First semester self reflection:

I think that as the semester blew by my writing has undoubtedly evolved.  This class has allowed me to explore genres of which I never would have expected to write about.  These genres include plays and memoirs.  The most appealing aspect of the class to me was that I can continue my love of writing poetry of all kinds and improve it.  For the second semester, I want to write a longer poetry piece(long term project) and I would also like to possibly create another play.  Attempting to write a play was probably the most challenging assignment in the class so far!  

I think that I am most proud of my play titled "The Conundrum" because as the days mounted and I learned more and more from the playwriting workshop, I felt like I was becoming much more creative.  I was not just creating a play that was one dimensional.  Through the play and my numerous poems, i feel that my sentence structure has evolved tremendously.  I can now look at a writing assignment through a more creative lens.  Although I can sometimes be a bit wordy in my English class essays, I do not think that this is a problem in Creative Writing.  At the end of the year, I want to be able to say that I dabbled in most, if not all aspects of writing creatively.  I also want my creativity to keep growing, as I do not plan to abandon writing poetry as I move on from high school.  

Second and Final Draft of Memoir: Worked on December 3-6

This was the biggest match of the summer.  After months upon months of struggling with various ailments and confidence, I finally reached the finals of a tournament.  While I did minimize this achievement because it was a bit of a smaller tournament, I still had to win three matches just to get a chance to win my first trophy in years.  I needed this win as a reassurance that all the work I have been putting in was not completely worthless.  As I stepped to the baseline and blasted my first serve for an ace, I thought that I finally was going to get some assurance, but NO, that would be too simple! I tensed up and played to not lose instead of a win.  After my last shot sailed out of bounds, my heart sank into the biggest abyss imaginable.  I simply felt as though I was a fly trapped in the jar of forward progress and that this jar could simply never be pried open.  The game was beginning to become far too painful for a game that I am supposed to enjoy.  After remaining heartbroken for a while, I swallowed my pride and entered into the next tournament.  And wouldn’t you know it, the same thing happened… For a game that I love so much, it sometimes feels like a complete and utter burden.  I kept thinking too myself, “You have been putting the time and work in, so shouldn’t the results follow suit?”  Why is that I feel so free on the court, yet I am playing as if I have had shackles placed upon my feet and wrists?  No matter how awful I feel after a loss, I know my time is coming because I am simply due for more success.  However, I know that these feelings of failure will not go away, because unfortunately failure is simply an “essential” part of life that cannot be avoided.  

However, no matter how frustrating it can be, what I love about tennis is that there is always an opportunity to correct your mistakes the next day, if not the next point or the next shot.  

Working Thesis:  In the Derek Jacobi and Kenneth Branagh versions, there are certain directorial choices regarding the setting and the tone and dispositions of Hamlet, Claudius, and Gertrude which  create two identities for the film, Branagh's being more modern and Jacobi's quite conservative.

Memoir:

This was the biggest match of the summer.  After months upon months of struggling with various ailments and confidence, I finally reached the finals of a tournament.  While I did minimize this achievement because it was a bit of a smaller tournament, I still had to win three matches just to get a chance to win my first trophy in years.  I needed this win as a reassurance that all the work I have been putting in was not completely worthless.  As I stepped to the baseline and blasted my first serve for an ace, I thought that I finally was going to get some assurance, but NO, that would be too simple! I tensed up and played to not lose instead of a win.  It was beginning to become painful.  After being heartbroken, I swallowed my pride and entered into the next tournament.  And wouldn’t you know it, the same thing happened… For a game that I love so much, it sometimes feels like a burden.  Why is that I feel so free on the court, yet I am playing as if I have had shackles placed upon my feet and wrists.   

However, no matter how frustrating it can be, what I love about tennis is that there is always an opportunity to correct your mistakes the next day, if not the next point or the next shot. 

11/14 and 11/13 work in progress:

To be or not to be, that is the essential question
Does anyone have any suggestions?
Do I proceed one way or another?
Is there something that could steer me on the right path, perhaps a divine other?
I can proceed forward or go backward
Any decision I make would seem to be lackluster
I simply cannot get anything right
Do I hold my position, or take flight?
It seems whatever decision I make will be wrong
Maybe I was meant to fail all along

Monologue (more possibly coming):

Rabbi Cohen:  No, Chris.  I cannot show you where to go and what to do.  I can only guide you, but ultimately, you have to make the final decision with yourself?  Even though I am considered an authority figure in this temple, I cannot control the actions of all around me.  Either you will make a mistake or make a good decision.  Whichever one it is, you will learn from it and it will shape you.  Your possession is something that I never would have thought existed; even I do not know what to do.  Before you make any decision, think about your friends and family.  What would they want you to do?  Friends and family always steer you in the right direction and keep you off the wrong path.  No one knows what is right except you.     

10/10 blog post:

On the road traveling to an unknown
Looking for something I can refer to as my home
Hoping that I would not have to do this alone
(work in progress)

Modified version of Thom Gunn's "A Map of the City"

My title: "A Map of the Country"

I stand near an abyss and see the long fall below me
I look up and see a sky as blue as can be
I look to the right and see sand dunes and tumbleweeds rolling seemlessly

I look up and see eternal light and hope
I picture the city filled with attractions aimed to cope
With the daily struggles of life
I see a utopia with imperfections, but this country is as good as anyone can hope
I see rolling tumbleweeds and babbling streams, not a sense of struggle or strife is within sight

Why do we start the morning off in a gray dullness that is so underwhelming
And end the day with a night so dark that it is hard to see yourself?
There is not a worse feeling than peeling off the warm and secure covers and setting a warm foot on the cold floor
How can this be a sane routine?
It is the worst torture!
Not even a splash of water on the face can awaken me
What I would give just to have another five minutes in my literal security blanket

Maybe all I need is a quick splash of water in my face
But getting to the bathroom sink at this point would feel like running a full race
Why do I have to be up so early?
Surely this must be cruel an unusual punishment, for what greater hoy is their than sleep?
Sleep is pure serenity, a calm babbling brook that helps soothe the soul.
Yet every morning, I interrupt this process rather rudely, being shaken and getting told that I have to hurry if I want to get to school on time
Some days, I would rather just not leave the comfort of my own bed, because I must say, my literal security blanket is quite sublime.

10/2 blog post:

Needing a reason to keep fighting

It has absolutely nothing to do with the timing

It in fact feels like I am just arriving

A deep breath to regain composure

The only thing I need is closure

A long point in which I am still trying to catch my breath

A long sigh, and now I am ready for the rest

9/30 and 10/1 Six Word Memoirs:

Positively negative, looking for better path

On the race track, finish line?

Driving on open road, miserably lost

Completely stationary, yet wanting to move forward

A forehand kisses the net wand hangs there in mid-air, but for once the ball does not come back to my side, as the opponent realizes this he unchains himself from the baseline and scrambles to try to hit the cherished yellow possession back over the seemingly high net, he succeeds, as he hits a ball so high that I am not sure that it ever came down, but it in fact did as I now had to scurry to make sure that all the hard work was for nothing, I took a deep breath and let the play develop in front of me, all of a sudden, I felt as if an angel punched me in the stomach and made me realize that the point was far from over, the opponent, visibly out of breath, hit a weak shot that barely made it over the net; I took advantage of it and hit a groundstroke that sailed past my opponent who was seemingly nailed to the floor, inexplicably the ball was out as I looked up to the heavens and saw the sun blazing down on me, a reminder that there is still day and time left to make up for that mistake

Haikus:

A place of worship

Not to be taken lightly

Playing until dusk

Haikus:

A breeze in envelope

Waiting to now be opened

Needing to just be shown how


Soar like an eagle

Fly low like a white seagull

Depart as a plane

Tennis version of "Slam, Dunk, and Hook":

Overheads, volleys, and serves with Nike's insignia from head to toe.

I outmaneuvered the footwork I thought I had.

Racquet in my hand, nothing feels better

My expressions says it all, nothing but business.  Just like Medusa, look at me and you will turn to stone.

I for once feel in power, watching the ball glide in the air like an eagle and all of a sudden swoop down just out of my opponent's reach

I feel metaphysical when the fans cheered me on.

Beads of sweat dropped onto the unforgiving asphalt after a point in which it seemed like I ran for miles on end

Despite losing this match, I played nonstop, all day, so hard, that the net cord snapped into two

Forehand, backhand, approach shot, volley, overhead, slice.

All of these things make sense to me and are simple like two plus two

Feeling on top of Mt. Olympus, never wanting to come down

I had shots I didn't know were in my bag

After a long day's work, I was short of breath, but more importantly, feeling prepared and motivated to repeat it all again tomorrow.

6 word memoirs:

Alone in a crowd, yet conspicuous

Extremely distant, yet always seemingly approachable

Cold as ice, hot as fire

Sun comes up, worried about yesterday