Start again

Rachel Tran got me to start blogging again. I don't have much to say right now but I just wanted to write a post just to remind myself that I should start blogging.

On the upside, Rachel Tran and I are roomies! YAY! :D

Depression

It hurts me to think that I have no future.

That my dreams are done.

That there is somebody whose dreams are remembered.

Why me?

Why must I be tortured?

Why must I be scarred?

Why must I be so depressed in life?

What have I done to deserve this?

Who have I sinned against?

Why am I being tortured?

Where did it all begin?

When will the pain proceed away from me?

Guess for now I'll just be mourning.

Because when you are in my shoes, you will never smile.

Agony

Every time I stare at the moon,

I see a sad girl.

Every time I stare out at the ocean,

I see a lost girl trying to find her way back home.

Every time I sit in my room,

I hear the cries of my own soul.

Every time I see a child in need,

I see my heart broken even more.

And every time I talk,

I hear the moans of a dying child.

What must one do when dreams are crashed in front of you?

What must one do when you see the one you love gone forever?

What must one do when nothing is going right?

When depression is at its all-time high

when nothing is going right

when you are not loved

when nobody cares for you.

What must I do when my life is in pain and agony

You can mend my broken heart no matter how much you try

but i will forever be scarred.

No matter what you try to do

I will open these wounds

I will tear up the shield

I will strip any means of protection

Call me selfish

call me annoying

call me reckless

call me crazy

But when nothing is going right

you will see me in the reflection of your mirror

and then you will say

I was right.

Desolation

Sometimes, just sometimes, I think to myself the thoughts of depression, of suicide. I know it's ridiculous but I can't help myself especially with what is happening now. For years, I have been so confident in my grades and I had a strong bond with my teachers. This year, everything is so different. Different environments, extreme stress, and just plain different in my opinion. I feel like I was not ready to take on the challenge because no matter how much I try, no matter how much I put my best foot, it still is not enough.

For example, for my AP biology exam, I studied EVERYTHING the night before and I mean everything. All the notes, all the tests, all the lectures. I studied from 5-2 a.m. and woke up at 4:00 a.m. to study more; until 7:00 a.m. to be exact. Now let's calculate. That's exactly 12 hours. 12 hours!?!?!? NONSTOP. And for what grade? Yes, a C+. My grade went from a A- to a B+ and I am pretty sure how much more points are added, it will stay at a B+. And all my other classes. My grades decreased to A's or A-'s; right on the borderline. I have a strong disappointment in myself.

Each class, I feel like I am slipping no matter how much I focus on the material. For my favorite class in the entire world, ap biology, i am slipping bad and i understand the material but it's just not enough or not correct. I really don't know. With Apush, I study day and night, go through countless packets, listen to Castro day and nigh on my Ipod but it is just not enough. Every essay, every test, never increases a B. I don't understand. For english, I am losing my style in writing. I used to write so well; enunciation, style, and development. Everything was great in the past but then that one day I learned that I basically write NONSENSE. But I take the time to read my essays, to research. Guess 6 hours is not enough to write an essay.

The only class I am really confident is actually math. I started slipping in the middle of the semester but it all worked out as I built the grade from 82% to now 95%. It took time but I am proud. Just that class though.

I wonder what 2nd semester will be like. I am really really really unconfident in myself and I forever will be. However, I am going to try and try and try. But frankly, it is never enough. I am sorry for the people I have disappointed.

:(((

Kessler response #3

Cultural Considerations

“The loveliest faces are to be seen by moonlight, when one sees half with the eye and half with the fancy.” Persian proverbs are among the only figures of speech in my ethnic group and even family. Every time I feel lethargic or hopeless, my mother pummels me with Persian proverbs meant to soothe the heart and brain. Living in Iran, one must memorize every proverb written because it so common in the language. It is not slang nor a figure of speech that is whipped or tormented throughout centuries. Proverbs are held dear to every Middle Easterner and it is the mother language that unifies us no matter what country we come from. They may seem hackneyed to the naked eye but proverbs have a tendency to appear in a conversation. My mother has not lived a day without expressing a new proverb or rekindling the old ones. One of her favorites is “whatever is in the heart will come up to the tongue” because it is kind of her way of saying think before you speak. Even to this day, my family depends on the elation and accuracy of the proverbs to guide them through their lives. This phenomena only applies to my culture because Persian proverbs are not taught in schools. They are passed down from generation to generation and only the pure Middle Easterner’s vein carries the blood of unification. Since the dawn of Mesopotamia, the people have been scattered all around the world. They say that the only way to coalesce them is to utter a Persian proverb!

I use Persian proverbs at home and at family gatherings but I can not seem to teach nor discuss them with my fellow peers outside of my culture. Sometimes, I hesitate to say a Persian proverb because it might offend somebody. When I first moved to the United States, I was not aware of the fact that people did not understand my language. In my sixth grade English class, my teacher had invited a motivational speaker to talk about a new program offered in only elementary schools called D.A.R.E. This program educated children about drugs and how they can lead to hazardous problems. He told us that we should confide in our teachers if we ever get involved in a situation that seems threatening or confusing. Haphazardly, I raised my pale and scrawny arm in the air. The gentleman called on me and I said, “If the teacher be corrupt, the world will be corrupt.” The students, the gentleman, and the teacher stared at me; but my teacher kindly changed the subject. After class, she called me to her desk and told me that she was very offended at the fact that I was calling her a “bad teacher.” It was not my intention to direct the focus on on her or anybody else in the class. My only remark was that teachers are the foundation of the society; they provide education, guidance, and a parent relationship with the student. When a teacher is unethical, students will not receive the proper education and counsel. It was not my forethought to attack her; I was simply trying to make a point regarding the importance of teachers in a student’s life. This incident taught me to not utter a Persian proverb in public again because people did not relate to them.

The mysterious light

Calm and serene, it stands on the table waiting anxiously to be lit. Its soft body mesmerizes the dark night and waits to be cherished. It is the light of the day and the creator of possibilities. The supple sound from the crackle of the fire brightens the darkest hour and brings forth the hallelujah chorus. Crack, crack, crack, while the wind blows through it. Hot and mysterious, it holds a veil of truth behind its hind sparkle. The heat is a danger, causing the wax to trickle slowly down its body. Every touch leaves a mark and every light leaves an art. It reaches towards the stars; waiting relentlessly while its body melts away. Slowly but surely, it will die just like any other creature. No meaning, no happiness, just the fact that it is lit brings it one step closer to elimination. One blow from the wind tames the fire; a yellow and blue hue all mixed to form the perfect detonation. The flame vanishes away into the night and leaves behind a Genie's wish. Smoke leaves the premises and dissolves in the air, hoping to disperse throughout the room. Luckily, the air hugs the smoke like a child in its mother's arms and the candle is forever gone with the wind. The mysterious light will await its next adventure by night time.

Narrative essays

When an author writes a narrative essay, he or she is telling a story. Narrative essays are told from a point of view, often the writer's, so there is sensory details that is added within the story in order to get the reader involved in the sequence of the story. The narrative essay makes a point and that point is often told in the opening sentence but can also be found in the concluding paragraph.

Narrative essays are usually uncensored and uncut. This means that the author has the right to explain any event in his/her lifetime without being limited to one subject. The reader can actually relate to the author's words because he/she is describing a similar story. When I am reading a narrative essay of a fellow classmates, I feel as if a voice is speaking to me. The story takes on a different tone and my voice is no longer mine! I can read the pain in the story, the truth, and the feelings that jump out of the page. Each narrative essay is different because it describes a different story related to the author. One of the examples of a narrative essay is Thirty- Eight Who Saw Murder Didn't Call the Police. In this narration, the reader can quickly sympathize with Miss. Genovese, the victim. The screams, jeers, and complaints of a woman being slain in the streets is ignored on the night of March 14, 1964. It is shocking how thirty-eight individuals living in the apartments heard a woman screaming in the streets and yet disregarded her cry for help. The assailant approached her approximately three times in an hour period and murdered her fatally. There were numerous lights that went on when she first screamed but no neighbor cared to even call the police. A man threatened the assailant to leave her alone the first time but, he came back again to stab her; it was 3:20 a.m. It was 3:50 a.m. by the time the police received their first call from a man who was a neighbor of Miss Genovese, the victim in this crime. In two minutes, the police were at the scene. It is very mind boggling how an incident could have been prevented in a matter of minutes rather than waiting for about half an hour!

The second example and personally my favorite is the Indian Education. In this narration, Sherman describes his childhood from the first grade and beyond. The reader can see that Sherman is not afraid of being shunned from his society. He explains his struggles whether other people will like it or no. Sherman understands a child's pain while growing up and he uses this lesson to teach children to have their own voice. Life offers many hazardous roads along the way, but Sherman realizes that he must take control of his life no matter what happens. For many generations, Indians have been persecuted for their beliefs and actions. Their customs and traditions are different from us but aren’t we all different? Sherman Alexi shares his childhood experiences from the first grade all the way to high school and beyond. He describes the relationships with his teachers and friends. Every grade, the reader listens to Sherman’s pains and what he went through during his lifetime. Feeling tormented and abused by his friends in the first grade; his teacher accusing him of being an “Indian” as if it is a sin; and no freedom of expression in the third grade. As he gets older, Sherman learns of the miseries taking place in his life from his father drinking vodka everyday to his mother trying to finish quilts. Finally, in the fifth grade he finds comfort in basketball and drugs in his friend’s possession. Through middle school, he shares his story of meeting girls and kissing them for the first time. While at a school dance, a “Chicano” tells him that he is just like all the other Indian kids: “They start drinking real young.” Sherman explains, “sharing dark skin doesn’t necessarily make two men brothers.” After his high school graduation, Sherman receives honors from the school and looks forward to his future. However his former classmates look forward to drinking and partying for the rest of their lives.

Narration is a very important form of writing because it allows the author to take control; no censorship and no guard. The author expresses his feelings and is not afraid to spill out any emotions, just like real and raw writer.