Titina09's Blog

What a wierd story.would have never of imagined reading a story like thins in my english class. A guy turning into a bug was kinda nasty and wierd at the same time. This story of this guy reminds me of a play we read call the Glass Menagerie. Tom worked for his mother and sister and they depended on him, and he hated his job as well as this guy that turns into a bug. not only that but at the end of he play tom is forced to leave his family and persue hus own life and so is in a way this guys life. He dies and is better of lke that becasue he has become a huge bug.

What a great yet mysterious story. I loved it. It had me stuck to the pages the whole time I didnt want to stop reading it.  I think its wierd how this small town it wasn’t really a lottery it was a way of purifying the town. So that next corn season would be good. So killing Mrs. Hutchinson meant a good harvest for the next seasion. What an irony this story has. I guess Shirley took it fomr the biblical times where God made his people the city of Israel cleanse themselves from sins and kill the family of Acan.

So I decided to do my research on the lottery by Shirley Jackson. I will be using the Sociological Critical Approach to Literature it will be very interesting to discover and research what was Shirley really thinking when she wrote this amazing story. Its so interesting how small little towns are so into there traditions they become small cults. I cant beleive that even today in America that still exists. Sadly to say it does. Take for example the cults that exist over there in Utah where women are govern by men and by a higher ruler. I believe its called poligany.

I really identified myself with this story, and how this girls mom is always telling her what to do and how to be a lady.Growing up I would always hear my mom saying Christina do this do that, dont do this its not lady like. Cross your legs, sit up streight, I used to get tired of it. But now I know that it really helped me that she told me all this stuff. I differ from the story in the way that my mom never told me not to be a whore or did she ever tell me what that was. Well thats it I really identified myself with that story, well in a way.

I believe this is a great play yet somewhat confusing. I understand that Laura is crippled from one leg and she collects glass figures.  She is very reserved actually shy from her messed up leg, she kinda lives like in her own little world. The thing I dont understand is all that about the fire escape and the significance of it. And whats so important about the glass menagerie? What happens to Laura at the end when her brother brakes them all?

I do beleive, off the bat, that the hardest thing for me personally is getting my ideas into paper. Taking my ideas and tranforming them into words yet and at the same time being clear so the reader can understand it is whats making it the hardest. The easiest thing is that I know what I am writting about and I understand the Poem and its meaning and I have the thesis statement down which some people think is the hardest part.

THEME FOR ENGLISH B

By Langston Hughes

The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it’s that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:

It’s not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I’m what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me—we two—you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York too.) Me—who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records—Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn’t make me NOT like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white—
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That’s American.
Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that’s true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me—
although you’re older—and white—
and somewhat more free.

This is my page for English B.

Im considering this Poem because it relates to what we are going  through in writting this poem analysis. It also describes how Ive felt many times when I’ve been sent home to write a paper.

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