Traveling

The essay I chose is titled “Love of Life” and it’s a mother of two girls and expectant of another child on vacation in Hawaii.  She describes the scene of her children and her husband playing in the waves, the sunset, and how carefree she felt.  That is what drew me into it.  When I travel places, go on vacation, escape my everyday life, I try to forget all the worries and deadlines and problems that I face, and just relax.  That is the tone and feel of this essay; relaxation and peace.  Besides beautiful sunsets and watching her children play, she feels calm and peaceful and I loved that about her essay.

The link: http://www.jannagraber.com/new_page_1.htm

Personal Essay #3

Musically Expressed
Following the September 11th terrorist attacks, Clear Channel Communications – which owns and operates over 1200 radio stations nationwide – released a list of 150 “lyrically questionable” songs that it was requesting stations remove from their play lists (Nuzum). There was no set standard as to what made these songs questionable, in fact a number of them were ludicrous. Some of these songs were: “Highway to Hell” and “Shoot to Thrill” by AC/DC, “Jet Airliner” by Steve Miller Band, “Fly” by Sugar Ray, “Another One Bites the dust” by Queen, all songs by Rage Against the Machine, and, to beat all else, “Walk Like an Egyptian” by The Bangles (Nuzum). Clear Channel’s Mission Statement reads:

“We believe we have an obligation for the well-being of the communities In which we live. We further believe the future success of our communities and the industries where we do business is dependent upon the responsibility we feel, the high standards we set and the positive impact our actions have”

Clear Channel’s high standards include restricting and censoring profane language, sexually implicit language and since the September 11 attacks, they have made a conscious effort to restrict the angry, hate filled language that can be present in lyrics of songs.

Throughout the history of music censors – like Clear Channel – have targeted controversial lyrics as a problem, but there have been efforts to blame the actual music for causing societal problems. Whether it be Johann Sebastian Bach’s complex masterpieces or heavy metal’s distorted guitars; Antonin Dvorak to Eminem, censorship attacks have been a constant. In this century, jazz, bebop, swing, rock n’ roll, rap, and heavy metal have all had severe censorship on radio airwaves. Such attacks have usually been made by adults, mainly parents, who are ready to blame juvenile delinquency on a musical form that appeals to young people and which “few of its detractors comprehend” (Epstein 1990). Parents and political leaders spend so much time and money debating all of this feigned indecency and immorality when they could be doing some good. Why not help the poor or feed the hungry, instead of trying to change music, trying to change people’s thoughts and feelings. Why not focus on themselves? Maybe they would realize that they play a more important part in their children’s lives than music does.

In the 1950’s Elvis’ pelvic gyration would not be televised but it is now an accepted entertaining performance move. Today we are offended by explicit sex or violence or language. Robert L. Gross pointed out:

…this controversy is a replay of the age old generation gap, in a new and, perhaps, more striking form. Iron Maiden may strike today’s adults as alien to their culture, but the author suspects that a similar reaction occurred when adults first heard the lyrics to “Good Golly, Miss Molly” (Gross 1990).

At one time these attacks were even racially motivated. In the 1950s, petitions were circulated which said, “Don’t allow your children to buy Negro records.” The petitions referred to the “raw unbridled passion” of screaming people with dark skin who were going to drive children wild (Zappa 1988).

None of these claims have been popularly accepted, due to the difficulty in providing tangible proof. Instances of Satanism have been attributed to drug abuse rather than music (Epstein 1990). In 1955 trying to associate rock music with juvenile delinquency were unsuccessful, as were the 1973 “Buckley report” on rock music and drug abuse and the 1985 senate hearings on obscenity in popular music (Epstein 1990). The 1970 Commission on Obscenity and Pornography (C.O.P.) report said that “it is obviously not possible, and never could be possible, to state that never on any occasion, under any conditions, did any erotic material ever contribute in any way to the likelihood of any individual committing a sex crime. Indeed, no such statement could be made about any kind of nonerotic material” (Oboler 1974). An extensive study would have to be done to prove a form of music is capable of causing harm. The researchers would have to be trained not only in research methods but in the music involved.

Lyrics on the other hand, are a more concrete form of expression. Lyrics embody the sentiment the writer is trying to convey with less free interpretation and more definitive meaning than in music alone. In 1986, the Meese Commission on Pornography “recommended that spoken words not be challenged for obscenity” (Holland 1989), and the C.O.P. report recommended, “the repeal of existing federal legislation which prohibits or interferes with consensual distribution of ‘obscene’ materials to adults” (Oboler 1974), but challenges on music lyrics continue.

The headline of an article in TIME magazine reads: “A Senate committee asks: ‘Have lyrics gone too far?’” Tipper Gore recites lyrics from a song by W.A.S.P. While many of their songs do contain cuss words, it is still not okay to censor it. The lyrics that Gore was reciting were: “Flesh and fire, fire, I want you come on give it to me burn me with your love flesh and fire, fire, I want you come on, hurt me honey I want what it does.” Not many people have heard of the band W.A.S.P., but their lyrics tend to be more PG13. Gore and some other women in Washington have come together to create the P.M.R.C. (Parents Music Resource Center) and with the national Parent Teacher Association, they are letting everyone know that lyrics have gone too far (Cocks). It is not only W.A.S.P. who stand accused. Judas Priest, Madonna, Twisted Sister, AC/DC, and Sheena Easton are also under speculation.

My dad was in a band when I was little. My sisters and I were always listening to Metallica, AC/DC, or Lynard Skynard. I turned out okay.  I have my own mind; I know what’s right and what’s wrong. I wasn’t morally corrupted because of the music I listened to. I absolutely believe it is wrong to pile all of this scrutiny on artists who create these masterpieces we call songs.
The world is a messed up place. We fight to stay alive, we strive to find the courage to make it through every day, and we pray that someday, things might get a little easier. We all have our own outlets. For some of us it is music, for others it may be reading or writing. The release is what gets us through the day; our one sip of pleasure in a teacup full of torment. It is being fought against. It is made to seem like it’s something it’s not. We write because it is the one thing we can call our own, that no one can take away from us. It is our soul through a set of amps, excited by the pluck of a string, the beat of a drum. It is the fire that burns within us.

Nineteen Minutes: Revised

The acknowledgment at the beginning of Nineteen Minutes, Jodi Picoult writes: ‘To the thousands of kids out there who are a little bit different, a little bit scared, a little bit unpopular: this one’s for you’. But what does it take to tip a young person over from being a ‘little bit’ scared and alienated into a raging killer determined to avenge past wrongs? This is a question that nags at you after reading this novel.

Picoult’s novels are always guaranteed to appeal to teenagers as well as to adult readers, but Nineteen Minutes touches you deeply in subject matter and timing, given the recent tragedies in the United States (i.e. Columbine or the Virginia Tech Massacre). It is a riveting, emotionally-charged account of a high-school massacre and the high profile case that follows.  In the first chapter it is revealed who did the shooting, but what the reader needs to know is why.

Seventeen-year-old Peter Houghton is a social outsider who has faced years of cruel bullying.  Peter is small for his age, with thick glasses, and he is a computer nerd.  Josie Cormier is his only friend as a child, but she abandons him in later years after she gets a boyfriend who is both a sports jock and one of the worst school bullies.

After one particularly awful encounter between Peter and Josie’s boyfriend, Peter is finally pushed over the edge. He arrives at school with multiple weapons and bombs and proceeds to kill 10 of his fellow students. Josie is the last person to witness Peter’s actions before the police arrive and is thus required to act as the chief witness in the court case.

In Nineteen Minutes Picoult exposes the ugly truth of American high school life with its cliques, its bullies, its wannabes, its jocks, and its nerds.  This novel will keep you hooked until the last page.  It is a reminder to us that even killers may have parents and friends who love them.  Riveting novel that every parent and child should read.

Get Your Verb On

Claim: 1. You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham.  2. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct-action campaign that was “well timed” in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation.

Agreement: 1. I therefore concur with you in your call for negotiation. 2. In no sense do I advocate evading or defying the law.

Disagreement: 1. But now I must affirm that it is just as wrong, or perhaps even more so, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends. 2. Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society.

Recommendation: 1. The purpose of our direct-action program is to create a situation so crisis-packed that it will inevitably open the door to negotiation.  2. Thus it is that I can urge men to obey the 1954 decision of the Supreme Court.

For years now there has been a heated debate about whether or not prayer should be allowed in schools.  Every time the argument is rekindled, it ends in a stalemate, and is a topic that campaigning politicians tend to stay away from.  In the beginning, the argument was whether or not the school day should be started with a prayer over the PA system of school.  Those in favor of prayer in school pose several arguments.  They say it will increase tolerance in schools, as children learn of different religions and how they practice.  Many feel it will bring to surface the personal questions kids have about god and religion and allow them to search for their own belief system.  The most common however is the argument that bringing prayer back to schools will help reverse the moral degragation of this country.  Being an active catholic who attends church weekly, I have personally never had a problem with religion in schools.  However; many of my friends argue that it’s not right.  People feel it can repress those who don’t have a specified religion or have a different religion.  They argue that prayer is a private act and thus should be conducted at home, privately.

Nineteen Minutes

This is a wonderfully written book. Jodi Picoult writes an honest and important story that raises questions that you are afraid to answer. Do we ever have the right to judge someone? What does it truly mean to be different in our current society? Can a victim strike back, and it be ok? Can our own children become strangers to us?

Set in the small town of Sterling, New Hampshire, one days shocking brutality changes the complacent town forever. One morning, an ordinary morning, Josie as well as all the other students of Sterling High attended classes. Then a massacre, similar to that of Columbine, happened within the halls of the school. Ten kids were killed and nineteen more injured. Among them, Matt Royston, the popular boy.

Peter Haughton, the killer, planned the attack, pin pointed certain students to attack, and was never ever sorry. He even created a video game in which the objective was to shoot students in a school. He continually said that they had it coming, or they caused it. Peter was the target of ridicule, teasing, and cruelty since he was little. The worst of the teasers was Matt Royston. He literally beat him up, humiliated him by pantsing him, and poked and proded at his appearance. In nineteen minutes, the length of the shooting, Peter got revenge.

Josie, the main character of the book, was there that day, but was not harmed. Through the course of the book the reader learns that growing up, Josie and Peter were best friends. Both were misfits, both were made fun of. The difference between the two? Josie cared what people thought, while Peter never even noticed it. So as they grew older, they grew apart because Josie conformed to the masses while Peter did not. Josie became best friends with the popular girls, dated the most popular boy in the Junior class Matt Royston, and became just as cruel to Peter as the rest of them. Josie, who was in the room when Matt was killed, cannot remember what happened right in front of her eyes.

With many twists and turns through out Peter’s trial, the end result is that he openly admits that he did infact shoot and injure twenty-nine people. The biggest twist of all is that Josie was the one to shoot Matt Royston and kill him. She was sentenced to five years in prison, while Peter has a life sentence.

There were subplots involving Peter’s parents, Josies mother, the detective on the case, and other adults within the community. But they aren’t half as important as that of the high school kids actions, thoughts, and relationships.

Fantastic book that keeps you turning the pages and not putting it down till it’s finished!!

Actions Speak louder than words

On Sunday mornings, during my high school years, I would volunteer at the local adult home.  I simply sat with the elderly people, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting with them for companionship.  I’ll never forget this one woman, Mrs. Burdett, she had the most amazing life.  She traveled tons of places and in a journal, wrote about the most significant part of each travel.

“Paula, I could read you more from my journal.  The next one is my trip to Japan.”

“Sure Mrs. Burdett, I would love to hear it”

She grabbed her journal delicately, as if the memories in side would fade away if she handled it too roughly.  Looking at her, she at that familiar look in her eyes every time she read from it, that look of longing to be where the journal takes her only in words.  She read to me most of these journal entries but one, a sunrise, was the most amazing entry:

Essay #2

Paula Cuttica

 

ENG 251

 

Personal Essay #2

 

Professor Nicholas

 

2/19/08

           

            Everyday has a new beginning, but often times many of us are too engulfed in dreamland to enjoy it.  On Sunday mornings, during my high school years, I would volunteer at the local adult home.  I simply sat with the elderly people, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting with them for companionship.  I’ll never forget this one woman, Mrs. Burdett, she had the most amazing life.  She traveled tons of places and in a journal, wrote about the most significant part of each travel.  She read to me most of these journal entries but one, a sunrise, was the most amazing entry:

“One morning, I felt a part of something unbelievable, almost unexplainable: a Japanese sunrise.  Its display was food for the soul.  The brilliant colors, acrobatic animals and a feeling of togetherness within the universe consumed me.
            It had been a long, rough night of parties and too much alcohol. I had just arrived back at our hostel.  I was exhausted, yet I was unable to shut my eyes and drift off.  I figured I’d take a walk, calm my nerves, and then return for a peaceful dreamful sleep.  While trudging along, I took a seat on the freshly dewed, brown, hardwood park bench. The sun was just starting to rise.  It was a site like no other.  I couldn’t quite see it, but there was a color of magenta tone radiating through a river of clouds.  It appeared as if they were pulsating with it.  I was amazed with its beauty.  An upside-down, red, fiery bowl slowly appeared over the horizon.  The entire sky had morphed from tranquility into a river of fire.  It was so wild.  I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, and took another look.  The clouds seemed as though they were trying to take shape.  They appeared like thousands of trains that had no starting or ending point as vivid shades of red separated each one.  I looked closer and began to recognize something else in the sky.
            At first glance, I thought they were fireflies.  However; they were tiny creatures amassed in the sky.  As they glided along, in no particular order, I noticed they were bats. Tiny little bats began performing for me.  These tiny black creatures put on an acrobatic air ensemble through the pulsating sky.  I can only compare it to an air show.  For instance, it was as though the blue angels were performing and I could see the smoke they exhaust in order to show their super human maneuvers.  With all these things happening at once, I began to have a feeling that I had never experienced before.
            The sun was completely up; the sky engulfed with flames.  Tiny creatures danced through the pulsations and I had a refreshing feeling fall over me.  It was a feeling that can easily be compared to cracking open a cold beverage on a hot steamy day.  What I was witnessing was so strong and magnificent.  I was at a total loss for words.  I sat in complete silence, listening carefully to the world around me.  All I could hear were the birds chirping away.  There was no car noise, nor any crowds of people.  I felt I was one with nature, as if some higher power had put me there to witness this unique experience.  I wish, to this day, I had someone with me to experience that marvelous event.  I felt a moment of clarity incomparable to any other.  It was a moment where time had stood still.  I could have sat there in silence for hours.
            That morning was breath taking.  It was an experience in which I could spend every new morning.  I finally knew why Japan was called: The Land of the Rising Sun. The pulsating sky, the dancing bats, and that feeling of oneness are altogether irreplaceable.  I have encouraged many to just sit in the silence and watch the sunrise.  It’s truly food for the soul.  Whenever I haven’t had the greatest of days, I look back to that glorious morning and remember that everyday has a new beginning.”

            The first time I heard that story, I got goose bumps.  The way she described that sunrise, and what it meant to her was breath taking.  Why have I never experienced something that beautiful?  And will I ever?  Mrs. Burdett was ninety-two when she told me that story, and she still believed that every morning she woke was a new day for her to experience something.  It was inspiring to see someone so fragile and elderly be so ambitious.  She has since passed away but every time I see a sunrise, I close my eyes, and picture that river of fire Mrs. Burdett saw that morning in Japan.

Reflecting

What I have a lot of questions about is religion.  I’m a very religious person: I attend church weekly, I have a strong sense of faith, and I truly believe God guides me.  But yet it still puzzles me and maybe even makes me question my faith.  Here are just some questions that I have:

1. How can there be so many different religions with different beliefs about God or Gods?

2.  How can there be different writings about how people and the world began? (The Bible, The Koran, etc.)

3. Do we really know, absolutely positively know,  that what we believe happened, happened?

And possibly my biggest question at times when I’m at my worst is…

4. Is there really a God? Someone who guides me and raises me up when I’m down?

Aphorisms

1. The act of music is music

2. Be lovable and you will be loved.

3. Listen to your heart to know what you really want.

4. The heart is strong but fragile.

5. To give your heart away is to give your soul.

6. To be early is to be on time; to be on time is to be late, and to be late is to be left out.

7. You will find the love you are destined to receive.

8. Don’t ask for forgiveness, work to fix it.

9. To fail you is to fail myself.

10. Playing the piano is like falling in love.

11. Enjoy your work.

12. Do what you want and be happy with it.

13. People don’t make you happy, you make you happy.

14. If it isn’t broken, don’t think you need to fix it.

15. To live without quarreling is to not really live at all.

16. I have a great memory for forgetting.

17.  To give good advice one must be able to receive good advice.
18. Having everything doesn’t always make you happy.

19. Experience is like school; it teaches and you learn.

20. Don’t let what you can’t do stop you from what you can do.

21. A hard heart is no protection to a soft head.

22. An aphorism is like a bumper sticker without the car

23. Life is a crazy ride; enjoy it.

24. Happiness is not a destination, it’s a journey.

25. Work like you don’t aspire to earn money.

Description

It’s the most beautiful place in the world.  The house is small, one floor.  The shingles are grayish, almost the color of sand on a sunny clear, perfect beach going day.  The inside reminds me of a cabin, the kind you read about in books.  Homey and cozy, the kind of place you can curl up and read a book for hours.  The color scheme is brown – dark, medium, light.  There are two bedrooms, no bigger than dorm rooms, and a huge gathering/family area.  Sofas, stuffed to just the right amount of comfortableness sit at opposite ends of the room.  There’s no television but when you’re here, tv isn’t important.  The kitchen is the perfect size.  Small, but not too small, spacious but not too spacious.  If you walk out the side door off the family room there is a screened in porch, with a swing big enough for two.  Walking out of the side porch, you’re on sand.  Warm sand squishing through your toes, and the water a piercing blue, that makes the sky look gray.  It’s the most beautiful place in the world, our house on Cape Cod.