When I first set foot into Mr. Pyzik’s class, I thought I would hate his class and would struggle at his essays. At first, I was upset because I didn’t know anyone in that class. After couple of days, I gradually became comfortable in his class. In fact, it became one of my favorite class. I never really liked writing because it made me think a lot. The way he teaches his class is different than how I was taught. It was much more simpler than I thought. What I hated were the blog post, but I would never wish for him to get rid of those writing assignments. It helped me keep track of my writing. I would have wished I would have included some sort of music in my blog post. I’ve posted a video, many arts, and of course a lot of writing, but never did I talk about music. What stuck to me from English class this year was the reality unit. By far, it is my favorite unit. We, as a class, had a lot of arguments about the idea of reality and what are we living in. I feel as if the terms of English class next year would be different than this year. I’m not sure if the literature would be hard, but I worry about my teacher. Some teachers can be very unfair when it comes to assigning homework and tests. This year, Mr. Pyzik’s class was the only class I didn’t worry about. He never really gives out any homework, besides membean. His writing assignments are very clear and easy. I don’t think English would be a problem for me in the next three years. This year went by fast. I believe I did really good in this English class. I feel more confident in my writing now.
I want to become a doctor when I get older. The problem is I am always being brought down. I have been told multiple times that I would never become one no matter what. From where I came from, nobody really accomplishes a goal at that level, especially since I’m a girl. Yemeni girls at my age in Yemen most likely have dropped out of school to work at home. The men usually become some sort of a salesman. It out of the ordinary for a girl to become a doctor based on my culture. I don’t want to live by that standard. After all if those comments, I thought nobody would support my dream. That didn’t stop me from getting a righteous education. Just because it’s strict for Yemeni girls to stay home, doesn’t mean I can’t go to school and graduate. I have a supportive dad that wants me to get the best out of my school year and accomplish my goal. My mom picks me up right when I fall and encourages me to try harder. My parents are my motivation. I know it’ll be hard to stand at my set point, but it’ll only push me harder to thrive to become a doctor. I don’t let those people get to me because that would only mean I doubt my choice. They are afraid of change and to see me rise out of all the lost hopes of their past.
After watching (500) Days of Summer, I think I relate to Tom. In the film, he seems to have thought everything through. He has his career ready and what he wants to do for his life. He sticks through to what he’s passionate for. As for me, I know what I want to do with my life and I will be working to my limits to accomplish my goal. Tom also seems to be sensitive when he deals with situations concerning Summer. I think of myself as sensitive too. I don’t like the feeling when someone puts me down. I feel at total loss, especially when I didn’t do anything wrong. Tom never know what he did wrong with Summer. He became sensitive afterwards. I also relate to Summer in some ways. She feels as if she doesn’t need a man to defend her. She’s capable of doing everything on her own because she’s a independent woman. This is relatable because I never depend on anyone for help. I usually figure it out on my own. Summer doesn’t really know what she wants when it comes to her relationship with Tom. At some points in my life, I never know what I want like when picking something out of the choices. Then, I usually change my mind. I think both characters are relatable.
The summer breeze whisks it’s way through the rustled leaves of the tree
The grids of the lake is stable, yet the waves speak thousands of words
The droplets of rain dance across the cheeks of the earth
The long legs of the grass tickle my bare feet
The greenery blinds my sight
Summer is under our finger tips and I can’t wait to grab it
The tempo of the music beats in my ears and travel throw my blood
My friends become wilder
Longer days and shorter nights
Summer is here
My idea of a SOMEBODY is a person who is appreciated by someone else and considered to them as special. Maybe a “somebody” that is worth your time and makes a difference if they are no longer with you. They don’t necessarily need to to be an illustrious or notorious. They can be a somebody to just one person. What I have to do to become a somebody in the future is to get involved in my academics. I want to become a somebody based on my intelligence. I think that Chato is a somebody in the short story The Somebody. Danny Santiago created the ending with Chato becoming more motivated to soon become a bigger somebody. Chato is a somebody to another person. The female was inspired by his art and wanted to follow his steps. That may not make a big difference to others, but his work had an effect on her. That proves he’s a somebody- maybe not now, but soon.
It’s that time of the year- spring. The world comes filled with color and the scent of delicious greenery. A world that was filled with coldness from the winter, is now alive again. What a wonderful season…except, it’s the allergy season. Spring isn’t my favorite season. In my own opinions, spring can be wonderful with all the flowers blooming and the grass becoming more greener, everyone is coming out more, and we are finally done with winter. BUT, the beginning of this season is the worst for me. I have allergies at the start of the blooming, especially on windy days. The pollen from the flowers travel everywhere. My eyes get puffed up and become as red as a tomato. My nose becomes the twin of the Niagara Falls. Sometimes, one nostril feels like a water fall, and the other like the desert. My throat feels like millions of ants are crawling down in it, creating an itch that makes me drink so much water. Lastly I shed a lot in the spring. I loss hair and have dry skin where I can scratch my arm and dead skin would be under my fingernails. It’s not a lovely scene to see. I look horrendous. Like I said, spring isn’t my favorite season.
the Truman Show is basically about a man trapped in a constructed reality that has been built to be a his home where everyone watches him. I felt sympathy for him because he has missed out many years where he could’ve spent in the real world. After watching the film, it made my question my reality- can my life be a constructed reality like Truman’s? I doubt that my life is constructed because in his life, he’s got everything going good for him. My life is simply boring to entertain an audience. The show was merely made for the entertainment for the audiences. The audiences sit back and watch behind their screens of a man going insane, struggling to escape a fake reality where his stuck in. The viewers don’t understand how Truman is feeling because they lived in different realities. They don’t feel how Truman is becoming crazy to escape, they just think of it as a reality tv show. Technology has created this opportunity for the show creator. They could spy on Truman and he wouldn’t know. He couldn’t leave his made up town because they won’t be able to control him. I would explore the edge of reality by traveling, I haven’t traveled much, but would actually want to. I can see how other people face their own different realities because we don’t all have the same world experience. I want to see what the world has got to offer me.
I don’t question my reality. It just leads people to madness. The perception of the world flows in harmony when we don’t put too much thoughts in our characterization of reality. I actually don’t know whether my reality is authentic or constructed. What helps my to block that emotions and the chaos is my family. I have a set of older twins in college and a younger brother in middle school, and my parents. We’ve been there for everyone and never let one down by judging them. We are all humans with flaws that makes us imperfect. That’s like my family’s motto. My favorite time of the year is Ramadan where we get even closer as a family and appreciate the attendance of each other. My family would most likely say our reality is authentic but in some ways constructed to control some parts of our lives. We’ve lived the way we want to but sometimes it just feels like reality is controlled by someone else. This concept leads people to madness but as long as I have my family, I’ll be good when continuing my life and “dreams.” My family would allows be supportive of me. They are like my touchstone.
Authentic reality is the form of viewing reality in the real and original way; how life generally is. Constructed reality is creating a reality by the act of your surroundings or how society shapes you. This can differ for some people. Not everyone experiences the same reality. Some might have their own vision of reality. It all depends on how you make of your own life and your motives. It’s important to acknowledge other people’s reality because they might differ from your own, but can change the way of your reality if you understand theirs. Examples of versions of reality is if someone is born deaf, they’ll depend on lip reading- making their life style different than others because their reality revolves around how they take it in.
Death. It’s unavoidable. We mourn for our lost because that’s how we were taught to react at the news. But time still moves on and the sun still burns. At the end of the day, the birds still chirp. Death will arrive to every species no matter who they are. It’s what we make of our last breathing moments that really count.
Let the echos of their goodbyes murmur past on. The light will never reach the pale corpse beneath our feet. It can’t be changed. Not even love can stop it, just ask Romeo and Juliet. Time will go on. Bury the hatred and the envious matters. To live in the present moment is truly a gift.