I'm Thankful For.....yikes..

I'm thankful for a lot of things this year-friends, family and food included, the three F's. And I suppose I'm thankful for my classmates as well. The group that I sit in makes class fun and interesting and I'm not afraid to share my opinions with them when doing group work or peer editing.
          I'm thankful for Kayla because she's always willing to share her kindle with me when I forget my book. She's really funny and makes me laugh whenever she gives attitude to Keduse. I also enjoy reading her writing and hearing what she has to say during group work. Though usually when doing group work we spend ten minutes on each question because we can't always agree on the answers (this is usually Keduse's fault).
          I'm thankful for Kyla because she's really good at bsing the answer to a question that we haven't answered as a group yet. She's really talkative and keeps the conversation going when we seem to hit a dead end. Plus Kyla brings food and shares it with Keduse so that keeps him quiet for a little while. (Funny how these things keep coming back to Keduse, huh?) She has a great sense of humor and I know that even when we argue about the answer to something we can walk away from it still friends.
         I guess I'm thankful for Keduse too sometimes. I think he shared his book with me that one time. And sometimes he makes a funny joke. Nah, Keduse is actually pretty okay. Even if the only reason he's in this blog is because he threatened me. He's really smart, unfortunately, and more than often we actually get along pretty well. He also makes class enjoyable because it's easy to annoy him and get him  all flustered. (Sorry buddy)
        As I said, I'm thankful for a lot of things this Thanksgiving. And my English II classmates definitely make the list.

I Celebrate Myself

I celebrate myself.
          But I do so for the wrong reasons.
          I don't celebrate myself for being honest because I'll lie if it means keeping myself or someone else from getting hurt. I don't celebrate myself for standing up to anyone because I back down from any sort of conflict. I don't celebrate myself for being different because it's hard to be different from anyone these days as everyone stretches more and more outside the box looking for individuality.
          I wouldn't say I'm especially pretty or smarter than average. I don't really think I'm all that different from any of my friends or very original. I don't have any special talents and I don't play any sports or instruments.
          I celebrate myself all the same because I come to terms with the fact that it's okay to not stand out in a crowd of people. As long as I'm okay with who I am I'll celebrate myself.

Poe

          Edgar Allan Poe led a very unhappy and unfortunate life and this very likely bled into his writing and would explain all of his moody, depressing, horrific stories. From a young age he was separated from his siblings, raised by a cold father, and went through financial problems for basically all of his life. 

          Poe's momma died when he was two years old and she had taken him and his two siblings to live on their own. Poe was separated from his brother and sister and raised by Mr. and Mrs. John Allan who   lived with pretty good conditions. Edgar went through elementary school in England and then moved to the US to continue his studies at the University of Virginia when he was seventeen. Poe's foster father was wealthy but he did not share much of his wealth with Edgar so he soon racked up a bunch of debt and started drinking heavily. 

          He had no job and no money so Poe enlisted in the US army when he was 18. He got up to the rank of sergeant major when Mrs. Allan died and Mr. Allan decided to be a little more amiable towards Poe. He signed Poe's application to go to West Point for the army. Poe lived with his grandmother and cousin, Virginia, while waiting to enter West Point. John Allan refused to send Poe money so he didn't stay long and was soon dismissed from the army as well. 

          Poe moved to New York where some of his poetry was published but most of the works he sent to magazines and newspapers were rejected. He even begged John for help again but never heard from him and John Allan died three years later. Poe was one of the only writers trying to make a living off of his writing only instead of having another job and writing as a hobby. His style of writing wasn't popular either because his stories were gruesome and horrifying so they didn't sell and he didn't get much money for the ones that did get published. 

          The last days of Poe's life are a very mysterious mystery. On September 30, 1849 Edgar was supposed to take a train New York but supposedly took the wrong train to Baltimore. Three days later he was found lapsing in and out of consciousness and was taken to the hospital but he couldn't say exactly what had happened to him. Edgar Allan Poe died in the hospital four days later, his life a spiral of depressing events and his death an intriguing mystery. 

          

What is an American?

America the brave, America the true. America the free land. America is home to the independent and strong, the hardworking and the leading people. America the power country, right?
       Or I suppose you could look to the other extreme. Those fat, lazy Americans. Those gun toting, hard headed Americans, eating their McDonald's and dropping out of high school.
       But no matter which stereotype you turn to, whether it be honorable or shameful, it's just not true. I know a lot of hardworking people who earned their land and built their house by hand. But they'd turn someone away from work because of their sexual orientation. Or walk to the other sidewalk because someone of a different skin color is passing by. I know a lot of people who are in bad living situations or money situations and can't find work because of their lack of a high school diploma. And yet a smile seems to find its way onto their faces and they treat everyone they meet with great respect.
       "America the brave"; sure it's easy to be brave when you know that the "fear" you're facing is made up or twisted into something its not. "America the true" as if we're told the truth about what happens behind the colors and costumes that politicians put up. As if we know the real reasons why wars are started and how people are repeatedly elected when all they've done is drag us down. "America the free land"? Teenagers are profiled and pulled aside and questioned by police in the middle of a street because of their skin color and the assumption that kids walking in groups must be up to gang activity. Is that freedom? The government has the right (I use this term loosely) and ability to tap into our phones, computers, our lives if we're suspected of any kind of criminal activity. Suspected, not charged. Is that freedom? No, but it sure is all about the power.
       I can also safely say that I haven't a McDonald's meal in about eleven years. I don't stuff my face with fast food everyday. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I eat terribly healthy food but I take care of myself. I don't like guns. I don't like violence. I don't like war. I don't like the idea of children roaming the streets packing heat but I definitely don't assume that every black, sixteen-year-old guy is. I plan on finishing high school and going to college. College was never really a question for me but I suppose that just shows what kind of environment for me. I don't think it shows what kind of person you are if you don't finish school. That's just one part of your life and shouldn't be used to judge your intelligence or personality.
       I guess what I'm trying to say is that there isn't a one thing that makes someone an American. There are all these values and characteristics that are used to describe Americans but if you take a step back, you could use them for almost anyone. In the end I don't think there's a way you can take a whole nation and fit it under one category. In the end we're all human and our humanity is the only thing we all have in common.

Modern Day Puritan

Although Puritanism doesn't exist as a religion any more, many traits and values have been passed down and made a part of other religions and common principles.
          The Puritans believed that a single mistake in life could cast you down in hell and out of God's favor forever. Nowadays, religions are a lot more lenient about repenting for sins and confessing so that you may have a clear conscience once again. I personally am not religious so there's not much I can say about this without stepping into unknown territory. But I can say that I haven't a lot of the straight-as-a-ruler laws of Puritanism in modern society.
          While we do have some rules that aren't as bendable as others, they're nowhere as harsh as those of the Puritans. For example, in the book The Scarlet Letter, Hester Prynne committed adultery and while she got off with what seemed like a simple punishment, some of the townspeople were saying that she should be put in jail or hanged for it. Whooa, nellie that's super extreme. In our society, cheating is certainly frowned upon, but it's not something you can be arrested for! (Usually..)
          That's another thing. Hanging. I'm not too caught up on the different ways death penalties are carried out but I think death by hanging isn't one of them anymore. Let alone to have it done in front of the entire town for everyone to come watch. That's just absolutely barbaric. This doesn't only apply to the Puritans though. Back in ye olden days hanging and decapitation witnessed by ruthless, bloodthirsty townspeople was the norm and I'm so glad that's been shunned since then.
          Most of the traces of Puritanism is gone from our society these days but there are still some values that have been passed down and altered. We have come up with new, more-but definitely not completely-humane ways of dealing with breaking the law or rules of a religion. And I'm sure down the road there will be people analyzing how primitive our society is as well.

Proctor...Hero or Stooge?

          Definitely a herooge. Stooro? Whatever you might call it, I think John Proctor was both a hero and a stooge.
          John was a stooge in the way that all men are stooges. He was an idiot, not cognitively but in his mindset. He did foolish things without thinking about the later consequences. However each (well, maybe most) of his actions were brave and were done with good intention.
          Proctor's affair with Abigail? Foolish. I'm not sure what went on before Act I between them or how she may have been appealing. But she was not at all attractive while wildly accusing her rivals of witchcraft. Abigail was crazy bonkers no doubt about it. Like I said though, men are generally idiots so maybe Proctor just couldn't help himself and couldn't see past her pretty face. His wife was pretty cold and whether or not all of her shrewdness resulted from the affair, their marriage didn't seem all that happy. So this could be another factor of John running into another's arms.
          Standing up to the unfair justice system for himself as well as countless innocent others? Heroic. It's clear that no one who was accused was really guilty of witchcraft. However, everyone was encourages to admit to it anyway to same themselves from hanging. Obviously there's something wrong with that logic. When Proctor was accused he remained vigil and would not confess. He had a last minute panic and falsely admitted to performing witchcraft but he soon saw how he could not live with the lie and would rather die with the truth. Although Proctor was murdered, he spoke up against the insane court system and the people who confessed to a crime they did not committ and then blamed an innocent person to save their own skin.

Arrivals...There Goes the Neighborhood

As Chicagoans, we pride ourselves on being integrated and "color blind" and anything else we might say to boast about acceptance of many different races and cultures. But we couldn't be more wrong. 

          To look at our city and say we're integrated is mind-blowing to me. When someone says "south side", what do you think? Do you think, oh yeah south side, what a nice neighborhood, I remember when those little girls sold me girl scout cookies. No! You think the ghetto, the bad neighborhood, that's where all the black people shoot it up. And it's the same thing for north side, to a lesser extent. North side is where all the white people live, it's clean and perfect and nothing bad ever happens. Both of these stereotypes are incredibly wrong, of course, and I can say I understand that but that doesn't mean I can help but think them anyway. 

          And no one can. These are things that have pounded into us since birth, maybe not intentionally but they've been there. We've all been little kids making racist jokes (we probably still do) and repeating what we've heard our parents saying as if we know we know what we're talking about.  I was raised in a pretty mixed environment, being mixed myself my family is very accepting. I went to a diverse elementary school and now I'm in a diverse high school. Walking around the city you can people from so many different places. I was never really exposed to segregated neighborhoods or "real" racism. My friends and I talk about racism like it was thing from 50 years ago, completely unaware that it still lives and in our own city no less. 

          Before we bought a house, my mom and I lived in a three floor town house in a mostly Puerto Rican neighborhood. I remember my mom walking into the house with one of the last small boxes from the car. Two older women walked by speaking in Spanish and they kept glancing at my mom and me on the porch. I don't speak Spanish but I understand it a little so all I caught was "them moving in" and "just the beginning of". My mom does speak Spanish because she needs to for her job and she had obviously understood all of it. She stopped short and looked down at the box. The look on her face was unforgettable. The women saw that my mom heard them and they quickened their pace past our house and stopped talking.  

          As Chicagoans we pride ourselves on being mixed and accepting even though when you take a step back you can see the neighborhood boundaries. We think of ourselves progressive and to an extent it's true. But we actually spread ourselves out, every time someone moves in who doesn't look like us, all can we can think is "there goes the neighborhood." 

Me

     Hi!  My name is Calista Brown and I'm a freshman at Whitney Young High School. I'm also a frackie and we have a pretty bad rep. I hope to do well in this class because English is my best subject and writing is my favorite thing to do. Um so this is supposed to be a blog about "who I am" right? Well, my favorite color is blue, my hair is really hard to manage and I love cats. Big cat, domestic cats, any kind you can think of. I hope I'm reincarnated into a fluffy kitty when I die:3 Anywho I'm a really big procrastinator and one of my biggest goals this year is to spread my workload out a little more evenly. I tend to work harder on assignments that I like and they usually turn out better that way. I'm excited for this year but as usual I'm also really nervous about my classes and all of the work we'll have to do. I'm not sure exactly what I want to be when I grow up nor do I know what college I want to go to but my mom says she plans on going back to school to get her master's when I go to college. She always says we're going to go to the same school and be roomies and best friends the whole time....fun times. I'm looking forward to a lot of things this year and I'm going to try to enjoy high school a lot. Everyone always says that these were the best years of their lives and not to let them go by too quickly without getting everything I can out of them. So let this be the beginning of a great four years:D