August 28, 2014

After reading the topic for the final blog post, I struggled with trying to pick an adulthood memory that stood out to me most. I was sitting at a park close to my house and it hit me when I heard the soft cry of a little baby.

Being only nineteen, I don’t have very many “adult” experiences yet, but out of the few I HAVE had, there is one special memory that will stay with me forever. Once I heard that crying baby, it reminded me of when my sister had her first little one, a baby boy, Jackson Lee.

 Now, for a little bit of background on my family, I have two older sisters whom are both in their thirties and are married. My oldest sister out of the two, was blessed with having three beautiful children: Abby, Connor, and Shelby. Melissa, the younger one, was told that she could never give birth to a child and that it would be nearly impossible. However, she so desperately wanted to have children with her husband and she decided that it was up to her to try everything possible in order for her wish to come true.

 Sure enough, after multiple doctor visits and reassuring tests, she received the greatest news that she was indeed pregnant! … With TWINS. My family and I were all so joyous and ecstatic for them and their wonderful memories to come. It was a true miracle. I will never forget how happy we all were.

As maybe a month went on, some rather not such positive news came about and Melissa was informed that she had lost one of the twins.  Now remained a single baby inside.

 Knowing that the doctors said how hard and impossible the chances of her getting pregnant were, we knew there would be some complications. We did not know, however, how terrible or devastating they would be.

 After several prayers and an enormous amount of support, she held her head up high and focused on preparing to deliver that baby which we soon found out was a BOY, by taking excellent care of herself for that precious unborn child, whose name was to be Jackson Lee Sims.  

The complications still went on for months: Melissa’s body, the baby’s health, and MANY unexpected trips to the Hospital where she felt extreme pain as if she was going into labor. At this time, the baby was much too early to be born and the doctor was concerned about the result if she went into labor so soon.

 This gave everyone in the family, especially my sister, the feeling of worry while also desperate for hope and keeping a strong faith in God.

One specific night I can remember, when Melissa was finally told by the doctor that the baby was ready to come, my best friend, KateLynn, went with me to check on her at the Hospital. Not too long before we got there, I heard a nurse say that Melissa was trying to go into labor. That went on ALL night.

Too late to go get food in the cafeteria, Kate and I scrounged up all the change and cash we had to raid the yucky vending machines down the hall since we were starving. She, my niece, sister, mom, Melissa’s mother in law, father, and I all patiently sat in the waiting room for the official word that it was time.

We ended up staying there until 7 A.M. the next day. Let me repeat that. SEVEN A.M. She never went into actual labor that night.

“C’MON BABY JACKSON, LETS GET A MOVE ON” is what my oldest sister, Christy, kept shouting because let me just say, those hard leather couches in the waiting room certainly felt the way they looked when sleeping on them.

Finally, the VERY next day after we all went home, washed up, and got some rest, I received the phone call. THE phone call. Every one arrived once again, but this time, there would be a new addition later that day.

Once Melissa got her epidural, people began exiting the Hospital room to sit outside while she was in labor. I too, along with the others, slowly started making my way out when I heard Melissa call back that she wanted me to be there in the room with the other women and watch her have the baby. ........And. Watch. Her. Have. The. Baby.

I’m not so sure about other eighteen year olds, but watching someone conceive was NOT in my best interest. I choked up an, “Are you sure”, hoping one of the nurses would say there were too many people or something, but of course not and there I was about to witness a person giving birth for the first time in my LIFE!

Don’t worry, I’m not going to discuss any further details about the birth or anything like that, but I can honestly say that it was an amazing and unforgettable experience. THIS is what made me feel like an adult ever since I turned eighteen years old.

We all held hands with tears rushing down from our eyes as the first little cry of a new baby boy was born. Six pounds and fifteen point eight ounces. Nineteen and a half inches long. My perfect nephew, Jackson Lee, was born on August 28, 2014.

The whole experience changed who I was and has stuck with me ever since.

 Witnessing the birth of a child made me not only grow up, but it made me realize how precious life is and the power of an unconditional love. He was so tiny and yet weren’t we all once that tiny?

 I think often people take for granted their life and don’t appreciate it enough.

 This special memory sticks with me every day when I look around and see how today’s world is full of evil and hate. Then I am reminded of when I saw my nephew for the first time, when all I could feel was love and happiness.

 No matter what any mean thing someone had said to me prior to that moment, it didn’t matter anymore.

 I loved that baby more than anything. I loved my parents. I loved my sister and was so proud of her. I loved all of my other nieces and nephews. I loved all of the mean people in the world. I loved my LIFE. And most importantly, after truly witnessing a miracle and the birth of my beautiful nephew, I STILL do.

 I'm glad I never left the Hospital room. 
 

The Writing and Research Process for Paper #3

When deciding which essay to expand on for the research paper, I had trouble with picking which one that would be best to research about online. Once I re read each essay and came up with some ideas for the research paper, I found that the comparison of two poems essay really interested me more and made me want to go beyond just the similarities and differences between the two poems. My goal is to really pull out the heart of each poem and expand in a way that has more depth about the actual importance in the meanings of the two works.

 The two poems that I closely looked at in my second essay were “Slowly” by Donna Masini and “The Cove” by Dick Allen. The first poem talks about the slow process in realizing the death of a loved one whereas the other focuses on the fear of dying. So ultimately, my theme in that essay was about death.

However, for the research paper, rather than just talk about death, I really want to take it to the next level and search for deeper meanings or feelings about dying and the different kinds of impacts it has on people around the world. Death is such a serious matter and often ignored or not talked about and I want to strive to show how people react and the real effects it has on real people.

After figuring out my main focus for the paper, I made a list of search terms in order to help successfully find what I am looking for at the Academic Search Complete online database. Some of these terms included: fear of death, stages of grief, loved one, psych*, feelings of death, and emotion* from dying. When trying out different terms and looking for articles that fit well with my purpose for the paper, I found that it was very difficult in doing this.

 After typing multiple different words to search, I tried to narrow down my searches by changing the publication date, the subject, and making sure it was in full text mode. There were several articles that came up which were not what I was searching for, but after playing with the site and continuing changing around the search terms, I did find a few that seemed to be pretty on point for my expanding topic about death.

A couple articles that caught my eye were “The normal process of grieving” and “A special way of being afraid”. These two became noticeable once I typed in stages of grieving in the search bar. I think that both of these articles will help further explain in my research paper about the true feelings of people every day after a loved one has passed away and also, the natural yet terrifying fear of dying.

With these two articles and hopefully a few more, I plan to use them to back up my observations about death from the poems and elaborate more on an emotional or psychological element.

Throughout this process of researching and finding good information to add in my paper, it has been a little hard and a bit intimidating because there is so much research online about death, but I am looking for the exact articles which really go beyond just death. However, I am ready for the challenge in finding the rest of secondary sources and to start writing my research paper. I hope to grab people’s attention and make them feel the emotions behind the harsh subject of death.

Comparing the Horrific Talk of Death

               After reading the poem “Slowly” by Donna Masini, it interested me greatly and I wanted to find another poem with the same aspect of death in order to compare. I came upon one that is related, but still different in many ways.

“Encounter” by Czeslaw Milosz.

These two writings talk about the impact of death, but include various points of view.

               In “Encounter”, the narrator mentions of a time when he and someone else who is unknown, were in a wagon and spotted a hare run across the road as the other person lifted his hand and pointed at the animal. “That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive, not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.”

 This shows the “man” is dead and this memory has stuck with the narrator. “…where are they, where are they going…I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.” Long after this death, he is still wondering about the man and where he went rather than just being sad.

               “Slowly” on the other hand, describes a memory of a visit to the zoo where a snake indulges on a rabbit. This symbolism refers to the power and ultimate effect death can have on a person. “…this grief. How slow the body is to realize. You are never coming back.”  These words in “slowly” indicate the narrator’s grief over a loved one who has died and is never coming back. She mentions the word slow which describes the process of getting over someone’s death.

Throughout “Slowly” and “Encounter”, both discuss memories from long ago and then the narrators sort of lead the rest of the poem from these past actions to show their initial feelings. In “Slowly”, she is mourning over the death of a loved one and “Encounter” includes curiosity about what happened after the death of a close relative. These aspects are both relatable to the subject of death and the impacts it brings forth.

               Both of these have contrasting looks at the power of death; the effect of it and what happens after. Similarly, they each have distinct memories of the past that remind them of death.

                I can note that there are specific and obvious similarities in both of the poems; there is someone involved who is close to the narrator; Maybe a Dad or grandfather in “Encounter” and a loved one in “Slowly.” They also have each experienced death of another in their lifetime. “Slowly” is more in depth of the feelings she has over her loss and uses the horrid imagery of a snake slowly devouring a rabbit in its mouth. With “Encounter”, there is a small yet quiet memory that the narrator remembers of this other person and is wondering about the existence of that person once he died.

               Death is such a harsh topic that no one seems to really want to discuss, but rather avoid and these poems bring up this theme on such a personal level that make you seriously think about what they are going through in their poem. Whether it includes questions about death or the painful experience of it, death is a serious matter in which “Slowly” and “Encounter” both portray. It was interesting to look at when comparing both of these poems and seeing their understanding on such a strong topic.

Finding Emphasis in "Slowly" by Donna Masini

              After reading the poem “Slowly” by Donna Masini, it bothered me greatly and caused me to be confused, having so many questions running through my head. One of the main concerns that I had with this poem, was the imagery the poet uses about a snake devouring a rabbit. How is this poetic in any way and what does it mean? These were the first couple questions I had.

               I started taking the poem piece by piece in trying to discover the meaning behind the nasty experience she had. The beginning describes what she saw taking place at the zoo in fourth grade and then Masini mentions the student’s reactions including hers. “All the girls, groaning, shrieking but weren’t we amazed, fascinated, saying we couldn’t look, but looking, weren’t we held there, weren’t we imagining-what were we imagining?” This of course brings in the question, what were they really imagining?

 Maybe she wonders why she watched the way she did when the others girl were disgusted. Her teacher tells the girls to move on, but the poet describes how she could not move and it was like “watching a fern unfurl, a minute hand move across a clock”. It was as if she was stuck in time just staring at this snake indulging a rabbit.

               Towards the end really told me that the scenario with the snake was maybe symbolism for something that took place in Masini’s life after her visit at the zoo or that it symbolizes her feelings of a precious life. She makes a significant remark about how the snake was still sucking the rabbit down “just so I am taking this in, slowly, taking it into my body: this grief.” This made me feel uncomfortable at first and a little confused as she tells of taking it into her body.

 I did a little research on my own to help understand more by looking up the definition of grief. Grief is keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.

               She then goes on with saying, “How slow the body is to realize. You are never coming back.” So from what I can understand is that it has taken her a long time of pain and sorrow to get through with whatever happened in her life after that day or that she is thinking of life altogether and how quickly it can vanish. Ultimately, the main question of this poem is hinted at the very end and that is, who is “you”?

               After looking over the poem several times and thinking about all of my initial questions, I think the writer is describing how fast life can come and go or how death can happen to anyone at any time. When she says that “you are never coming back”, it can lead to how once something or someone dies, they don’t get the chance to come back.

Another aspect I concluded from this poem was that maybe the poet had a tragic experience where she lost a loved one and the “you” that she refers to at the end is the one who died and the imagery of the snake and rabbit could exhibit how slow and painful it is to lose someone close to you. The grief you would have, the sadness and pain, slowly taking over your body and remaining there for the longest time.

               I know this feeling that Masini is describing along with many others, and how the process of accepting reality and the death of someone, is in fact painfully and extremely slow.

               However, I still have remaining questions about this poem, like who the “you” is and what exactly does she feel grief over? But after examining it by pieces and looking up definitions, it was easier to understand and helped me in trying to answer some of my questions.

              

 

"Ever After" by Joyce Sutphen

As I was searching to pick out a poem that caught my eye, this one in particular, gave me curiosity and a little bit of sadness. Now I’m not one to enjoy the feeling of being sad, but the way Joyce Sutphen incorporates her words and describes her situation, shows it written quite beautifully.

After reading the poem aloud several times, I noticed that it is talking about a previous marriage which ultimately did not succeed. This affected my response to the poem by leaving me left with questions about the marriage and wanting to know more about what happened.

What specifically happened in their marriage, or was it just simply not working? Why did they rarely use the words husband and wife? What do the layers of the cake represent? Did they get married too young? What was their ever after? All of these questions accumulated through my mind as I tried to comprehend what Joyce was describing.

In the beginning of the poem, she distinctively mentions that they are separate and no longer an “us”. Then it says “unrelated persons except for that ex that goes in front of the words.”… This obviously helps explains a marriage that fell apart. They hardly said the words husband and wife which tell that maybe they never really were prepared for marriage or it didn’t even work out from the very beginning.

Also, Joyce brings up the fact that when they were “young and hopeless”, they had to pose with both hands clasping on to a knife “that was sinking into to the tall white cake. All that sweetness, the layers of one thing and then another, and then one thing again.” Therefore, there is a note that they were young when her and her husband got married and maybe this was the reason for their marriage failure.

 

Divorce is especially common in our generation for many different reasons and one of them includes being young. Joyce described HER divorce and how she felt about it. She even asks a few questions herself which shows that she is still somewhat concerned about what happened and why. I love the imagery she gives with the cake, which refers to a wedding cake. The knife cutting deep into the “tall” cake equals to their life together as a couple. What once was together, is now broken into pieces like slices of cake.

 Taking into account, the layers of the cake, that sweetness, displays the layers of their marriage. To some extent, maybe the couple’s initial thought of marriage seemed to be such sweetness, however, it turned out to be something different; A different layer.

To tell her rather brief story, my guess is that the poet left out the information that she did in order to bring emphasis on the main points and show her feelings about the entire situation. This leaves me feeling frustrated because I want to know more of what happened in their marriage that led up to such crucial circumstances.

Something that really interest me with this poem was the title in which the poet chose. “Ever After” reminds me of the common phrase, “Happily ever after” and what Joyce did here was take off the word happily and leave the rest. This can conclude the whole poem by saying that this fault in her life had an impact on her and her husband for the rest of their lives, as separate individuals instead of one.

What are Stitches?

I really enjoyed reading the book, Stitches: A Memoir. I can honestly say that I have never been the one for graphic novels, but this one particular book caught my eye. I loved all of the techniques David Small had throughout the text, but one that stood out to me the most is the title and how it incorporates with the rest of the book.

Stitches. What exactly is a stitch? A stitch is where it mends, or joins (something) with like a lacey feel. It heals a womb, closes it together, patches it up, and helps cure. He uses the word stitches for when he had cancer removed from the side of his neck. At first, he thinks it is just a growing, from which Mrs. Dillon notices at one of Betty's parties, but once the surgeries take place, he takes a look in the mirror and doesn't believe what he sees. David traces his fingers back and forth on top of the stitches. 

 

Throughout the book, David is faced with hard struggles every day while being forced to surrender to each dilemma.

David lives in a family where his mother doesn't show him love or any nurturing as a mother should, he finds out his father gave him cancer by radiation from x-Rays, he had to find out this issue by finding a letter his mother wrote which showed no concern, but seemed to be cold to the core, and later he witnesses his mother in bed with Mrs. Dillon.

After the surgeries he had been in to remove his cancer, David loses his voice. So when he finds out he has cancer, David walks into where his mother was sitting and glares at her while touching the stitches. This was Betty's language to him and now he was giving her a taste of her own medicine.

Betty, his mother, sends David to a therapist, where he receives more care than his mother has ever given him. David is told that his artwork is fantastic, and that he is smart.

David's therapist also mentions to him that his mother doesn't love him. Think about this for a moment. His mother doesn't love him...

How would that feel if someone told you your own mother did not even love you?

That is a hard factor to realize and a depressing matter, but David comes to the realization that it is the truth. Can you imagine?

All of these things David is stuck with, he is desperate need of repairing his life. He needs help and to be healed; he needs stitches. In a sense, David's life is in deep need of re-stitching it back together, back as one. This symbolizes how David's traumatizing childhood reflects his crucial personality and that he is actually covered in stitches.

Not only is David in need of stitches, but the rest of his family is in need of stitches as well. Betty is fighting the fact that she is a lesbian and seems to be always angry because she can't love what she really wants to. David's father knows, but keeps his distance with Betty and eventually remarries once Betty passes away. When David is 16 years old, he moves out of his house. This is quite a big step for a sixteen year old, but it was a step that probably should have been taken. This was the start of his "stitches", his healing. He was able to get out and kind of start over with his new life and not be surrounded by his messed up family who didn't love him.

There is major emphasis of the title Stitches: A Memoir because not only the actual stitches David receives upon his neck, but it symbolizes the fact his entire life needs stitches, needs to be put back together again. I think each person at one point in their lives needs stitches. When I say stitches? I mean when life feels like it's falling apart, sometimes we need help to recover.

My Own Little Adventures

            As a young kid with quite a big imagination, I could say that there were many times I wanted to escape and be a part of something else. Or rather, maybe even be someone else. Whether it was because I had my clip moved previously in class that day or that my friend suddenly wasn’t my friend anymore, I just had to find somehow to zone out for a little while.

            In Stitches: A Memoir, young David liked to draw and pretend to be Alice from the film, Alice in Wonderland, after he had a rough time at home. As for myself, I had two particular activities in which I would take place in, in order to “run away” from any problems.

            One way I used to channel out was by being in a pool. Either in my own pool or my best friend’s across the street, I would spend all day in that pool of water. My imagination kicked in once I took a single step into the water; I quickly transformed into a mermaid. A transformation from a human to a fish with a long shining tail. It was another world for me; a new life. While my mother was inside cooking spaghetti and meatballs fighting with the older siblings, I was swimming under the sea alongside Sebastian and Flounder just like Ariel in The Little Mermaid.

                I also liked to “let go” by singing. Yes, singing. My dream as a little girl was to ultimately become a famous singer/music entertainer. I had a special guitar that my parents bought for me and I received lessons from my best friend’s father who was an expert. It was my first guitar, bought at Walmart and called a Carly. It stood out with its color pink all over and the sound hole outlined in silver small crystals which mom had stored up in her craft room. 

Along with playing this guitar, I actually could sing fairly well, but never in front of an audience. (Unless the audience consisted of teddy bears and pillows). My frequent talks with my parents always included me saying, “I am going to be the next Hannah Montana one day.” I mean, who wouldn’t want to be Hannah Montana? (I beg to differ now), but she was my idol and I wanted to be exactly like her when I grew up. Therefore, I would lock myself in my room, place my old black chunky headphones on my tiny ears, and grab a nice hairbrush which would of course be the microphone. Here is a picture of the same guitar during my sophomore year of high school.

               Once I pressed the play button on my old Nano iPod, no one could stop me. I was now at a rock concert performing at Madison Square Garden in New York with thousands of people watching. Doing this made me feel bigger, older, and like I was someone else for some time; A rock star. I was acting as if my dreams came true and I felt unstoppable. This allowed me to feel important and special for the time being. Still to this day, I like to pretend when I sing, it’s at a concert, but instead, this takes place in my car or a private concert in the shower.

               I think these two activities enabled me to be more positive and content with life while problems occurred and the ugly part of life showed. Acting as Ariel, a mermaid in the sea, and pretending to be a superstar, made me happy. Coming home from a long day of school, all I wanted to do was leave the world and let my imagination take over. These events led to shaping my life by reminding me not only that you can be whoever you want to be, but that being yourself and unique is one of the most important aspects to learn to love in this crazy world.

               These activities still continue to shape my life every day by constantly forcing me to realize the value of life and creating the person I am today.

A Bond Made of Flowers

     I can almost remember the exact smell of the beautiful flowers my mother and I gently carried to the backyard. This memory still sits in the back of my mind; a memory of love and compassion. When I was a little girl, around 7 or 8, one of my favorite activities to do was to help my mom with her gardening. Every morning, you could see her outside trimming, planting, or digging up dirt out in the yard. It was her hobby and her passion.
    
    I loved standing at the window and glaring through the glass at each movement she would make with the individual flowers. The colors in particular really stood out to me. The pink, blue, purple, and bright yellow petals sitting in the sunlight.

     With difficulties at home and busy schedules, nothing made me more satisfied than being outside with my mom accompanying her with these lovely plants.  Especially at a young age and being the youngest of three girls, I had to share my quality time with her. My two older sisters were in high school and always had something going on. Now I am certainly a daddy’s girl, but I love my mom more than anything and the time spent with her gardening sure was special. I believe this was a bond we shared together and what started a sort of friendship that has long lasted ever since.
    
     I have a sweet picture of my mom handing me a pot to place one of my flowers in and I am staring up at her with big green eyes and a giant smile spread across my face. This is what made me feel like everything was going to be okay in life. Something as simple as gardening gave me happiness and the feeling of love and gratefulness. Gratefulness to have a mother and to be able to spend time with her like this.

Wanda Carter, Aka best mom

     Here I have a photo of my precious mother. I love her so much and she inspires me more and more each day. I will never forget those hot days outside planting in my little yellow sundress with my curly hair falling down my back. I loved sharing time with this amazing woman and these memories will forever be with me. Spending time with her and those flowers meant the world to me and it reminded me of the beauty of nature and the beauty of a love between a mother and a daughter.

Purple Petunia

     This memory has stuck with me through all of the years because it was a time where I was truly and fully happy. I always say “Take me back to when I was little” because things were much simpler and life seemed to be full of imagination and curiosity. Today, my mother and I still remain close and share some of the same hobbies. She still loves to garden and I am certain that she should be considered a professional at it. I’m not much of a plant person anymore, but I catch myself watching my mother plant flowers and dig up dirt, reminding me of back when I was little.