Last Post

Wow. I just read over every blog post I wrote. It's eye opening really, I've never actually taken the time to read them before. There are some I am proud of and others I look at and think "I can't believe I wrote that!". I can't say that I've evolved much as a writer. Reading over these several posts I've noticed grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, and unbelievably stupid sentences, but little improvement. Then again I'm probably the worst person to judge my own writing. Its kind of like an adult asking a child to explain to them how they think they've matured from age eight to age ten. Sure, the child can tell you've they've grown taller and have grown out of all their old clothes, but I doubt they will talk about how they have matured emotionally or how their behavior is changed, even though the improvement is obvious to the adult. Like the child, it's difficult for me to determine how I've grown this year, especially as a writer.

But as I dug deep into the dark cave that is my blog, I did notice how my tone began to change over time. In the beginning, my writing sounded more reserved. I wrote long paragraphs and I answered the questions asked to the best of my ability, but my writing didn't sound like me. It was dry like toast. It was shy. In my very first blog post where I describe my "Boo Radley" I'm disappointed when I read it because I don't hear myself. I hear someone who was trying her best to impress her teacher. But the more I read the more I noticed aspects of my personality leaking in to my writing. I began to stop trying to impress people with high diction. I swore. Not only that but I also became more frank and sarcastic. I wasn't afraid to give my honest opinion. If I didn't like a book, I'd come right out and say it. This is very obvious in the blog I posted on April 2nd. We were supposed to write about our opinions on Great Expectations. I'm a little shocked at how much I revealed my disdain for the book. At one point I wrote, "... how do you expect me to care about, and much less like, a character who abandons all the people who care about him to pursue a frivolous superficial life and a cruel bitch." I'm a little shocked at myself actually. I swore more in that paragraph than in any other blog post I wrote. And in all honesty, I remember it felt very liberating to write that blog post.

I'm not really sure why my writing became like this. Did I just become more bitter as the school year progressed? Or was I already bitter and this was how I was able to express that deeply buried side of myself? Was I sick of writing blog posts and trying to make them as daring and opinionated as possible to keep myself interested? Was I mad at Mrs. Gilman? At someone else? Or am I just overreacting right now? Maybe this turn in my writing isn't a very big deal. It's probably not. I think what I should be determining right now is if this is a positive or negative change in my writing. On one hand it's a good thing. It shows that my ability to express myself has improved and that I'm less afraid of what other people think about my opinions. On the other hand writing this way, though effective, is not very tasteful and may offend some people. Should I be worried about this?

You know what? No. To hell with offending people. I should be glad that I'm more confident with my writing style. I should be glad that I've changed. As Gore Vidal (yes I know who Gore Vidal is) once said, "Style is about knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn."

I find it ironic that in my first post I express my desire to be more confident sharing my thoughts with others and now during my last post I'm celebrating that accomplishment. This makes me realize that this English class has given me something very precious. Though sometimes the workload of this class got me down and there were assignments that I wasn't excited about or even bitterly disliked, I now know that it's been worth it for what it's given me. I can only hope that I can apply this new found confidence to my final and come the discussion fully prepared and unafraid to kick ass.

Thank you Mrs. Gilman. This class has been very helpful to me and above all ...entertaining.

My Favorite Assignment

The most enjoyable assignment, by far, was the rewrite a scene assignment. This may be surprising, I am admittedly really uncomfortable talking in front of people, but this assignment was different. I loved it. I was paired with the other two quietest students in the class, (Ms. Smith is diabolical). I wanted a small role, but unfortunately, because I volunteered to do a small role, it meant I had to play all the small roles. I was kind of nervous at first, but I practiced my lines which helped me to relax and have more fun on stage.
To help the audience distinguish which character I was playing I wore name tags. Our performance went smoothly until I got the name tags mixed up. It was embarrassing but I was glad I made the class laugh. This actually helped my self confidence and I delivered the rest of my lines rather well... I think. I think in the future I'll be much more confident in front of people, and that's why I like this assignment so much.

Poetry

I was first exposed to poetry when my Dad bought a huge book of children's poems at a garage sale. I, for the life of me, cannot remember the name of the book nor can I find it, but when I was a little kid my dad would read me a poem from it every night before bed and when I finally learned how to read, I read it religiously. The book became so worn that the cover almost fell off. I also took pleasure in drawing my own personal illustrations next to the poems I liked in red ink. It was about this time that I decided to put away my plastic toy medical kit and dreams of becoming a Doctor and trade them for my dream of becoming a poet.
In third grade my teacher, Mrs. Barber, would let us come up to the front of the class everyday and recite poems we had written or memorized. I can remember the first poem I ever recited in front of the class

A robin read breast in a cage,
puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove wounded in the wing,
doth make the cherubs cease to sing.
And he who shall hurt the little wren,
shall never be beloved by men.

After a while I decided to stop memorizing poetry and start writing my own. The problem was I had no idea how to write it. So Mrs. Barber taught me how to write haikus, simple poems consisting of three lines, the first line with five syllables, the second line with seven syllables and the third line with five syllables. I fondly remember taking no greater pleasure than in writing haikus for hours in my blue spiral notebook. Today, the notebook is under my bed and I occasionally like to look back at my old poems and remember my dreams of becoming a poet.

I guess you could say I cheated and wrote about two experiences, one with my old book of poems and the other in my third grade writing class. But the truth is without that book of poems I would never have had any interest in poems, or perhaps even writing in general. Both experiences allowed me to enjoy and appreciate poetry today. I look back on them fondly and recognize that they not only introduced me to the world of poetry, but to the world of reading and writing as well.