Mclovinn’s blogs

The story the lottery about a small town who has an annual lottery, which reveals the chosen person to be stoned to death.  Being a very discomforting story due to the terrible death, the reader wonders why the town even has a lottery.  Never in the story do the towns people say what the lottery is for, they just see it as a necessity and very important shown in a conversation where a local tells his friend that other places have stopped the lottery.  His friend replies in shock and says that those towns are ludicrous and that those towns are declining into cavemen.  The reason I believe the town is still doing the lottery is because it is ritual.  I understand ritual as a repeated ceremony, sometimes done just as reaction or without thinking.  I think the lottery is a ritual for this town and after many years of habitual action, it has just become automatic that it needs to be done.  Many children and I’m sure even adults don’t know why it is done, only that it needs to happen. 

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hey klein, I’m really sorry these are so late, i was in bed all day with the flu cause playing in yesturday’s game made everything a lot worse.  anyways i hope you like the posts.  see you in class! 

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It was Friday and the ticks on the clock that day came to rarely.  Every word the teacher said was hollow.  Everyone’s eyes and cravings were staring out the window, and the torpid classroom only got duller by every tap of my pencil.  This lunch was the greatest anticipation I’ve ever felt.  Everyone’s lethargic faces were showing the same needs and it was ready to surge out the glass windows.  When the 12 o’ clock lunch bell rang, a buzz rang through my legs.  The excitement of sprinting in zig zags for no apparent reason and climbing on nets like gravity was no match excited the life into me.  We all walked to the black top, waiting to be let off the starting lines, when the clouds grew heavy and sun started to dull.  We could see dark circles of drizzle trickle the playground floor.  Our eyes lost its shine and buzz dwindled away.  Rainy day lunches were spent inside the classroom, and only the bookworms didn’t mind cause all they needed was their novels.  The teachers started turning the lines around and heading back toward class.  Then suddenly we saw brailon brown drop his p.b and j and shooted across the field and off to the play ground, I just looked and laughed thinking it was just a casual joke from brailon maybe earning him a talk with the teacher, till I saw Jake chase after him.  I heard the teachers yelling, demanding they get their in trouble butts back into the group, but the kept running, I looked at Nadine standing next to me in line, and when I saw dimple in her cheeks I knew what was happening.  In a blur Nadine and me zoomed out and ran off into the rain.  All the sudden we heard the scream of all the followers and saw the mob of children running in every which direction.  The ran was pouring and the children, splashing their way through.  I remember running frantically around the baseball field like I’d just a hit homer, my heart was beating out of my chest, and I don’t think my legs have ever carried me that fast before. 

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It was Friday and the ticks on the clock that day came to rarely.  Every word the teacher said was hollow.  Everyone’s eyes and cravings were staring out the window, and the torpid classroom only got duller by every tap of my pencil.  This lunch was the greatest anticipation I’ve ever felt.  Everyone’s lethargic faces were showing the same needs and it was ready to surge out the glass windows.  When the 12 o’ clock lunch bell rang, a buzz rang through my legs.  The excitement of sprinting in zig zags for no apparent reason and climbing on nets like gravity was no match excited the life into me.  We all walked to the black top, waiting to be let off the starting lines, when the clouds grew heavy and sun started to dull.  We could see dark circles of drizzle trickle the playground floor.  Our eyes lost its shine and buzz dwindled away.  Rainy day lunches were spent inside the classroom, and only the bookworms didn’t mind cause all they needed was their novels.  The teachers started turning the lines around and heading back toward class.  Then suddenly we saw brailon brown drop his p.b and j and shooted across the field and off to the play ground, I just looked and laughed thinking it was just a casual joke from brailon maybe earning him a talk with the teacher, till I saw Jake chase after him.  I heard the teachers yelling, demanding they get their in trouble butts back into the group, but the kept running, I looked at Nadine standing next to me in line, and when I saw dimple in her cheeks I knew what was happening.  In a blur Nadine and me zoomed out and ran off into the rain.  All the sudden we heard the scream of all the followers and saw the mob of children running in every which direction.  The ran was pouring and the children, splashing their way through.  I remember running frantically around the baseball field like I’d just a hit homer, my heart was beating out of my chest, and I don’t think my legs have ever carried me that fast before. 

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When have you felt the feeling of jealousy?  What thoughts or actions did it spark?

Jealousy brainwashes all throughout the day.  It’s always present in the comparisons between me and someone else.   When the scale tips too far, and your left looking down at all her triumph and brilliance, while your medals are camouflaged in the background. I used to wish I had a twin sister, then people filled the void and now I weep for quadruplets.  One must be better then the other when competing in the same event.  There has to be a loser and a winner.  But to parents, the loser has to be the winner, and the winner has to stay the winner.  And as soon as you’re out of their earshot, you fill the silence with your own evaluation.  The friends you have, the more excitement in your life, the better people you are, all come into play.  In 7^th grade, the day of a championship game.   We were up against the best team in the league, it was supposed to be a slaughter and we were the victims.  The first shot of the game I took a break away lay-up but the shot rolled out of the rim, my best friend came right behind with the rebound and put back.  It didn’t bother much at the time, till I missed the next shot, and she made the following five.  The coach was riding my butt all game and all she got was, “nice job, keep it up.”  The bitterness made me force up shots and focus on me; my team and winning didn’t matter by fourth quarter.  When the buzzer sounded, the score was 49 – 40, we had won, but I looked down at the floor with discontent.  Everyone gathered around her, and she was the new star, I was blurred in the setting.  When I think about the game I cringe my toes in regret in embarrassment.  All the anticipation on the game made it seem like it was going to be great, and it was just not for me.  To watch myself drop all the way from the top and my best friend rise, took a hold of me.  It made me forget everything else and the frustration only kept building up.  I made it one of the worst days ever. 

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It’s the people we are when no one’s looking

Who’s under all the instability and hoax.

But it’s the things we do,

when all sights are out of view

that deserve the recognition

and all heavens commendations.

It’s when you hold your tongue to the abuser

While you have all the tools to injure

And that weep you collar

Just to hear a friends giggle.

I hope the woe will be tamed by that peep

and be the only thing what wakes you from heartaches sleep.

But don’t reveal the beauty of the unobserved

and wilt away this wonder

for your pride and pleasure

I write this right now to always be remembered

Cause I want to thank you kind stranger

Who heard the crying within

And wandered through my halls to sneak in a grin

Thank you for silently raising my chin. 

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I often feel a sense of disappointment from my parents, whether it involves school, athletics, manners, personality, or general merit.  They never say the word “disappointment” but it is implied in the way the approach the subject and talk about their embarrassment.  My Mom abruptly criticizes on my poor performance and lingers on the things I could have or should have done.  My Dad acts in rage and talks about the humiliation he feels.  It’s not as bad as it sounds, their parently love is never questioned after of conversation on disappointment, it is just depressing, frustrating, and motivational.  Of course you feel depressed in falling short of your parents expectations.  When you often strive for success it’s to please your parents.  I have always been a people pleaser and many regretful times I have put others wants in front of my own; but displeasing my parents is a more painful failure than others.  It is their standards that matter the most because it is the ones that you are born and raised by.  Loving my parents to death and wanting nothing but their happiness is painfully discouraging when falling short of their expectations.  Frustration comes with anger I have for myself.  When I fall short of my parents expectations I immediately fall short of my own and that rage ignites furiously.  Failure also sparking depression with frustration tells you that you could’ve done better.  If only you had done this or prepared better or worked harder you would’ve succeeded.   It is so aggravating to feel like you’ve done all the work for nothing.  Lastly motivation is the strongest feeling that sparks from disappointment.  It comes immediately after the depression has blown off and the frustration has settled.  The anger in a way fuels me to go at everything again with more focus and determination.  The motivation comes with wanting to prove to my parents that I can do what they expect of me.  It comes with knowing that I can do better with a second try.  Their expectations have never been unreasonable or disagreeable, and with the second and sometimes third of fourth, I’m glad to see their smiles.

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Jane Austen’s book ‘Pride and Prejudice’ introduces many characters throughout the book, all unique and relatable, but the main character Lizzy, is one that we see at much more depth than any of the other people in this story. Lizzy is a powerful and strong opinioned female character who breaks the barriers of the delicate housewife. Lizzy unlike the rest of her society demonstrates her unique habits towards the beginning of the book when she wishes to go see her sick sister Jane. Lizzy shockingly refuses to take a carriage to her sister but instead wishes to walk the distance. Her mother replies, “How can you be so silly as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt!” as Lizzy replies, “I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing when one has a motive; only three miles (pg 28).” Walking outside in the dirt was considered unsuitable for young women and Lizzy goes beyond that line as she walks three miles after a rainy day in the mud for her own enjoyment. This shows she has an adventurous or lively side to her opposite the usual lady who completely avoids dirt. Lizzy also has very strong opinions demonstrated when she talks Jane in anger about the lack of merit or sense in the society. “There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense…it is unaccountable! In every view it is unaccountable! (pg111)” Lizzy obviously freely expresses her opinions and has very strong thoughts. Lastly we see Lizzy’s courage and stability when she meets with Lady Catherine. “Maria’s alarm was every moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm. Elizabeth’s courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of Lady Catherine that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money or rank she thought she could witness without trepidation…Sir William was so completely awed by grandeur surrounding him…his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses…Elizabeth found herself quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her composedly. (pg134)” Lizzy obviously has confidence in who she is and feels not many other individuals are very superior to her. Her confidence is not easily swayed and money or rank makes no difference to her. She is clearly different from the rest of her family or friends as she is compared to Sir William Lucas and his daughter who are nervous and submissive by the sight of her house and introduction by Mr. Collins. I look forward to seeing Lizzy’s strong personality in the scenes to come.

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I miss its smell.  I miss its sounds, its atmosphere, its people, its feeling, and its presence.  I wish, when I walked through the front gates of our school, you could smell the pine and red oak trees, and you could feel the crunch of the woodchips below your feet.  I wish when I walked by our school, that you could hear the sound of children’s excitement and adults’ joy.  I wish when you walked through the halls, you could wave to everyone, and everyone would wave back, and when you saw your second grade teacher in the market, you wouldn’t hide but you would acknowledge them and shop the store out by their side.  I wish wherever you stood in this school, every spot felt like the beds of your home and every corner and crack was familiar to all eyes.  I miss my school, all parts of it, the hour long lunches and rainy day assemblies.  I miss striking out the teacher at the baseball plate, and how the big leagues were 4^th grade and up, and Mr. Berzenetti’s welcoming jazz song to music class.  I miss being a kid at Seeds UES.  Even though I love growing up in
Marlborough, there’s no better place to sprout then the grounds of Seeds. 

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