What is Literature

[Had to write this for class, we were asked what is literature, and just had to do a freewrite on it]

What is Literature?

                Literature is that which can be read, but is not what is known as “leisurely reading”. When one reads literature they can be taken on an adventure, they can be taught a lesson, they can learn, but really I believe it lies in the openness for interpretation. This is the main difference between what we call “literature” and any other writing. Literature speaks to us, it is universal, there is always something the author is trying to portray, some point they are getting across. Whether it is a universal message or a lesson, they teach the reader. It is a form of human expression, an art.

Take “The Death of Ivan Ilych” for example. Now compare that to say a romance novel you pick up on your way through the airport. Ivan Ilych is literature. Something taught in school, something with symbolism, and themes. Watching him waste away to his death we saw him brought to a revelation about himself. He realized that his actions in society did no good for anyone other than himself. It was shocking and yet gave him a peaceful ending. Walking away from reading that book you’re left pondering. You might think about reevaluating the way you live your life. You think and you don’t forget the book right away. The characters stay with you for a while, because they are easily relatable.  Then on the other side we have the romance novel at the airport coffee shop. It’s usually the clichéd romance; quick and easy leisurely reading, to be done on one plane ride. When you finish it nothing resonates in you, you haven’t come away with a better sense of the world or yourself. It’s what is called “genre fiction” and it’s nice while you read it, but you forget it once you’re done. The characters have no real substance. The plot flows, but has no real meaning. It’s not literature.

Its not just prose writing either. Literature can also be poetry. Like Robert Frost and Sylvia Plath. Who decided they would be literature, which person got to include them in the school curriculum, and why? Because their poems have a depth that not everyone can comprehend. They need to be read over and over again by scholars, students, and artists. There isn’t one meaning, one interpretation. It all depends on the reader. One may see it as dreadfully depressing; one may view it as a sad story with an uplifting ending. Either way these readers are finding meaning in the poem, they are connecting with it in ways that you just can’t possibly do with some other poetry. An angsty teen falls in and out of love, a person sees a red bird sitting on a tree, and someone else tries to find a rhyme with orange. These aren’t literature because their meaning just barely scrapes the surface. There is no deep connection, no human expression that the author deemed important enough to convey to their readers.

                Literature can be many things, and maybe it is all things. Who are we to decide what literature is unless we can get into the minds of all the writers in the world. I’m sure many of them sit down to write and have some theme or meaning they start with that might just not be apparent to us yet. But in the end, we are left reading what the scholars have called literature despite the fact there may be much more undiscovered “literature” out there.

Writers Block

I need someone to save me from myself.
Im the worst procrastinator in the world.
And for some reason I can not PHYSICALLY write this paper.
Dead serious. Like I can write this, and i wrote a 3 par long email.
But when i sit down to the paper...well lets just say I feel dumb, my mind goes blank.
I have one of six-eight pages done. And its not even good yet.
My gosh.
I despise my school habits.
They will change for this semester.
I promise, i've never actually promised that before.
Maybe it will work.
Its not like there is anything else to distract me anyways.
Im done with Facebook, and Flickr, and Twitter stuff.
I could go spam Matts Formspring, but i dont even have the motivation for that.
Gah.
Dude people, why are you here. Go look at my Flickr.
Unless you came from there, in which case go ask me questions on Formspring!
Im also sorry if i've been short with you, or rude, or ignored you.
Because I didnt mean it. Sometimes I get stressed.
I know right? Its rare you hear that.
But I do. And usually those near me feel it.
I <3 you all.

Regency and Ruched Knots

Today we went bridesmaid dress shopping!
It was exciting, and fun. After some disappointment at the first stop we soon were overjoyed to find that Davids Bridal had exactly what the bride was looking for.
For those of you more interested in the dress click here: http://www.davidsbridal.com/Product_Short-Spaghetti-Strap-Dress-with-Pleated-Bust-F14025_Bridal-Party-Bridesmaids-Short-Bridesmaid-Dresses
and click on the color "Regency" and thats the dress :)
The shoes are champagne colored, with a "ruched knot" to match the gathering in the dress.
Overall I think they will be a beautiful compliment to the stunning bride on her day!

Im also wearing my retainer right now. Idk why, i just decided to. Its really tight, and its amazing how much teeth can move. maybe I'll wear it til the big day (May 21st) and then have perfectly straight teeth for the pictures :)

Speaking of pictures. The photographer might be my friend wooooot. That would be extremely exciting. Im not going to tell you any more details yet. Because it might jinx it or something, but yes. That'd be cool :)

Have a nifty night. Keep smiling :D

Blown out of the Water...

You know how sometimes you sit down and for dinner say you'll have one thing then as soon as the waiter comes you make a split decision and order something else?
You know how you get up in the morning with plans to be healthy and go out and take a walk, but as soon as you open the door and feel the cold you turn around and sit in front of the fire instead?
You know how you have thoughts and ideas about a person and then something happens and all of that is blown out of the water?

Amazing really, how quickly your mind can change its mind ;) Im going to be taking a cognitive psych class in this up coming semester. I'm very intrigued by things like this. And last night one of those 3 happened to me. Guess and make it whichever you want. Because I'm not telling you :) Who knows who reads this. Oh did I give it away. No, haha. I could have lied to someone about one of those. You will never knowwww. Unless i already told you, and those people don't read this blog. Umm moving on...

Know whats great about the internet? Everyone can be connected. Know whats bad about the internet? Everyone is connected. I don't know who sees this, i don't know who sees my Flickr. All I know is who I am friends with on Facebook. So really you cant free your mind on the internet for fear of being exposed to everyone. For fear you may offend someone. Once upon a time my parents didn't read my Flickr. Now I know they do. So apparently do the parents of kids I babysit. And so does my neighbor. He took a day and read every single post I have ever written on here. Pretty unexpected, but surely welcome. Im putting it on the internet, anyone is welcome to read it. Not that I write anything people shouldn't see, but its good to know everyone does, so I can always remember to check myself.

I like being the kind of person who knows that she doesn't have to constantly check herself and remember who she is around though. The person you see when i'm at school, the person while babysitting, the person with friends or family. They are all the same person. I don't have to change how I act because the way I act is acceptable in every situation. Its nice knowing I can be myself without consequences.

So I started this blog post because I wanted to organize my thoughts and let out how I felt about something last night. But then ended up not even explaining it because I left it a secret and instead went into rambles about why I couldnt tell you. Okay, I'll tell you. It was number 3. And I thought I was doing well with my thoughts. With my perceptions of this person. Then it all changed, and any progress I had of going in one direction with my thoughts was completely blown out of the water. There. Have fun imagining the rest.

Im going to try and do this more. My mom writes little posts. So Im thinking if i didnt sit down to write so much, i could write simple thoughts, and inspirations, etc. Kind of like people use Tumblr. I dont want one of those. And twitter is only 140 characters. Maybe I should take my favorite tweets and share them lol. idk, it will be random. Story of my life, right? ;)

Have a great day! I hear there may be a luge ride in my future today.

Shards of Blue and Yellow

[Another Creative Writing Story, not perfectly edited]

The bottle shattered as glass met plaster. He screamed, the sound ricocheting off the low sloped ceiling. I crouched in the corner, heart beating three times its regular rate, completely terrified. I’d never seen such raw emotion in my nine years on this earth. I covered my ears with both hands, clenching my teeth, trying to shut out the ugly sound as best I could. Still the profanities pierced through my defenses. I was trembling in fear. A lamp exploded three feet to my right as he chucked the cordless phone across the room. I launched myself sideways to dodge the bullets of blue and yellow ceramic flowers. Then it stopped. As the last shard of the lamp fell to the ground, the room became silent. It was overwhelmingly still after the destruction it had just seen. The room was still. Nothing moved. It was almost as if it was holding its breath. I, sitting amongst the rubble, held my breath as well. Looking up from my crouch I glanced around the room. It was in shambles. In the middle, against the couch, lay the crumpled form of my father. His body was shaking, yet I could hear no sound. I inched closer, afraid of a sudden outburst. The closer I got the better I could hear him.  Faintly at first, then slowly growing in volume; my father was crying. Something I’d never seen him do before. He wasn’t just teary-eyed, he was full out sobbing into the cushions. Each sob tore through his body as he choked for breath. I didn’t know what to do. So I sat down silently in the leather arm chair, staring at the torn paper clutched in his hands.

            If you knew me two months earlier, you would never recognize me now. I used to be an innocent little nine year old. I was living the glory days, or that’s how I saw them anyways. I watched cartoons in the morning with my dad, headed off to school, and then returned home to snacks with mom. Everything was wonderful. I had not a care in the world past what bedtime story I would read. Then, sometime around February, my mom started to leave home a lot more. I’d come home to a babysitter and a sticky note on the fridge saying “I owe you cookies”. I stopped waiting for the cookies long before the notes stopped. Her absence became a normal part of life, I got used to it. I was told she had extra work at the office. Occasionally I’d hear a fight or two between my mom and dad, but I didn’t think much of it. Until they caught me watching, then it became hushed whispers, often behind closed doors. I didn’t know what it was all about.

I learned I had to grow up, and grow up fast. I had to fade into the background, and learn to listen. I soon found out that my mom had a new friend. This guy named Carl. He sometimes came over when my dad was at work. I quickly learned my dad did not like Carl. He came home one day and saw them; then pretty much threw Carl out the door. I didn’t see much of Carl after that. Mom and dad stopped talking, I was silent, the house echoed with the quiet. I thought things might get better. There were no more fights, there was no more Carl, and I got cookies again. I thought we might get back to normal. That was, until my dad opened the mail today and I caught a glimpse of the one word that’d thrown him over the edge. Divorce.

Comfortably Numb

[This is an overly dramatized piece of fiction based on an event in my life, written for my creative writing class. The characters in no way represent me or anyone in my family though. I am not suicidal. I promise]

I don’t like him much. He’s staring at me. Can’t people get a little privacy around here? It’s not like I chose to share my grief with the whole world. They are making me sit out here. Sorry if my tears are ruining your perfect day. I can’t control them. Yeah, that’s right, look away. It should be unnerving watching a stranger cry. Took you long enough to figure that out. I hope the rest of your day sucks because mine will. I was having a great day, I bet you were too. Now it’s been ruined, all because…

“Are you ready to go honey? Its time.”

Oh no, here comes the waterfall. Open up the floodgates. Call in the coast guard. Someone’s about to drown in tears. Mom, grab the lifeboats. You’re going to need them.

“Down the hall to the end. Room three, on your right.”

It’s a journey into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean now. I’m no longer drowning. I am fully submerged. I am soaked. I am the water. It seems to be all I’m made of. The tears just don’t stop. Yeah avoid my eyes doctor. Don’t take responsibility for what you’re doing to me. I get it.

“I’m really sorry…it’s the best thing to do, really.”

Yeah right. You’re really sorry? You do this all the time. You have to be immune to the grief. You know…this is the third one, the second that we’ve brought to you. You and I aren’t exactly on good terms right now. So I don’t feel your sympathy. It’s falling on deaf ears.

“Say your goodbyes. Then we will bring her out to you.”

Goodbye? How do you say goodbye to a best friend, a loyal companion, a family member. How can I tell her everything is going to be all right when you’re about to MURDER her. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. Look at those eyes.  She’s terrified of this place. She won’t be able to die happy because she’s scared. Regardless, you don’t care, you just tell me it’s time to say goodbye. The decision has already been made. Goodbye my love. I hope you forgive us. No longer in pain you’ll be able to join Prince Caspian in cat heaven, go chase mice to your heart’s content. Oh I can’t handle it. I need to get away.

“I know its hard honey. But think about how happy she’ll be.”

I won’t know! She won’t know! She won’t FEEL! She’s dead. She’s gone. I was mean to her. I yelled at her for her constant meowing. And all this time she was trying to tell us how she felt. You may as well kill me with her. End both of our suffering. Since you keep saying it’s the “humane” thing to do, to end ones suffering.

“Here’s her collar. Keep it like your brother kept Caspian’s.”

Yes, so I can look at it EVERY day. I can then remember what I did to her. So I can cry myself to sleep when I see it before I go to bed. Okay, give it to me. One day I might be able to laugh, to remember the good times. But I have a feeling that’s far from now. I feel like there’s a hole in my heart and my tear ducts are broken. One would think you’d be out of tears by now. I feel empty…but they still fall.

“Would you like to pick the tree to plant over her?”

Would I like to? Yes. Can I? I don’t know. I can hardly see to walk. How will I pick a tree? I don’t even think you have a tree worthy of her burial mom. All these little saplings, representing life, as she lay dead beneath them. Don’t you get the irony of that? Am I the only one who sees it? You people are so insensitive, so calculated in your actions. Am I the only one who cares? Goodnight world. I cannot talk to anyone else.

“I understand what you are going through; do you need an extension on the paper?”

You understand? Then tell me YOUR sob story. Tell me exactly how it is you understand. I slept on it (barely), came to school, and I feel even worse now. An extension? Why. So I can sit and wallow in self pity for that much longer. So I have nothing that will distract me from the thoughts of her that plague my mind. No thank you, I don’t need your pity extension. I can get through this myself, as strong as I ever was.

“Do you need a hug? Is there anything I can do?”

Yes, I will take a hug. Because you’re my friend and you think you’re offering it out of kindness. But really, it’s only going to make YOU feel better. It makes you feel like you’ve done something to help. But really, what can you do. Nothing. You can’t bring her back; you couldn’t cure her of her cancer. You can’t fix the hole that now resides in my heart. I wish you could. But no, there is nothing for you to do. Once again, I’m all alone. I’m going to curl up in bed. Alone.

“Honey, are you awake?”

No, go away. I will lay here and pretend to sleep. Just so you leave me alone. Did you know she used to come in here? Every morning at 7am, without fail. She’d curl up with me in bed before I went to school. Now I’m left alone. I don’t have my snuggle buddy any longer. It will never be the same. She was here yesterday. In this exact spot. Warm, breathing, alive. We had no idea. Oh Black Beauty, I miss you. And I’m sorry. Amazing how in a span of less than 24 hours everything can change so drastically.

“Want to go to the movies? You need to do something.”

No I don’t want to go to the movies. But I will. It’s been a week. I haven’t seen my friends. I haven’t done anything social. Yeah I will come. No I will not enjoy myself. I will not laugh. I won’t even talk. It would have been better if you’d just left me to sulk in my room. I’m a killjoy in public. I was doing perfectly fine alone. I was happy. In a different sense of the word.

“Please talk to me. We’re here to help. Your parents are worried”

Hello doctor. My cat was murdered. I was an accessory to the crime. I don’t deserve to live. The end. Don’t make me step on that scale. We both know we won’t like what we see. I know I’m wasting away. I don’t care. I let Black Beauty waste away. Why should I be kept from understanding what she had to suffer through? Don’t even try to prescribe that medicine I see in your hands either. I need no sleeping pills. She got no pain killers. I will remove my option to avoid the pain for she had no such option. Besides, I’m beginning to enjoy the night. So much becomes clear when the world falls completely still.

“Honey, it’s not healthy! You can’t ignore everyone forever! We love you!”

Stop crying mom. You don’t care about what I’m feeling. You only care about my physical being. You can’t bear to lose me. You’re trying to prevent it. I couldn’t bear to lose Beauty, yet I couldn’t prevent it. I still don’t know why I’m alive. There’s nothing here I deserve.

“She’s coming around! Quick, get the nurse!”

Why are you yelling so loudly? Why am I in the hospital? Why didn’t you let death take me? He was right there. Grinning with those glowing evil eyes of his. I was attracted to it. I wanted to go. He was beautiful, he was an escape. I should have taken the final bottle of pills; I thought two would be enough. But you’re too fast mom. Too quick to keep yourself happy. You put yourself first. I would have been happy if you’d let me go. But you would have been sad. Now you will be happy and I’m back where I was. Unhappy. And alone.

“I’m Dr. Carol. We can work through this together, I promise.”

Oh boy. You’re not too good at this ma’am. If someone is at the point where they need a shrink, then they aren’t okay with trusting anyone, especially not strangers. So don’t make empty promises. I know you say that phrase to everyone. It’s been programmed into you. I know my story doesn’t really resonate in your heart. You went to school to learn how to sympathize with anyone who walks into your office. Coming here is useless. I’m useless. See, now I’m wasting my parents’ money. I’m a waste of space in this world. And you can’t help that, unless you let me go.

“Look honey, her name is Buttercup!”

Are you serious right now mom? You really went out and got me a kitten? And what were you thinking with that name! You can’t replace Black Beauty. Did you know I used to say “What’s up Buttercup” when she meowed at me. No? Well you should have been paying more attention I guess. Now I have another daily reminder, as if the collar wasn’t enough. There’s a new innocent kitten. An intrusion in my solitude. But I can’t blame her. Only myself, for not being able to accept her…I should really try harder for her sake.

“We are all happy to see you smile today!”

Yes Dr. Carol, I thought you’d say that. The path of least resistance, right? You’ll leave me alone if I smile, talk, make you think you’re doing your job. That’s what you want. So that’s what you will get. For now. Nothing like creating a semblance of peace. May as well make you happy. Then my parents will feel better too.

“I’m happy you came shopping with me today honey!”

Yes mother, I know you are. Why do you think I’m here? Like clothing can really make me feel better. Oh lets go get some new shoes, maybe some pretzel bites, yay! Not. Its more materialistic things. I get no joy out of it. Buy me what you want but you can’t buy me happiness.

“You coming out bowling with us, that makes me really happy”

I’m getting sick of that word. My shrink, my parents, now my friends. You’re all smothering me in your happiness. Like you think I will absorb some of it if it oozes off of you excessively. Well it’s not working. I don’t know if I can keep up this charade of happiness anymore when it’s the only thing you guys can focus on. You never give me a break from it. I thought it would work if you’d just let me pretend I was happy. But it’s not working for me anymore. I’m done with this. I can’t take it. I will never be myself again and you can’t fix that. Thanks for the effort. I do love you. But…

I HAVE BECOME COMFORTABLY NUMB

            I found this journal, this recording of her thoughts, three days after she died. We were cleaning her room when I discovered it. It was in the false bottom of her bookshelf. The one that only I knew about. I can’t help but think she left it there so I could find it. I am the one who found her too. She hung herself. It’s been two and a half months. I still can’t get the image of her cold lifeless body swinging from that rope. It’s etched in my mind. Her baby blue eyes now empty forever of the life and laughter they’d already been void of for the past few months. I try to look back, see what we missed. Many say we should have been more cautious after the first attempt. But she went to the psychiatrist. She was smiling. She was even letting Buttercup sleep in her bed.

I rake through my mind day after day. My thoughts are accompanied by that gruesome picture I’ve been left with of her. Maybe if we’d just asked, asked her to talk about it. Let her grieve, let her be angry. Maybe if more time had been spent on her feelings and less on making sure she was happy every minute of every day. Maybe then it could have been prevented. But some say, with suicide, it’s a fifty/fifty chance. Either they have completely set their mind on it, or they want you to stop them. Knowing my sister, it was the first. When she used to get her mind set on something she’d stick with it. The first failed attempt wouldn’t have meant anything to her. It was merely a hurdle that she could easily clear. And based on these journal entries, she had quickly devised a new plan without hesitation. I just wish there had been some way to convince her that she didn’t have to stick with her plan for once; some way to reassure her that we did care. We cared more than just on the surface like she thought.

I feel like I miss her more and more from one day to the next. The smallest things in life remind me of her. Walking past the old barn near our house reminds me of childhood games we played in it. Hide and seek, cowboys and robbers, duck duck goose, just to name a few. Entering Starbucks I see us sitting where we sat every day after school, for an entire semester, as she tutored me in math so I could pass my class. Watching the kid’s lace up at the ice rink, I envision the first time she brought me to skate. I fell down so many times I was a walking bruise. I whined and complained. But she always helped me up and we started again despite my complaints. I wake up for a midnight snack and sit alone at the counter these days, an empty stool besides me as I drink my hot chocolate in silence. I miss the heart to hearts we had. She was the best big sister anyone could ask for.

Time heals all wounds they say. But I know there will always be times that I search for her to tell her my latest big news. There will be the momentous events in my life where I will want her at my side. My children will never know their aunt, and they will never have cousins. A stocking will always hang empty at Christmas, a place setting never filled. The grief will follow me every day. But I am hoping that the day I can finally laugh at a memory of her, will come soon. I’m hoping, one day, the picture I see of her will be full of life, smiles, and love.

Easy

Easy is a relative term.
Easy is how I like my eggs. Over easy.
Easy is what I think of when i think of Staples. That was easy.
Easy is how I think of 2nd grade math homework.
Easy is not how I think of losing a friend.
It is not the first word to come to mind when a relationship is crumbling.
Easy soon after becomes hard. Very hard.
It becomes an evil word.
Wouldn't it "just be easier". NO i want to scream.
No it wont be easier.
It may be less stressful. It may make things 'go away'
It may be "easier" in the short term. But in the long term it becomes hard.
How dare you ask me if I want the easy way out.
I'm not a wimp, I'm stronger then that. I can handle it.
You can handle it.
We will fix this.
We will stand strong.
United we stand, divided we fall.