2/08/2011
e-journal #2 (2/10)
Write your own “B page” for English 200, just as Hughes did for his college English course sixty years ago. I invite you to be as open and creative as possible in your response. Bring a hard copy of this assignment to the next class… we will be using them in an activity. (Due 2/10)
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I am eighteen years old, and yet not a day goes by that I put myself first. I am always concerned more about when I get to see my brother, Michael, and my father and when we can be together just the three of us. It’s been six years since my mother passed away because of breast cancer, and not a day goes by when I think of her and what she did for me. If she was still alive today, then I hope she knows how much I loved her as much as she loved my brother, my father, and me. Our mother was the glue for our family, and in many ways she still is to this day, as the values and principles have stayed with me forever.
ReplyDeleteCurrently though, I work two jobs: coaching a youth basketball team as the assistant, and working at my synagogue teaching children how to read Hebrew, the proper Jewish ideologies, and helping groom children into young adolescents. I have been working at my synagogue since I was thirteen, nearly six years now, and I cannot picture another thing that I would love to do more.
That is why I have decided to become a teacher: for the experience that I love with children and the gift of passing knowledge from one generation to the next. My mother was also a teacher, so it gives me added inspiration to become one, especially since she was an excellent teacher. While it hurts not to have her see all of the things that I have accomplished, I know that if she were here she would be proud of what I have done to become diligent, honorable, and respectful. That is a day in my life.
“The instructor said
ReplyDeleteGo home and write
A page tonight
And let that page come out of you---
Then it will be true.”
Is it really that easy?
I am 18, Haitian, and live in Queens, NY
I went to three different elementary schools, three middle schools and two high schools and
Now college – I’ve come a long way
I am one of many Haitian people in this diverse place called New York City
I walk two blocks to the ave, get on the Q4, take it to linden, walk three more blocks, go
Through the front door of my house, go to my room, sit on the floor and write this page:
It’s not easy to portray myself to you
At 18, who am I really?
Haitians are stereotyped as dirty, smelly, loud and ugly
Am I dirty? I take showers
Do I stink? I wear deodorant
Am I loud? I speak softly
Am I ugly? …
I guess that’s for you to decide
But then who really says what beauty is?
Isn’t it in the eye of the beholder, but what does that even mean?
Whoever beholds me now has an undeniable right to judge me?
What is this world that I live in?
Where one is judged by premeditated assumptions enforced by TV.
Or stereotyped by people who don’t know any better (followers)
Or ostracized for what they look like outwardly,
Because they don’t dress like Kanye West or look like Kim Kardashien
Why not instead judge me on what I know and the morals I hold sacred.
Or how about just don’t judge me at all?
Yea…. Why not,
Just not,
Judge
I am 18, Haitian, and live in Queens, NY
In my English class, the professor instructed that I go home and write a paper. He said that the paper must come from me or else it won’t be true.
ReplyDeleteBut let’s face it; is it really that easy to make a paper come out of you and be true?
I am nineteen years old and was born in Irving Texas.
I am a proud Muslim and I like to strive for success
After two years my parents divorced and my mom and
I moved to Queens New York.
My parents are originally from Guyana which is known
As the land of Six people.
In this modern world, my religion Islam, is misunderstood.
They say that the people of this religion oppress their woman.
But let me tell you something, oppression is the opposite of what they do
People say us woman are oppressed because of the headscarf we wear.
But the headscarf symbolizes so much more, and oppression is not one of them.
I am nineteen years old and I am proud to be a muslim woman.
The headscarf I wear symbolizes freedom, modesty, a commitment to piety, and worshipping Allah (God).
You might be thinking that I was forced to put on this scarf, but let me inform you
That I wear this headscarf because I want to. My god tells the believing woman to cover themselves and to be modest. It is up to the woman to choose to wear it or not.
I am nineteen years old and I am proud to a Muslim woman.
Let me ask you a question, Have you ever seen a picture of Mary the mother of Jesus without a scarf covering her head? I think not.
You may say that my religion oppress their woman.
I will prove to you that they do not.
In this country woman had to fight for their basic rights to education, property rights
Voting, guardian of their children.
But in my religion all of these rights are already granted for its woman.
I am allowed to get an education, and to work, and the money I earn is mines and no else.
I am nineteen years old and I am a proud American Muslim woman.
I am a human being. I do things just like you do. The only difference is that I cover my head.
Writing this paper helped answer my question that I can actually write a paper and make it come from myself making it true.
Our Professor said,
ReplyDeleteRead “Theme for English B “
And write a page and let
It flow out of you
Then write it in E-journal
It’s not as easy as it seems
I have all my problems
And I don’t remember my dreams
As I got on train,
I open my book and start reading.
When I was done,
I had no idea what to write.
I am nineteen but don’t get fooled by my age, I am wiser then I look.
I grew up in small town in Istanbul Turkey, where people actually help one another.
I remember the neighborly visits, cups of coffee, and small Turkish delight.
Then a new chapter opened in life
I moved to New York
As I looked around the big building, people and the lives of people,
I was scared; this was something I wasn’t used too
As I looked at people’s eyes I felt as if they hid secrets from one another
Maybe that is the reason why I want to become a psychiatrist,
Help people and understand the human behavior
I am a Muslim and I am proud to be a Muslim woman.
Now our day’s people look down upon Muslim people.
They have so many ideas about us.
Well if you look around everyone have ideas on one another yet they still remain quiet.
They always said always be scared of the ones that are quiet.
Sometimes it isn’t good to remain quiet, because since the more quiet you are the more people take advantage of you.
I guess that’s how we learn..
The more you fall
The faster you learn to stand up.
My professor told me,
ReplyDeleteto go read a poem called “Theme for English B” by Langston Hughes
In addition to this he told me to write my own poem as if I was Hughes
He told me to take some time and digest the poem
then let my thoughts flow on to a paper
I wonder if it is really easy to write s if I was another person?
I am an eighteen year old student.
I attend school at York College in Jamaica, New York.
But I live in long Island.
On a regular day a simple trip to queens would be about fifteen to twenty minutes,
Depending on how fast I drive
In traffic it takes about an hour give or take less. The traffic is very frustrating I used to get so tired and so annoyed.
I have actually learned to flow with the traffic and learned to have patients; also I listen to music and sing as I go to make it a little more pleasurable for myself.
As I watch some of the other drivers that I share a road with rush in to the other lane because they get so frustrated with the traffic I laugh because I know they will not get any father then me.
I am a Christian Pakistani girl.
I am proud of what I am and I always embrace it.
I love who and how I am.
If I could change one thing about myself it would be to not procrastinate as much as I do.
Many people judge me the first time they see me, but you know what they say don’t judge a book by its cover. This is completely true you never know what the book my hold if you don’t take the time to open it.
My professor told me,
to go read a poem called “Theme for English B” by Langston Hughes
In addition to this he told me to write my own poem as if I was Hughes
He told me to take some time and digest the poem
then let my thoughts flow on to a paper
I wonder if it is really easy to write s if I was another person?
I would say yes, you can write as if you were someone else if you have a good enough imagination but what makes writing flow more if when you actually take the time to pour out your heart and express it into words on a clean sheet of paper.
When you read back your work and are honered with what has just come alive on to a sheet. When you take your assignment and actually hand in your assignment that you take pride in.
I am in fact pleased with my work.
The professor said,
ReplyDeleteGo home and write
a page tonight.
And be as open and
creative as possible.
I wonder if it’s that necessary?
I am eighteen, Puerto Rican, born in Brooklyn.
I went to school there, then here
to this college on Jamaica Ave.
Long travel every day to this place
with paper thin walls where everything is heard.
Then after class, back to the long repeated train
ride to Coney Island. With my iPod playing while
thinking about family, friends, and other nonsense.
I guess that’s why we get free time, to just think
about basically anything.
It’s not easy to know what’s in store for you or me
at eighteen, my age what is life? But I guess by living
in the moment day by day the meaning will come to
me.
Reached my destination, my home. The place where
the family reunites for dinner and then the cycle of
work continues the next day. Is this life? Or is it a
New York thing?
I guess the true meaning of life is still up for discussion.
This is my page for English B.
“My Page”
ReplyDeleteI am nineteen, Scottish-Jamaican African-American, born in Westchester- Bronxville.
I attended Cardinal Spellman High school further my education at the University of Bridgeport then transferred here to York college. There is much diversity here among the students that attend this college. Everyone is able to relate to one another in one way or another. Can I find someone that relates to me? People are confused on my look, many guess wrong on what makes up my background. Am I lost? Is there another person to relate with my culture? I walk from my door to the car and begin my journey onto the Hutchinson Parkway across the Bridge to the Van Wyck through the streets of Queens I arrive to a place that I don’t quite relate too.
I enjoy music, fashion,traveling and love.
Music takes me from reality. The creative side of my mind is able to paint vivid pictures of how each word relates to my life. Music is something I can relate too. Many lyrics are able to put words to the feelings I can’t express myself.
Fashion is an excuse for me to spend money on the things that makes me happy. Although material, each item has a special place in my heart and represents my mood. Pinks and Yellows represent my happy days. While Black expresses my sick days. Some days colors just maybe colors but most of the time they represent my feelings
Traveling to different parts of the world and states. I am able to add unique pieces to my collection and meet many different people with different styles. Seeing different parts of the world opens my eyes to what I didn’t know exist. Walking the streets of where my great- grandmother have and see the house she left my family. The hard work future generations done to pave a way for me. The love I want to achieve in life my not exist...
As a sweetie shouldn’t I ?Why not want the best for myself.
The feeling of love...
Does my background separate me from others or should I be united?
Confusion!!! No one understands the frustration.
There are few who I have similarities in the things I enjoy in life.
Its cool. Learning to be open-minded lets me like different cultures.
Whole New World. Learn different things. Meet new people.Understand others customs.
My page colorful. Not just black and white.
Writing always gives me a hard time.
ReplyDeleteWhenever professor says write something for homework,
I always start worry about what am I going to write.
However, English is all about writing.
I am nineteen years old and was born in China.
I grew up in a small town that has exactly the same environment as described in “Butterflies”.
That my grandparents plant our own needs such as vegetables, fruits.
Neighbors like to visit one another; talk about things happened recently, how is their children/grand children doing in school .etc
This kind of life ended when I finish my forth grade.
My mother, my brother and I came to America.
That time, because we do not understand any English,
And the culture differences between two countries make the life hard.
I skip a grade when I first came here.
Not because of I am smart but something about my age.
That year in school, I have no friends; nobody speaks Chinese in that class.
Then middle school, and high school, I met best friends. They helped me a lot in learning English.
I am glad that I skip a grade that I can know my best friends.
Now I am a college student, but I am still searching for my goal of life.
May be one day I can find my goal, and may be not.
Who knows? Life is full of surprise.
There are many things I can say about myself. I could speak easily tell someone that my favorite color is purple or that I am aspiring to be a dentist or that I have Jamaican blood flowing freely in my veins. But it does not mean that you can see my characteristics as a character. Life is a story because life itself is a big story; there is always a beginning, middle, and end. There is always a plot, a timeline, summary, and most importantly, there are characters. Everyone is a character which means that everyone has a life which also means we all have different stories. One of my stories is about my introduction to poetry writing.
ReplyDeleteI was in the 11th grade. I had to choose my first elective class. I had three options- songwriting/poetry, media, and sign language. I ended up choosing songwriting/poetry because I knew it would be an easy course with less work. Every time I had that class, we had to write poems. The teacher would always give us an idea to think about and then we would write our poems using that idea. The more poems I wrote, the more I improved. With improvement, I started seeing things in life in a more imaginative, creative perspective. Some of my poems would have the effects of making you laugh, think deeply, and think outside the box. A lot of people from school would go up to me and begin to tell me how impressed they are by my poems. They let me know that I have a special gift and it took me some time to realize it.
It took me some time to sit back and learn about myself when I would review my poems to myself. There is never a day where I regret taking that poetry elective class. Poetry is more than just a thing I do; poetry is my life. Writing poetry helped me find myself. It gave me a sense of who I am as I channeled my experiences, thoughts, and perspectives through it. In my poetry, you can see all sides of me. You can see my sensitivity, humor, craziness, randomness, seriousness, and how I perceive the world around me. Poetry is my way of putting myself out there. It keeps me thinking on my toes, it opens up doors for me to share my views on things that I either thought about or never seemed to realize. It evokes me to have everlasting epiphanies. I must admit though, even though I enjoy writing poetry, I have only written two poems since I was done with classes back in high school around this time last year. I feel as if I lost the key that ignites me to write poetry. I am determined to find that key one day and when I do, a new story will begin and I know that in the end, I will emerge into a better character than I am now as long as I channel myself into my poems. This is my English B paper, this is my story.
My professor instructed our class
ReplyDeleteto go home and write a page
just like author Langston Hughs did
and be creative and open
I wonder if that can be so easy?
I am eighteen years old, born and raised in Brooklyn and my background is Haitian, Dominican and Guadalupe decent.
I currently attend York College on Jamaica Ave Queens NY
The hard work I put in high school made me get this far in my eighteen years of life.
It is hard to write a page about myself because I don't even know where to start and how to end if my life is just beginning.
I come from a family who are very strict and serious about education. I also think education is important but after my experience in college I'm not so sure school is my thing and its only my first year.
I do want to be a Medical Technician so I deal with these struggles.
Many people straight off the back judge me by my apperance. I've been told I look mean and rude and just not a person to get along with (which is false)and even look a different ethnicity from my own, I am the complete opposite of these statements.
Music and writing poetry is part of life besides eating about 4 times a day.
These are the few of the things that can get me through the day especially writing poetry.
I basically write how I view the world and life and how others view this world but they might be to afraid to say it.
There isn't much to say about me but that I'm still trying to understand this upside down world we live in and trying to gain the strength to reach my goals every minute and every hour.
The only love I'm looking for is in God, he is the only person who hasn't disappointed me and I continue not to disappoint him.
As I stated before there isn't much to say about me but that I'm just a typical college girl trying to achieve goals in life and trying to side swipe the drama and bumpy roads.
I continue to find the lost part of me that is afraid to step out into the open world because the truth of the matter is, under these materialistic things and so called "hard", angry looks is a teenage girl with soft boundaries and is afraid of taking a risk to let people in because of what the outcome may turn out to be.
I sat here for a while not knowing what to write about, whether I should talk about my feelings, my pass, or my history and finally I decided to write about the fact that I have nothing to say, it’s sad but this is what I came up with.
ReplyDeleteMy English professor said
“Go home and write a page tonight”
Does he know how hard that going to be for me!
I’m 18 Jamaican and live in Queens.
To be open is hard for me,
I don’t express my feelings I keep them to myself
Soo…. I’m sitting here staring
At the blank piece of paper begging and pleading
For words to come to me, an
Inspiration, insight a revelation anything….
Nothing!
All I feel is frustration, anger, and aggravation
For my lack of words this is even harder
Than I ever thought it would be.
On a positive note: there are more words on the paper than
I thought I would write. With facebook calling my name,
And my stomach crying out in pain for hunger.
Oh how they are enticing me!
Soo… this is what I came up with.
This is my page for English B.
Professor D’amato told me to go home and write a page and let it come out. This task wasn’t as easy as I thought. As Langston Hughes states in his poem, “I wonder if it’s that simple?” I can provide my own answer to the question & say that it is not.
ReplyDeleteI am eighteen years old & I can say I am not ashamed of who I am. People’s outlook on mixed people varies but most people think we have the misfortune of being confused. But I beg to differ.
In America, there has been a one-drop rule that states if you have one drop of black blood then you are just black. I personally feel that the rule is unfair. If I were to just say I was black, I wouldn’t be truly identifying myself. No pun intended, but it’s not expressing my true colors. Society wants mixed black & white people to choose which ever they physically identify with more. Which to me is perfectly agreeable. In my case, it would be silly go me to go around saying, “I am just white” because I simply do not look the part. I feel like it’s a personal preference whether or not one wants to say if they are just black or they are black and white. My mother is from Deutschland (Germany) and my father is from Barbados. I feel that especially since I am not totally clueless about either culture there shouldn’t be a problem with me forever claiming both ethnicities because it is who I am. It’s in my blood and physical attributes should be forgotten. In all, there is more to me than meets the eye. As long as I’m not confused or in denial with who I am, it shouldn’t matter what I claim to be. I’m still human just like anybody else.
As I read back on this, I laugh because it really does not look like a poem whatsoever but at least I got what I wanted to say out and on paper.
Our professor said,
ReplyDeleteGo home and write your own “B page”.
Its not as easy as it looks I must say that.
I am nineteen, and grew up in Kathmandu, Nepal.
There isn’t really much to talk about me.
It was ecstatic moving to New York, because i
finally got to meet my parents after 5 years.
I graduated from Bryant High School, and now i am here
at York, hoping to find my goal.
A typical student life is what I have; go to school, study, and come back to home, study.
I cannot say its boring, because I like it this way.
After enough excitements in life, boredom seems more exciting.
but life has more to offer and this is just a beginning.
This is my page and this is all i can say.
To write a page and let it come from you,
ReplyDeleteIs this what must be done to see what’s true?
I am Eighteen, Chinese, and born in New York.
I lived in Queens, moved to Douglaston.
I went to Brooklyn Tech for high school.
Then I came to York College.
As a student fresh from high school, I had just become an adult.
Fear crept into me.
I cannot break the habit of drifting off into my own world.
Be it games, comics, or shows, I enjoyed what they provided me.
An “Escape.”
But as an adult entering society, I will have to pull my own weight.
The weight of “Responsibility.”
Humans do not live forever.
With life there is always
Death.
One day, my parents will die
before that day comes, I must learn to survive.
They say that in this world,
“the strong live, and the weak die.”
Is this true?
Many newborns in the wild can find ways of survival.
They can find food and shelter.
But what about the human children?
If there is no one there to hold them, they will die.
When the time comes, and my parents fade away,
Who will hold me?
My English Professor Said,
ReplyDeleteto go home and read "Theme for English B"
and just as Hughes did, write your own poem
and just let everything go
As soon as I get home, I throw down my bag
and go straight to the computer
I figured this homework would need the most time so i did it first
As I go on Google, to find the poem, I began thinking how would I start it
I read the poem twice
By this time I realize that it wouldnot be so hard after all
The only thing that circled my mind was would I be able to feel what he felt while writing this poem?
I started off writing the usual.
I am 18 years old, attending York College in Queens, NY.
I am NOT the only black student in my class.
I enjoy coming to a class where i am always able to freely base my opinion and not be looked upon or scorned for it.
I am the only child in my household so most times I am in my room with headphones sending various notes of graceful music to each side of my brain...to say the least.
On typical days, I wake up wanting to just lay back down.
But i get up, get ready, head to school.
I live in Brooklyn.
The ride is usually thirty to forty-five minutes
I enjoy riding the trains, that way i can look outside to beyond places that seem so close but yet so far away.
I am happy for all the opportunities that I am given.
Looking back on what I have written, I am excited that i answered my question fully.
I may never know how he felt while writing his poem.
But what i do feel is a sense of existence.
A sense of feeling towards why I live.
It feels weird to write and explain how I feel.
But i know that I feel great.
Because i am writing with a freely open mind.
The Instructor said,
ReplyDeleteGo home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you —
Yeah? Is it that simple? Will anything come out?
Will it be the truth . . ha! Would it even be real?
I am ‘Safrana’ – pronounce it like its spelled.
I am Eighteenth years old, born and raised in Wakenaam, Guyana.
Believe it or not, I am a Guyanese - Indian and Chinese.
More Indian I might say; I enjoy being mixed.
I am a young Muslim woman.
Young and proud, I am the only one in my family that wears a hijab.
Yes, It was my choice at age 15 to start wearing my hijab.
I am the youngest in my family, being 7 children and 10 grand- kids.
I am the youngest child of my parents; my siblings are twice my age.
Meaning, my nieces and nephews are older than me.
I moved to the states when I was 9 going on 10, It was quite the “spontaneous” decision.
But I truly miss my hometown and the old life (The island life) . .
Maybe that’s why for the past 8 years I’ve moved 11 times. Yes, that’s right 11 times.
Being a young Guyanese Muslim woman usually can be confusing at time. Not for Me but, it does get me very annoyed when people assume and judge. It’s an Irritating and Complicated world.
I love my Religion, ISLAM! And I hate the way the media/world portrays us, its life I guess. .
I wish that the world could see the TRUE ISLAM and I believe that the only way that can be done is by us, Muslims, setting the example and portraying more of the Quran and Sunnah in our lives thus.
I am ambitious and intelligent individual. I try not to be too different because we all end up being the same. We’re just a little different and unique in our own way. We are all mankind together as one. If you’re clever enough, you'd understand me. I am so weird. Like really, it's not normal. I’m just like you. I eat, I sleep, I yell big-time, I take the train/bus, I shower, I cook, I watch TV, I indulge in my "must haves", I wear shoes, shirts, and, pants. I text, I pass tests, I fail tests, I rake up my cell phone bill every now and then...The list goes on.
There are a large amount of things, I would love love to share. But I rather not.
Good Riddance to you, Person.
I am on my way to continue half of my deen. .
This is my page for English 200.
February 10th, 2011.
My professor said,
ReplyDeleteGo home and write a page tonight.
He said write freely and let your thoughts come to you,
I thought to myself, this should be easy.
I am nineteen, Guyanese, and was born in Brooklyn, New York.
I was raised in Queens and attended school here all my life.
I remember the days when I was young, going to elementary school was enjoyable.
I had no worries, no responsibilities, I was carefree, just as any child should be.
I look back on those days wishing I could relive each one all over again.
Those days were easy, fun, and completely stress-free.
Growing up into my teenage years was barely any fun and every day life seemed to become more difficult than each day before.
I attended Cardozo high school in Bayside.
I never liked going there, partially because I had no say in my registering there, my parents controlled my life.
I can still say they do.
One would think that growing older would make parents realize that their children need to be more independent.
With age comes responsibility and intelligence, and that leads me to college.
I am currently attending York College, it was not my primary choice, but it's not so bad here.
I am majoring in Business Administration and minoring in Accounting. I love math, everything, or almost everything seems so easy to me when it comes to calculations and number.
I always strive to be at the top of the class in almost all subjects and if I fall to be second best, it's okay. Although my parents always seem to compare me to my older brother and his success, I try not to compare him to myself. It's pretty hard to live up to their expectations.
Being the only girl amongst my 2 other siblings, there aren't many "girly" things that I can do with my brothers.
I guess you can say that's why I'm a tomboy at heart, at least I can hang with the boys.
Although I might not have their company, I still do my "girly" activities by myself.
I love doing my nails, doing my hair, going shopping, and dancing! I LOVE DANCING. I am currently attending the Natya Tilakam Dance Company in South Ozone Park, Queens. At NTDC, we learn different styles of Indian dancing. Bollywood film dancing is my favorite, it lets me express myself the most.
Poems are not really my forte, so I'm not even sure if this is one. I've written about my life, as you can see.
So professor D'Amato, this is my page for English B.
The professor of my English class gave the class an assignment to write our own “English B” page in the nature of Langston Hughes’s poem “Theme for English B”.
ReplyDeleteI am eighteen years old. I am a student at York College in Queens, New York. I live in Brooklyn and after going home on the E, then F, and finally the N train, I now try to tell my story. I was born in a mid-sized city in Ukraine and before moving to America, I would live either in my hometown for a majority of the year, the summer at my grandparents’ farm, or on an Army base for a couple of months. I went to Brooklyn Technical High School and, before that, I attended three schools for elementary/middle school. I have my own difficulties and stresses which I prefer not to discuss, as most would feel akin to that ideal. There are things that distinguish me from most, but I also try to stick to my values and that is a very global if not steadfast quality. Like Hughes, I also enjoy eating, sleeping, and the rest. I view my identity as having in some part being influenced by the common subsets of religion, nationality, race, familial values, and so on. However, I do not classify my identity as being controlled by these factors and view myself as being unique; I do not want to be automatically placed into a category and viewed by others through that subjective prism of uniformity whereby one difference like religion or race means that I would be enigmatic to anyone who doesn’t share my background.
My “B Page”
ReplyDeleteOf what am I become?
Here I sat wondering what to design on this paper of myself.
With the shutter of an eye it is all revealed. Vision of darkness
Takes hold and in fear I peak. Time is running away so i must let this pen speak.
Often I hear the voice of the inner mind whisper in pitch black as
Fear succumbs, and I know it is fear that makes me shiver. If only my eyes could
Stay closed and still see the golden bright light where I must go through the middle of this night.
That tingle across my back indicates the threat has spiraled, but not like of cirrus, more of a virus
Attacking a prickly plant in a test lab dying
From a sinister glare.
“Time to man-handle this” I said beneath my breath, fearfully. And it was so
As if by remote control I took possession in the darkness.
It was never easy for time and time went by but the pitch
Black darkness stood bold, never dies. My eyes are damaged whenever light teams
With darkness.
I still stay awake, blind, in wake of the darkness.
Armed I am with a pointed stick boring the pitch black
Once and for all only to expose it’s naked back. Pleasure smirked from the darkness.
The instructor said,
ReplyDeleteGo home and write
a page tonight
and let that page come out of you
Then, it will be true.
Sometimes I wonder if it is that simple?
The thing is that I still have not found myself.
I do not know who I really am or what is my purpose in life.
All I know are the facts that stand beside me.
I am nineteen, a girl raised by Dominican parents, and born in Manhattan, New York.
I went to an elementary school that was literally across the street
From where I live,
There I was in ESL until fifth grade
then went to two different high schools
and now, I attend York College.
Getting here was not easy, but I am proud I have achieve one chapter in life
Change is one the most difficult things for me to handle.
I may seem strong, know what I want
But I feel like it is all a wall that I built in front of everyone.
I am creative but difficult to understand.
Sometimes, I don’t even comprehend myself.
I figure if at nineteen am I supposed to know
Every detail, every plan that life has in store for me?
I think about the last nineteen years,
And I have to the conclusion
That I have only tried to make others happy.
I have accomplished to be the person they wanted me to be for them.
But I have not come to make myself happy,
Nevertheless be the person I want to be
I know I do not know everything but,
All I know is that right at this moment
I do not know what I really want in life.
My goal is to find out as time passes by
While living life as it comes.
“Let the page come right out of you,” are the words I read on the page,
ReplyDeleteAs inspiring as they sound it could never be that easy,
Words don’t always flow like water and the ones that do tend to be a lie.
My “life” started a little over nineteen years ago and it’s been interesting.
I am black, well brown, African American, or is it Trinidadian,
I’ve never been fully versed on how I’m supposed to identify-
whether I follow my father or mother.
Either way I am a New Yorker, I can be sure of that!
I can count on two hands how many days I’ve been away from NY.
I attended an elementary school not far from my house where I was labeled “gifted” which I always liked the sound of. Then a middle school across town where I was still considered “gifted” and it didn’t seem as important. Finally when I attended Thomas Edison High school,near the heart of queens, it became irrelevant to me and I lost that title.
Every night, no matter how far I roam, I make it back to Saint Albans, unlock the same doors, say hi to the dogs, travel up the same steps and open then close the same door. To MY sanctuary as it were,
My home away from home.
I like a lot of things such as music, my family, sometimes, and thinking. If anything I enjoy thinking the most, to the point where I have entire conversations in my head.
I am cool, I think lol, and I am like most people my age.
To me it seemed weird, is that strange what I said?
That i would want to be like most people my age.
This paper is supposed to reflect me as I see it but the after reading what I wrote so far I’m just as confused as you the person reading this page.
I haven’t gotten any closer to describing the real me, but the one on this page seems interesting.
So are you like “me” reader? Are the words on the page remotely similar to your thoughts?
Are you Young or Black? We might have a lot in common--
You might not want to be like me, just like I don’t want to be like you.
But in this page you learn from me, and with your feedback I learn from you.
Across the room you sit, as I from you. We share ideas across the class.
Uneasily the page came out of me. Not like water, but the truth as I see.
This is my page for English B.
Write one page?
ReplyDeleteLet it come out of me?
But how could it be that simple?
18 years old, confused and lost
How could i let anything come out of me
When there's nothing that likes to be released?
Simple words and write whatever thoughts come to mind?
Food
My escape, it makes me happy
There is no other like food? An addiction?
Maybe. I love almost all kinds.
I always want MORE.
I eat a dish, chasing that very first TASTE, there is nothing like the first taste
I can eat the same dish, over and over but it will never be like the first dish
Women
Beautiful, mysterious, gentle
Yet catty, sensitive and DRAMATIC
Yet, alluring.. and passionate
Music
My sanity, my pacifier, my escape, my LIFE.
Sleep
My escape as well, my desired reality.
My own WORLD.
MY OWN WORLD.
With no restrictions.
Well, Like Langston
"I like to eat, sleep, -- and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life. "
Understanding life?
a task that i find difficult.
18 years old, lost and confused...
Trying to understand life,
But first, trying to understand myself.
The English professor told me
ReplyDelete“Go home and write
your own 'B page'.
Be as open and
creative as possible”.
And no, it is not that simple to do.
I am eighteen, of East Indian descent, born in Brooklyn, NY.
I attended school there up until now.
Elementary, Junior High, and High School.
York College in Jamaica, Queens is the new school.
Two trains and twenty minutes of walking
is what it takes to get there.
The L train for six stops.
The J train to its last stop,
never without a ten minute wait before arriving.
Then someone picks me up afterward,
fortunately putting me out of the
trouble of traveling again.
Some days, I do not have such great luck.
Taking the train home is
less of a hassle, but more annoying.
The crowded subway cars, the frigid
temperatures, and the walks home are not pleasant.
Once home, I feel relief.
Finished with the annoying trek,
I can do the things I enjoy.
Music, video games, computers,
things I find fun.
I will not have to deal with
the annoyances of everyday life
for a few more hours.
My Profesor said,
ReplyDeleteTo go home and write a page
Let the page come out to you
Now where do I start ?
I will start with my name
And summarize what can be called my life story
Because then you would know who I am
And why I complain
My name is Jessica Lyte
A unique 18 year old who lives in Brooklyn
Brownsville to be exact
Where the sirens and gun shots are the loudest
Police at every corner
Just waiting for something to happen
I was born here in New York
Home of the big apple
But I am also however Puerto Rican and Guynese
My mixture makes me different in so many ways
From my physical appearance to my personality
With these traits comes more
More like unstableness that cannot be controlled
Trying to fit into a world that is so diverse
Is what makes life fun and complicated
But the outcome is not always as it seems
Who said you can't have friends all over the world ?
Discrimination breaks us all apart
Yes, I am not only one race
And I want the stress and fighting to be over
But then that would mean the world would be perfect ?
And according to society nobodys perfect
So now at this point I will continue my life
As an unstabled unique 18 year old
Who didnt want to but is being conformed to what society thinks is right
That is all for now
Shinning my shoes just now on the train made me feel like my father; or was it just a simple remembrance of the numerous times when I saw him methodically buffing and cleansing his basketball referee kicks before he entered the court to officiate. These were a vital part of his uniform, of his professionalism, of his manhood.
ReplyDeleteHow can I start a piece that is supposed to be about myself by beginning with my father? It was this boot-cleansing act after all that stirred my pen, that got my mind rolling, that sent my chest swelling with the dense airs of contemplation, euphoria, and perplexity. The irony of such intermingled thought and emotion is a defining feature of who I am. Let me put it to you this way: I was the kind of kid that liked to put his feet on the car seat and sit on the windowsill with my upper body exposed to the swirling air and oncoming pavement. Rebellious, sure. Risky, definitely. To play it “safe” I held onto the “oh-shit” handle just in case. Nevertheless, I am halfway between two worlds, and I enjoy it.
Initially I am pleased by the memory of my father. I am pleased that I too have adopted his carefulness and attention to the outer details of one’s self. Such gentlemanly display represents a time long past. A time when respect was defined a different way, when men and women interacted in a different manner, when the world was saturated by a different hue. My father said once in a while, “The meal could taste terrible, but if it looks good on the plate people will eat it.” Sure we each can have sour pith or cores that somewhat decayed over time. Yet, we also can have attractive skin and nourishing fruit to offer up to the world.
When I am shinning my shoes I am buffing my persona. I am making myself attune to the standard. I am reconnecting with my father and using his footsteps to guide mine. Indeed, many might find such conformity disgusting, repulsive, a symbol of weakness and shortsightedness. “Who is he that does not choose his own path,” they might cry out. “Well, I am trying!” I wish to yell back, “I still haven’t fully conquered the anxiety of such expectation. At least give me the space to tie my shoes first!” However, some may notice me, silently by a quick glance, as I investigate my boots for imperfections that need improvement and renewal. These souls may brood on my action. They may start to ponder how they too desire to polish their shoes. Of course, these are just assumptions in my head—my imagination conjuring a world that I wish to project and perceive as true.
And here is where my heartbeat begins to race, where my chest begins to rise and fall. “I got you,” I whisper to myself. A smirk crosses my face. I am satisfied knowing that another was affected by my performance, that it caused a stirring beyond the boundaries of my body, through my clothing, away from my seat on the train.
Together—I dreamily anticipate—my audience and I have realized that while that the soot and grime which collects on our shoes comes and goes, the smallest trace of our “having been there” somehow remains stuck to the ground we tread, adhered to the soles of our feet. The key difference: the pavement stays there, while our feet must come with.
Shoes are a hard thing to fill, tall boots especially. Pages seem a bit easier at times. Maybe I can fill my boots with filled pages in order to feel a bit less anxious about the direction that my non-GPS-equipped kicks are taking me. What my soles have to say is that I am a traveler whose destination is as fleeting as the air which breezes across my face. Forget my history, acknowledge my past steps and leave them to rest I say… they have left their mark, yes, but damn it baby I am moving forward, not looking back.
The professor said "go home and write a page tonight", this, i forgot.
ReplyDeleteIt is now one hour before class and I am scrambling to come up with a poem. I know as soon as I finish this and go to class, it will be that much closer for me to go home.
My name is Ryan Diaz, I am eighteen years old.
I was born in Manhattan, but was raised in Long Island until fifth grade.
When I was a child, I loved playing outdoors and enjoyed it all.
My life was easy and carefree.
Now that I am older, things have changed and I have gained new responsibilities.
Coming out of high school, I didn't know what to expect coming into York College.
I never anticipated coming to this school, but hey, college is college, or at least that's the way I see it.
The workload is heavy, the tests are difficult, my life has become a hassle.
My two jobs keep me busy when I am not at school. Although I am always busy with work and school, I also set aside time to hang out with friends and go to the gym.
My life becomes more challenging with every passing day.
Now this is the end of my poem,
im that much closer to going home.
I know many poems rhyme,
so good thing I ran out of time.
This is my English B Paper.
it;s pretty easy for a teacher to say write about anything yuh want or anything that's in your mind but personally i find it easier if im told what to wirte about as i can have resources and ways of getting such information but with free write is like you dont know what to write about but right now ima give it a try so here it goes.
ReplyDeletemy name is kevin im 17 years old
born and raised in New York
ride on the j line for school work and even to my house.
have 2 brothers live with my mom whos a single mother
my mom was born and raised in ecuador
soccer is my passion ive been playing since i learned how to walk basically its something i love to do and even though my goal is to achieve a major in computer science i wont rule out the possibility of becoming a proffesional soccer player
im very outspoken i say everything in my mind i dont hold back anything
really dont care what oher people say because is my life not theirs.
i like to party hang out and all those teenagers thing but with caution and thinking really well before making any decisions
most of all i love to have fun and take advantage of everything this world has to offer!
I am eighteen, Guyanese mixed with Chinese. I am a quiet and laid-back person. I like to learn, though I find school a waste of time at the moment. I question the things I see in this world and I think that’s why I’ve always been a quiet person. By being quiet I’m able to listen to what other people have to say and gain new perspectives on how other people view the same things I do.
ReplyDeleteEverything happens for a reason is how I’ve viewed life, especially my own. However, I began to question this view of mine after a friend of mine was shot and killed in his home. This really hit home for me because I was also shot when I was twelve. I began wondering was I just luckier than he was or was it just his “destiny”? So I thought if everything does happen for a reason does that mean my purpose in life was greater than his… Did he not also deserve a chance to go to college? Try and make something of himself? The questions just repeated themselves with out being answered. As I sit typing this I think will they ever get answered. I might find my answer tomorrow, ten years from now or while I’m laying down on my dead bed looking back on my life. I guess only time will tell.
The instuctor said,
ReplyDeleteGo home and write
a page tonight
And let that page come out of you-
Then, it will be true.
See, me, I came a long way,
Way too far for me to stop now,
Not that I would stop anyways but…
I’m so close, I can feel it…
Can you feel it?
Being a Dominican out the newly gentrified Williamsburg,
As an 18 year old CEO of a design company
I seen something that I thought I couldn’t see
Cause growing up in Brooklyn you only learn 2 things
You learn bout two things: getting pussy, getting paid
And you should be gettin laid by the time you in ninth grade,
That how it was going up in a hood,
Didn’t know how to approach it
So I had a conversation with my soul and
I asked it when will things changed
It said “boy just used them pen skills”
So I just draw away in my little book
Eventually getting bigger and better
Soon the book became too small for the canvas
Graffiti became the only outlet
Till I almost got caught by some pigs
I thought I couldn’t find a way to let out
I Started second guessing myself
But that’s human nature, I suppose, second guessing…
When life seems to take you through more downs than ups.
Seems like it gives you more losses than wins.
But when I realized I didn’t need the streets as a canvas
That became my English B..
After reading a few other students comments and seeing how they all seem to start out by saying either their eighteen years old or nineteen years old, I'm going to start mine by saying I am Twenty-three years old...
ReplyDeletei'm a senior graduating at the end of this class. I was born in Guyana and moved to New York when i was five years old.
I've lived most of my teenage life in Queens but played in the Bronx.
I've started college since Fall of 2005 and still seem to be in it at 2011.
Starting college right after graduation without knowing what to do when i grew up was a 2 year hard regret that i wish no one else would have to go through.
But once you find that topic that just catches your interest you feel a weighted lifting off from you like a 747 taking off into the wind.
Aviation is my field and ive grown to love it in these pass 3 years here at york. Now its my time to step out into the real world and grab life by the wings