Video games have gained an ENORMOUS amount of popularity and accessibility over the years of my lifetime, and it is completely amazing to me how much the video game culture has become engrained in our society. I have mixed feelings about this cultural phenomenon, seeing how when I was growing up, Mrs. Pac-Man was the only game I was ever interested in. Times have certainly changed since then, and I’m afraid that I am a little bit more out of the loop than I would like to be.
The reasons for wanting to know more about them is not for my own benefit, however, but because the knowledge of gaming is an effective and powerful weapon when it comes to parenting. My kids are so interested in everything that hit’s the shelves that it is important, no, imperative that I am fully aware of every aspect of the games our family chooses to entertain itself with. It was easier when they were younger, when Frogger or Mario where characters that could hold my children’s attention for more that 5 minutes. Now that my son is entering the pre-teen stage, I am constantly questioning the games he is playing- especially when they-re not being played under our roof. When I compare the games that are popular now to those of my youth, I worry simply because I have noticed a general rise in violence with the youth along with the increasing popularity of video games that center around brutality, and it is my belief that video games are a contributing factor to this.
So what game in particular am I wary of? Grand Theft Auto. I can see its appeal, I can understand (to a point) the argument that it’s “just a game,” but I find it really hard to find a balance between good cop and bad cop when other parents don’t seem to be bothered by the contents of it. So what do I do? Research.
John Leo posted an article in US News and World Report in 1999 titled, “When Life Imitates Video,” and even though I had read it when it was originally published, I still hear its lingering warning statements every time my child asks for a violent-themed video game. Leo argues,
“But there is a cultural problem here: We are now a society in which the chief form of play for millions of youngsters is making large numbers of people die. Hurting and maiming others is the central fun activity in video games played so addictively by the young. A widely cited survey of 900 fourth-through-eighth-grade students found that almost half of the children said their favorite electronic games involve violence. Can it be that all this constant training in make-believe killing has no social effects?”
This is the question that Leo seeks to answer throughout his article, which basically argues that video games are directly linked to the rise in violence, and that playing them is pretty much a “dress rehearsal” for the actual performance of these things. I don’t know about you, but I am fearful of the things entering my child’s mind as he plays these games, and as much as I don’t want to believe that he could be brainwashed by a seemingly harmless activity, I don’t know that I am willing to take the chance.
On the IGN website, I did a little digging and found a review on Grand Theft Auto IV. I wonder if you’ll be as shocked as I was.
Grand Theft Auto IV
This is the American dream.
By Hilary Goldstein
April 25, 2008 - "Criminals are an ugly, cowardly lot more worthy of pity and disdain than admiration. This is what you'll learn playing through the single-player campaign in Rockstar's Grand Theft Auto IV. The series cheered (and criticized) for glorifying violence has taken an unexpected turn: it's gone legit. Oh sure, you'll still blow up cop cars, run down innocent civilians, bang hookers, assist drug dealers and lowlifes and do many, many other bad deeds, but at a cost to main character Niko Bellic's very soul."
Would I have been surprised had I bought this game before discovering what it was really all about! One could probably draw the immoral themes of Grand Theft Auto simply from the title alone, but nothing could have prepared me for what to expect better than this review by Goldstein! I didn’t even think of the possibility that my son might already know what “banging hookers” actually means, but the fact that this game could have taught him that outrages me! Sure, they rate the game “M” for mature in the attempt to prevent underage kids from playing, but the fact that its out there and that they are aware of its existence only fuels their desire to play it. I guess I am disappointed that Rockstar Games would create a game that sends such immoral messages to our society, targeting the younger generations simply by cultural coincidence.
I suppose that I should acknowledge that they do warn players of the content of the game, admitting that it contains: “Intense Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Strong Sexual Content, Partial Nudity, Use of Drugs and Alcohol.” In all reality, those things are appealing to young people because they are the very definition of wrong! By telling kids what’s in the game, Rockstar Games is creating the frenzy they wanted all along.
I am severely disappointed and appalled that a game like this could potentially influence the children of the world in a negative way, and I wish there was a way to prevent it being on the shelves of our stores. I will not accept the desensitization and promotion of immoral activity that this video game series offers, and I urge fellow parents and human beings to do the same.
Works Cited:
Goldstein, Hilary. “Grand Theft Auto IV This is the American Dream.” IGN Entertainment. April 5, 2008. http://xbox360.ign.com/articles/869/869381p1 .html
Leo, John. “When Life Imitates Video.” US News and World Report. April 25, 1999. http://www.usnews.com/usnews/opinion/articles/990503/archive_000875.htm
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
3708 W. Janet
A white trailer with red accents
on a bit more than an acre of land,
with a rolling green lawn and trees
designed for little limbs to climb.
The backyard a childhood dream:
A pen full of goats waiting to be pestered
and the first puppy for four city kids now playing it up in the country
where hide and go seek is a worthwhile game
and dusk doesn’t end all fun anymore.
A garden full of kid tested, mother exhorted treats;
Watermelons with seeds aerodynamically perfected
for spitting at younger siblings.
Tomatoes waiting to cover spaghetti and
to be wiped from tiny faces by gentle hands.
A mulberry tree welcoming children up into its branches,
staining the climbers with purple pox on skin and clothes.
Rose bushes flaunting their blooms and
pricking tiny fingers, a warning to gain a wider berth.
Room for everyone now,
bunk beds that are more fun than function,
pinks and blues no longer clashing.
A white trailer with red accents,
not house but definitely a home.
-Stephanie Dalen
on a bit more than an acre of land,
with a rolling green lawn and trees
designed for little limbs to climb.
The backyard a childhood dream:
A pen full of goats waiting to be pestered
and the first puppy for four city kids now playing it up in the country
where hide and go seek is a worthwhile game
and dusk doesn’t end all fun anymore.
A garden full of kid tested, mother exhorted treats;
Watermelons with seeds aerodynamically perfected
for spitting at younger siblings.
Tomatoes waiting to cover spaghetti and
to be wiped from tiny faces by gentle hands.
A mulberry tree welcoming children up into its branches,
staining the climbers with purple pox on skin and clothes.
Rose bushes flaunting their blooms and
pricking tiny fingers, a warning to gain a wider berth.
Room for everyone now,
bunk beds that are more fun than function,
pinks and blues no longer clashing.
A white trailer with red accents,
not house but definitely a home.
-Stephanie Dalen
Torn Up Inside
Confusion exploding, my mind’s a mess
I’m lost to you all, curled up inside my head
Can’t make my fear, uncertainty known
Then I’d be weak, my vulnerability shown.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily anymore
Unclear thoughts and worries plague my consciousness
I can’t understand what I should do
Make amends, or break cleanly away.
Tears threaten to spill down my face,
in this public place
My problems out on display,
for all of them to see.
The fear of scorn for my uncontrolled emotion
The exploitation of my tears is imminent.
It’s not my fault,
I know that intellectually
My heart is not so certain.
If I’d kept my mouth shut would this have taken place
Could things have worked out, had I not spoken up?
I just don’t know what to do,
Having no one to talk to
It seems as though no one cares.
I’m expendable, my feelings defunct
I know this isn’t true but,
My heart aches with the possibility
I feel needy and unlikable,
A hot mess if you will.
I hate this nobody likes me,
Everybody hates me,
Guess I’ll go eat worms mentality.
The poor me! Attitude I’ve had
Makes me sick of myself.
-Stephanie Dalen
I’m lost to you all, curled up inside my head
Can’t make my fear, uncertainty known
Then I’d be weak, my vulnerability shown.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily anymore
Unclear thoughts and worries plague my consciousness
I can’t understand what I should do
Make amends, or break cleanly away.
Tears threaten to spill down my face,
in this public place
My problems out on display,
for all of them to see.
The fear of scorn for my uncontrolled emotion
The exploitation of my tears is imminent.
It’s not my fault,
I know that intellectually
My heart is not so certain.
If I’d kept my mouth shut would this have taken place
Could things have worked out, had I not spoken up?
I just don’t know what to do,
Having no one to talk to
It seems as though no one cares.
I’m expendable, my feelings defunct
I know this isn’t true but,
My heart aches with the possibility
I feel needy and unlikable,
A hot mess if you will.
I hate this nobody likes me,
Everybody hates me,
Guess I’ll go eat worms mentality.
The poor me! Attitude I’ve had
Makes me sick of myself.
-Stephanie Dalen
Freedom Fight?
Necessary roughness, condoned rage,
structured violence, put them all in a cage.
Beat each other senseless; make him feel the pain,
go through the motions, make his blood reign.
Fighting for a cause, stabbing for a reason,
putting down your weapons treason.
Propaganda fueling the flames, enlisting the troops,
churning out hate, pinpointing enemy groups.
Training goes quickly, issued your weapon,
hop in a jeep, begin your mission.
Take down the hostiles, destroy resistance,
Man, woman, and child your hands hold their existence.
Devoting your life, fighting THEIR war,
give up your dreams, because THEY demand more!
Firefights come as overhead bombs explode,
a constant buzz of prayers, while sneaking down a dark, winding road.
One hope leads them on, different faces give each of them purpose,
getting home at all cost, finally reaching the glossy surface.
-Stephanie Dalen
structured violence, put them all in a cage.
Beat each other senseless; make him feel the pain,
go through the motions, make his blood reign.
Fighting for a cause, stabbing for a reason,
putting down your weapons treason.
Propaganda fueling the flames, enlisting the troops,
churning out hate, pinpointing enemy groups.
Training goes quickly, issued your weapon,
hop in a jeep, begin your mission.
Take down the hostiles, destroy resistance,
Man, woman, and child your hands hold their existence.
Devoting your life, fighting THEIR war,
give up your dreams, because THEY demand more!
Firefights come as overhead bombs explode,
a constant buzz of prayers, while sneaking down a dark, winding road.
One hope leads them on, different faces give each of them purpose,
getting home at all cost, finally reaching the glossy surface.
-Stephanie Dalen
Sunday, January 24, 2010
FORGOTTEN
BY: AMY HATCH
She says he's not good enough
He says what more can he possibly give
She's drained everything out of him.
yet he works and works so
he doesn't have to come home.
The insults break his heart
The love he has for her is weakening.
He masks his hurt and pain
He jokes and works all day
She yells
She demeans
She threatens
His pride, his heart, his masquerade
The hurt in his eyes says too much
his sullen face lingers...
She says he's not good enough
He says what more can he possibly give
She's drained everything out of him.
yet he works and works so
he doesn't have to come home.
The insults break his heart
The love he has for her is weakening.
He masks his hurt and pain
He jokes and works all day
She yells
She demeans
She threatens
His pride, his heart, his masquerade
The hurt in his eyes says too much
his sullen face lingers...
RISKS
BY: AMY HATCH
There's no way of knowing
what this life will bring.
Is it worth it to take the risk?
Is it what I've been waiting for
all along?
All the signs point towards
one direction
My mind and heart point toward
the other
Is logic and love that much of an opposite?
Or is that what is meant to happen?
Everyone's stories are all different.
Am I willing to take the risk?
To endure, to sacrifice, to live.
Is it worth it? Am i willing?
There's no way of knowing
what this life will bring.
Is it worth it to take the risk?
Is it what I've been waiting for
all along?
All the signs point towards
one direction
My mind and heart point toward
the other
Is logic and love that much of an opposite?
Or is that what is meant to happen?
Everyone's stories are all different.
Am I willing to take the risk?
To endure, to sacrifice, to live.
Is it worth it? Am i willing?
REALITY
BY: AMY HATCH
Little girls dream of perfect lives.
They have this assurance
that one day they will meet their perfect match
He will be so perfect and faithful
Sometimes these men come
Sometimes they don't
Soon these girls realize
that perfect men don't exist.
The women settle and try
not to dwell on their
fairytale ideology
They ignore it when their men
come home late.
When they see their imperfections.
The women dream
but only until
reality sets in
Little girls dream of perfect lives.
They have this assurance
that one day they will meet their perfect match
He will be so perfect and faithful
Sometimes these men come
Sometimes they don't
Soon these girls realize
that perfect men don't exist.
The women settle and try
not to dwell on their
fairytale ideology
They ignore it when their men
come home late.
When they see their imperfections.
The women dream
but only until
reality sets in
HOW IT IS SOMETIMES
BY: AMY HATCH
Love strikes the innocent
It does not discriminate
It hurts, it numbs, it breaks
Love requires taking a risk
giving your all.
It requires constant attention
and nourishment.
Love cannot grow in a box
It cannot breathe in a tomb
Love comes creeping along
when no one is looking for it
It pounces unexpectedly
Maybe
Unintentional
Unbelievable
Love strikes the innocent
It does not discriminate
It hurts, it numbs, it breaks
Love requires taking a risk
giving your all.
It requires constant attention
and nourishment.
Love cannot grow in a box
It cannot breathe in a tomb
Love comes creeping along
when no one is looking for it
It pounces unexpectedly
Maybe
Unintentional
Unbelievable
MIX CD
BY: AMY HATCH
I made his mom a mix CD
because he said
she liked the music at church
I didn't give it to her
when I met her
because I didn't know if it'd
be sweet
or a little stupid
Now I won't be able to
give it to her
because it didn't
work out
That was a really good mix CD.
I made his mom a mix CD
because he said
she liked the music at church
I didn't give it to her
when I met her
because I didn't know if it'd
be sweet
or a little stupid
Now I won't be able to
give it to her
because it didn't
work out
That was a really good mix CD.
THE OTHER
BY: AMY HATCH
Running towards nowhere
thinking in circles
wandering in the dark
my arms stretched open
eyes closed, heart sitting naively.
Ignoring reality. Facing the truth.
Life is a whirlwind of choices
of which I know too much about.
Who am I?
What have I become?
You judge me,
but what am I compared to.
Running towards nowhere
thinking in circles
wandering in the dark
my arms stretched open
eyes closed, heart sitting naively.
Ignoring reality. Facing the truth.
Life is a whirlwind of choices
of which I know too much about.
Who am I?
What have I become?
You judge me,
but what am I compared to.
WANTING SOMETHING UNATTAINABLE
BY AMY HATCH
Love is not always obvious.
It's not always gentle and kind.
Sometimes it sideswipes you
like a freight train
and you lay there wrecked in it's
destruction
Completely unsuspecting.
Blinded and naive.
Wanting something unattainable
Longing for tangibility
and reassurance
My mind wanders along with the wind
and my thoughts cannot
escape
Holding so much in
sick with nausea
What to do, I cannot say.
I do not know
I do not know.
Love is not always obvious.
It's not always gentle and kind.
Sometimes it sideswipes you
like a freight train
and you lay there wrecked in it's
destruction
Completely unsuspecting.
Blinded and naive.
Wanting something unattainable
Longing for tangibility
and reassurance
My mind wanders along with the wind
and my thoughts cannot
escape
Holding so much in
sick with nausea
What to do, I cannot say.
I do not know
I do not know.
FREEDOM
BY: AMY HATCH
My heart beat quickens
When I pull up to the spacious, lovely building
The breeze makes my hair flutter
In the wind, as I stroll up to the front door
I’m greeted with the warmest smile
And the most sincere heart
The music makes brings me back
To things that I used to do
The person I used to be
My heart is heavy with gratitude
I know I’m free now
I can FEEL again
I have purpose
I have life
I have Him
My heart beat quickens
When I pull up to the spacious, lovely building
The breeze makes my hair flutter
In the wind, as I stroll up to the front door
I’m greeted with the warmest smile
And the most sincere heart
The music makes brings me back
To things that I used to do
The person I used to be
My heart is heavy with gratitude
I know I’m free now
I can FEEL again
I have purpose
I have life
I have Him
MEANING
BY: AMY HATCH
Across the street I see young children
Playing, laughing, running
I feel the breeze of the warm summer air
My golden brown hair sifting to the side
Past the light giggling
Cars swoosh past in a hurry
The hustle of the day
Flies by like an airplane
The quickness of time
An hourglass awaits us
Behind me I smell
Savory barbecued meat
It touches my lips at the same time
The smell touches my nostrils
I enjoy life today
I await the hourglass
Across the street I see young children
Playing, laughing, running
I feel the breeze of the warm summer air
My golden brown hair sifting to the side
Past the light giggling
Cars swoosh past in a hurry
The hustle of the day
Flies by like an airplane
The quickness of time
An hourglass awaits us
Behind me I smell
Savory barbecued meat
It touches my lips at the same time
The smell touches my nostrils
I enjoy life today
I await the hourglass
BUT I DO NOT KNOW
BY: AMY HATCH
Awakened by shouting
I wonder what’s going on
My brother right next to me
I notice how cold it is
But I do not know
My mom’s face is streaming with tears
The police officer has his gun drawn towards us
Before he realizes we are only children
My dad is getting pulled out of the car
But I do not know
The lights are flashing
Blue, red and white
The policemen’s flashlights are blinding
Are it hurts my eyes
But I do not know
They shove him in the back of their car
They take him away
And the stolen car
They leave my mom and us in some town far away from home
But I do not know
Awakened by shouting
I wonder what’s going on
My brother right next to me
I notice how cold it is
But I do not know
My mom’s face is streaming with tears
The police officer has his gun drawn towards us
Before he realizes we are only children
My dad is getting pulled out of the car
But I do not know
The lights are flashing
Blue, red and white
The policemen’s flashlights are blinding
Are it hurts my eyes
But I do not know
They shove him in the back of their car
They take him away
And the stolen car
They leave my mom and us in some town far away from home
But I do not know
THE STRUGGLE
BY: AMY HATCH
I love it when he takes hold of my hair while kissing me
When he tells me that I am beautiful
When he kisses me on the corner of my mouth
And leaves me wanting more
I love that I can be myself
And feel comfortable enough to take risks
I can do anything
And be confident
I hate it when he tells me one thing
And does another
When he tells me something
But I know it’s not the entire truth
I hate that I can be insecure
And feel like the world is crumbling around me in half a second
I have a hard time waiting for anything
And my patience is constantly tested
I love it when he takes hold of my hair while kissing me
When he tells me that I am beautiful
When he kisses me on the corner of my mouth
And leaves me wanting more
I love that I can be myself
And feel comfortable enough to take risks
I can do anything
And be confident
I hate it when he tells me one thing
And does another
When he tells me something
But I know it’s not the entire truth
I hate that I can be insecure
And feel like the world is crumbling around me in half a second
I have a hard time waiting for anything
And my patience is constantly tested
OR SO IT SEEMED
BY: AMY HATCH
Around 1989
A duck flew into my bedroom window
It chased me around on purpose
Or so my 3 year old mind remembered it
The door seemed stuck, and I couldn’t get out
Around 2005
When I had no one she was there
She bought me deodorant when indigent would not supply it
She was my family
when mine was so far away
Around 2003
Drugs were the only option
Or so I thought
It got worse and worse
Until my life was no longer my own
Around 2004
She called herself my best friend
But I wouldn’t claim her
She annoyed me and I hated how she acted
When she went away I didn’t write her
Around 2009
It was July
And I couldn’t resist him any longer
He filled a desire that I craved
Even though I knew it was wrong
Around 2010
I found her on facebook
And she is doing well
I have no desire to be her best friend or even her friend
But I’m very glad that she is turning her life around
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Week Two Poetry
Thwarted On The Monkey Bars
All the blood rushed to my face
As I furiously and frantically
Attempted to drag my pants
Back up to my waist.
I was seething with more
Anger and embarrassment than
Any other Second Grader in the
HISTORY of SECOND GRADE.
Ramona Quimby would never have allowed
A boy to expose her semi-clean
Bow-printed panties
And allow them to get away with it.
Who would have imagined that
Gaining victory in a chicken fight
Upon the newly built Monkey Bars
Would lead to a horrible depansing?
Feeling the eyes of my peers upon my backside
Attempting to gander at the bows once more
I hurriedly made my way to the recess duty
To lament and to inquire of a fitting punishment
Against my offender.
But alas, the story too incredulous to believe,
I sulkily found my way to a group
Who's virgin eyes and ears had not yet
Been exposed to my extreme moment of vulnerability
And there we played Foursquare
And Hopscotch and Chinese Jumprope
Until the echo of the recess bell
Relieved me of my fear of further exposure.
The safety of the familiar classroom
Welcomed me in
While the one who had depansed
Took his regular seat beside me.
For that day, at that hour
The one who had wronged me
Publicly
Went unscathed and unpunished
My Senior Year: You Took Everyone to Disneyland but Me
I left your house at the start of my senior year and said I couldn't be happier to leave- but any kid is scared to leave the place they once had called home.I didn't wait around for you to call, but I still hoped that you would- I guess you figured you were giving me what I really wanted, and what you really wanted too. I made the State Basketball team that year, and while college recruiters and coaches and the rest of my family came to watch me, you went to Texas to meet Brad Paisley- I wonder if that choice in your life is still worth it. But the moment that defined our relationship, the very phone call that made me resent you until even now, was when I called to tell you that I was excited to be coming home for Christmas- and you paused, probably smiled, and told me that you'd be taking the family to Disneyland without me.
All the blood rushed to my face
As I furiously and frantically
Attempted to drag my pants
Back up to my waist.
I was seething with more
Anger and embarrassment than
Any other Second Grader in the
HISTORY of SECOND GRADE.
Ramona Quimby would never have allowed
A boy to expose her semi-clean
Bow-printed panties
And allow them to get away with it.
Who would have imagined that
Gaining victory in a chicken fight
Upon the newly built Monkey Bars
Would lead to a horrible depansing?
Feeling the eyes of my peers upon my backside
Attempting to gander at the bows once more
I hurriedly made my way to the recess duty
To lament and to inquire of a fitting punishment
Against my offender.
But alas, the story too incredulous to believe,
I sulkily found my way to a group
Who's virgin eyes and ears had not yet
Been exposed to my extreme moment of vulnerability
And there we played Foursquare
And Hopscotch and Chinese Jumprope
Until the echo of the recess bell
Relieved me of my fear of further exposure.
The safety of the familiar classroom
Welcomed me in
While the one who had depansed
Took his regular seat beside me.
For that day, at that hour
The one who had wronged me
Publicly
Went unscathed and unpunished
My Senior Year: You Took Everyone to Disneyland but Me
I left your house at the start of my senior year and said I couldn't be happier to leave- but any kid is scared to leave the place they once had called home.I didn't wait around for you to call, but I still hoped that you would- I guess you figured you were giving me what I really wanted, and what you really wanted too. I made the State Basketball team that year, and while college recruiters and coaches and the rest of my family came to watch me, you went to Texas to meet Brad Paisley- I wonder if that choice in your life is still worth it. But the moment that defined our relationship, the very phone call that made me resent you until even now, was when I called to tell you that I was excited to be coming home for Christmas- and you paused, probably smiled, and told me that you'd be taking the family to Disneyland without me.
Week One Poetry
Everything I Am and More
I am. . .
A ray of bright yellow sunshine, with a tinge of canary.
A rhombus, complex but structured.
A dancer, graceful and elegant- but prepared to bust a move now and then.
Opera soaks in my skin and streams through my senses, calming my mind
Somehow feeding the tiger within me, waiting to pounce on a new experience.
On the Wings of Love is a stupid song I've never heard.
I am seven Honda Civics, ordinary in function but able to outwork and outlast anyone.
I am the end table I haven't yet bought for my entry way.
I crave cheese-its but don't eat them.
I pluck violin strings just to be unconventional.
I am here, in the Tri Cities, resting under a weeping willow, afraid to fail, ready to run.
Clueless
I don't know why some people don't like musicals
Or how some are unable to dance, or why some don't love animals,
Or how some don't think to shower on a regular basis.
I don't know why it snows on the worst possible days
Or why dogs sometimes chase cars
Or why money runs out right when the bills show up.
I don't know why some people give up
Whether it be on the job or at home or in life
For there is always someone who depends on you, even if you don't know it.
I don't why bad things happen to good people
Why children die, why others get sick,
Or why volcanoes sometimes sputter and the earth sometimes moves.
I don't know how some people don't love their children
Or why some people go hungry
Or why some people don't push themselves to become something extraordinary in this life.
But nothing in this existence will ever be perfect,
And reminding yourself of this fact
Will make the imperfections easier to acknowledge and to let go.
I am. . .
A ray of bright yellow sunshine, with a tinge of canary.
A rhombus, complex but structured.
A dancer, graceful and elegant- but prepared to bust a move now and then.
Opera soaks in my skin and streams through my senses, calming my mind
Somehow feeding the tiger within me, waiting to pounce on a new experience.
On the Wings of Love is a stupid song I've never heard.
I am seven Honda Civics, ordinary in function but able to outwork and outlast anyone.
I am the end table I haven't yet bought for my entry way.
I crave cheese-its but don't eat them.
I pluck violin strings just to be unconventional.
I am here, in the Tri Cities, resting under a weeping willow, afraid to fail, ready to run.
Clueless
I don't know why some people don't like musicals
Or how some are unable to dance, or why some don't love animals,
Or how some don't think to shower on a regular basis.
I don't know why it snows on the worst possible days
Or why dogs sometimes chase cars
Or why money runs out right when the bills show up.
I don't know why some people give up
Whether it be on the job or at home or in life
For there is always someone who depends on you, even if you don't know it.
I don't why bad things happen to good people
Why children die, why others get sick,
Or why volcanoes sometimes sputter and the earth sometimes moves.
I don't know how some people don't love their children
Or why some people go hungry
Or why some people don't push themselves to become something extraordinary in this life.
But nothing in this existence will ever be perfect,
And reminding yourself of this fact
Will make the imperfections easier to acknowledge and to let go.
Coming Out
Hello World!
My name is Heather, and I am here to introduce my friends Amy, Amy, and Kristi! We are currently students at WSU Tri-Cities studying English and Literature, and thought that blogging about our scholastic experiences and our personal lives would make the semester even more exciting for us. This semester in particular we are collectively enrolled in six varying English courses: English Rhetoric, African American Literature, 17th & 18th Century Literature, 19th Century Literature, Poetry, and 20th Century Novel. We try to be good students, but our "productive" study sessions are always accompanied by good wine, girl stories, laughter, and pillowfights. Okay, maybe not that last little teaser, but hey, if that makes us sound more fun to you, keep on dreaming. :)
I guess the most important and fun thing about this blog is that we are all very different girls from different backgrounds. We have flavorful personalities. We may go to school together, but we don't always agree or even share similar cultural tastes. But we do encourage each other. We peer edit, we support, and we dare to dream.
Will anything ever become of this blog? The answer to this question is unknown. But a wonderful instructor of ours told us that "writing is thinking," and so we hope that through writing our English experiences, we will better ourselves as students and as people. Thanks for being a part of the journey, and it is our sincere hope that you gain insight and are thoroughly entertained by our written words!!
My name is Heather, and I am here to introduce my friends Amy, Amy, and Kristi! We are currently students at WSU Tri-Cities studying English and Literature, and thought that blogging about our scholastic experiences and our personal lives would make the semester even more exciting for us. This semester in particular we are collectively enrolled in six varying English courses: English Rhetoric, African American Literature, 17th & 18th Century Literature, 19th Century Literature, Poetry, and 20th Century Novel. We try to be good students, but our "productive" study sessions are always accompanied by good wine, girl stories, laughter, and pillowfights. Okay, maybe not that last little teaser, but hey, if that makes us sound more fun to you, keep on dreaming. :)
I guess the most important and fun thing about this blog is that we are all very different girls from different backgrounds. We have flavorful personalities. We may go to school together, but we don't always agree or even share similar cultural tastes. But we do encourage each other. We peer edit, we support, and we dare to dream.
Will anything ever become of this blog? The answer to this question is unknown. But a wonderful instructor of ours told us that "writing is thinking," and so we hope that through writing our English experiences, we will better ourselves as students and as people. Thanks for being a part of the journey, and it is our sincere hope that you gain insight and are thoroughly entertained by our written words!!
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