This blog post is mainly for some reflection on my narrative project draft one. I will reflect on it using some symbolism from The Wizard of Oz. The scarecrow, tin man, and lion all have characteristics that offer some insight. As do the wizard and the moment when Dorothy learned she could have returned home whenever she wanted to.
My narrative allows me to examine my mind back when my narrative takes place as well as now that it has been a few years since the events. Back then I was almost grossed out by my grandfather. I had only met him six or so times before so it was almost like being at a complete stranger’s death bed. I think what I thought back then was completely reasonable although disrespectful. The scarecrows main characteristic of not having mind at the beginning of the story lends itself well to how I felt after I somewhat came to an understanding of it. My emotions back then were a mixed bag. I wanted to feel bad for him, but I just couldn’t. I really did not know how I should feel, but know it seems a little clearer to me. I think that I had to experience it before I could really gauge how I felt. When the tin man gets a heart he can understand events much more complexly. I think that the tin man accurately represents my emotions because I just needed to mature to make sense of things. I think that when it comes to high-stakes and the emotion that it provokes, death is one of those things that almost everyone has in common. I'm not suggesting that some people are immortal, but rather that most people can relate to a death in their family or a friend or neighbor. I also did not try to use it to build tension or suspense. I tried to make the death as inglorious as possible because I think that portrays what I was feeling back then as accurately as possible. Somewhere in between confusion and pity. This is the only spot where the symbolism does not work. The lion gaining courage at the end does not fit with my narrative essay. My narrative project allowed me to understand my relationship to my family a little more. I think revisiting some of the thoughts I had in writing is allows for a certain type of insight that only writing allows you to have. This was my “you could have returned home the whole time” moment. I always had the ability to understand what I was thinking, but if I told myself the truth I wouldn’t believe it. Lastly, I think that what we tell ourselves about our life events defines who we are. If you break your arm, You can think about it in a few ways. Either its siiiick! that you broke your arm, or it's a terrible hindrance to you and it makes you upset. Since you only remember the emotion you were feeling when you broke your arm, your future meditations on the subject will always be tainted with that emotion whether it be positive or negative.
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The central theme of Hills Like White Elephants by Ernest Hemingway is this idea of miscommunication and factors from both sides contributing to the disorder of the situation. On one side, the woman is dodging around the problem, and on the other side, the man wants to force an answer out of her about a decision that needs consideration. It takes two hands to clap and two dancers to tango. I like biology, but it seems like my teacher just wants to see me fail. Does she have to single me out every class? Can't she complain about someone else’s work and make an example of them? My head was turning over these thoughts before I walked into class that day. The way the tables are set up around the room means there is a bio lab today. My lab partner is also absent today which means I have to handle the entire lab by myself. The first thing I’m going to do before the teacher gets here is try to get a small head start on this lab packet. It’s just chock full of useless information and busy work which are both trademarks of her teaching style. When she walked into the room I felt it like I have a sixth sense. It’s like someone is watching you and you can feel the uneasiness creep all the way up your back. As we all took our seats and she started lecturing us about some thin glass tools that can break easily I read ahead and started to do some of the busy work very half-assedly. She probably already knew that I was just filling out random things in her precious packet instead of listen to her imperative speech about 10 cent glass tubes so she grabbed my packet, waved it around, and held it up for the class to see. “See this? This is exactly what I don’t want you to do. This and this and this is all wrong. You’re gonna have to redo all of this” she said as she pointed to each of the things I had written and held it in front of my face. A little snort of amusement slipped out and she looked over the packet that was between us at me. I’m pretty sure she took it as a challenge and continued “You think this is funny? You just gave yourself and your group extra work. They aren’t gonna like you for this.” “Sure.” I put my earbuds in and turned on some music. I didn’t want to hear anymore. “Are you aware that you can get disciplinary action filed against you for not following my directions, Mr. Rajasekaran?” She purposely slaughtered my last name like she thought that it had never been done before. “I’m sure you'd love to see that” “I would love to see you do some decent work” “I’d love to see you be a decent person and not fuck with me all the time” “And now I’d love to see you in the principal's office” she said as she retrieved a detention notice. It is too easy to jump to conclusions about something that you don't understand. Everyone does it at least internally because it is basically unavoidable the way humans are wired. It is also not necessarily a bad thing because the same logic is used to learn faster, but that is besides the point. That’s the basis of this story about me learning a lot about understanding and accepting that not every single person is going to interpret the world the same as you. For all of my formative years, I took science to be the final say on life's biggest questions. I never really learned or wanted to learn about religion because the preschool I went to was very progressive. When I moved from sunny L.A. to rural PA where I live now, There was a lot of learning to be done about the people here by second grade me. Most of them were religious which to me was uncharted territory. While I still do not practice a religion, back then a lot of what is taught in most monotheistic religions was complete nonsense to me. The microscope zoomed in and out of focus. I was still trying to spin the dial and have it present a clear image of my cell. I looked into the lens at this thing I could not see. It is amazing that something this small is what makes our bodies what they are. Because my parents are both scientists, I had seen this before and started naming the structures I already knew on my paper. This is fascinating I thought. I picked up my eyes and peered around the room. Not many other groups were finding success with the microscope. Some were trying to understand it and others seemed to have no interest in it. How could they not enjoy looking at these cells that compose everything in our body? 5 minutes later I found myself sitting at my desk and filling out some notes about the activity. As the teacher, an older lady who really enjoyed teaching us, went over something about the origins of the structures in the cells. I filled in the skeletal notes I was missing and kept staring blankly ahead directly into the cinder block wall. I was slightly tuned out, but I was still aware of the backing track of the classroom. It’s kinda dumb that I have to learn all of this again, but at least I got to mess around with numerous dials and settings on the microscope. That's when the guy next to me raised his hand and said, “Uh, why do we have to learn about any of this stuff if we already know that God created us and the Earth.” Huh? What? “You can’t be serious” I said. The speed at which his head turned threw his hair behind him. His eyes widened like I had just slapped him across the face. The look he wore told me that I had definitely done something wrong. “There’s no way some guy just invented the world!” I said aloofly. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. I dawned on me that what I had just said was probably insensitive. “You want me to believe that life just started? Just like that?” he replied as a little anger started creeping its way into his voice. I blockheadedly responded “Yeah it makes more sense than . . .” “Alexander!” the teacher exclaimed. “Sorry” I replied. I didn’t know that people had such strong connections to their religion like that I thought. When I read My Name is Margaret by Maya Angelou, I was reminded of this story because at the beginning of her story, an unnamed white woman incorrectly jumped to conclusions based on what Margaret's says about her grandparents owning the only general store. Even though her assumptions about Margaret were probably made on more than what Margaret’s grandparents did, she still did not have the full story and jumped to a conclusion which was ridiculous and even ludicrous and also disrespected Maya Angelou. Similarly, I jumped to conclusions about religion and disrespected my classmate. Now, my understanding of religion is better and I believe that whatever spirituality you choose to have is an essential part of the self. |
“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all: Read a lot and write a lot”
- Stephen King AuthorHello. I'm Raj. Nice to meet you. Archives
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