I Now See the Fog

Many people look forward to winter break because it is a time for relaxation and a time to spend with the ones you care for the most. However, this morning, the reality of my winter break splashed me in the face with freezing cold chlorine water at 7:30 am. My inner self was begging for this to be a dream, but the barking of my coach of something along the lines of,"NO BREATHING OUT OF YOUR TURNS", or, my personal favorite, "JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE TIRED DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN STOP SWIMMING", rudely awakened me and snapped me back into reality. The longer I swim, I seem to swim further and further into my personal fog. I think of nothing besides how much my body is hurting at the present moment. In fact, as we began our kicking set, a cloud of fog actually formed above the pool because the air was so cold. It then dawned on me. I had forgotten to post my blog by midnight the previous night. This made my body ache even more. I began stressing about how many points I will lose, and what this would mean for my mid-term exam grade. My legs then began to throb even more. I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest and I soon choked on some water. HOW COULD I SWIM AT A TIME LIKE THIS? The fog above the pool then suddenly began to fade away because the heater started working. As soon as it disappeared, I took a few deep breaths and was finally able to bring myself back to sanity again because I realized that I could blog about my sighting of the fog.

Today I Almost Killed Myself... But Nobody Seemed to Care

Today, as I walked into class a little late, I slipped on the floor and lost my balance for a few seconds. The immediate reaction everybody had was to laugh. When Ms. Serensky commented something along the lines of, "of course nobody acts concerned because you are all too ruthless and selfish to even pretend like you care". I was also laughing at myself, (of course), but realized how my fellow student's lack of sympathy really is not entirely their fault. In psychology class, we are learning about the development of the frontal lobes in adolescent's brains. In fact, our frontal lobes are not quite fully developed yet. Insight is what gives us sympathy and compassion for others. Since our lobes are not fully connected, ,(and won't be until we reach about age 25) we often act self-centered and more careless about the well-being of others as compared to our parents, who have fully developed frontal lobes. The nerve cells that connect teenagers' frontal lobes with the rest of their brains are sluggish. Teenagers don't have as much of the fatty coating called myelin, or "white matter," that adults have in this area. Think of it as insulation on an electrical wire. Nerves need myelin for nerve signals to flow freely. Spotty or thin myelin leads to inefficient communication between one part of the brain and another. Therefore, I forgive all of my ruthless classmates for laughing at me today, because really, they are all too immature to act any less-selfish.

Substitute Teachers Help Us Reassure Our Intelligence

On friday, Ms. Serensky's absence caused a guessing game of what would happen in class with the substitute. In 4th period commons, everybody unanimously agreed that it would be a practice essay or a journal writing. Most of us rolled our eyes and groaned, because by friday afternoon, the last thing most want to do in class is to write until our hand cramps. However, we were pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a friendly-looking young man who said that we will have a class discussion, despite Ms.Serensky's absence. As our discussion began, we shocked this man. He could not believe how in-depth and detail-driven our conversation had become. After mentioning many instances of situational irony in the novel, he finally confessed that he did not know the meaning of the term. The class all looked at each other in disbelief with raised eyebrows of confusion. We wondered, "how can this college-educated man not know that situational irony means? When we finally explained it to him, he understood perfectly and tested himself by asking us if certain scenarios of movies and other books represented situational irony. What I believe to be situational irony is the fact that the students had to teach the teacher a common literary term. It seems like ever since we began blogging, I find a literary term out there for almost every social situation. Could I possibly be turning insane?

Role Reversal In the "Cuckoo" book

Despite my strong dislike of the novel thus far, I have actually found a positive aspect of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" that I find very amusing. That is, that a woman, Nurse Ratched is in charge of a male mental hospital. Whether a coincidence of not, I found that one year following the 1962 publication date, Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique became a legendary non-fiction novel which inspired women to strive for more equality in American society. Her inspiration for this novel came from a 1942 class reunion of her college, after she followed up with a questionnaire for her fellow woman classmates. In interpreting the findings, Friedan hypothesized that women are victims of a false belief system that requires them to find identity and meaning in their lives through their husbands and children. She believed this causes women to completely lose their identity within their family. Friedan specifically locates this system among post-World War II white middle-class suburban communities. She suggests that men returning from war turned to their wives for mothering. At the same time, America's post-war economic boom had led to the development of new technologies that were supposed to make household work less difficult, but that often had the result of making women's work less meaningful and valuable.

I am proud to learn about this uprising of women questioning the status-quo in America in the early 1960's. I and often cheer to myself while reading, as I come across evidence of how much Nurse Ratched intimidates the male patients.

Why Are Most Successful Writers on Drugs?

As we discussed Ken Kesney the author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest, I was not very surprised to learn about his "Acid Test" parties, which had black lights, LSD, cocaine, and the other hallucinogenic drugs for his guests to enjoy. This is because, after doing a little big of research on the topic of famous authors who abuse drugs, I came across this Top-10 list:

http://www.alternativereel.com/includes/top-ten/display_review.php?id=00075

These writers have produced some of the greatest works of literature, and it definitely upsets me to know that almost none of their books were written in a sober state of mind. It also slightly discourages me, because it makes me wonder. Does this mean that in order to take my writing to the next level, I have to pour myself a large glass of vodka or even take acid?

What I Think About While Swimming

Swimming, a sport which involves staring at the same black line at the bottom of the pool for two hours with a limited oxygen supply and the bitter taste of chlorine lingering in one's mouth, has remarkably gotten more exciting since the beginning of AP English. I now analyze much of what I see or how I am feeling at the moment based on which set Coach Beth makes us swim. Some examples include:

1). Jackie is touching my feet, which indirectly characterizes her as impatient and unwilling to swim in front of me, eliciting pathos of frustration in me because I would rather not have somebody lingering this close to me.

2). When Beth says, "Now you guys have to swim 8 400's, and negative-split them", my tone toward her abruptly changes from admired, derived from the positive diction of "awesome" in saying, "Our Beth is an awesome Beth" to an extremely annoyed tone in about less than a second. This marks the time where I can only groan and utter the word, "SERIOUSLY?" Undoubtedly, my short syntax in my expression also reveals my deep frustration.

3). Lastly, as Davis says, "Gosh, Meghan, why is the suit you're wearing so ugly?", I indirectly characterize him as extremely rude. Here, he represents a synecdoche for male swimmers, stereotyping them as ignorant because they really have no sense of style nor color coordination. His inclusion of "gosh" demonstrates his utter shock in my attire and elicits pathos of anger in me because of his lack of respect for my bathing suit.

The commentaries do not stop here. Each day, I craft a sentence of analysis during practice, depending on my mood. I actually come to appreciate our grueling activities in English because it provides for me a source of enjoyment, as a way to pass the time in the pool.

"Meggie"

As Thanksgiving came and went, I was reminded of my "good name" as a child, similar to Gogol's in The Namesake. When I was younger, everybody in my family and extended family called me "Meggie". Until I turned about 6 years old, I absolutely adored this name, and considered it a source of endearment by my close family and friends. My mom would always hug me and say, "You're my little Meggie". However, as I reached the second grade, I soon realized that this name sounded too immature for my mature seven-year-old self, because my older brother would tease me and call me a baby. So, from then on, I began correcting people when they called me Meggie and told them that I prefer to be called Meghan. As I sat down at the dinner table next to my family and close family friends this year on Thanksgiving, my Uncle asked, "Meggie, would you please pass the mashed potatoes?" At this instant, memories of my childhood flooded back to me and I began to wonder why I dreadfully hated this name so much as a young child. Sometimes, I now wish that people would still call me this, because it is unique and much less generic than the name Meghan.

The Amish Folk

In English class, we always discuss our intelligence, but do not always realize how lucky we are to have the opportunities to use this and apply it to our world of seemingly limitless possibilities. As I read Carley Mader's blog about her Amish cleaning lady, I thought of Ann, the Amish lady who "babysits" me and Jackie every time my parents go out of town to visit my older siblings. Two weekends ago, when my parents went to Miami to visit my sister without even telling me (or I just wasn't paying attention when they did tell me). I was surprised to be greeted by Ann, wearing her smock and bonnet sitting in the kitchen preparing chicken for dinner. First of all, she wears a bonnet. In the year 2010. It just astounds me how committed these people are to their strong tradition of customs and way of life, when she is well aware of the customs and traditions of our society. I went on asking her how school was for her as she grew up, and learned that she finished her schooling in the eighth grade by passing a test on the geography of all the 88 counties in Ohio. After that, she says, is either on to cleaning houses or trying to find a husband at age 15. At this point, we were watching the Cav's game. She expressed her strong desire to go to a game, and I told her she could borrow some of my clothes and come with me sometime. She then replied, "I cant go. It is forbidden by the Amish religion". The limited oppurtunities the amish have saddens me. They have nothing to strive for, because many of their futures are already decided for them by their elders, or, they have to clean houses for the rest of their lives. Although Ann always has a smile on her face and she seems to enjoy her life, I realize her high intelligence when she stays with me for the weekend and wonder what she could have been, or what she could have done differently in the world if she lived in the traditional American society.

Does "sorry" really mean what is used to?

Sometimes during our class discussions, I wish Ms. Serensky could press a "pause" button, just so that everybody can observe everyone else's facial expressions. These discussions remind me of a pack of warthogs fighting over one tiny carcass in the Mohave desert. Only the strong survive, while the weak ones get trampled, and then eventually die. Manners fly out the window, as the word "yeah" is used to cut people off before they have the chance to contribute their piece of mind. Not to mention, when three or about ten people start blurting out their ideas at the same exact time, the mother warthog prevails by shouting, "Oh, SORRY" and then continues to use each and every quote he or she prepared while the other warthogs groan because they now have to dig for another important point. Why do people say "sorry"? They actually feel no remorse for rudely interjecting incoherent phrases. In life, only the points seem to matter anymore. This phenomenon needs to cease. How can a class discussion ultimately be productive if it usually consists of a battle for the maximum amount of points with sweat beating down people's faces, feet anxiously tapping, and personal character put to the test? Well, we, the superior beings of the senior class at Chagrin Falls High School are warriors. We trample the weak, and hurdle the dead. Only the strong survive.

How Accountable Should Grown-Up Children be for their Parents?

Following Ashoke's death, I think the support that Sonia and Gogol gave to their Mother, Ashima was very appropriate. However, the fact that nearly thirty-year-old Sonia "settled back into the room she had occupied as a girl", seems too extreme for me (189). She had settled in San Francisco, thriving on her own and had a presumed successful job. I know that Ashima was very lonely and needed her children to stay with her for a while, but how long does she really need them there? Ashima is a grown woman, with a job at the library and has some friends to keep her company. I think Ashima needs to begin to be more independent, and not rely so much on her children; she has been in the United States long enough, and needs to honestly try to adapt herself to the American ways of living, such as driving a car. Her actions deem her as selfish, because she has caused Sonia to pity her and uproot her life in California and move back home, more than 3,000 miles away.

Moushumi is a sneak

>After reflecting on Moushumi's selfish acts of adultery, I thought of a friend of mine whose mother just revealed that she has been having an affair for the past two years.  The three sisters living in the house feel extremely betrayed and confused. She often asks me, "WHY did she have to rip our family apart like this?" Since this is new news, the parents are forced to continue to live in the same house, either constantly fighting or just do not speak at all, causing an eerie silence throughout the house, until the father finds an apartment. My friend cannot look at her mother without feeling disgusted; this one action has forever tainted their relationship. I believe that situation very similar to this one could occur in Gogol and Moushumi's household if she continues to justify her relationship with Dimitri, an apparently pathetic "small, balding, unemployed, middle-aged man", or another man once they eventually have children (266). The fact that Moushumi chooses this unimpressive man as Gogol's successor further indirectly characterizes her a desperate. If Moushumi is unhappy, she needs to immediately divorce Gogol. The longer she waits to do so, more problems will likely arise. Although Gogol may cause her to feel trapped, she needs to communicate her feelings with him, so that he beings to properly communicate as well.