Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
The Bluest Eye By: Toni Morrison Personal Note
Hello my public,
This is my essay about the characters in Toni Morrison's book The Bluest Eye. I wanted to show that there are more to characters, and people, than what you see. You just have to stop and think. Why don't you give it a try?
-Kris
This is my essay about the characters in Toni Morrison's book The Bluest Eye. I wanted to show that there are more to characters, and people, than what you see. You just have to stop and think. Why don't you give it a try?
-Kris
The Bluest Eye By: Toni Morrison
No one ever tries to see beyond the surface anymore. They take what they are given without question. Every person, every character, has more to them than what you see. Stop, breathe, and think. Is there more to these people than meets the eye? The answer is usually ‘yes’. Let’s take a look at the stars of The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison.
Claudia will be our first topic. When you look at her you probably see a small girl, dark skinned and wearing old clothes. She goes to school, comes home, does her chores, and gets sick. Truth is, she’s a hard worker who is eager to please. She works, without complaint, seeking approval from her mother. Easily hurt by her minor denouncements, she simply wishes for her mother to be proud of her.
Her sister Frieda is our next subject. You probably see her as a slightly taller version of Claudia. Even though she has only played the most minor of minor roles so far, she is still important. When she comes to check on Claudia, she shows how much she cares about her sister. The tears in her eyes, when she sings to her, indicates her empathy. She relates to her so closely it is almost as if Claudia’s pain is her own.
Now to the source of all this, the mother . Mother is the one who puts them through all this work and pain, but she doesn’t do it to be mean. They do not live a privileged life. Chores need to be done and she can’t do it alone. She needs help and is trying to teach her children how to take care of themselves. It is because she cares about them that she tries to teach them all these lessons.
Since we are done with our ‘heroes’, so to say, let’s move o to the ‘villains’, Rosemary and Maureen. These are two rich, beautiful, white girls. They both have things that Claudia and Frieda wants, such as clothes, food, cars, and other material goods.
However, there is a huge difference between them. Maureen is a harmless girl who minds her own business. Rosemary takes what she has and rubs it in your face to make you feel as though she is better than you. Rosemary is a snot nosed brat while Maureen is just passing through. Just because they are in the same categories doesn’t mean they deserve the same treatment.
Like I said before, there is more to everyone than what you may think. Claudia is a very sensitive young girl. Frieda is a caring, strong older sister. Mother is trying to guide her children to a better future. Rosemary deserves all the hatred they give her, but Maureen is innocent. Surprised you, right? All you have to do is read between the lines.
Claudia will be our first topic. When you look at her you probably see a small girl, dark skinned and wearing old clothes. She goes to school, comes home, does her chores, and gets sick. Truth is, she’s a hard worker who is eager to please. She works, without complaint, seeking approval from her mother. Easily hurt by her minor denouncements, she simply wishes for her mother to be proud of her.
Her sister Frieda is our next subject. You probably see her as a slightly taller version of Claudia. Even though she has only played the most minor of minor roles so far, she is still important. When she comes to check on Claudia, she shows how much she cares about her sister. The tears in her eyes, when she sings to her, indicates her empathy. She relates to her so closely it is almost as if Claudia’s pain is her own.
Now to the source of all this, the mother . Mother is the one who puts them through all this work and pain, but she doesn’t do it to be mean. They do not live a privileged life. Chores need to be done and she can’t do it alone. She needs help and is trying to teach her children how to take care of themselves. It is because she cares about them that she tries to teach them all these lessons.
Since we are done with our ‘heroes’, so to say, let’s move o to the ‘villains’, Rosemary and Maureen. These are two rich, beautiful, white girls. They both have things that Claudia and Frieda wants, such as clothes, food, cars, and other material goods.
However, there is a huge difference between them. Maureen is a harmless girl who minds her own business. Rosemary takes what she has and rubs it in your face to make you feel as though she is better than you. Rosemary is a snot nosed brat while Maureen is just passing through. Just because they are in the same categories doesn’t mean they deserve the same treatment.
Like I said before, there is more to everyone than what you may think. Claudia is a very sensitive young girl. Frieda is a caring, strong older sister. Mother is trying to guide her children to a better future. Rosemary deserves all the hatred they give her, but Maureen is innocent. Surprised you, right? All you have to do is read between the lines.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
'From Now On' Story
This is a short story i wrote for English class. Please read and enjoy. Comments of all kinds are VERY welcome!
-Kris
-Kris
From Now On
She had no other choice. She had tried every other way she could think of. None of them had worked. She didn’t want to do this, but she was worried. Jen had been acting differently. She was staying out late, doing poorly in school, and putting as much distance between them as possible. It wasn’t like her.
She hesitated to open the drawer. This didn’t feel right. It went against everything she believed, but she knew she had to. It was for Jen’s own good.
She opened the drawer and pulled out the book. It was small and had no lock. She opened it to the last entry and began to read.
Just before she could finish, the tears in her eyes almost making it impossible to read, the door opened. Jen was standing there, disbelief on her face, staring at her mother. She looked as she always did every time her mother saw her. Rumpled, tired, upset, a complete stranger. This girl was nothing like her beloved daughter.
Jen suddenly changed. She was no longer surprised, but angry. She jumped across the room, snatched the book out of her mother’s hands, and screamed, “What are you doing in my room? And reading my diary, how could you?”
Her mother looked at her, tears still in her eyes, and reached for her daughter’s arm. At her touch, Jen began to struggle. Pulling this way and that, trying to get free. Her mother kept hold and twisted her wrist, palm up, and pushed back Jen’s sleeve.
There they were. The raised scars. The angry red welts. Dried blood from the last slice was still there. Dozens of them lined Jen’s arm from wrist to elbow. This wasn’t something new. This had started a long time ago.
Jen had stopped struggling. She, too, was staring at the self-inflicted wounds. They seemed different now, with her mother holding her arm. No longer a release from the pain, but more of a chain holding her to it.
Neither spoke a word. Simply looked at the scars. When Jen raised her head, her mother had done the same, and she saw her reflection in her mother’s eyes. She looked cold, distant, pale, and most of all, frightened. She couldn’t take it any longer. She fell to the floor, sobbing. Her mother knelt beside her, holding her, stroking her hair, and saying over and over again, “It’s all right. From now on, everything will be all right.”
She hesitated to open the drawer. This didn’t feel right. It went against everything she believed, but she knew she had to. It was for Jen’s own good.
She opened the drawer and pulled out the book. It was small and had no lock. She opened it to the last entry and began to read.
Just before she could finish, the tears in her eyes almost making it impossible to read, the door opened. Jen was standing there, disbelief on her face, staring at her mother. She looked as she always did every time her mother saw her. Rumpled, tired, upset, a complete stranger. This girl was nothing like her beloved daughter.
Jen suddenly changed. She was no longer surprised, but angry. She jumped across the room, snatched the book out of her mother’s hands, and screamed, “What are you doing in my room? And reading my diary, how could you?”
Her mother looked at her, tears still in her eyes, and reached for her daughter’s arm. At her touch, Jen began to struggle. Pulling this way and that, trying to get free. Her mother kept hold and twisted her wrist, palm up, and pushed back Jen’s sleeve.
There they were. The raised scars. The angry red welts. Dried blood from the last slice was still there. Dozens of them lined Jen’s arm from wrist to elbow. This wasn’t something new. This had started a long time ago.
Jen had stopped struggling. She, too, was staring at the self-inflicted wounds. They seemed different now, with her mother holding her arm. No longer a release from the pain, but more of a chain holding her to it.
Neither spoke a word. Simply looked at the scars. When Jen raised her head, her mother had done the same, and she saw her reflection in her mother’s eyes. She looked cold, distant, pale, and most of all, frightened. She couldn’t take it any longer. She fell to the floor, sobbing. Her mother knelt beside her, holding her, stroking her hair, and saying over and over again, “It’s all right. From now on, everything will be all right.”
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Personal Feedback
Hey everybody,
I just want to say a few things about my essay (see below). I think I did a pretty good job, and i don't give myself compliments. The best part of it would have to be that is has my everyday voice in it. Whenever I had to write an essay before, it always sounded stiff and boring, but now people might want to read it! Yay!
Another good thing would have to be all my different details. I think that I had at least three different kinds. That's pretty good for me.
So, please grade me on my voice and my details. Thanks!
I just want to say a few things about my essay (see below). I think I did a pretty good job, and i don't give myself compliments. The best part of it would have to be that is has my everyday voice in it. Whenever I had to write an essay before, it always sounded stiff and boring, but now people might want to read it! Yay!
Another good thing would have to be all my different details. I think that I had at least three different kinds. That's pretty good for me.
So, please grade me on my voice and my details. Thanks!
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