Hello. In this blog post I am going to be discussing the impact my narrative has on other as well as my own brain and heart. It is going to show the aspects of nerve and power my narrative shows and what emotions, feelings, and stakes I was trying to represent throughout my story telling. These three video experts helped me write this blog post and my narrative itself. Wizard of Oz: If I Only Had The Brain, Heart, Nerve, Wizard of Oz: Meeting the Wizard, Wizard of Oz: You've Always Had the Power. I will also have a link of my narrative here: . If this blog post inspires you or gets you interested to read my narrative please click the link!
How does your narrative allow you to travel into your brain (mind) then and now? My narrative allows me to travel into my mind by reminding me and showing others how I reacted to the situation at the time. It allows me to travel to my thoughts of pain and hurt from the past and show my growth from those situations. It allows me to reflect on the past. It shows others the way I perceive the situation now and how these experiences shaped who I am today. How does your narrative allow you to travel into your heart (emotions) then and now? My narrative allows me to travel into my emotions by showing the way I deal with and perceive the pain of others around me and in my life. It gives insight into the emotions I feel when going through loss even if it isn't a person that I’ve lost. It allows the readers to experience the feeling of loss, regret, and pain with me as I did then and even now when retelling the story. It helps me recognize and work through my emotions throughout this specific time in my life as I do not like to look back/think about life events that have had an upsetting impact on me and others around me. How does your narrative meet the nerve (high-stakes) element of meaningful storytelling? My narrative meets the nerve element of meaningful storytelling for myself as I do not like to express myself/emotions through writing. I prefer formal assignments that have nothing to do with myself and give clear instructions; almost like an assignment that allows no room for creativity. In this narrative I am forced to express myself through storytelling even if it is the least personal (but still personal) situation that I could have shared with this class. It allows others to relate and connect with me through an experience that many people go through in their lives. It allows others to see me as someone they can connect with and they can learn new things about me through how I write and choose to share life events. This situation shows how the loss of my dog brought sadness into not only my life but my grandmother’s as well. It shows without specific explaining how every person gets lonely at times and needs someone to share their life with, even if it is just a dog. How does your narrative enable you to re-examine the power (agency) you have in authoring your life-story? My narrative allows me to re-examine the power I have in authoring my life-story by showing that I can choose to express myself in any way, shape, or form. I can take control of any situation in my life my choosing to express it in a certain way. I choose how to feel about certain life events and I can take ownership of these situations by telling the story from my own perspective. Narratives give you the power to have a voice in your life even when you feel like almost everything is out of your control. It shows that you can choose how to react to situations any way you want even if it's expected of you to be sad or happy. What shapes our sense of identity: Life events or the stories we tell ourselves about life events? I think that life events and the stories that we tell ourselves about life events shapes our sense of identity. If I had to pick which has more impact on my sense of identity I would choose the stories we tell ourselves about life events. The reason I say this is because I do not want my life events to shape who I am as a person. I’ve had too many unfortunate events happen in my life and I do not want those events to make me who I am. I want the way I perceive events and life as a whole to shape who I am. I want my choices, reactions, and emotions, all things that I have control over to shape who I am. I do not want life events that are out of my control to tell me who I am as a person. We cannot choose what happens to us in life only the way we react to those things/people around us.
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Hello. This is my fourth blog post for my English Composition class. This week we read Hills Like White Elephants by Ernest Hemingway which featured examples of symbolism and dialogue. A theme that is shown in Hills like white elephants is not speaking what you truly think, and In my emotional scene I did exactly the opposite, save for explaining myself. Another theme in the short story is unhappiness/anxiety in a situation and I think that connects strongly to my scene.
I am what you could call a nervous driver, or maybe an inexperienced one. I passed my license test in February of this year with only two driving lessons of experience to back me up. Since then, I have not been behind the wheel once up until this passing weekend. I went to visit my family over the weekend in Boyertown because I don't get to see them often. I need to get more comfortable driving as I want to purchase a car soon and still feel uneasy behind the wheel. My cousins, Ariana and Kalle have been letting me drive around on our errands as a way of practice and I was doing great. “You’ve gotten so much better since the last time I’ve seen you” said Ariana. We were on our way to her husband's mother’s house to drop off her baby for the night as we were all going to have a sleepover. “Really?” I said surprised; I was not confident in myself what so ever, “I feel like I’m still super hesitant and unsure of myself. I definitely couldn't drive without someone in the car with me.” We pulled into the driveway and Ariana brought the baby inside as Kalle and I began talking. We got into a super serious discussion about something and my anxiety began to go through the roof because of what we were talking about. I was basically on the edge of having an anxiety attack when Ariana came back outside ready to go. I looked over, “I don’t want to drive home, I’m not feeling it.” “You’re going to drive, you need the practice. You’ll be fine, you drove perfectly on the way over here.” Ariana said dismissing my comment. “Okay, fine.” I replied, not wanting to explain how I was feeling. I could already feel myself getting more worked up by the second as I knew my brain was too scattered to even begin to focus on the road. I made the slowest three point turn I have ever seen in my existence then turned onto the road at the top speed of one mile per year. The second I turned onto the road I swear my nerves got so bad I couldn't even see straight; it was almost like my vision was blacking out. I slammed my foot on the brake and repeated myself, “I can’t do this, I can’t drive right now. I have to get out of the car.” Ariana looked at me like I was crazy, “You have to at least get out of the road so we can switch seats.” At that moment I just needed to park the car right there and get out but, my brain was going a mile a minute and had to listen to her. The second I took my foot off the brake, I realized my wheel was still turned; the car speed forward going on top of the curb and slammed into a mailbox. I couldn't even explain how I stopped the car I literally blacked out, it happened so fast. My entire body felt white-hot and the air was knocked out of my lungs. I was mortified, terrified and in the midst of some of the worst anxiety I have ever experienced. “Damn,” Ariana turned her head to face me laughing, “I didn’t think you literally meant you couldn't do it. I just thought you didn’t want to.” I scrambled out of the car, still in the midst of a panic attack; I thought I fucked up the entire front of her car, maybe smashed the headlight and popped the front bumper off. Only after getting out of the car did I realize I didn't even dent the car, only scratched the paint. This was my first ever “car accident” if you could even call it that and when I was behind the wheel it had felt entirely worse than what actually happened. “I am so so so so sorry!” I said almost a million times to Ariana who was outside with me and Kalle who was still in the backseat. In the end everything was fine. There was no damage to the car and the mailbox didn’t even completely get knocked over. It was easily put back into place. The worst part about it was that the neighbor was outside and saw me knock his mailbox over and Nick’s (Ariana’s Husband) sister watched the entire thing happen, which was embarrassing as hell. The neighbor was super cool and helped me put his mailbox back in place jokingly saying, “That was the slowest accident I”ve ever seen!” It was a happy ending to a terrifying experience but, I don't think I will get behind the wheel ever again until I have my own car. This is my third blog post in English Composition. In My Name is Margaret (Maya Angelou), Margaret is working for a very rude and racist woman named Mrs. Cullian. She is constantly disgraced and has to put up with unnecessary comments and situations. I relate this back to my emotional scene because sometimes you have to be professional in a workplace and put aside your morals and what is right.
It was a regular day for me, working one of the best days of someone’s life. I've witnessed more wedding ceremonies and first dances than you could possibly imagine. I don’t even know if I would want one of my own at this point. Watching it over and over again almost makes it look fake and too planned out; each one is almost identical to the last apart from the color scheme. Everything was going smoothly, we had finished cocktail hour and moved on to serving the courses of dinner. I had just served the salad and pasta course with the rest of the banquet staff. We were now moving onto the difficult part: the main course. Since everyone gets something different it can be tedious to serve two hundred people in a timely manner. We must know the names of each person and what they ordered to ensure everyone gets their exact dish. If we make too many mistakes their won't be enough steak (for example) for the people who actually ordered it. We had gotten about halfway through serving dinner when I encountered a problem. A women I was serving had a problem with her dish because she was dairy free and at the time of ordering did not know this dish contained dairy. As I was discussing the alternative options we have for people with allergies I felt her husband begin to put his hand on my back. They couple was around forty five to fifty five years old and the husband looked like a major creep. I ignored him for the time being considering I'm used to people grabbing me for their attention. I was in the middle of a discussion and simultaneously trying to rush through this service so I could take my break. As we kept talking his hand slid down to my ass and he proceeded to grab my butt, hard. My entire body immediately flinched away from his grabby hands and I felt my blood begin to boil. Just to emphasize, he literally grabbed my ass in front of his wife while I was mid-discussion with her. I turned around and asked him what he could possibly be doing just for him to give me the most confused look I've ever seen on a man. I told him to never ever touch me again and if he would like my attention to use my name instead of touching me inappropriately. Both of them and the rest of their entire table looked at me like I was insane. I was feeling absolutely mortified for no good reason and red-hot angry. I stormed away from their table without giving either of them their dinner orders and approached both of my managers to tell them what happened. I was ready to explode, if I was anywhere else but this professional setting I would have slapped him right across his sorry-looking face. |
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November 2019
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