Welcome to our class 'chapbook.' This is a space for you to further practice your craft of essay writing without worrying about how it will become a fully developed piece. You could think of it as an on-line, public journal (hey, isn't that what a blog is?).
**Each of you should spend 5-10 minutes on Mon., Tues., and Wed. nights writing. On Thurs., choose one piece of a classmate's writing to respond to. Be specific in your praise and advice for improvement. "This is great," helps no one. You could address the topic of the writing, the sentence styling, word choice, word order, offer suggestions, ask questions, etc. Remember to respect each other.
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ReplyDeleteI could write what everyone would expect me too - I play soccer, I'm outspoken and loud to the point that I occasionally irritate myself- but I don't believe that to be an introduction to who I really am. In fact, I don't think any of the introductions on these blogs can possibly do justice to each of the students in this class. Firstly, an introduction is just a collection of accomplishments, activities and often useless tidbits of semi-personal information. Frankly, I don't believe that sharing those facts would truly represent who I am. Because what I truly am cannot be scene on the exterior and cannot be bottled into short and choppy syllables. I cannot identify myself with words. I am, as are you, so much more. I am an accumulation of each moment, defined in the smallest moments and the most subtle sensations. I am -- we all are-- brilliant irreplaceable vessels of life, subsisting of much more than activities and accomplishments and capable of much more than we know.
ReplyDeleteSo I can't quite tell if we're supposed to just make our own blog or make a comment on this one but what can we really ever be sure of, right? Nothing. We can't be sure of anything. Sometimes I wonder if my whole life, every feeling, every human interaction, every piece of input on my senses is merely a dream or a hallucination in the mind of another. This is an entirely unsettling situation to picture. If it were true, if my body and feelings and accomplishments were no more than a pipe dream in the consciousness of a shapeless piece of, say, cow dung, that would make me utterly worthless in the context of - well - anything. I already feel small and trivial when I look up into the night sky (I do this a lot, by the way--does that tidbit fulfill the requirement that this be an introduction?)and try to wrap my poor human head around the inconceivable magnitude of our solar system - our galaxy - THE UNIVERSE (by this time I am crying inconsolably and wishing I were several lightyears tall so that my existence might carry a little more weight), and that is with a body that (I think) is made of flesh and blood and is not a figment of the crack-addled imagination of some bovine excrement. This line of questioning becomes less abhorrent, though, when I reflect on how much I enjoy life. Even if " All that we see or seem/Is but a dream within a dream", the enjoyment that I get from a stiff breeze, sun-warmed skin, or crystal clear waters (cliche, I know) is real enough.
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