people anything. (Which he doesn’t). He doesn’t think he should have to answer to them, deal with them, or anything along those lines. Most people actually would argue that this is a case of racism, but it, in my opinion, is not the least bit racist. Just because he thinks everything stated about, does not necessarily mean that he hates the entire white race. For all we know, he could feel this way about EVERYONE. And I think that he does. He strikes me as the type of character who only wants to answer to his own self and knows he doesn’t owe anyone a thing at all.

It is not racism.

Death of a Salesman

In Authur Miller's Death of a Salesman, Charley told Willy "the only thing you got in this world is what you can sell". That statement can be interpreted in many different ways, but I believe that Charley was not being literal: however, he meant that Willy had to sell himself, so to say. A good salesman is one who has power over people. He can convince people to buy what he is selling, and he is good at what he does.
In psychology, we learned something called "foot-in-the-door". Basically, it means that salesman wont take no for an answer. They will continuously put their foot in your door to stop you from shutting them out.
Willy doesnt have this trait anymore. Yes, he may have been a great salesman in the past. I know this because he spoke on mulitple occassions about how so many people in all different states loved him and he was very well known. But as he grew older, I believe he lost his spark. He no longer carries this trait, so therefore, he can no longer be a good salesman.
If "the only thing you got in this world is what you can sell", and you arent selling anything, then Willy isnt a good salesman.
Charley and Willy had a conversation, and Charley mentioned to him something about giving him a job, and after Willy denied, he made that statement. I think that all ties into selling yourself. Willy cant make a living if he doesnt sell himself.

My Brother

Friday, February 4, 2011, my best friend, brother, other half, etc. was taken from me. (Not just me, but the world) This was the hardest day of my life. I find it easy to talk about when it is just casually brought up in conversation (which is often), and I also find it easy to joke about what happened (because my brother was a funny guy), but when it comes down to it, I hate to think about it. I hate everything about it. Everyone always tells me how strong I am, but Im really not. I just never allow myself to "feel". I never tell anyone what Im really going through or how I reacted to it. I always stay with the facts. But no one knows what was going through my head that night. But Im about to let it all out.....

So that night, I was working until 9:00 PM. I was on the phone with my friend, Allie, on the way back from work. We were debating on whether or not I should go to her house or go to Matt's house. Since my dad and my brother are constantly going out of town for work, and the were going to be in town on the same weekend, Allie and I decided I should just go to her house, because we had a family dinner planned for the next day. So I drove on over to her house, we did homework, talked about random stuff, talked about how we didnt want to go to work the next morning, and then at about 9:45, I got a phone call from a girl, Alexis. The first thing she said when I answered the phone was "What happened at your brother's house?" Generally, this wouldnt worry me....stupid stuff always happened at Matt's house. But for some reason, I felt like something was wrong. (As did my mother, father, cousins, etc.) So we talked about it, and what she had heard was someone had been shot. She didnt know who, didnt know where, but it was bad. Im rushing out of Allies house, getting in my car, all while shes explaining to her parents where shes going and why. (Her dad HATED my brother.) We leave, and during the madness, Alexis has called me about 3 more times. Finally I answer. "KALEB IS DEAD! KALEB IS DEAD!" (Kaleb was Matt's "best friend") Im freaking out. Kaleb cant be dead. I start screaming and crying, so Allie makes me pull over so she can drive. Im trying to call my dad, who is on his way back from Pennsylvania, and Im trying to tell him. Hes getting mad at me because he doesnt understand what Im saying. Allie is trying to calm me down and tell me that were going to get there, and Matt and Kaleb both will be sitting in the back of a cop car, and we will be laughing at them.
Well, we get there, and there is an ambulance, a fire truck, and 3 cop cars around his driveway. Crime scene tape is all around his property line. I jump out of the car before it stops and run up to the police. "Are you Montana?" (Something I DIDNT want to hear) About the time he says that, Kaleb walks out of the house in hand cuffs. I fell to the ground. Thats supposed to be Matt. Matt is supposed to be alive, not Kaleb. I was in shock. My brother cant be dead. He just cant. Hes only 19. He has a baby girl. This CANT be real.
The rest of the night was a blur. I remember calling my mom. Worst phone call ever. She answered all cheerful and said "Hey baby girl, watcha doing?" I hated that phone call.
Hours passed, more people showed. Everyone was there. Everyone but Matt.

As much as I would like to continue, Professor Lindberg is asking us to stop.