Slow Death

While reading the book of poetry 180 more the poem “Slowly” caused me to feel a little uncomfortable and confused.  The poem basically describes a young child and her classmates watching a snake eat a rabbit. Also the poem describes how fascinated the children were by how slow the snake was swallowing the rabbit. The author is a woman that may have lost a family member or she might have issues with death.  By the way the author is expressing how amazed she was by the death of the rabbit. My first thought while reading this poem who would write a poem about a snake eating a rabbit? Maybe the author scared by this odd childhood memory? Or does the author have these vivid memories because she was shocked by the sad reality of Mother Nature?  The fifth stanza states “saying we couldn’t look, but looking, weren’t we held there, weren’t we. . .” She describes not wanting to watch but not being able to look away. She was almost stuck in a daze by watching the snake slowly devouring the helpless rabbit. Maybe the author was emotionally damaged by this experience? To some people watching a snake eat might be fascinating, but to me it is sad and not something I would want to watch. Reading this poem reminded me of an old childhood memory of my dog eating a cat. I was only five years old and I remember how upset I was and how it scared me. Maybe the author was scared by this experience?

In addition, a couple of negative aspects that bothered me were the author’s visual details on how “Its head clenched in the wide jaws of the snake, the snake sucking it down its long throat.” This made me cringe to think of a little rabbit’s head inside the mouth of a creepy snake. Why is the author writing a poem about death? Is the author an animal lover? Or does the author feel bad for the rabbit? On the other hand she seems to be almost intrigued by the gruesome sight of the snake swallowing the rabbit slowly. I understand that it is a neat experience to watch a snake eat, but to be fascinated by it is going too far. I did not understand why the author was an intrigued at first but then sad when she realized the rabbit was dead.

Overall, my understanding of this poem is that the young girls were captivated by the snake’s natural instinct to attack and swallow their prey. In a way the girls do not like it, but still stared with interest. In the poem the author states “. . . The way that snake took its time (all the girls, groaning, shrieking but weren’t we amazed, fascinated. . .” This depicts that the girls were mesmerized by the snakes natural ability to swallow their prey whole.  However, the last stanza in the poem the author portrays she may feel “grief by how slow the body is to realize. You are not coming back.” This also shows that the author felt sorrow for the rabbit after she realized it was dead and not coming back.

Why So Slow

While reading the book of poetry 180 more the poem “Slow Children at play” stood out and sparked my curiosity. The author of this poem could be a man or a woman.  The poem has a great deal of mystery because the author leaves you wanting to know more. The end of the poem states “. . . These are my children, thinking, where is their dinner? Where has their father gone?” My thoughts about this poem were that it was about children and their home life. Or was the poem about a bad mother? Did something happen to the father?  Did this mother lose her husband, and now cannot afford to feed her children. This was interesting that the narrator leaves it up to the reader to have several perspectives about the poem.  Is this poem about the children or is the poem about a mother who is realizing she has neglected her children and husband? This poem stuck out to me the most because it left you with the unknown, we do not know why the father is missing, and we do not know why the children are slow.

In addition, the first stanza in the poem states, “All the quick children have gone inside. . .” This depicts that the quick children go inside to eat dinner and spend time with their family. I think maybe the slow children do not have a good home. Or maybe the slow children have an abusive mother, who does not cook for her children. While reading this poem over and over I still have the same thought that the slow children come from a dysfunctional upbringing. The quick children have a good home with a caring mother; on the other hand the slow children do not. The quick kids are in a hurry to go inside their homes, and the slow children take their time. Maybe the slow children do not want to go home? Maybe their home is a nightmare full of neglect and mistreatment. While reading the poem I am puzzled as to why the narrator leaves you asking what happened to the father.  Did this mother lose her husband, and now she cannot afford to feed children? In the poem the poet calls the mother of the slow children slow as well. Maybe something is wrong with the mother? In the poem it states, “And their slow mothers flickering. . .”       Overall, this poem leaves the reading wondering why the poet left out so much information. This poem is different because the narrator leaves out what happened to the father? Also what is wrong with the children’s mother?  Why are the slow children not like the quick children? Do the quick children have a loving home with a mother and a father? The poem has several aspects you can look at, maybe this is a mother just now realizing she has not been the best mother to her children, or maybe she is not financial stable to take care of her kids? It leaves the reader with their own idea of why the slow children are slow and, the quick children are quick.

Clear View

While reading the novel Stitches: a Memoir by David Small, I realized that it is human nature to find inner peace while dealing with hard times and dysfunction. People have different ways of dealing with their hardship. As a result they become stronger individuals. In this book the character David finds his voice after losing it. Throughout David’s life he lived with his mother who had a mental illness and grew up in a dysfunctional household. David’s mother and father neglected and deceived him by not informing him that he had cancer. Thinking he was only going in for surgery to remove a cyst, he later discovered that it was thyroid cancer. Both of his parents kept his cancer a secret; however David was finally able to see the reality of his situation after battling his cancer.        

There were a couple of aspects in the book that caught my attention from the secretive nature and silence characteristics of Betty (David’s mother), the abusive and violent environment David lived in, and David’s use of art and imagination as forms of escape. Davids’ dysfunction allowed him to undergo self discovery and find his inner voice. This trapped my interest because it shows that the trials and disappointments of life give us the strength to be able to change.

In addition, David’s mother Betty also captured my attention with her strange parenting skills and quiet personality. Betty’s silent and secretive lifestyle leads David to discover his mother’s true identity, allowing him to choose a different path in life. Betty was far from a good mother, she did not show love and affection to her children. Betty was a mysterious woman battling a mental illness passed down by her mother. She never explained her mental illness or the reason for her madness so she would voice her anger by slamming kitchen cabinets and coughing. I believe she would slam the kitchen cabinets to relieve some of her built up anger. Never explaining to David what was really wrong caused him to grow up a confused and awkward child. He would escape his mother’s mental breakdowns by getting lost in his imagination to break away from the hostile environment. In addition to her mental illness and extreme outburst Betty was also living a secret life as a lesbian. Secretly having a relationship with her friend Mrs. Dillon, caused David to feel confused and betrayed. Finally, her odd behavior started to make sense to me; she was living a lie and she was unhappy with her life. Betty was born with her heart on the opposite side of her chest maybe that caused her to be a cold hearted woman? After finding out his mother was really lesbian and overcoming his own struggle with thyroid cancer, David slowly started putting the pieces to his puzzled life together.  Although David was following in his mother and grandmothers footsteps with the mental illness, in the end David chose his own path not to follow in his mothers footsteps.

Creative Energy

I channeled my creative energies as a child by swimming, participating in sports, and watching Disney movies. I some used these activities to escape the wild environment I lived in with my older siblings. As a child and still as an adult I love the outdoors and the water! I spent most of my summers at the pool or at the lake. My mom worked ten to twelve hour days at the hospital, so I spent a lot of time at the pool hanging out with my friends. My mom would drop me off at the local aquatic center on her lunch break and pick me up when she got off of work. Swimming shaped my life by keeping me busy and sometimes keeping me out of trouble. While at the aquatic center I loved to race the other kids from one side of the pool to the other. Sometimes I would imagine that I was being chased by sharks or piranhas, hoping it would help me swim faster. Now to this day I enjoy going to the gym and swimming laps in the pool. I swim now for exercise but in a way swimming continues to help with stress and releasing my restless energy. I love the water and it still and always will be an outlet for me.

 Another way I channeled my creative energies as a child was through sports such as softball and basketball. Playing sports helped me channel my creative energies by teaching me discipline and how to work as a team. Also sports shaped my life by teaching me how to accomplish a common goal by working together as a team. Participating in softball and basketball kept me active and out of trouble as a child. I believe sports helped me become more productive with my time and energy. Sports helped me release some of my built up tension and helped me go into my own competitive world. Playing the sports that I love helped me direct most of my passionate energy into a positive goal.  Now of days I do not play sports as much but, I sometimes shoot around on the basketball court at the gym. Even then I zone out while shooting three pointers reminiscing on old basketball games.

Finally, the last way I channeled my creative energies as a child was by watching Disney movies. When I was not outside or playing sports I was inside watching Disney movies such as, The Lion King, Pocahontas, and Bambi. While watching these Disney movies I would daydream and sometimes lose myself in the movie. I would imagine that I was in the film as a specific character; most of the time the main character. When my house would get hostile with all of my rowdy brothers and their friends that is when I would sneak off and watch my Disney movies. Each Disney movie I would watch I would get lost imagining that I was Pocahontas or Simba from the Lion King. I loved to get lost in every movie forgetting about reality and my crazy house hold.

My Little Memory

Growing up I was the first girl in my family in thirty five years and the youngest of three brothers. We grew up on a dirt road out of city limits; I guess my mom figured we could not get into trouble out in the country. Boy was she wrong! I was totally spoiled and pretty much a tomboy, my childhood was crazy there was always something going on like rough housing, fighting and crying. Being the youngest I was picked on a lot and most of the time I was the one crying. My youngest brother Dusty was seven years older than me and we fought like cats and dogs constantly. My older brothers Willie and Hotrod were fifth teen and seventeen years older than me.
One of my first vivid memories was when I was around five years old. It was super bowl weekend I remember my older brothers were gathered around the TV. Dusty was chopping wood in our back yard with his friend Taz. Taz was our closest neighbor and the only kid that shared our bus stop. Dusty and his friend were taking turns chopping the same log his friend had an axe and my brother had a machete. His friend Taz would swing the axe and my brother would swing his machete I watched them do this for what felt like a long time. Until my brothers machete got stuck in the log and he went down to pull it out with both hands. Right when he went down to use his other hand, Taz came down with the axe cutting my brother pointer finger off.

 I remember my brother not crying at first but running into the house to tell my mom. Next thing I remember is the ride to the emergency room, and now my brother was turning pale and crying in the front seat. I remember Dusty holding his hand with a red rag wrapped around it but, now looking back I am guessing the rag was red because it was soaked in blood. I remember thinking to myself that I was kind of happy dusty was the one hurting. The shoe was on the other foot now he was the one crying and screaming not me! The doctors were able to save his finger and attach it back to his hand. He had a pretty nasty scar he also, had to learn how to write with his other hand.

 Now that I look back I feel horrible that I felt some sort of joy behind my brother getting his finger cut off. But I did! Maybe it might be a reflection on how my brothers treated me when I was younger who knows? Now that we are older we laugh about all the fights and crazy accidents over the years. I know we all grew up in what seemed like a zoo but, I would not have it any other way. Growing up in a big family with three older brothers felt like it really sucked when I was younger, but as I get older I am starting to realize how lucky I might be.

 

 <---(At the bus stop)
(Me & Dusty)--->