Stranger Than Fiction

Every summer I stay for two weeks in Bloomfield, Indiana. I spend the majority of these days at Shawnee Theatre. For the past six years, I have actively participated in a theatre program here. While participating in these plays, I have met many strange people. These people come from all over Indiana. Most of them are homeschooled. For some, Shawnee Theatre is one of the few social experiences they participate in. A few years ago, we were playing a theatre game where two people had to go out the the hall while the rest of the cast picked a scene to act out. A girl named Lori and I volunteered to go out to the hall. Since this was my Lori's first day, I decided to try to be friendly and strike up a good conversation. I started by asking, "Is your name Lori or Lauren?" To this she replied, "Oh, it doesn't matter, you can call me either one. It's a lot easier to pronounce than any of my elf names." Thinking she was kidding, I replied jokingly, "Elves? Oh, you mean like the kind that make cookies?" Then she said in an extremely serious, non-joking way, "No, I mean like the real kind." Hearing this really shocked me. It seemed like something a character might say in a movie. I had no idea that people were really this odd. This memory has remained clearer than any other memory from Shawnee just because it was so strange.

It's not always what it seems

As a junior high kid, nothing seemed scarier than approaching high school. The junior high teachers had been warning us for years about how cruel and harsh these future high school teachers would be. The threats of being piled down with homework helped to keep me tossing and turning in the night. To me, it seemed as though there was no way I would be able to keep up in high school. I feared that I would be an abandoned fish in a giant sea. Soon enough, however, the time to start high school came around. I quickly realized that it really was not as bad as everyone had made it seem. High school offered a lot more freedom and class options. The truth was, I began liking high school far more than I liked junior high. Although I was scared and worried, high school ended up being some of the most memorable years of my life.

Counting My Blessings

Whenever I was younger, I used to live in Bloomington, Indiana. I lived nearby my grandparent's house, and I went to visit them quite often. Next door to them lived a man by the name of George. George was a friendly fellow who loved the outdoors. He was a friend to all of nature and always saw the beauty in all wildlife. His entire yard was one giant garden booming with life and every color of the rainbow. He planted plants for the birds, the butterflies and even the bunnies. George always smoked a pipe and lived alone. He still managed to stay a happy, upbeat kind of guy. George always let me go into his garden and pick all the mint plant I wanted and let me chew it all the time. Whenever I moved out of Bloomingon and into my new house, he got me my very own mint plant. Time progressed and he became quite ill and eventually passed. I never really thought about how much of a friend he was and how much he meant to me until he was gone. George was like a member of the family, and really did care about me. No matter how old I may be, I will always remember the countless summers I spent admiring George's garden.

Sacrifice

A few weekends ago, my father needed my help. Although I had made other plans, I decided to sacrifice my time. I had to work about twelve hours at a motorcycle race. As most people know, I am not the kind of person who is interested in sports of any kind. Spending an entire day in the hot sun scoring a filthy, disgusting race was definately my idea of a great afternoon. I had to wake up at six in the morning and sit in a freezing trailor in the morning. As the day progressed, however, the race started getting more fun. The weather started warming up, and all of us workers got free food. Then we all got to sit in the warm sun and score the race. Somehow, having something to do the entire time made the day go by super fast. Along with having a nice tan afterwards, I also got paid by my father. This sacrifice of twelve hours of my time ended up being a pretty fun experience after all.

The 3rd Poem

Funeral Blues
by: W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let airplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good

In this poem, clearly W.H. Auden is mourning the death of a love one. Although this poem seems quite obvious, there is much more depth to it than what one may notice at first. Through further inspection, I noticed that when Auden says, "I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong," that he is somewhat bitter about the loss of this loved one. In the beginning the tone is somewhat sad, but yet content. Then, however, the tone changes to a more bitter and pessimistic stance. Auden seems to feel like that without this loved one, nothing really matters anymore and that the world may as well just give up. This poem has many different underlying tones and emotions in it, plus a very classic rhyme scheme that adds to its simplistic facade.

My Second Poem

Desert Places
by Robert Frost
Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it - it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is, that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less-
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars - on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places

In this poem, Frost refers to his intense loneliness. He compares his loneliness with other pieces of nature such as when he says, "The woods around it have it - it is theirs. All animals are smothered in their lairs." In these lines he is referring to feeling of emptiness, such as the spaces between the trees in the woods. Because he himself is feeling lonely, he uses personification to bring pieces of nature to life. He, in a sense, transfers his emotions and the way he is feeling to these creatures of nature. This poem has a unique rhyme scheme that help to bring it to life.

My First Poem

The Impact of a Dollar Upon the Heart
By: Stephen Crane
The impact of a dollar upon the heart
Smiles warm red light,
Sweeping from the hearth rosily upon the white table,
With the hanging cool velvet shadows
Moving softly upon the door.
The impact of a million dollars
Is a crash of flunkys,
And yawning emblems of Persia
Cheeked against oak, France and a sabre,
The outcry of old beauty
Whored by pimping merchants
To submission before wine and chatter.
Silly rich peasants stamp the carpets of men,
Dead men who dreamed fragrance and light
Into their woof, their lives;
The rug of an honest bear
Under the feet of a cryptic slave
Who speaks always of baubles,
Forgetting state, multitude, work, and state,
Champing and mouthing of hats,
Making ratful squeak of hats,
Hats.

Most of this poem consists of symbolism making it somewhat hard to decipher. Stephen Crane refers to all the wicked tasks people participate in in order to get money. He shows that people completely disregard moral standards whenever money is put in the picture. Perhaps the most meaningful line to me is when Crane states these words, "The outcry of old beauty, whored by pimping merchants." This speaks to me most out of all the other words written. Crane is stating how people have changed the way people see beauty. he states that people are so easily swayed into believing something that is not beautiful or commendable is perfectly acceptable, such as prostitution. In this way, the poem takes on great meaning.