The following is a poem from one of my students. The actual assignment was to create a poem using an extended metaphor (remember, a metaphor is comparing two unlike things without using "like" or "as"). I have kept his formatting intact.
I Ball sky high And I try to not lie
Just like Jesus
10.26.2007
10.10.2007
I'm a holiday that you choose to ignore
I downloaded the new Radiohead album today. Not a bad job, gents. I must admit that it is very interesting to watch the band's progression. They are just brilliant, but this album doesn't have the raw energy an album like OK Computer had, nor does it have the ethereal feeling that Kid A had. And yet, it just feels right. Enough gushing.
I have given a lot of thought to being a writer lately. Fiction. But for the life of me, I do not think I have a mastery of the English language enough to make an impact. Is that my problem? Am I a fervent underachiever unwilling to apply himself until he knows he can succeed wildly? I read the other day that when he was young, Hunter S Thompson typed out The Great Gatsby word for word. His friends thought him pretentious and asked him why he was doing that. He replied, "I wanted to know what it would feel like to have those words come out on the paper." That has NEVER once crossed my mind and for some reason it was depressing. D said I don't have to create a brilliant work at once and that I should instead just revise something I already have. That sounds depressing to me; like I'm unable to come up with something new and have to settle for something else I've spewed out.
I wonder if that's how I'll end my life: waiting to start something.
Don't know if I blogged on this before, but there was a great article in Time about Mother Teresa losing her faith. She apparently went the last fifty years of her life without feeling God. That's a long time. Wonder how many more year's I'll have. The point is this: I'm sure Mother Teresa could have felt God if He were there. She didn't, so she found an alternative. The alternative was that He was testing her or that somehow it were for her own good. My question is this: What if she didn't feel God because He wasn't there?
I'm sure she wanted him to be there, so she could have invented him to be there but didn't. Instead she chose to wait until she could be sure it was him. And that didn't happen, apparently. I don't know. It's just weird.
D and I are going to rent. Tell the neighbors we're coming.
I'm making carne asada tonight. Should be good, judging by the amount of money I spent on food. Tomorrow D and I are going to Big Bear. I'm really looking forward to it. Not much else going on. Peace.
I have given a lot of thought to being a writer lately. Fiction. But for the life of me, I do not think I have a mastery of the English language enough to make an impact. Is that my problem? Am I a fervent underachiever unwilling to apply himself until he knows he can succeed wildly? I read the other day that when he was young, Hunter S Thompson typed out The Great Gatsby word for word. His friends thought him pretentious and asked him why he was doing that. He replied, "I wanted to know what it would feel like to have those words come out on the paper." That has NEVER once crossed my mind and for some reason it was depressing. D said I don't have to create a brilliant work at once and that I should instead just revise something I already have. That sounds depressing to me; like I'm unable to come up with something new and have to settle for something else I've spewed out.
I wonder if that's how I'll end my life: waiting to start something.
Don't know if I blogged on this before, but there was a great article in Time about Mother Teresa losing her faith. She apparently went the last fifty years of her life without feeling God. That's a long time. Wonder how many more year's I'll have. The point is this: I'm sure Mother Teresa could have felt God if He were there. She didn't, so she found an alternative. The alternative was that He was testing her or that somehow it were for her own good. My question is this: What if she didn't feel God because He wasn't there?
I'm sure she wanted him to be there, so she could have invented him to be there but didn't. Instead she chose to wait until she could be sure it was him. And that didn't happen, apparently. I don't know. It's just weird.
D and I are going to rent. Tell the neighbors we're coming.
I'm making carne asada tonight. Should be good, judging by the amount of money I spent on food. Tomorrow D and I are going to Big Bear. I'm really looking forward to it. Not much else going on. Peace.
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