Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Category: School

  • Sounds of Silence…

    My MP3 player broke on the way to school on Wednesday, which is kind of sucky. I tried to reset it, it said: Reinstall Firmware. So I brought it home and tried to reinstall it’s programs, but then it said: internal hardware problem… which I’m not sure what that means. Kind of a light rattle in there now, means something came loose I imagine.

    So, my ride to school will be a lot less music driven. Means I’ll have to pay attention to the cars, birds and sky.

    I have my first Algebra test of the semester today, and boy am I unsure of myself. Graphing, ordered pairs, lines, slope of a line… Yeah, I can see where this will come in handy in the real world.

  • Becoming a Woman

    The growth of her breasts and the coming of her “monthly visitor” are significant changes in a woman, but they are not the crowning moment of womanhood.

    It’s not sex, any boy or girl can have sex foolishly, sloppily, mistakenly. Are there fifty year old girls? Yes, and 50 year old boys out number them three to one.

    Where is the divining line of womanhood? It’s when they stand up and say “I’m the same as you; no less, no different. My worth is your worth and my rights are your rights; my destiny is my own to make.”

    A woman is a woman when they accept who they are and stoically steer their own course.

  • Mother's Milk

    My first essay this semester was entitled Mother’s Milk, I had to find animal symbolism in the story “A White Heron”. The professors comments were: I LOVE (underlined twice) this interpretation. You might also see the cow as the opportunist that Sylvia is not.
    To read the short story: go to http://www.public.coe.edu/~theller/soj/awh/heron.htm

    My essay follows:

    Mother’s Milk

    (Animal Symbolism in A White Heron)

    Though not the white heron, the heroine or villain, the cow in the story; A White Heron, plays an important part nonetheless. Introduced in the first paragraph as a “plodding, dilatory provoking creature…” it represents in this story hope in an otherwise struggle for life.

    Almost every night of the summer, Sylvia or her grandmother would have to search for the cow that had hidden itself far from home; the continued search for continued sustenance. The cow, like the end of any journey, keeps itself hidden by learning to silence the bell, making the search and the journey home that much longer. Never even so much as a Moo until your patience is spent, that’s the way with all life, the cow and its milk support these two. However, once you find it the cow strolls steadily along, as if the game were fun, but now its time for the comforts of home.

    When first approached by the stranger and his whistle, she abandons the cow to its own fate; fear often makes us abandon our hope. One out of the ordinary whistle, not the friendly love song of the bird, but a determined whistle of a man (she says boy). Bring the cow and the man home together, meaning the man brings home the bacon (OK, no pigs in the story, but I had to).

    Even after falling in love with the villain the cow remains a central character, the villain (as I choose to view him) and Sylvia bring the cow back together. Wonderfully symbolic is that she “smiled with pleasure” driving the cow home together, running into the spot where just the night before she had been frozen in terror. Terror is gone now replaced by the ease at which her livelihood is brought home with the aid of the man.

    The cow, a symbol of hope and sustenance, searched for and brought home each night. The end of each days journey, and made that much sweeter with a man at your side. The man enters the picture, but the cow (hope) still hides each night in bushes far away, waiting only for us to seek it. Not the central character, but it helps us to make the $10 that much of a sweeter reward, knowing that each days struggle would perhaps lessen a bit. “Many a night Sylvia heard the echo of his whistle haunting the pasture path as she came home with the loitering cow.” Even after the man leaves, hope remains, but we have to journey for it and make it home.

  • Literary Distractions

    I have a lot to read, short stories galore from ENG 112, and World Literature II and I love it. The problem? I keep seeing other stories in the book that I want to read – Faulkner, Morrison, Hawthorne, Le Guin… so very many. I get distracted in stories not on my syllabus, which is bad.
    I’m supposed to write synopses on what I’ve been told to read, but I really want to write this or that or expound on this theory.

    Seeing the story Where Are You Going – Oates, I see a story of the devil tempting the innocent girl with adventure, rhyme and rock and roll music. But, my first paper has to be about animal symbolism so I choose the story: A White Heron – Jewett and wrote about the cow (I am from Wisconsin you know).

    Reading and writing is keeping me from video gaming, which is probably good, but a little annoying as well.

  • Kick of the past

    Self Defense class, first actual learning. We learned how to stand, hold our hands, pay attention and pivot. I’m sore in places I didn’t know I had places, but I know it was a great workout which pleases me.

    The instructor went on to show us a kick, and the kick triggered something in my mind. He showed us the kick again, but this time I saw someone else kicking a figure from my past, my childhood…

    Bruce was the toughest kid I ever knew, his nickname was Tiny, and unlike most people with that moniker he was in shape. I don’t know that he participated in sports or anything, but he loved karate and the martial arts. The kick was something I had seen him do often enough, not to any actual people, but just to show me he could perhaps. A quick stab of his leg into the air and back again almost quicker than the eye could see.

    I wasn’t the kind of kid to go out looking for fights, and I don’t recall Bruce that way either, but if I were ever to be faced with one, I had hoped he would be at my side. Not for the kick, but because he was that kind of friend-loyal and true.

    When my Mom was dying, it was Bruce to whom I sent money for groceries for her. It was Bruce who I called to see if I should go home.

    Some people are like that, good people from the time they are little kids and into adulthood. True friends last that lifetime, beyond states, throughout history, beyond fathers and mothers… true friends are a treasure.

  • For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

    For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn. – Hemingway

    As short stories go, they don’t get much shorter. This short story was presented to class yesterday.

    Could it be that the wanna be grandmother, hearing that an important announcement was to be made by the newlyweds puchased the shoes? Only to discover the announcement was they were buying a house?

    Or is it the father selling the shoes, because his baby died. The mother is still to distraught and connected to the shoes and cannot bear to let them go.

    Maybe you have your own idea of where the story should go.

  • Living to learn again…

    My classes are all sorted out now, I requested special permission to attend ENG 252 (world literature) from the English department, who was happy to accomodate. ENG 252 is completely virtual, but my instructor is my professor from last semester, so it should be fine.

    My first English class (ENG 112) was a lot of fun, I think I will enjoy my new instructor. He truly kept my interest, and was funny to boot! He wants me to keep a journal, a hand written journal, which gets on my nerves, but we’ll see what we can do.

    Math is an hour away, but it too should be fine.

  • Obstacles in time

    Today, January 9th, 2006 would have been my mothers 56th birthday. But, she’s dead, so it’s not. Today is the first day of classes for the second semester, you may remember that the last day of classes for last semester was my birthday, December 6th. Mom manages to screw things up even when she’s dead.

    Yesterday the school calls to tell me my first class of the day, Speech, is cancelled due to not enough students. They didn’t know this until yesterday? A Sunday? At 4:00 p.m.? Now what? Well, I have to find a replacement class, as I have to have a certain amount of credits each semester.

    The cats know somethings up, they are all skittish this morning… why did that alarm go off again Daddy? They’ll be happy when I open the windows, it’s gonna be 65 today… must suck to live in Wisconsin.

  • Spinning Wheels

    I’ve got a bike
    You can ride it if you like
    It’s got a basket
    A Bell that rings
    And things that make it look good….

    Pink Floyd

    Ok, no bell, no basket… but I do have a working bike again!!!! woo hoo!!!

  • The Return of the Beast

    Donna M. and Chris S. sent me an unusual gift….

    They said it was coming, and I assumed: cookies (love peanut butter cookies, feel free to send some), or World Of Warcraft subscription card or even a comic book….

    The UPS guy arrived, knocked at the door to be sure someone was home and then went to get my package. He brought the cart out, the cart? That’s a lot of cookies or comics… wait… maybe they sent me Spiderman from work… Nope, he discards the cart and just lifts the box… its huge what the hell is it? As he gets closer I see the name brand on the box: Insignia.

    “They bought me a phqn TV?” I exclaim… and then quickly say “I’m sorry, please excuse my language…”

    “No problem, you must have some nice friends.” He says.

    You have no idea… I have the best of friends. Thank you to Donna and Chris… such weirdo’s.