tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6041487293460835192024-03-20T02:56:55.760-07:00Writing and Healing"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." - Maya AngelouAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-40049141270777701472015-12-09T14:03:00.007-08:002015-12-09T14:03:50.637-08:00Blog Response: Rocco <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
No one likes to cry. We tend to hold it in until a more convenient time or until it builds up and explodes. Or we replace it with humor, alcohol, or drugs. But when we do cry, it feels good. Crying is cathartic, it’s the release of heavy duty emotion. And yet, when certain people do it (i.e. men) it doesn’t come across that way. At least to some people. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
This might be because I’m a woman, but I think it’s sexy when a man cries. It shows their vulnerability. They’re not a wall of steel, their a fleshy, soft human being. And it’s unfortunate that gender norms have brainwashed us to think that men should be the almighty powerhouse with no time for sentiments and emotion. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I think it’s going to be interesting to delve into this idea of men writing to heal. Take any poem written by a man and you can see how much emotional baggage they carry, and how beautifully they can convey that. There’s a song by Kendrick Lamar (the name escapes me) where he cries while rapping. It’s pretty powerful and I never thought he was a sissy for doing so. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I’m friends with a lot of guys and I’ve seen a few of them cry, but not all. They never par take in drama, or gossip with their friends, or even tell their friends about this cute girl their seeing. In the end, men and women and two completely different creatures and we handle our emotions differently. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-59603577238572477092015-12-09T14:03:00.004-08:002015-12-09T14:03:37.020-08:00Blog Response: Ivy <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Death is such a weird thing. Everyone does it, it’s the natural cycle of life. And yet, when it happens we’re often an emotional wreak. Why are we sad? They’re only doing what their suppose to do. No one is immortal. Maybe we’re selfish and don’t want to let go. Maybe it’s because we don’t know what happens after death. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
The emotional threshold to death depends on how and when the person died. For example, Moran’s sister disappeared for quite sometime, leaving her family constantly wondering if she was dead or alive. The suspense soon turned to heartbreak when they found her remains. In my experience, death was even stranger when my Pop Pop died of Alzheimer’s. It’s like he gradually disappear, making his death a lot more bearable. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
The way we take in and process death is cultural, spiritual, and psychological. It’s a huge event almost every has experience or eventually will. Talking to family and friends, going for a walk, flipping though photo albums, and writing are all great ways to come to terms with death.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Moran’s studies show just how powerful writing can be academically and therapeutically. I wonder if someone did a study on writing majors versus business or science majors to see if writing majors were less stressed, overwhelmed, and confused in their identity with emotion (or bland academic papers for that matter). It’s a completely different type of writing, it’s almost like an art. It’s a fun way of expressing yourself life with art or music. Just listen to the lyrics of a song or observe the hues of blue in a painting, their both trying to achieve a state of acceptance with whatever event or trauma just happened. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-85932525320935686992015-12-09T14:03:00.001-08:002015-12-09T14:03:20.752-08:00Blog Response: Kayleigh <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
This was absolutely fascinating. I remember learning about all of this in high school and this was a great refresher. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Now for melding these concepts with writing and healing. I feel like almost everyone takes similarities or coincidences as a sign for something like true love. Even dreams make you wonder if you that was a sign or some sort of foreshadowing. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Now this might get a little personal, but I have a story that has to do with the subconscious and dreams and this psychological fun. And since this is writing and healing, why not put it to good use. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Over Thanksgiving Break I dreamt three nights in a row that the guy I’m dating cheated on me with other girls. I woke up in the morning so confused. Why did I dream that? Is my unconscious telling me to get out now before I actually get hurt? </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Sadly enough, that dream was pretty actuate. He didn’t cheat on me, but he divulged that he didn’t want a relationship because he wanted the freedom to see other girls. BAM, and their you have it. The magic of the unconscious. I did some writing in my journal to get all of my thoughts out about the situation, and funny enough I came to a collective unconscious conclusion that his animal instinct just wants to spread his sperm around in order to continue the human race, while I want a child and someone to protect my family. I also thought that it might have to do with the fact that he had so much in common with me as well as my father (uh oh, some crazy Freudian psychology goin’ on here). </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Anyway, when we write, we might come to a point where we look at the psychological logistics of trauma or what have you. It offers another perspective that might explain why you’re feeling the way you’re feeling. It might not make that much sense, in fact, it might seem absurd, but it does heal you with an explanation. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-25873642225007543752015-12-06T13:18:00.001-08:002015-12-06T13:18:01.752-08:00Blog Response: Amiee <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Tara DaPra’s piece bought me back to the Autobiography class I took last semester. Our professor said from day one, “This class should really be called Memoir, because autobiographies and memories are two completely different things.” Rather than write a chronological overview of our life, she asked us to focus on one significant theme in our life. Just like DaPra write, the draft of my memoire was essentially like a diary. I let it all out, plain and simple. It wasn’t until after I read through my word vomit that I noticed threads.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
It was a pretty cool moment when I realized, “Wow! My life is like a novel!” The writing process reminds me of a puzzle—all the pieces jumbled up in a box (metaphorically speaking, the box is your mind, the puzzle pieces your significant life events). Its when you Tbegin to sort the pieces into categories that you see a fraction of the big picture. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I’m sure there are a lot memoires that have served as a therapeutic balance in the writer’s life. And there are those, like Lucy Grealy, that envision their work as art. Either way, art and therapy go hand-in-hand. Ultimately, it’s what the writer wants that will determine their work’s fate. Unfortunately, readers read in black and white. They’re not programed to know exactly what the writer intended. We make a lot of assumptions and judgements about the writer meant, but we’ll never really know unless we ask. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
As for the Veterans Project piece, it was interesting to see how many veterans sought out this creative outlet in writing. If they were to ever publish a memoir, it would clearly be for therapeutic reasons rather than literary. That also makes me wonder what the therapeutic difference is between writing and publishing. Does sending your work out into the public have a bigger impact on the writer? Is the healing greater? That might be something interesting to consider in your research. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-43760286764094958642015-12-02T19:11:00.003-08:002015-12-02T19:11:19.301-08:00Blog Response: Lauren <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I remember talking about this in my poetics class. It’s a tricky issue and I never really noticed it until recently. When I think “writer” I think “anything, anyone, anytime.” The limits are endless! I can write as a doctor, a dog, or a demon as long as I do my research. But there’s no amount of research I can do that will ever live up to the actual persona of a doctor, dog, or demon. It’s just not the same. So I now write by the motto, “write what you know.” </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
When we read, we usually read something so well-written that we don’t even realize the woman or colored character is seen/voiced through the mind of a white man. We’re invested and convinced, hardly questioning unless it’s analyzing the themes in our English class. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
While I agree with a lot of the suggestions made in the advice column, the one that sticks out most for me is “to work toward <i>good writing </i>regardless of your subject matter…choosing complexity over obvious.” I think Anonymous should take the letter he wrote and turn it into a poem. Incidentally, he’s got himself a great writing and healing project. He sounds like he’s a wounded, hopeless writer from this new generation of activism and equality. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I read one poem from Jaded Magazine that paired really well with advice letter. It’s called “How Reflections Share One Voice” by Kamry Sharnay, and some lines really stuck out to me like “we unknowingly give that voice the permission to steal our identities” and “We forget who we are when we lose our voice.” The former clearly alludes to the issue at hand—white writers writing from the perspective of women, POC, or LGBT, while the latter also describes the writer that he loses his voice and sense of self by speaking for another. But this could also go vice verse. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-48702985279927343962015-12-02T19:11:00.000-08:002015-12-02T19:11:01.227-08:00Blog Response: Charlotte <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
All three sources were interesting and had to do with emotional intelligence (obviously), so I’ll just try to combine it all and sense of it as best as I can. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I’ll start with the article from Psychology Today—totally mind blown! I wish I knew about this sooner (then again, maybe I knew it all along but was too lazy to take action). But like the author says, we all hide our emotions and a lot of the time it can lead to bad stuff…</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I’d say I’m a pretty “codependent” person. Whenever someone asks me how I’m doing I give them a half-assed two-word response and go back to them. I know I shouldn’t do that, but I know they won’t listen to me anyway because they’d rather talk about their day. I like making people feel comfortable and content, so I sacrifice sharing my life and feelings. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Last year, I learned that such a mentality was actually super harmful, traumatic even, and living with four girls, all my friends, all PMSing, and all concealing their feelings was a recipe for disaster. In the end, confrontation was the culprit. None of us had the guts to tell someone to do the dishes or take out the trash. In my case, two of my closes friends started to ignore me and treat my like scum and I had no idea why. It came to the point that I never wanted to go back to my apartment for fear of seeing either of them. I was too scared to ask them and I guess they were too scared to tell me what I was doing wrong. It’s sad to think that all these tucked away emotions were the reason I lost my friends. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
That’s why I think it’s so important to teach emotional literacy in schools (here’s where the other two articles come in!). Confrontation, is probably the hardest thing in the history of the world. You have your story and they have theirs and you both think your right and the other is the bad guy. It’s a complicated talk and most people don’t have the emotional energy to go through such tug-of-war argument. Fights, separation, and a lingering anger are the result. So why not ease the pain and teach kids how to rationally approach such a sticky situation. It’d save them from a lot of stress and anxiety, because the older you get, the more you’re going to run into people that make you feel uncomfortable. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-51742097828694946502015-12-02T19:10:00.003-08:002015-12-02T19:10:44.229-08:00Blog Response: Karen <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I wonder if such a choice-driven civilization like ours has an effect on stress and anxiety levels? Do other cultures like Amish and Asian mentioned in the TED article necessarily need to write to heal? If they believe in interdependence and social harmony, then their emotional intelligence must be sky high! </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
America is all about “me me me”. We all want attention. We all want our voice, opinion, and style to be heard. Social media platforms are a great way to share your personal experience as a human being and let others know how your doing, it’s off the screen where we don’t pay as much attention (and actually judge). </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
In the Tolerance article it says “Dialogue requires openness to new ideas and collective learning.” Sounds a little counterintuitive to the choice culture we have here. For example, politics or racial issues seems to be a huge debate starter, but all that arrise in the stupidity of Trump or ignorance of the people who don't agree with the race protests on campus. If we were in the mindset of the Amish, perhaps we’d be more open to hearing to their side with an open mind, ergo creating a less tense and stressed out culture. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
If emotional intelligence is introduced into schools, I think that future generation of US citizens will feel more harmonious. It’s important to empathize with others and put yourself in some else shoes in a non-judgmental and open-minded way. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-66257441367865593912015-11-30T14:46:00.004-08:002015-11-30T14:46:43.205-08:00Blog Response: Kirsten <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
First off, I think this is a GREAT idea for your research paper. It’s interesting and I totally relate to it. I may not have taken any emotional literacy class in grade school, but I was raised by a therapist, so I can attest to S.E.L’s groundbreaking outcomes. To this day, my mom still gives me an emotional lesson, whether it’s about boyfriends, alcohol, or handling drama. Like the 2011 study mentioned in the article, I’ve noticed that I’m not as anxious or depressed as other students. So S.E.L doesn’t just have to be an educational curriculum, it could also serve as a practice for parents.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
There’s something about making sense of your feelings and other’s that brings you to your “center.” I might be looking at it a more spiritual sense here, but it’s almost like a “namaste” moment (which literally translates to “I bow to you”). We’re all human in the end and if there’s just one thing that unites us all, it’s our endless battle with emotion. We all have emotional anchors so why not acknowledging how other’s feel in conjunction with your own emotion. That’s why introducing such a practice at such a young age would have a huge impact on the well being of further generations. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
It looks like Pixar is already on board with S.E.L. after making <i>Inside Out</i>. I haven’t seen it, but I know it’s about the personification of emotions in a little girl’s head. In the article, a psychologist said that even with a top-notch academic program, children wouldn’t make any advance until they’ve gotten to the core of their social and emotional issues. I’m sure a lot of students who are the bad apples of the bunch are just struggling with issues at home. It’s likely that channeling those problems in the classroom would ripped those apples. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #323333; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 15px; line-height: normal; min-height: 17px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I recently read an article similar to this one, but it’s about introducing mindfulness meditation to the classroom. Studies showed similar effect to S.E.L. One psychologist in the article mentioned that emotional literacy also gives children “the ability to stop and calm down” just like you would do in a meditation practice. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Tying this in with writing and healing makes me wonder if emotional literacy would ever become just as common place at history or science. If it does, I’m 100% certain that writing exercises would be mandatory.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-59694732267858024012015-11-30T14:46:00.001-08:002015-11-30T14:46:28.548-08:00Blog Response: Allie <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Kirsten’s research creates a perfect segue into yours. I remember watching this news story about a 6 year old girl who identifies herself as male. I thought it was pretty interesting considering how young she is. Most individuals make this realization when their much older. But I always wondered what made her—I mean him, comfortable and emotionally ready enough to declare such a life changing thing? Perhaps her parents or school stressed emotional literacy! Whatever the case may be, I recommended looking up the story. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
The article suggests that in order to “move beyond the binary” is to change perspective. While it doesn’t really focus on emotional literacy, it gives a lot of great background and examples of how sex and gender, in any circumstance, can affect an individual. In this case, we’ll be focusing on young boys at an emotional level. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
The Buzzed article made me think of my good guy friend. He’s what we call metrosexual meaning, “a young, urban, heterosexual male with an interest in fashion, and a refined sense of taste.” But a lot of people these days define the term as, “a guy who’s straight but comes off as gay.” Whenever someone asks if he’s gay, he gets really offended and upset, sometimes even confused. His masculinity is questioned and incidentally leaves him with a wounded ego. He’s a pretty sensitive dude because of it. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
So looking at his past and how he was raised may have to do with his feminine character. I’m making this whole theory up, but it’s a good why of fleshing out your topic for the research paper. He grew up in New York City and his father is a wealthy business man. So, his privileged upbringing ingrained the gender norm that men typically dress well and have impeccable taste. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I’m not sure where writing and healing comes into this, but I can see when emotional literacy is introduced in the classroom, discussing how boys feel versus how girls feel can bring up the question of why “big boys don’t cry.” Then again, it depends on the age, because boy cry regardless when they’re little. I don’t know how much of an impact emotional literacy would have in changing sex/gender views. But it’s possible that it could change how people feel about their identity. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-10533449274616651232015-11-11T10:16:00.000-08:002015-11-11T10:17:41.683-08:00Micro-essay: Competition <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsjH35dEUIEAFHw4olHpz0IZOkAyF7AwsdkldPQLhcWsW4J0sRNcIltOfhi9LlQ0jNYeBA49YKLeWYC3cul7yY6ff73tvCNoJsN-4e7nG0NmJ5uVxphMCAxXSgU_jZTcv1DuTUG7sreIY/s1600/cats-fighting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsjH35dEUIEAFHw4olHpz0IZOkAyF7AwsdkldPQLhcWsW4J0sRNcIltOfhi9LlQ0jNYeBA49YKLeWYC3cul7yY6ff73tvCNoJsN-4e7nG0NmJ5uVxphMCAxXSgU_jZTcv1DuTUG7sreIY/s320/cats-fighting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Jordan invited me to his place for a Campus Center party he was throwing. We already hooked up a couple of times and already declared that we really like each other, so we were borderline dating, but not quite there yet. I took it as a test—a test to show him that I could go to a party with him and not cling on to his arm the whole night. The last thing I wanted was to be needy or attached. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
So I drank, smoked, danced—the whole nine yards. From time to time I’d walk up to Jordan and talk to him and his Campus Center friends, showing that I can be a social butterfly without making things awkward. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
At one point, there was a flip cup game going on and one of my friends forced me to play. Funny enough, Jordan was across the table from me, meaning we were against each other. So we had a bit a flirty competition. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
But then came the REAL competition. After the game, I went out on the front porch and had a casual convo with Jordan and his friends again. Suddenly a girl stumbled out and wrapped her arms around Jordan’s neck and whispered in his ear. I stared at him, waiting for Jordan to remove her arms…he didn’t. I played it cool, knowing that he wouldn’t do anything because he was technically with me.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I never had the urge to claw her eyes out or rip the hair from her scalp. I knew she was drunk and I knew she didn’t know that Jordan and I were a “thing.” If anything, it was amusing to watch her make all these moves with no reaction. But I eventually got fed up and I went back inside, continuing with the festivities. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
And before I knew it, everyone was gone and it was just me and Jordan.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> ***</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
A couple weeks later Jordan invited me to eat dinner with him at Campus Center. While I nibbled on my grilled cheese sandwich, and he devoured a plate of brussels sprouts, I saw her. We made eye contact and she gave me a glare I’ve never received before. This chick was bad news.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> ***</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
The following weeks we’d cross paths on our way to class and she continued to give me the stank face. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> ***</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Just a few days ago, my friend Lilly texted me saying, “I have to talk to you about Jordan…” I was confused since Lilly had never met Jordan, only heard about him through girl talk. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
“What about him?” I responded.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
“He works with a girl I know, and she was talking to me about you and Jordan. She said stuff about him…”</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
“Bad stuff?” I asked. At this point, Jordan and I have already discussed our relationship status, agreeing that we’ll declare boyfriend and girlfriend-dome when we’re both ready. We’re still getting to know each other and don’t want to dive into something too serious too soon. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
“Yes and no,” she texted. “First, she said she’s gonna bang him…Second, he’s talked about you to her saying that he doesn’t want a relationship and that he thinks you’re too attached to him.” Here is where my face went red. Why was this girl (who doesn’t even know me) saying things completely untrue? Did she have some diabolical plan in mind? Is she going to seduce Jordan? Tell lies about me to him? </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I thought I had already left the drama of junior, sophomore, and freshmen year, but I guess not. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
“She could be lying,” Lily said. “But they work together and you’re my friend and I don’t want this jerk breaking your heart.” I appreciated Lilly looking out for me, but she’s never seen Jordan and I in limelight. He rubs my butt in public for goodness sake, how in “like” with me could he be? I rationalized the situation, telling myself that everything this girl is saying thwarts Jordan’s actions. I wasn’t attached, I’d always have him initiate texts conversations. In fact, he was the one that brought up our relationship status asking, “Am I your boyfriend?” </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
It just didn’t make sense. This chick was lying. This chick was threatened and was out to get me. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
“They haven’t don't anything, but she says she wants to,” Lily continued. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
“I’m pretty sure she’s just jealous.” I said. I knew this was all a blip, but for the next few days I couldn’t get this girl out of my mind. I was too scared to confront Jordan about it. I didn’t want to come off as the jealous, dramatic type because I’m not.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I kept asking myself, why? Just why? Why does this girl want to compete for sex with Jordan? Why is she even trying? She probably knows that Jordan and I are very much in a relationship. Maybe it’s just that she has a competitive nature.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I don’t. I have no desire to play tug of war with her. He’s mine, I’m his, it’s evident.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I’ll admit, she’s a beautiful girl. She could get any guy she wants, but she choses to go for the guy who’s already dating someone. What sucks about the whole situation is that I’m involved in this competition without wanting to be in it. It’s like I have no choice. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
And the more I analyze the situation, the more I want to do something about it. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Maybe I’ll go to the sex shop and buy some rope and handcuffs. If this girl wants to play rough, then so be it. Jordan is mine and I’ll put him on a leash if I have to…</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-90994490331889470992015-11-04T17:01:00.002-08:002015-11-04T17:01:31.399-08:00From Trauma to Writing: A Theoretical Model for Practical Use <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Why do some writing professors advocate personal essay as a course and others don’t? Why do students choose to write about traumatic events? What’s the evidence that proves personal essay is healing and therapeutic? </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
These questions and more are discussed in MacCurdy’s piece, <i>From Trauma to Writing. </i>She begins by looking into the brain and what happens when we experience a traumatic event. Everything that happens during that traumatic moment skims the surface of our conscious, verbal state and goes strait to our sensory center. This explains why such events are so vivid in out minds. That’s why students often write about it—because it’s easily accessible. You can be as vivid and descriptive in your writing at possible. Writing it all out thus helps with healing, making the internal external. Linking memory to images, images to word, and words to emotion. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I remember I had an assignment in my personal essay class where we had to write about some sort of life-changing/traumatic event. I wrote about how I almost drowned as a kid. I was only six, but I can picture it like it was literally yesterday. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
MacCurdy gives tons of evidence why we remember these terrible experiences, using research studies as well as her own personal observation with student’s writing and reactions to personal essay assignments. A lot of her students found it difficult to retrieve such details. Some make there experience a cliché by labeling their experience rather than getting to the root of the story. It’s even been mention how writer’s often resist such deep, specific description because they feel uncomfortable re-living the trauma. It’s true when they say, the devil’s in the detail. But once you successfully verbalize the imagery, student’s can delve deeper and “form order from chaos.”</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Personal essay, unifies the pain and isolation caused by trauma, thus bringing student’s together, but also stressing their individuality. I think college isn’t just an institution aimed to land students a job, it’s also an environment where students learn to detach themselves from the comforts of home and learn what it means to be an individual, independent human being and surviving in the world. Personal essay fuels a basic human understanding that we all have pain—life isn’t all unicorns and rainbows. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
A lot of healing comes from sensory detail. But what if, for some reason, you just can’t remember some key details. Do you guess to the best of your ability and lie? Do you think healing is still possible in this case? Or does it mean that the absence of a particular scene or image mean something more? Like the example of the student who loved her grandmother but couldn’t remember much detail and realized she never really had a relationship with her. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-59203794703911420412015-10-27T12:13:00.001-07:002015-10-27T12:13:39.195-07:00Emotional Response Micro-Personal Essay <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbLPr-sYLQi5BYsIAbUFiz0_-huLeYruGDJxy2lM8452h6MLyVHmejvthAlorfLlrhzQO55Oo1MDDVyQb2sCqxHXR8uWwBm9jQwgYLRB3F0Xn6IDrJPgRL_6Ma0HDmTQ0v859HzTweQY/s1600/Picture+7_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbLPr-sYLQi5BYsIAbUFiz0_-huLeYruGDJxy2lM8452h6MLyVHmejvthAlorfLlrhzQO55Oo1MDDVyQb2sCqxHXR8uWwBm9jQwgYLRB3F0Xn6IDrJPgRL_6Ma0HDmTQ0v859HzTweQY/s400/Picture+7_5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">My dad had this toy dog with wheels instead of feet. A string was attached to its neck</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
so it would follow wherever you go. I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was boring,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
so I took my stamp kit and pressed a blue flower all over it. Later that day, I spotted</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
my little sister Chloé (who was 4 at the time) playing with the dog. My dad was in the</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
living working from home. I looked at it as an opportunity to get my little sis in</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
trouble. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; min-height: 14px; text-indent: -27px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
So I yelled, “Papa, looked what Chloé did to your dog!” </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; min-height: 14px; text-indent: -27px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
Unfortunately, I have to admit that I was a terribly mean older sister. I took advantage</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
of my authority and often controlled my sister’s every move, thought, and feeling.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
Sometimes we’d get along and have fun, but most of the time I’d come up with some</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
sort of diabolical plan to make her cry or get her in trouble. It’s like I fed off of her</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
misery. It was satisfying for me to see someone else (specifically my sister) suffer the</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
consequences for something I did. 80% of the time of got off scot-free. I felt invisible,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
unstoppable. I wouldn’t be surprised if I laughed like a menacing evil villain. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; min-height: 14px; text-indent: -27px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
At the same time, I knew about my dad’s anger issues. I knew that he’d over react,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
possibly throw something and curse in French. I smiled at the thought of how much</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
trouble Chloé was about to get into (and she didn’t even know). </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; min-height: 14px; text-indent: -27px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
“Oh no! Chloé!” my dad wailed. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; min-height: 14px; text-indent: -27px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
“Yeah, Chloé. You shouldn’t do that,” I said, adding salt to the wound. I really wanted</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
to see my dad get angry. Now that I think about it, I guess I just wanted to come off</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
as the “better” child, get more admiration from my parents and get the better toys,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
candy, etc. I often looked at our relationship as a competition. Though I don’t</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
remember seeing my parents give more attention to my little sister. Maybe I just took</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
the stereotypical mean older sibling example from TV shows like “Rugrats”. Ironically,</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin-left: 27px; text-indent: -27px;">
my favorite character was Angelica. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-87433791435089912272015-10-18T16:27:00.001-07:002015-10-18T16:27:40.912-07:00Human's of New York and Healing <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IFeEUK5Xttl11Ls-EmQrSE4-y9Z46ihB1gUSYzXfxqE0PQT63YD0XLnzsABWjgM1jPga4A3hegLAfz7Dg5QfNmGSBgTlCQKndjTbVTVfocYBy8F8NvrmYhpoYUSYqhigFKjFHZ4MTD4/s1600/tumblr_netz3rPEAb1qggwnvo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; white-space: pre;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2IFeEUK5Xttl11Ls-EmQrSE4-y9Z46ihB1gUSYzXfxqE0PQT63YD0XLnzsABWjgM1jPga4A3hegLAfz7Dg5QfNmGSBgTlCQKndjTbVTVfocYBy8F8NvrmYhpoYUSYqhigFKjFHZ4MTD4/s320/tumblr_netz3rPEAb1qggwnvo1_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Sometimes it feels like I'm not part of anything. There are so many people<br />here, you'd think that I's be able to make friends with on of them. But it<br />always seems like everyone has go their own thing going on, to their own<br />group of friends that they hang out with. Most weekends I just take a long<br />walk, or go to a restaurant by myself. I've dine some neat things alone, and<br />I'm glad that I did those things, but I'm really getting to the point where<br />I'd also like to experience things with other people. Everyone tells me:<br />'You should do this,' or 'You should do that.' But nobody says<br />'Let's do this,' or 'Let's do that.'"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
I’d like to take a page (perhaps a whole research paper) to talk about the trending blog, <i>Humans of New York</i> (HNY) and it’s effects on healing. According to it’s creator, HNY is “an exhaustive catalogue of New York City’s inhabitants”. The blog has 10 million social media followers, owing much of it’s success to humans just like you and me. People are fascinated by a stranger’s life. In my future paper, I would look at comments on portraits left by social media users to show HNY’s healing influence on the public as well as the subjects themselves. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
Photographer Brandon Hony aimlessly walks about the city streets and takes pictures of random passerby. He posts the photos via social media each with a quoted caption that delves deep into that person’s life. The photos range from 2-year-olds wearing tutus to elderly couples holding hands. Not all photos and their attached captions reveal a subject’s personal conflict or life trauma, but the ones that do remind me of everything that we’ve discussed in class (and possibly more).</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
There’s a feeling of ambiguous intensity when looking at a person, but that feeling turns in to empathy and wonder after reading their story. You feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable. It’s that kind of basic human vulnerability that we all find familiar, but it’s somehow surprising when we notice it in others. It’s an open question as to why we have such public confidence, and such private doubts, anxieties, and dreams. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQgKYTa4agmixXPVFX20VTUQlFKQ3cAGvL_K0ttRz4dLX-wY6YqdvDvCfcjljk9pF0LxkJyApE4kA4RvN-toenkXC3CVNvdtcXNkArPXL2viC2PMsWCsuDPZNtOzavNRVhXnuVdSmHQ4/s1600/tumblr_nnzkb6CcZP1qggwnvo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQgKYTa4agmixXPVFX20VTUQlFKQ3cAGvL_K0ttRz4dLX-wY6YqdvDvCfcjljk9pF0LxkJyApE4kA4RvN-toenkXC3CVNvdtcXNkArPXL2viC2PMsWCsuDPZNtOzavNRVhXnuVdSmHQ4/s320/tumblr_nnzkb6CcZP1qggwnvo1_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"My mom left me with my grandparents so she could prepare<br />a way for us in America. But my grandparents passed away, so<br />I came to America before my mother was ready. There were eight<br />of us in one apartment. In my mind at the time, I thought that if I<br />began to mis behave, I'd be sent back home. So one day I got in a<br />fight at school, and when the teacher tried to restrain me, I hit her<br />with a chair. I was only nine years old, but from that moment on,<br />I became a system baby. My mom gave me up and I went to a<br />foster home, then a boy's home, then jail, then prison. When you<br />go to prison, they make you strop naked, spread your ass cheeks,<br />and cough. I refused to do it. So they beat me and threw me alone<br />into the box. And I remember sitting in there alone, reflecting on<br />my life, and where it had ended up. I started thinking about the<br />other members of my family. My sister was a registered nurse.<br />My grandmother owned two houses. I realized that success was in<br />my DNA. For the first time, I developed a thought that prison was<br />not a place that I belong." </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
When you think about it, it’s kind of sad that you’ll never really know what other’s are experiencing. Even though we all have eyes that can make out a face and body, the true image of who we are is often softened and distorted. The portraits of HNY shows a kind of psychological exoskeleton in all people. These faces hold anxiety, trying to protect themselves from the pain of the past. These faces have had years of cracks and hollows but grow back again and again, until they develop a more sophisticated, often mysterious emotional structure. Some portraits are passive, default expressions—like their strong emotion is buried under the hustle and bustle of everyday life.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
HNY gives you this moment of awareness that people have a private and mysterious other life they’ll never know about. It gives you just a peak of that complex and vivd story, reminding you of the smallness of our perspective, making it impossible to draw any meaningful conclusion about people, their pasts, and their resulting life. If I were walking on the streets of New York and passed one of these faces, I wouldn’t ponder their past. These portraits and quotes resonant a certain connection, while still getting a morsels of their human experience. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
In my research, I would take a closer look at each portrait to define a connection with healing. In essence, it would resemble The Clothesline Project essay, finding several groups of portraits and separating them into categories of healing according to voice and even expression. </div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; min-height: 15px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRUJELzAHQ7b6i8ZoW3OQK0msBYAMKvvudF5OMfooa8eq_6GffL9zJlBWmfT1XSyUhQbWEefqrVax6clLUPCwaGwnEUyA5Qzib8apFGuMpi5bmNH1AC6NopMeKJ3zPpCDVcqsHlRp1PQ/s1600/tumblr_nogmulOfdo1qggwnvo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRUJELzAHQ7b6i8ZoW3OQK0msBYAMKvvudF5OMfooa8eq_6GffL9zJlBWmfT1XSyUhQbWEefqrVax6clLUPCwaGwnEUyA5Qzib8apFGuMpi5bmNH1AC6NopMeKJ3zPpCDVcqsHlRp1PQ/s320/tumblr_nogmulOfdo1qggwnvo1_1280.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I had a rough time in high school. I was in a very deep depression.<br />I've always been on the heavy side, so I got bullied a lot because<br />of my size. I didn't have any friends. There wasn't a male figure in my<br />life to talk to. Some people cared about me, but I blocked them out of<br />my life. Someone told the school guidance counselor that they'd heard<br />me talking about suicide, so I got sent to the psych hospital for nine<br />days. I was the oldest one there. I met kids who were a lot younger than<br />me, and who'd been through a lot worse things. One of the girls had<br />been raped. The younger kids would come to me for advice, and for<br />the first time I felt like a leader. I left the hospital with a different<br />mindsent. I realized that I wasn't on earth to be helped,<br />but to help others." </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-67126504411259918002015-10-12T16:44:00.001-07:002015-10-12T16:44:43.199-07:00Writing about Suicide <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaW93PPnpDhKzZeSmIM4fFCV_jV0CulKCtWoJEtS7itfssm6D7HJzvWUWbuBPtWihm0pfw6xsdRNQDbijVfS-gjnafJwFwjyNJ5u3700uP9AOAIfSmlfHsDTNzU6OIPidGvH1E9QVtRc/s1600/sadddd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaW93PPnpDhKzZeSmIM4fFCV_jV0CulKCtWoJEtS7itfssm6D7HJzvWUWbuBPtWihm0pfw6xsdRNQDbijVfS-gjnafJwFwjyNJ5u3700uP9AOAIfSmlfHsDTNzU6OIPidGvH1E9QVtRc/s400/sadddd.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
My 5th grade teacher committed suicide. I never really thought much about it, but after reading this essay, I can see how a class like “Literary Suicide” would appeal to students. Just like this class! There are students who have had experience with traumatic life events, and others not so much. But even those who didn’t, still manage to make a connection. We’re human after all, it’s what we do. As Jon wrote in his diary, “While I recognize the risk of comparing our experiences to the terrible struggle of someone considering suicide, I can’t avoid thinking how similar our worlds are.” (295) </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Jon didn’t know anyone who committed suicide, nor has he ever had suicidal thoughts, but he still managed to come out of the class with a cured mind. Jon is a good example of someone who doesn’t necessarily need to heal through writing, but relates to it in a way that changes him (my experience in this class). Then there are those like the female student mentioned on page 307—she revealed her experience with sexual abuse in the diaries, and left the class seeking therapy. This class is solid proof of just how effective writing and healing can be! </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
What’s more, it shows how willing people can be when sharing their personal accounts on traumatic subjects. Almost every student gave Berman permission to have their diary read allowed. I think it helped that Berman kept the reader anonymous. Hmm…makes me wonder then why someone people would want to stay anonymous while others have their names attached to their writing. I guess there’s a feeling safety and mystery when a writer is incognito. When I personally read or hear writing with no author identified, I feel more connect for some odd reason. Maybe it’s because names are arbitrary when it comes to the actual healing process. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Jon uses the word “distance intimacy” to describe the sensation of having one’s work read anonymously. I think we should do something similar in class. Have us all write a personal response to some topic and have it read allowed in class anonymously. I feel like it would make the class more connected. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
What really struck me in the reading was Jon’s 6th diary entry where the most memorable diary entry read in class was his own. It’s neat to have your words read by someone else and have people listen to your words. In an analysis of that diary entry Jon says, “I sometimes felt as if I <i>were </i>them.” Just shows that we’re all staring in the same movie. We might think we’re all unique and individual, but we’re actually very much the same. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-76497019124510896372015-10-05T14:28:00.001-07:002015-10-05T14:28:29.603-07:00Voices from the Line: The Clothesline Project as Healing Text<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg-GLObeili0o-cNpviU7Ad5JOhwTbcYyE8BZps9S1_ekDMO3vs5ZAZWM0oY0gVgaBgxTkuyK6m2HF2MIw6TagjipA_RkVgu-xG9QkRSHfS-VfXx51HftBG92AZBHLYe18Y4KhFWPwfg/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg-GLObeili0o-cNpviU7Ad5JOhwTbcYyE8BZps9S1_ekDMO3vs5ZAZWM0oY0gVgaBgxTkuyK6m2HF2MIw6TagjipA_RkVgu-xG9QkRSHfS-VfXx51HftBG92AZBHLYe18Y4KhFWPwfg/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
When my PopPop passed away, everyone in the family got to sort through all his clothes and pick something they wanted. I have a green sweater and one of his basic white tee-shirts. Whenever I put either on, I feel like he’s hugging me. His scent still lingers in the threads. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
In a sense, clothes are like ghosts of the self. The Clothesline Project not only addresses domestic violence and assault, but it also captures the body, shape, and spirit of the woman that once was, will be, and aspires to be. At first I thought it would make more sense if the text written on the shirts were published in a book. The writing was deep and poetic To be honest, I was shocked that pretty much every shirt had so much substance and depth. It was haunting. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Julier explains this type of writing and healing as a “multivoiced witness to a shared cultural experience.” (359) It’s a communal, global, even historical, gathering of women. It’s crazy to think that since the dawn of civilization woman have been treated with such torment and disrespect. To this day, women are still abused. Some don’t even have the opportunity to voice their story and heal due to culture barriers. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
Even thought it’s considered a stereotype these days, woman are often portrayed as the domestic dame hanging up the laundry on a clothesline in the backyard. I think that taps into the project. Women are the caretakers of the world. Julia pulls several tee-shirts as examples of how they produced various methods of reading. Some address the perpetrator directly, others bask in their bravery and ultimately change. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
I like how Julier claims that “space is precisely its its power to heal.” (360) I think this might be interesting to discuss in class—this notion of space and what it provides in terms of writing and healing. Does it refer to the event? The blank canvas on the tee-shirt? A particular woman sense of self?</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-80224607065290345622015-09-30T17:08:00.000-07:002015-09-30T17:08:08.549-07:00Pathography and Enabling Myths: The Process of Healing <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPZmPZ1j3klmSnb5FtBNfsU35KHFh89BBhX6zlE9mSlIZrUFQrsrVQ3EvOiSHmwlzczNydoUkbHIyvD_DGNrQelr5Jexgetb7m22a333rJwUmeDHh6HeD2T490-lNah9n8Ep2iezLIRU/s1600/il_570xN.359260122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPZmPZ1j3klmSnb5FtBNfsU35KHFh89BBhX6zlE9mSlIZrUFQrsrVQ3EvOiSHmwlzczNydoUkbHIyvD_DGNrQelr5Jexgetb7m22a333rJwUmeDHh6HeD2T490-lNah9n8Ep2iezLIRU/s400/il_570xN.359260122.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Last year, in my autobiography class, we read “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”, a pathography about a successful journalist, Jean-Dominique Baudy, with locked-in syndrome. He woke up from his stroke mentally aware of everything going on, but physically paralyzed with the only exception of some movement in his head and eyes. The entire book was written by blinking. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
A lot of what Hawkins discusses in terms of pathography and myth reminds me of this memoire. She likens pathologies to “what it would be like if our ordinary life-in-the-world suddenly collapsed.” (224) Baudy’s situation it the worst I could possibly imagine—being trapped in your own body. No wonder he wrote—I mean blinked—a book. He would go insane if he didn’t flesh out his life and put meaning into it. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
In my experience, writing an autobiography (granted not a pathography), gave me such a boost of satisfaction and happiness. Whenever I discovered a link or analogy between to ideas, a surge of excitement and purpose went right through me. I think that’s the ultimate point Hawkins makes here—that the process of healing though writing is a journey that usually ends in restoration, change, and transcendence through these “mythical formulations.”</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNsWR5XcrmERZXardp9nuV1C17AX_-G3ecGCNPTVt0HHQguVpNUaL1EhgvxmTozJX9J-KSHSQSA9cVR_Z900lvTRF9QWR1a31pjDYmwVL2cp8BdpQJsoyRoAYZWZWWedi99nXX8UD-54/s1600/8010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNsWR5XcrmERZXardp9nuV1C17AX_-G3ecGCNPTVt0HHQguVpNUaL1EhgvxmTozJX9J-KSHSQSA9cVR_Z900lvTRF9QWR1a31pjDYmwVL2cp8BdpQJsoyRoAYZWZWWedi99nXX8UD-54/s320/8010.jpg" width="202" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">In “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” the author says that locked-in syndrome is like wearing a diving bell—an old-fashioned deep-sea diving apparatus. He also likens his mind to a butterfly. Whenever the diving suit becomes too limited and oppressive, the author flies away in his mind to visit his memories. As Hawkins puts it, he “integrates different aspects of the self” into his narrative. (234) </span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
This form of mythic formulation is what Hawkins refers to as “idiosyncratic images” (233). For some, coming to terms with your condition or illness is easier by substituting it in a metaphorical form.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-1613068861132196192015-09-27T16:35:00.000-07:002015-09-27T16:35:09.791-07:00Healing and The Brain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdDzx2dx5WGy8zXXKzhR76K_tztkNBV-ULVbwWnn-8glHXKl01VO200TCVQRmxProkAIOSUdwz72L8nZniSHrfXE7NhweON1WkAHX_noDw_itOGWZRYA6bnole_gVQ1kJVMlBEgxn_ko/s1600/jetovhlave.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdDzx2dx5WGy8zXXKzhR76K_tztkNBV-ULVbwWnn-8glHXKl01VO200TCVQRmxProkAIOSUdwz72L8nZniSHrfXE7NhweON1WkAHX_noDw_itOGWZRYA6bnole_gVQ1kJVMlBEgxn_ko/s320/jetovhlave.png" width="221" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
The human brain is a mystery even with all the knowledge we’ve obtained over the years. It’s a powerhouse of information and interpretation, coordinating sensational and intellectual activity 24/7. For just a blob of pink mush, the brain certainly earns it’s crown for most awesome organ ever. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
In Alice G. Brand’s “Healing and the Brain,” the brain is an information center as well as a healing center. But before we get to it’s curative powers, Brand explains the fundamental units of the brain, specifically those that process perception, emotion, and memories. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
The human brain consists of three main parts: (1) The hindbrain, the lower part of the brain, is responsible for unconscious actions and processes. (2) The midbrain, the upper portion of the brain stem, contains cells involved in vision. (3) The forebrain, the largely developed cerebrum, is responsible for thought and speech control. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
As you can tell, it’s the forebrain we can thank for our potential in the human race. It’s where cognition meets action. Brand often brings up the debate of which comes first: thinking or emotion? Do we think then react accordingly and vice versa? As it turns out the brain takes in all that external stimulation and then produces an emotional response. Brand describes this processes as “the affective significance of experience” (204). </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Then Brand introduces us to the hippocampus and the amygdala, the two potions of our brains responsible for cognition, emotion, language and ultimately, healing. The hippocampus is thought to be center of memory, or as Brand puts it, “cognitive mapping” (205) where we assimilate and store maps of meaning. The amygdala is involved with the experience of emotion, “giving attentive significance to events” (207). Brand lists out the physiology process of how we experience memory, nostalgia, and other reactions to sensory specific stimuli. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
But what’s more important is the fact that the amygdala receives and interprets memory before our senses, meaning emotion comes before intellect. Brand says that the amygdala is largely responsible for what memories get stored and to what depth it gets stored. So the stronger the emotion, the longer that memory will stay with you. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
When the memory aspect of our brain crosses paths with the learning aspect, we achieve what is called healing. This “primary consciousness” is essentially what makes us human. We have the brains to know that we think, we’re aware of situations, events, and other external stimuli. What’s crazy is that language is a relatively new brain configuration. It makes me wonder if we never developed language, could we ever heal? How do animals heal? It’s been observed that elephants show grief to a deceased family member. As their ways of healing beyond conscious awareness? </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
In the end, Brand pulls an excerpt from Goedicke’s “Singing & (Listening) for the Record, where she explains how writers conjoin their mind and body to make sense of their feelings and understand what their overall being is telling them. In a sense, writers speak for their brain. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-16738803499996053412015-09-20T19:04:00.000-07:002015-09-20T19:04:20.120-07:00My First Time <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC9rtY7FSP_H3Lj8aL0Bj911Wv3kHoIdBxH672o3H_LWWqKcpSmgNV1m4SOljCMRfXBl3GFUdk-bX-0e7_QzhSsyj3T7n3JyUqq3s51MzHx8GK3nNQovywnR2SPlmurfqEgRCHSPUg3Zg/s1600/tumblr_m3u8dwLj471rtgm7to1_5001.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC9rtY7FSP_H3Lj8aL0Bj911Wv3kHoIdBxH672o3H_LWWqKcpSmgNV1m4SOljCMRfXBl3GFUdk-bX-0e7_QzhSsyj3T7n3JyUqq3s51MzHx8GK3nNQovywnR2SPlmurfqEgRCHSPUg3Zg/s400/tumblr_m3u8dwLj471rtgm7to1_5001.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">He said he’d teach. This guy wanted to get inside my pants so bad that he’d be willing to “teach” me. I may have been new to the whole hook-up culture of college, but I had my suspicions. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
This was it, the offer I wouldn’t be able to refuse given my vulnerable, weak-at-the-knees tizzy. He was really cute, so that didn’t help. A guy as handsome as him must have had A LOT of experience. And I had none. And I was embarrassed, scared, and confused. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I wanted to spend time with him. Get to know him. And if that meant having sex with him, then it was the perfect situation in which to do <i>it </i>without it being awkward. I’d have a mentor, a guide in the strange, mysterious world of sex. Although of course I was hoping he’d compose a more eloquent proposition. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
My expression of harassed wariness didn’t affect him in the slightest. He wanted to do it right then, right there. No time to rationalize the fact that I might loose my virginity in a smelly dorm room at 2 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
This would be it. The be-all, end-all of my chastity. The pinnacle of my womanhood. Once this was over and done with, I could finally say that “yes, I <i>am </i>sexually active” at the gynocologist. Then again, it just didn’t seem right. Sex was suppose to be a passionate, tingling feat between two lovers, not a take it or leave it opportunity. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I had only known him for three days. Why here? Why now? Why not wait? Didn’t he want to get to know me? The concept of casual sex was a blur to me. I was stuck on this fantasy that my first time would be meaningful, not educational.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I just wanted to get it over with. The sooner it was done with the better. Once round two came round, I’d know what to expect. I stared at the ceiling knowing that if I didn’t watch him do it I wouldn’t feel as awkward. The ceiling was white, smooth, and plain. Like me. Except I was the one about to get nailed. </div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
Sex can be scary and terribly intimidating, especially when it’s your first time. It tests your reproductive capabilities and pokes fun at your insecurities. You’re peeled like a banana, one garment after another removed until your tender flesh is completely exposed. All your flaws and vulnerabilities are laid out on a platter and served to a hungry beast.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-7287470042737658032015-09-15T15:58:00.000-07:002015-09-17T11:44:24.670-07:00Writing and Healing as the Rhetorical Tradition <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8o6W2CaRpfuk0FLlNr_E9lscsnPQhVcpHsfx-lsp_fnkJYM1DESVzyxU6AN67gxGnjohFSTOKv0EBukxuWkvf917wazpPphRqOrW5x3R2EHx3EoCajhzxOZewMzlqlySgSl60-Tj6HKo/s1600/76149_231332106997173_1550272648_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8o6W2CaRpfuk0FLlNr_E9lscsnPQhVcpHsfx-lsp_fnkJYM1DESVzyxU6AN67gxGnjohFSTOKv0EBukxuWkvf917wazpPphRqOrW5x3R2EHx3EoCajhzxOZewMzlqlySgSl60-Tj6HKo/s320/76149_231332106997173_1550272648_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Right off the bat I'm gonna say this reading was a doozy. A lot is covered in Johnson's essay. His main focus is to show how several theories of knowledge (e.g. pre-classical, expressionist, and postmodern) all influenced the contemporary notion of the self, truth, and writing for healing.<br />
<br />
He begins with the concept of logotherapy--the powerful force of finding meaning in one's self. He then segues to the idea the Platonic idea of "illness as possession by a punishing spirit" (90). As Johnson moves from one theory to another, he often refers back to this notion of our "inner demons."<br />
<br />
Other concepts that Johnson brings back to later theories of knowledge are <i>nomos </i>(society) and <i>physis </i>(natural). Here is where the meat of the argument/discussion takes place. It's the concepts of expressivist and social constructivism that tie in with students and their ability to write personally versus academically. The expressivist asks the writer to explore his/her unique self, using everyday language (<i>physis</i>), while social constructivism believes that the writer should focus on outside discourses (<i>nomos</i>) that help shape their reality.<br />
<br />
Johnson brings up Carl Rodger's notion of "self-actualization," meaning the discovery of one's true self. Ergo, "since everyone is different and the purpose of writing is to access this unique individually, surely no one can teach about how to write..." (96). It's like the whole nature vs. nurture debate.<br />
<br />
Sticking with the idea of writing for healing, will writers benefit more from embracing their unique self and symbols, or understanding outside forces of their environment/world?<br />
<br />
I thought it was interesting how Johnson brings in poetry (and often alludes to the chants/song of casting aside those evil spirits). He analyzes them, "Eagle in the Land of Oz" and "Rape," both intrinsically and extrinsically. Perhaps both theories should work together, guiding the reader to his/her sense of self and community.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-14100693460646648332015-09-09T16:03:00.003-07:002015-09-09T16:03:58.695-07:00Language and Literature as "Equipment for Living"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyleeI8K6Uun5VFjbloTzH80XiDVWstGXLjSX6I45olLG2yE6itaxMS3uc8EYSNROwxd_5Fdn5WrS9IGKAL6CJtjsB_gpNdx8ydyMUHncDMSyu9tKGZ6KvQHussu1BOBL16YvX7-LuJbo/s1600/8de732bbaec7448b89fbc358219de0e7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyleeI8K6Uun5VFjbloTzH80XiDVWstGXLjSX6I45olLG2yE6itaxMS3uc8EYSNROwxd_5Fdn5WrS9IGKAL6CJtjsB_gpNdx8ydyMUHncDMSyu9tKGZ6KvQHussu1BOBL16YvX7-LuJbo/s320/8de732bbaec7448b89fbc358219de0e7.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Embrace the rhetorical value of life—that’s what I got out of Tilly Warnock’s piece. She argues that reading, writing, language and all aspects of life coincide once we put meaning to it all. Once we looks at our life experiences in a broader scope, we’ll pick out moments with substance that ultimately lead to a better understanding of ourselves as flexible beings. Warnock writes, “With this critical eye and attitude toward action, we understand that our perceptions and actions are changeable, as our words are revisable.” (pp. 47) </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
I can relate to a lot of points Warnock makes in terms of analyzing one's life because I actually did it. I took an autobiography class where I had to review my life and pick a “theme” to write about for 40+ pages. <i>Yikes. </i>It was daunting at first, but once I delved into my topic, my mind was blown. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<i>Wow, my life is like a movie! </i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<i></i><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
Just like Warnok puts is, “By identifying and untangling the threads and by retelling the stories, I can create new patterns and in part rewrite my life.” (pp.45) I could have written 10 different memoirs, all of different themes. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
Writing gives you a reason/motivation to find meaning in your life. The “so what?” Why am I alive? What’s significant in my life? What’s worth reading about? In doing so, writing will helps you walk down certain paths in your life that you never realized would have significance. An excerpt on page 53 says, “Remind me to tell the story I cannot make my life tell.”<span style="color: blue;"> [I love this concept, and would love to do some more exploring on it.]</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I like the excerpt from Burke where he refers to writing and life as “making a man the student of himself.” (48) As students, we’re always encouraged to think outside the box, make observations, and think critically, but we really never have the opportunity to think in such a way for our own life. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
While I enjoyed Warnok’s overall argument of the piece, I found it’s structure and flow a tad jarring, especially in part 2. She abruptly shifts from making claims to talking about her childhood. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I think what she’s trying to do here is prove her point of “equipment for living” by constantly referring to her own life (and in turn, reminding the reader of this point). She often brings up stories of her mother and father and how they’ve shape their own lives while simultaneously shaping her’s (e.g. her mother’s sewing and teaching). </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I’m really intrigued by Warnok’s idea of “revising” one’s life and think it would be a good topic to discuss in class. Isn’t it everyone’s goal to revise their life, whether they’re writing about it or not? And why the word revise and not alternate or adapt? <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">We're constantly trying to change something about ourselves—to be healthier, prettier, stronger etc…</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-41219897911823506322015-09-07T11:59:00.002-07:002015-09-08T07:00:14.407-07:00Bye Bye Pop Pop <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6Qt1i2D6xAL4MSiH0V7cdooWClcDxodAe3N0ZFnRw_LSilfnByEo4I9xZVr6qo3QZKMpIQhg7oLwwC82en2ZqWpeRlxk6Xi1iZld6y7XKPbq0BG_clYl3_NZm-9TFfZ1iZEmtSM-z1I/s1600/DSCN3408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6Qt1i2D6xAL4MSiH0V7cdooWClcDxodAe3N0ZFnRw_LSilfnByEo4I9xZVr6qo3QZKMpIQhg7oLwwC82en2ZqWpeRlxk6Xi1iZld6y7XKPbq0BG_clYl3_NZm-9TFfZ1iZEmtSM-z1I/s400/DSCN3408.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I woke up early that Friday morning, earlier than usual. My feet thumped down the steps and shuffled into the kitchen. I sat down at the table across from mom, poured myself a bowl of cereal and asked, </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“So what are you doing today?”</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“Going to Nana’s, then we’re driving up to see Pop Pop,” mom said sipping a bowl of coffee.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I was home for spring break at the time. It had been several months since I last saw Pop Pop at the nursing home.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“Can I come with you?” </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
Mom paused mid sip and looked up from whatever article she was reading on her iPad.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“I think Pop Pop would love that.” </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I left home knowing that I wouldn’t return the same. Mom told me Pop Pop was getting worse. To be honest, I dreaded seeing him. With each visit another piece of Pop Pop disappeared. This would be no picnic in the park, but you know, it was just one of those things that your gut tells you to do, even though you’re psyche really doesn’t. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
Mom and I pulled to a quaint brick home. Nana and Pop Pop’s house just wasn’t the same without Pop Pop. It was like coming home without your dog there to greet you with slobbery kisses. Although, Nana’s were quite the contrary—her’s were sweet and soft. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
Mom, Nana, and I got in the car and drove to the nursing home. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“You know, it’s time to start thinking about moving out of that big house,” Mom told Nana. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“I don’t want to think about any of that until he’s with Jesus,” Nana said clinging on to her Saint Mary necklace. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
When we entered Morris Hall, the smell of Lysol whirled through the air. We passed several old folk in wheel chairs until we reached the guest room.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“You guys sit tight and I’ll roll him in for you,” the nurse said. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
They sandwiched Pop Pop when he was brought in—Mom on the left, Nana on the right. I sat on the chair farthest away from him. He wasn’t as talkative as the last time, he couldn’t say my name let alone mutter a coherent word.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
They spoke to him like a child, using high pitched, friendly tones. They asked him questions and made observations for him.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
Nana fondled his white hair and said, “A nurse must have given you a haircut! You look so handsome.”</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“Who’s that, Dad? Is that Tess? Your angle girl?” Mom said gesturing towards me. Pop Pop and I stared at each other. There wasn’t a smile on his face or a twinkle in his eye, just void. It was like the wit and personality was sucked right out of him.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I wanted to talk to him, but a lump started forming in my throat and my chin started to tremble<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">. He gasped for breath, like he was trying to say something.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I cracked and burst. I couldn’t bare seeing him like that. I ran outside of the visitor’s room, sat on the floor and bawled. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“Aw, here ya go honey,” a nurse said handing me a box of tissues. Everyone saw me, even some of the patients. They knew why and let me be.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
After about 30 minutes of intense crying, Nana came out and hugged me. Just when I thought I had no more tears left, they came streaming down my face again.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“I know, I know. Let’s hope God takes him soon, right?” Nana said. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I’ve never experienced the looming death of someone so dear to me. And what made it worse was that a little piece of him died every day. Pop Pop was withering away in his own mind. It was sad to think that this once jolly, lively man was now a breathing body. Sure he looked like Pop Pop, but he wasn’t acting like Pop Pop. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I knew I had to go back into that room and say goodbye. This was last time I wanted to see him…alive.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
“Even though he can’t say it or show it, he still loves you,” Mom said when I creeped back into the room. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I kissed his withered forehead and said, “Bye Pop Pop. I love you.” </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
5 months later, I didn’t cry when I got the text from Mom saying that “Pop Pop is dancing with the angels.” I was more so relieved. Nana was relieved because he was with God, Mom was relieved because he wasn't suffering anymore, I was relieved because Pop Pop was physically gone, not metaphorically.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-76303839460305336112015-09-02T17:06:00.001-07:002015-09-02T17:06:52.562-07:003 Points from 'Whose Voice Is It Anyway?' that Blow My Mind:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMzbRhTk71vFOmTTfc5OqR-zW3iMvEoCDHrYqy3-GK9vHGI7FpEx6Lw75toexCZuxiR4fgpnRhk5nC4bXre5rPO8OGWxA81wBfxn6s7F1v2_TQzukZSLo3TUjBOBvNocJzfmLJIoiL9k/s1600/7632c8ec070b8c5d570e6ea4c71887f6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMzbRhTk71vFOmTTfc5OqR-zW3iMvEoCDHrYqy3-GK9vHGI7FpEx6Lw75toexCZuxiR4fgpnRhk5nC4bXre5rPO8OGWxA81wBfxn6s7F1v2_TQzukZSLo3TUjBOBvNocJzfmLJIoiL9k/s1600/7632c8ec070b8c5d570e6ea4c71887f6.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<b>1) “I believe that the finely textured personal and autobiographical writing now emerging in the academy leads us to public and social contexts rather than private and individualistic ones.” (pp.26)</b></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
In high school, I rarely wrote in my “true” voice. It was often mechanical and academic, mainly in the hopes of pleasing my teacher to get a decent grade. I wasn’t taught to write with personality and pizazz, until college…or at least, I didn’t know that I had the ability to do so. Taking personal essay definitely opened doors in terms of how I verbalize my personal thoughts. I didn’t have to write it like a research paper. And then sharing my work with the class opened me up. I was more willing to share my life and discuss it. I find myself writing with the goal to inspire and move whoever so happens to read my piece. I write with the intention that someone is going to read it and that I feel is what the author, Anne Ruggles Gere is trying to say. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<b>2) “…we often consider our students’ voices separate from the particular family history, significant persons, and events that helped to shape them. We forget that ‘authentic’ means relational. To describe a voice as authentic is to put it in relationship to other voices.” (pp. 28)</b></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
Okay, so my voice, just like Anne’s, is similar to my mom’s. Whenever I answer the phone at home, the person on the other end says, “Hi, Valerie?” And then I have to correct them, saying, “No, it’s Tess.” And then they go on this rant about how I sound just like my mother. But it’s true. We’re both loud, opinionated, and enthusiastic. If I had a different, mother, my voice would probably change accordingly. I know as we develop from child to teenager to adult, we learn everything from our parents whether it be gestures, manners, or speech. We constantly mirror other people, even when they aren’t our parents. I find myself constantly changing my voice depending on the person on taking to. For example, I won’t talk to my best friend the same way I talk to my crush. But when we write, who are we specifically talking to? This is a question I’d like to bring up in class. Do you write to someone who inspires you like your mom or dad? Or do you write to more general audience? Because odds are, your voice will change. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<b>3) “I began to understand that writing and reading could be done <i>with </i>people and that pleasure I took in writing a poem or reading a novel could be multiplied by sharing it with others.” (29) </b></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
I use to hate peer editing workshops. I found them useless and degrading at times. I felt exposed and took the critiques quite personally. But it wasn’t until recently that I saw the light. When I took an autobiography class last year I<i> wanted </i>to have my writing workshopped. I cared about my memoire more than any other writing assignment class like in argument, or poverty, or fiction. Sharing my life was more worthwhile because let’s face it, I’m human, we’re all human and we love to talk about ourselves and hear what people have to say about it. </div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-604148729346083519.post-23814067112329788652015-08-31T05:14:00.003-07:002015-08-31T06:07:26.116-07:00Writing and Healing: An Introduction<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">PART ONE - Trauma, Writing, and Healing</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDssTNmMpWguskmv1kPtGGtsAJidVW7hh5WbT2Zjb8nZM54I9Bvp43oZn44oUZu-esY1aLxRApJWv6PsdfqM75cebPtlw9o8QkxLvNhj7tJ00M8iAFggMwnWn9dR2YoC-s6vid6JAd2Y/s1600/ernest_hemingway2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDssTNmMpWguskmv1kPtGGtsAJidVW7hh5WbT2Zjb8nZM54I9Bvp43oZn44oUZu-esY1aLxRApJWv6PsdfqM75cebPtlw9o8QkxLvNhj7tJ00M8iAFggMwnWn9dR2YoC-s6vid6JAd2Y/s320/ernest_hemingway2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ernest Hemingway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWvkRNAT2bHxi6JJkpFHc0UlemeaD-QzMpMlrqXYh-IPhtRz5HgnTdoO1wbUGRVBKHcpu1Yc8MF0Etm8GIJ2rnmtxkiUUqfa6-UgMn9jOMXjb8fZb18wP48g3LxsfWIdhGAYUVF38j44/s1600/kurt-cobain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWvkRNAT2bHxi6JJkpFHc0UlemeaD-QzMpMlrqXYh-IPhtRz5HgnTdoO1wbUGRVBKHcpu1Yc8MF0Etm8GIJ2rnmtxkiUUqfa6-UgMn9jOMXjb8fZb18wP48g3LxsfWIdhGAYUVF38j44/s320/kurt-cobain.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kurt Cobain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<br />
My mom is a therapist, and she believes that the most talented of artists are tortured souls: Kurt Cobain, Sylvia Plath, Ernest Hemingway, and Vincent Van Gogh, just to name a few. I never really knew what she meant by that; it was just another psycho-analytical tidbit she’d bring up in conversation (and she had/has a lot of them). At the time, I didn’t fully understand the concept of a tortured soul, because I never witnessed or experienced trauma firsthand. The only intense pain or distress I’ve gone through was getting my braces. Eventually, I experienced trauma through other mediums—survivor movies, news reports on 9/11, recounts of the Holocaust like Elie Wiesel’s <i>Night</i>. By now, I have a pretty good idea what it’s like to have your soul tortured. Whatever happened to that soul, whether it was abuse, death, or war, is beyond my perception, but watching and reading about it definitely helped me gain a new perspective. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
(NOTE: If you really want those mirror neurons to fire, then I suggest you watch Angelia Jolie’s <i>Unbroken</i>.)</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
I’ve never experience traumas listed in the book. I was never abused, witnessed a murder, or any sort life-changing occurrence like that. I can write to heal minor trauma’s like my grandfather’s death or the loss of a once close friend. So I guess I’ll let this little paragraph serve as a warning that I’ll write this from an outsider’s perspective, not a victim’s. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
There is so much to say about this introduction, so many different angles to write about and discuss. I wish I could cover it all! But, let’s face it, that would take up a lot of my time and yours, so I’ll just cut to the chase and make both our lives a little easier.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Anderson and MacCurdy bring up the term “culture consciousness,” (pp. 2) and I like to think that as a cultural support group of sorts. If we weren’t “conscious” of innocent teenage rapes, or white cops shooting black teenagers, then no one would ever put the energy into helping, let alone understanding, the cause. According to the text, those who suffer from PTSD feel like they have to stay silent, because “they fear that others will be broken” (pp.4). Just before the official PTSD diagnosis, Vietnam veterans, as well as those of previous wars, came back home to “a culture that could not or would not understand or accept them…” (pp. 3). Wow, just image. No one there to feed off your suffering and give you a consoling bear hug. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
One of the many interesting points I got out if this text was that you can’t recover from trauma by yourself. It’s down right impossible. Humans are social creatures and if we can’t emit a little of our pain to others then of course we’ll feel empty. Ergo, tortured soul. Ergo, why we need therapists (thanks mom). But! “Silence is easier than confrontation,” Anderson and MacCurdy explain. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
(NOTE: From now on, I’ll make life even more easier for us and refer to the authors of this book as And and Mac…or Mac and And…or Mac and Cheese.) </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
It takes less energy to mope and grieve and suffer internally than it is to just come and say it. Which is why writing is such an almighty way to heal. The only person you have to confront, is yourself (or if you want to get literal, your brain—specifically the hippocampus). </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Eventually, And and Mac mention, “re-externalizing the event,” (pp. 6) a term coined by a clinical professor at Yale. In short, it means to transfer your trauma from brain to pencil to paper (or from brain to mouth). Just get it out in the open. Isn’t that what writing is all about?</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
When you’re alone, you’re the only person who can comfort you. As Mac and Cheese put it, to heal is a “change from a singular self, frozen in time by a moment of unspeakable experience, to a more fluid, more narratively able, more socially integrated self.” (pp. 7) We can’t control the past, but we can write about it. Writing, in a sense, is a way to control the mind (wow, I’ve never thought of it that way). </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
But you know what really boggles my mind? The fact that Freud wasn’t mentioned sooner! It took And and Mac nine whole pages to praise his “seduction theory,” a notion that the origin of women’s psychotic breakdowns (hysterics) was from sexual abuse (pp. 9). He was just so ahead of his time that he couldn’t convince his colleagues, let alone himself, that there was so much abuse in their world. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
And this brings me back to my take on trauma: our world is a bag of shit. Some of us are so clueless. We like to stay comfortable in our “normal,” honky-dory lives, where everything is made of cashmere, and smells like Play-Doh. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Ignorance is bliss. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
BUT!</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Ignorance is also isolating. I think it’s SO important that we read about traumatic events whether it’s in the first or second person. We’re not only helping someone recover, but we’re also connecting as a human race. Mac and Cheese preach it themselves, “we are all survivors” (pp.5)<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
PART TWO - The Struggle for the Self<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZkFz6ch1hdVJQ1KtTbWzGiXdhCQPT3bKEUdzM5jHZW7cVPWlnlM3KSuzU4Kg9xuB6aYpgDBUlpDZKssGogCXCOXyKUDG46_lbedAfkLztMLfYleLA9pb-crpWIUxIt-YTfZJEYN6SPg/s1600/sigmund-freud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZkFz6ch1hdVJQ1KtTbWzGiXdhCQPT3bKEUdzM5jHZW7cVPWlnlM3KSuzU4Kg9xuB6aYpgDBUlpDZKssGogCXCOXyKUDG46_lbedAfkLztMLfYleLA9pb-crpWIUxIt-YTfZJEYN6SPg/s320/sigmund-freud.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sigmund Freud</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJpu9IeyPV39tNkcM2YzEq8R5KH4leWYfVESOEqFJiw6_wTP1zTb_P7TZYxmPRCi83ea9ott-UBf1H0TWRnrzS2NPhQ14wQzE7duJhs6GJiYP3i-cooDCShTIMxo84UmEAcOzakWvYieo/s1600/Back-To-Godhead-Aristotle-and-His-Teachings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJpu9IeyPV39tNkcM2YzEq8R5KH4leWYfVESOEqFJiw6_wTP1zTb_P7TZYxmPRCi83ea9ott-UBf1H0TWRnrzS2NPhQ14wQzE7duJhs6GJiYP3i-cooDCShTIMxo84UmEAcOzakWvYieo/s320/Back-To-Godhead-Aristotle-and-His-Teachings.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aristotle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Who knew that writing about yourself and your troubles was tabooed way back when. It was considered “dangerous,” it soiled our innocent little minds of the ideal world. That’s why I’m so grateful for all those dudes who thought, “Our world isn’t perfect, let’s examine it’s flaws and analyze, maybe even fix, all the stuff that people don’t even want to think about.” </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
So let me take a moment to thank Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Ben Franklin, Freud…you get the idea. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Kathleen Pfeiffer and David Bartholomae both agree that writing from a personal standpoint is down right catastrophic. It’s like they think students writing about their parents divorce would end the world. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Boy…people need to learn to CHILL OUT. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
I took a class last semester called Queer France, and we it pretty much speaks for itself. We read and studied gay literature and personal essays (in French, of course). But it was interesting to think that the first book published about a gay character was in 1902. It’s called <i>L’</i> <i>immoralist </i>if you ever want to read it. The author was most likely gay, but he had to make his novel fiction so he wasn’t shunned from society. So there’s a good example for ya. Imagine for all those years, being secretly gay and not even being able to express or write about it. They had to live with their “condition” in absolute silence. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Thankfully the human race evolves in ideas and learns to accept change (albeit at snail pace, but at least we make an effort). </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
And and Mac say that, “students’ public and private lives are inextricably connected,” (pp.13) and I take that to mean that we all share similar life experiences, good and bad. If we get to share that in the classroom and discuss it, I’m sure it has a resounding effect. I’ve learned in some of my past writing classes that other students, even professors, have had a grandparent with Alzheimer’s. Knowing that kind of made me feel less alone. There’s someone else out there feeling the same exact way you way, well, maybe not <i>exact, </i>we’re all unique snowflakes, aren’t we? </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Mac and And write that “teachers find themselves more and more alienated from students who seem less and less attentive and more resistant to the increasingly abstract benefits of academic literacy…” (pp. 13). That reminds me of english class, having to compare <i>Romeo and Juliet</i> to<i> Wuthering Heights</i>. Or writing about the significance of that stupid green light in <i>The Great Gatsby</i>. It’s assignments like those that made me dread literature. Finding the themes, motifs, and symbols was so arbitrary to my appreciation of the text. I’d much rather relate <i>The Catcher in the Rye </i>to my personal life. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Side story: I’m an avid reader (or was, it’s hard to be a book worm in college). When I read classics for my own enjoyment, I got more out the book than I ever would in an english class, because I didn’t look for the underlying message or theme, I just read as person looking in and relating to the characters. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
“Write what you know,” is something almost every writing professor has told me. If you write from personal experience, the text is more convincing and tangible (even with fiction!). And and Mac say that “the public and the private are essential components of the professional text.” (pp.14). So why don’t we read biographies and non-fiction novels in english class then? I think real life is more compelling than fictional, but I guess that has to do with past school administrations thinking personal texts were dangerous for students. Maybe I’ll write Obama a letter asking him to change the schooling system from reading classic fiction to classic non-fiction. Oooo, that would be awesome! </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Whenever I read something from the first person, I’m in the author’s (or character’s) shoes. And I think it’s nice, therapeutic even, when you can find a bit of yourself in someone else, real or not. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
I took an autobiography class last semester, and it was probably the milestone of all writing classes I’ve taken here at IC. I basically looked and analyzed my life, like I would a boing old piece of literature from high school. But it had more of an impact on me because it was MY life.</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
And that point can help me segue to…<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
PART THREE - Shape and Substance of <i>Writing and Healing: Toward an Informed Practice</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2D3d2USpW5jouwRXXtDgGsPOc9cM-F0DJtc8kBDNyMj-9wDsRvnLIv7tdBZdrQWnIEHula-gCNOGcK2oArcn01L0xTEbOFy6ZLRkZejlcF-M262xe8tHEFM2t0t0u8GEwAck-2Kaq1I/s1600/22660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2D3d2USpW5jouwRXXtDgGsPOc9cM-F0DJtc8kBDNyMj-9wDsRvnLIv7tdBZdrQWnIEHula-gCNOGcK2oArcn01L0xTEbOFy6ZLRkZejlcF-M262xe8tHEFM2t0t0u8GEwAck-2Kaq1I/s320/22660.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Child Called "It" by Dave Pelzer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwchENE9otcFzSB-zXNe7D0gigEbqoqEYfXpxnqiY5Wx-6vWUm7wJjkN2NcWSLPXd0fIdn5IfaHapnkQjw1HuJB1-ackflAqI7SHV0f3iW6aHOl8X1Ngzqv432fTPZIHiFVRev2A-2Uyw/s1600/9780141038995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwchENE9otcFzSB-zXNe7D0gigEbqoqEYfXpxnqiY5Wx-6vWUm7wJjkN2NcWSLPXd0fIdn5IfaHapnkQjw1HuJB1-ackflAqI7SHV0f3iW6aHOl8X1Ngzqv432fTPZIHiFVRev2A-2Uyw/s320/9780141038995.jpg" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Night by Elie Wiesel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Here, Mac and And start to talk about the contents and essays of this book. And I know I’m not ever going to be teacher, but I think it’s a good life skill to be able to meditate on your thoughts in the form of the written word. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
They say that teachers “discover that ‘diaries’ help students become stronger, more engaged readers and that they help students explore subjects that are of real and lasting importance to their lives.” (pp. 18) </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
BINGO! So Obama better get to work and turn english class into biography class. I bet it would make bullying decrease tenfold. </div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Anything in this post is fair game for discussion in class on Tuesday. But here are some points I think might be cool to talk about:</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<b>Films and books about trauma: are they just as healing as writing about it? How do you connect with them? How do they make you feel? What book/movie about a traumatic was most moving and emotional for you? </b></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<b>Should the english curriculum in high schools include biographies/autobiographies? For example, <i>Night </i>by Elie Wiesel. Would students inadvertently “heal” on their own just by reading about another’s suffering? </b></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
<b>Is it more fun/enjoyable to right about yourself or someone else? If you’ve ever written about a traumatic experience, how did you feel before, during, and after writing it? Did you ever have a diary? </b></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px; min-height: 13px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08467062081931133113noreply@blogger.com1