As much as I hate admitting this, as does he, I am most thankful for RadRyB, a.k.a. Ryan Brown. It’s kind of a funny story. He’s in my division and the first day of orientation I declared him my best friend. He showed up in my freshman connection class, and he and Gabi were my best friends. Then my family moved… .7 miles away from him. Weird.
But I’m not just thankful for Ryan in American Lit because, let’s face it, he’s waaaaay more thankful for me here, I’m thankful for him in life. Really corny, whatever. He’s one of those people who can always make me laugh, but also has the capability of making me so angry, he knows just what to say in both cases, which I love and hate. He keeps me entertained on the train, in American Lit and in division, whether he means to or not. Boundaries don’t necessarily exist between us so we say whatever is on our minds, and we make fun of eachother all too often. We know eachother extremely well and know what the other is laughing at without even having to ask.
Although sometimes we can’t stand eachother, it doesn’t ever last that long. I can depend on him for most things, except for making the train on time, that’s still tricky sometimes. But he would be the person I would call if I was locked out of my house, and he’s actually called for that reason. He’s a radical kid.
I am thankful for Ryan Brown …oh, and Casey Ford (I promised I would name-drop him).
November 25, 2010
November 18, 2010
I am a Plow
plow;
8. to tear up, cut into, or make a furrow, groove, etc. in (a surface) with or as if with a plow
-as defined by Dictionary.com
I am the plow. I don’t wait around for things to happen, and I certainly don’t let others do it for me. I take what is considered the norm, and I plow into it, shattering it all.
Am I the plow? Sometimes.
I definitely don’t follow the “normal” way of thinking, or acting, or a lot of things, I like talking about subjects that most people find taboo and I like changing people’s minds, I like all that a lot.
I don’t do all that on purpose or just for the heck of it, it just sort of happens.
I was talking to my friend one night and he asked how I was, and I replied “up until two minutes ago wonderful, but now, not so much”. Naturally he asked why and I explained; the subject was suicide. I think for many it’s a forbidden topic, especially within families. It’s viewed as an imperfection and that drives me absolutely crazy. I feel the need to talk about it in an effort to understand it more, although I never do think suicide can ever be understood. The conversation helped me get through that moment and it really meant a lot. Thank you.
Same thing with my friend Claudia, I come to her with all of my woes and when we talk about “big, hidden, family secrets”, or really anything, it helps. I just need to talk about it.
I may come off as strange sometimes, and Claudia can attest to that, but “normal is just a setting on a dryer” and I get her to join in with most that I do. I remember one summer we were going walking, it wasn’t anywhere close to being my best day so I grabbed a pack of Chips Ahoy, a Nestea and my iPod and walked out the door. I needed to vent and I chose to dance it out. So there we were walking down a busy street in my neighborhood, and I was singing and dancing with my Chips Ahoy and Nestea while barefoot (my feet really needed to feel the Earth, again, strange, I know.) She couldn’t count how many people looked, but she did note that a cop car gave us (ok fine, just me) curious looks. That was my way of dealing with it, far from the norm.
This is really scatter brained, but the gist of it is that a plow digs things up for other people to use; I open new ways of thinking and dealing with things for people use. That sounds rather full of me, and I’m really not, but I think that’s my metaphor. I think I just confused myself, and whoever reads this by trying to relate it all. But in my head, it makes sense. See? Now that’s proof I don’t think like all of you.
I, Haley Ray Thompson, am a plow.
(Please don’t spread that around.)
8. to tear up, cut into, or make a furrow, groove, etc. in (a surface) with or as if with a plow
-as defined by Dictionary.com
I am the plow. I don’t wait around for things to happen, and I certainly don’t let others do it for me. I take what is considered the norm, and I plow into it, shattering it all.
Am I the plow? Sometimes.
I definitely don’t follow the “normal” way of thinking, or acting, or a lot of things, I like talking about subjects that most people find taboo and I like changing people’s minds, I like all that a lot.
I don’t do all that on purpose or just for the heck of it, it just sort of happens.
I was talking to my friend one night and he asked how I was, and I replied “up until two minutes ago wonderful, but now, not so much”. Naturally he asked why and I explained; the subject was suicide. I think for many it’s a forbidden topic, especially within families. It’s viewed as an imperfection and that drives me absolutely crazy. I feel the need to talk about it in an effort to understand it more, although I never do think suicide can ever be understood. The conversation helped me get through that moment and it really meant a lot. Thank you.
Same thing with my friend Claudia, I come to her with all of my woes and when we talk about “big, hidden, family secrets”, or really anything, it helps. I just need to talk about it.
I may come off as strange sometimes, and Claudia can attest to that, but “normal is just a setting on a dryer” and I get her to join in with most that I do. I remember one summer we were going walking, it wasn’t anywhere close to being my best day so I grabbed a pack of Chips Ahoy, a Nestea and my iPod and walked out the door. I needed to vent and I chose to dance it out. So there we were walking down a busy street in my neighborhood, and I was singing and dancing with my Chips Ahoy and Nestea while barefoot (my feet really needed to feel the Earth, again, strange, I know.) She couldn’t count how many people looked, but she did note that a cop car gave us (ok fine, just me) curious looks. That was my way of dealing with it, far from the norm.
This is really scatter brained, but the gist of it is that a plow digs things up for other people to use; I open new ways of thinking and dealing with things for people use. That sounds rather full of me, and I’m really not, but I think that’s my metaphor. I think I just confused myself, and whoever reads this by trying to relate it all. But in my head, it makes sense. See? Now that’s proof I don’t think like all of you.
I, Haley Ray Thompson, am a plow.
(Please don’t spread that around.)
November 14, 2010
A Direction the Class Needs
Sometimes I wish that these blogs didn’t have to be 200 words, although that’s hardly anything considering I’m currently on my 22nd word. If blogs could be short, like really short, this one would be one word: Unavailable. But since it cannot, I’ll ramble on a little more about why my answer is unavailable.
I absolutely love how there’s no one right answer, although sometimes it would seem as if there should be. The class discussions certainly keep me awake at 8 AM, and they’re the perfect background for sitting and drinking tea (which I tend to do every day if I don’t finish it on the train).
Although I do find taking notes on books we’re supposedly reading for enjoyment to be a bit ridiculous, especially because very few of the books are short and notes are just tedious in my opinion. Also, if you really need notes to help you remember what the book is about, well, I’m sorry but that’s just a little sad.
All in all, I truly do enjoy this class, and I’m not just saying that to suck up to McCarthy for a good grade, (it’s a few days too late for that), I actually do. And now I have finally hit my 200 word quota, so, here’s my answer:
Unavailable.
I absolutely love how there’s no one right answer, although sometimes it would seem as if there should be. The class discussions certainly keep me awake at 8 AM, and they’re the perfect background for sitting and drinking tea (which I tend to do every day if I don’t finish it on the train).
Although I do find taking notes on books we’re supposedly reading for enjoyment to be a bit ridiculous, especially because very few of the books are short and notes are just tedious in my opinion. Also, if you really need notes to help you remember what the book is about, well, I’m sorry but that’s just a little sad.
All in all, I truly do enjoy this class, and I’m not just saying that to suck up to McCarthy for a good grade, (it’s a few days too late for that), I actually do. And now I have finally hit my 200 word quota, so, here’s my answer:
Unavailable.
November 6, 2010
Modern Day Slavery
Slavery. When you hear the word you automatically have disgust for it, coming from our history as a nation, slavery certainly isn’t tolerated nowadays, or is it? Tricky. I’m unsure whether or not to reply philosophically or not, so I’ll try to combine it.
It certainly exists in America, all you have to do is a Google search of “modern day slavery in America” and you get numerous results, many are human trafficking, specifically for women and children. Whether it’s for work on a farm or into the sex trade, it definitely exists no matter how disgusted we are all with the thought of it.
Now to get philosophical about it, I think we, the American people are slaves to ignorance. Think about it. Do you really know what’s going on outside of your city? Your state? Your country? My intent isn’t to offend you, I promise, but do you know what’s going on? Slavery is kept under wraps in America, it’s not something to speak openly about as to whether or not it’s going on at this very minute. Did you know that many innocent people are sold into the sex trade every day? People our age, people younger. If you did, has it crossed your mind in the past 48 hours? Past week? Past month? No, it doesn’t affect you on a daily basis.
Last year in my World Studies class we were learning about the Congo, and then present day Congo and everything that’s going on there. We read an article from the New York Times and were immediately disgusted by what was happening to the women there. They were being brutally gang raped by men from opposing armies; there was nothing they could do, and many times it would happen day after day, without anytime for the wounds, both physical and mental to heal. This had been going on for quite some time and I knew nothing of it.
I was watching Law & Order: SVU one night, and it was about a woman who emigrated from the Congo and had witnessed a rape, when the prosecutor asked her how she knew it was a rape, she replied with a look in her eyes hard to forget, “I know when someone is being raped.” It was true. But even though the issue was on television, I doubt many thought twice about it.
Last year in my Art class we had to do a canvas painting of a present day issue, many chose equality, gay marriage, the war on crime, I chose the Congo. Many asked what I was doing it on and when I told them they had no clue as to what it was. They were disgusted and didn’t want to look at the painting (although I must admit it was a little graphic).
The reason that story is relevant is that even when an injustice was presented right in front of their face, they wanted to remain ignorant about it. True, it was happening 6,000 miles away, but you would think something that inhumane would have attention surrounding it. Guess not.
It’s foolish to think that slavery doesn’t exist anymore, much less in our own backyard, so to speak. We, as a nation, choose to remain ignorant about it because it’s not affecting us. We, are a slave to our ignorance.
It certainly exists in America, all you have to do is a Google search of “modern day slavery in America” and you get numerous results, many are human trafficking, specifically for women and children. Whether it’s for work on a farm or into the sex trade, it definitely exists no matter how disgusted we are all with the thought of it.
Now to get philosophical about it, I think we, the American people are slaves to ignorance. Think about it. Do you really know what’s going on outside of your city? Your state? Your country? My intent isn’t to offend you, I promise, but do you know what’s going on? Slavery is kept under wraps in America, it’s not something to speak openly about as to whether or not it’s going on at this very minute. Did you know that many innocent people are sold into the sex trade every day? People our age, people younger. If you did, has it crossed your mind in the past 48 hours? Past week? Past month? No, it doesn’t affect you on a daily basis.
Last year in my World Studies class we were learning about the Congo, and then present day Congo and everything that’s going on there. We read an article from the New York Times and were immediately disgusted by what was happening to the women there. They were being brutally gang raped by men from opposing armies; there was nothing they could do, and many times it would happen day after day, without anytime for the wounds, both physical and mental to heal. This had been going on for quite some time and I knew nothing of it.
I was watching Law & Order: SVU one night, and it was about a woman who emigrated from the Congo and had witnessed a rape, when the prosecutor asked her how she knew it was a rape, she replied with a look in her eyes hard to forget, “I know when someone is being raped.” It was true. But even though the issue was on television, I doubt many thought twice about it.
Last year in my Art class we had to do a canvas painting of a present day issue, many chose equality, gay marriage, the war on crime, I chose the Congo. Many asked what I was doing it on and when I told them they had no clue as to what it was. They were disgusted and didn’t want to look at the painting (although I must admit it was a little graphic).
The reason that story is relevant is that even when an injustice was presented right in front of their face, they wanted to remain ignorant about it. True, it was happening 6,000 miles away, but you would think something that inhumane would have attention surrounding it. Guess not.
It’s foolish to think that slavery doesn’t exist anymore, much less in our own backyard, so to speak. We, as a nation, choose to remain ignorant about it because it’s not affecting us. We, are a slave to our ignorance.
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