Who I am Today

        Growing up is a difficult experience on it's own. What makes it memorable is the experiences you encounter. I have many "adult" memories that have altered my life in some way, shape, or form. Although many of these memories, or experiences, are minor there are quite a few that had a major impact on me. I can remember many vivid memories, brought on by one main experience. My EX boyfriend, Cody.

        In 2011, I met a guy named Cody. We started talking after he saw me and recognized me from a volleyball game. He then added me on Facebook, and began messaging me. He was a year older than me, only lived about 20 minutes away, and managed to make me feel like his princess. Except, not all fairy-tales last forever. Not long after we began dating, I found out from multiple people that he had cheated on me... and not just once. He had not only slept with one of the most "disgusting" people from my area, but also slept with many other girls behind my back. With that news, I was devastated. I had known him for many years through livestock events, but never thought of pursuing any type of relationship with him.

         Now, I wish I never would have pursued a relationship with him. I was Stupid. Even after finding out the heartbreaking news, I still remained with him. I would give my all to him, knowing I was not receiving his in return, and I suppose that is what kept me trying. After we talked about it, things got better, but only for a while. We would break up over stupid arguments, and fight verbally and physically about the choices we both made. Still, I would not leave him.

         About a year and a half after we first began dating, he began talking to girls again. Therefore, we broke up. During this time I am sure many things happened that I still do not know about, but once I started moving on, the break up became unacceptable. He deliberately caused drama between himself and the guy I was interested in at the time. When Cody insulted me, my new interest was fairly unhappy and had words with my ex. They then agreed to meet up and fight, so I took my new interest's side. We showed up, prepared to fight one on one with my ex Cody. We then realized that was a poor decision when 7 of his buddies jumped out the car with him.

        At that point, Cody had my interest jumped, and had a girl thinking I had talked about her, just so she could fight me. Cops got involved, and needless to say my new interest was ruined. You would think a girl would walk away after her ex did something to her like that, right? Like I said, I was an idiot. I went back to him a little less than a month later, and surprisingly things got better. We moved in together over the summer until I had to leave for college. That is when the lies began again, and the fighting worsened.

         I then went off to college, single. Ever since, I have barely heard from him. Sometimes we talk, but only as friends. That relationship not only took a toll on my body, but also on my emotions. He made me an angry person. He made me feel insecure. He also made me feel little, weak, and destroyed any trust left within me. Coming out of that relationship, I cannot stand liars and/or cheaters. I also cannot trust in anything or anyone. If something or someone you love that much can do such harmful things to you, what stops anyone else from doing the same?

          Thankfully, I met my current boyfriend James, and he is the most wonderful man I have ever met. He treats me with great respect, he is honest with me, and he appreciates me for what I am worth. Overall, he has shown me what a real relationship is, and being with him has taught me what a horrific relationship I was in. While I may have some good memories with Cody, I deserved much better; because of that, I have learned my self worth and when to walk away.

Conflicted

Soon enough I will have to turn in a research paper, only problem is; I still have no earthly idea of what topic I am going to do it over. I am conflicted because I would like to write about the poems, but finding the right topics and resources is becoming a very difficult task for me. On the other hand, I actually enjoyed reading the previously assigned graphic novel, and each source seems to be easier to find, along with being much more relevant to my search.

I find myself leaning more towards the novel rather than the poems solely because of the easier access to references and information. As much as I would like to do more research on my poems, it just seems as if I am getting nowhere. With my new approach, Stitches: A Memoir would be the better, more informative approach and it would be in my best interest to research this topic rather than the comparison of two poems.

I am going to take the most obvious approach that ties in well with my purpose from my graphic novel essay. I plan to research the toll that child abuse takes on an individual, and how it could potentially carry on into that individual’s adulthood. I also plan to research whether or not it can be inherited or passed through genetics, or if it is purely a cause and effect “chain reaction”. So far I have two sources that prove to be relevant and address the psychological aspect of child abuse. As for the other resources I will be using, they are still non-existent.

My main source is a book I found on the Gale Virtual Reference Library link called “Child Abuse”. It gives the description of each abuse, a little bit of history, some causes and effects, along with ways to prevent it and overall very useful information. The other source I found was from the link Academic Search Complete. This topic discusses the effects of child abuse as well, but it explains how the exposure to abuse is related to cognitive deficits in adulthood, depending on the type of abuse and the frequency of exposure to abuse. There are a few more resources I have found, but I am not sure if they are appropriate for the point I am trying to get across with my research.

My research will be based off of my graphic novel essay in which I try to figure out Betty as a character. With this research, I hope to elaborate on why Betty is the character she is. I believe she was abused as a child, and I also believe that because she was abused, it led her to be more abusive, cruel, and neglectful to her son David. My hope is to identify what the underlying cause of her personality is, and I believe with all the resources I am discovering, I can explain, or at least give insight, on the psychological toll abuse can have on an individual.

"Understudy" by; Daniel Lusk

    My first response to this poem was, "what in the world is the point in this"? This happens to be one of the poems I do not like, not because it is a bad poem or anything, but because it is a very confusing poem that is difficult to follow and comprehend. Because it was hard to follow, "Understudy" very easily frustrated me. Personally, I prefer poems that rhyme or talk about something I am familiar with, for example: breakups, or daily stresses of a teenager, not something pertaining to death.
    Lusk repeatedly mentions the arrangement of silverware. Why? What could possibly be relevant about sitting at a table arranging silverware, and why does arrangement matter? In the second section, Lusk says: "It crawls inside their cuffs and edges out again along their temples and the gothic arches of their eyebrows". What is "it"? From the previous section, it sounds as if "it" were supposed to be the silverware, but with imagery that would make no sense.
    This is what frustrates me; riddles. Though Lusk may not be using riddles, he sure is not being precise about what he is talking about, and because of this I cannot stand this poem. Underlying meanings simply anger me. Instead of being obvious about the subject he is writing about, he jumps from subject to subject, expecting the reader to understand what he is trying to say. Though I do not prefer, or even like, this type of poem, I appreciate the thought and work Lusk had to put into this poem to make it different while still getting a story across.
    I believe this poem is referring to death. "It" refers to age, not silverware. Sitting around arranging silverware is a matter of wasting time and marking their place in this world as they sit, awaiting their death. The old men frequently check their watches, as if they know that time is running out, and the term "belly up" refers to dying, in their case, dying with loneliness.
    Overall, the point of the poem was that, ultimately, we are all understudies. At some point in time these events may happen to us, and the outcome is inevitable. Until then we can only check the time, and wonder when the hourglass will run out of sand.

"Please Come Late" by, Hugo Williams

    I wonder; what creates a sense of connectivity? Maybe a distant memory,or maybe even a shared experience. Memory is a funny thing, along with the human mind. The human body, being united as one yet being so independent in it's own. The heart and mind, connected, but dysfunctional in the same. You may think and find yourself wondering, but it's once you start to feel that things turn for the worse.
    "Make me suffer, wondering what you are doing on the other side of town ..." (Williams 55). Why? Why suffer and physically cause harm to yourself? It's simple; love. The things people put themselves through for the sake of love is actually quite remarkable. Every individual has gone through a break up, especially heart break. We fall into people, not knowing exactly how fast we are falling, until it's too late and no one is there to catch you except the cold reality that no one was ever truly there.
    We think to ourselves, "what did I do?", "where did it all go wrong?". Every possible scenario comes to mind once faced with this reality. The thought of cheating, the thought of them reminiscing about the good times, and then the thought of all that was lost. What happened for one to think "please come late"? Being late refers to a change in time, thankfully, time heals. In time, memories fade, feelings weaken, but the pain still lingers as if it were only there to taunt you in your weakest hours.
    Why would someone want to give up? Possibly because they have wasted too many hours, and tears on someone, knowing that the person will never return. Why would someone want to know if they are remembered by the little things, by the person that hurt them? Maybe because the thought of the other individual missing you leaves a sense of hope. Lastly, how can one finally admit to themselves that there is nothing left? Is it because they want to be shut out, or because they want to avoid any more hurt that comes along with love?
    Readers, no matter how old they may be, will connect to this poem. Every person will eventually come in contact with heart break, but it is how each person copes with it that makes there own story something of it's own. Although it may hurt, I would much rather someone come late, than never come at all.

When Dreams Become Reality

    People face reality in many different ways. Some face their fears with their head held high, while others face them with their emotions hidden. David Small, the main character in "Stitches: A Memoir" faces his fearful realities through his astonishing imagination, and through his vivid dreams.
    Growing up, David faces many brutal encounters with his family. Throughout his experiences, he uses his vivid imagination and creative dream sequences to escape the reality at hand. The communication between David and his family is very minimal, along with the care that is supposed to be provided withing an ideal family household. David's family is nowhere near the ideal family though.
    "During spring vacation [David's] family split down the middle" (Small 65). His mother took him to his grandmother's in the South, while his father took David's brother Ted East. No one exactly knows why his mother is not a very caring, loving individual; through the novel, David implies that maybe the reason for his mother's behavior is caused by her own mother.
    During the visit to his grandmother's we begin to see more imagination, along with dreams come out from David. His grandmother was a harsh woman, inflicting physical and emotional pain to David. To escape reality, he draws and escapes into a place like the place of "Alice in Wonderland". If only dreams could become a reality, but as always, all good things must come to an end.
    The most fascinating illusion, dream, is the man in the jar. When David discovers a growth on his neck, he imagines that inside of the growth is the little man. The little man resembles guilt. First, the guilt for disobeying his mother in the hospital (39-41), and also the guilt for the growth, as if he were trying to hurt his mother and her reputation purposely (119).
    There are multiple amounts, and various types of dreams and imaginative illustrations David has provided, but these are just a few. The way Small goes about his writing is very interesting and disturbingly funny. So I wonder: when will we finally see his dreams become reality?

The Truth Hurts

     Growing up, we face challenges, and people that effect our everyday views. Whether these encounters enhance or destroy our views, they help us form as human beings. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction” for better, or worse. Past events that occurred in my childhood made me view others, even relatives in a very criticizing, negative way, at least until I am proven otherwise. Granted, this is one of my major downfalls, but let me explain as to why these events had a negative impact on my views.

    When I was little, I faced a difficult childhood. My parents were barely getting by, doing everything they could to provide for me and my family, causing them to stray from me, hardly ever spending quality time with me. Instead, I was forced to be watched and practically raised by my sisters. For their age, they did a very respectable job of raising me, because while I was growing and depending on them, they were also just encountering puberty.

    My oldest sister was 13, and my younger older sister was 11. Now, I don't remember much from the beginning, but I do remember a very vivid, particular time when I was about 5 or 6 when my (younger of the two) sister got very upset with me. My mother came home late one night, and I heard my sister in the next room, crying, even yelling at my mother. Being just a little girl, I put my ear to the door, ease-dropping, just as every kid does. I don't remember all that was said that night, but I do remember I heard my sister scream “she pisses me off”.

    After my mom finished talking to her, she came and talked to me. I repeated my sisters words, not knowing that it had a negative connotation, and in return I had my mouth cleaned out, “whoopings”, and even faced a time-out. I was so mad at my sister for the longest time, because that was the first time I ever faced real trouble with my parents. This started to change my views of people, causing me to think “I can't trust anyone”, and as the years went on, the experiences got worse.

    Friends became deceiving, I began to enter troubling times with my family, and I started understanding the world. My views only worsened after my first negative experience. Granted, I have many positive views and outlooks on people, but due to past experiences, I tend to view the bad until I see the good that is in people. In my opinion, I believe I see others differently because I was just a little girl, and it seemed like people were out to get me. I know they weren't, but you can't change your views from childhood just because you've grown up.

    To this day I encounter so many obstacles that change my views on people. Relationships, friendships, even home life. People change, and things are ever changing, and there is no stopping it. I can only think, people are deceitful, no matter if they are friends, family even adults, and I will not change my views until I am proven otherwise. It is amazing the effect of just one memorable experience during a person's childhood that changes their views, for better or worse.

My Guardian Angel

  Ever since I was a little girl, I have been obsessed with animals of all sorts. Over time, I have grown out of being that obsessed little girl, but time cannot erase the memories that continue to linger in one's mind. By the age of five, I had my very first dog (I have had many before, but not of my own), she was a young blue heeler, known by the name of Angel. She was the most gentle, loving, and comforting dog I have ever encountered. My father on the other hand, thought otherwise, not because she was a bad dog, but because he did not have the best encounters with her. Angel tended to like girls, more so than boys.

   I remember vividly the first time Angel had puppies. Our house is built with a carport, that is also connected as a porch. In the car section, at that time, we had a desk and chair put out due to my family moving things around, getting situated into our new house. Angel felt security under that desk, giving life to many puppies, eight to be exact. My family felt sorry for our little Angel, because of the cold, hard concrete she was laying on in such a confined space. Therefore, my dad purchased some hay to lay down for her to lie on, so she and the puppies could stay warm and comfy. Angel, did not appreciate the company of my father around her newborns, and let out a low, suppressed growl.
 
  I leaned toward her, asking what was wrong when my father said that I needed to stay away from her, and that she might bite me. Being young, and knowing the personality of my dog so well, I leaned in, petting Angel, then moved in closer to pet her puppies. Angel did not growl, she did not tense up in the slightest bit, and she remained calm. In fact, she licked me, as if welcoming me to help her and her new little family. A few moments later, I looked back at my dad with a kind of smirk because I could pet Angel, and mess with her puppies, but he could not.

 

  Not a day goes by that I do not miss that dog. She was my first pet, the best pet I could have ever asked for, and my best friend. She would wait for me every day after school, every day after practice, giving me all the love she could ever attain. I was her world, just as she was mine. I spent almost every moment of every day running around with her, playing until the sun went down. Every memory with her was extremely vivid, but the memory of crawling under the desk with her, to comfort her and her puppies was the best, and somewhat comical memory with my Angel. I still reminisce in those memories, hoping one day she will appear at my gate, waiting for me to get back from school.