Morning

The small digital clock in the dashboard read 6:13, barely visible through the glare from the morning sun. They had pulled over late last night, right off the deserted highway into a shallow ditch, surrounded by cactus and Joshua trees. Lola had not wanted to stop; her goal had been to make it to Phoenix last night, but once the caffeine had left her system and without a rest stop for miles, there had been no other option. She rubbed her aching eyes, a quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed them to be so bloodshot it looked like she had pink-eye. If it's 6:13 in San Francisco... add an hour, subtract an hour, Lola could never remember the system. The actual time was of little importance to her anyhow. Wasn't it Einstein that proved that time was all relative? All Lola cared about was getting as far away from San Francisco as her beat-up car could take her.

She looked at the backseat. Dozing there, nestled among the jumbled pile of jackets and blankets, lay a small boy. Walter. He had fallen asleep around the Arizona-California border and had slept peacefully through the winding desert that had enveloped the tiny car, till it became nothing more than two specks of headlights swallowed up by the dark. The last thing Lola had remembered before falling asleep was looking up at the sky and wondering how so many stars could fit on the plane of the sky. But now the stars had fled from the sun, and Lola was left trying to piece together a haphazard plan for herself and the boy. As she had drove yesterday, the list of landmark cities became a mantra, stifling the fear and growing panic she felt. Los Angeles, Phoenix, Tucson, El Paso. Names both comfortingly familiar and terribly foreign. That was all she had. Those city names, that vague outline of where she was headed. She heard a slight rustle from the nylon and polyester cocoon. Walter had started to stir.

Lola beamed at the sleepy child. "Ready for another day of adventure?"

Thanks, Blogger.

When the blog project was first announced back in early November, I intially felt skepticism at the worthwhileness of the endeavor. To me it seemed like a public journal, open to the whole world for critique and ridicule. I thought the blogs would extend the classroom competition and just be another source of stress from AP English. And I was right, to a point. The blogs are stressful. Coming up with creative, banter-worthy ideas twice a week can be a major challenge. I know that I have sacrificed many Sunday nights by staring at a blank computer screen until I thought of something to write about. For almost every post I have, there is another unfinished one waiting as a draft, never to be published. 

As this three-month project comes to a close, I ask myself the question, Was it worth it? Does the payoff of the project match the time and effort I put into it? After much reflection, I have to say yes. This project has effected me in more ways than I can currently contemplate. For starters, my blog has given me more confidence as a writer. Normally, my written work is only read by a few people, tops. A majority of the writing I do for English goes straight from my computer to Ms. Serensky without anyone else's evaluation, which is fine, for poetry papers and data sheets, but realistically, nothing good was ever written without multiple inputs. The blog project has given us a chance to read our classmates writing, comment on their post, and receive comments on our own. 

Most importantly, the blogs allow our writing to be heard, and continue to be heard for years after we finish the project. Unless we delete our blogs, they will continue to reside on blogger.com for who knows now long. Although it's a long shot that someone will ever stumble upon my blog randomly and actually read deeply into my posts, the possibility of my words affecting someone else in the same way Kesey's or Lahiri's novels affected me is thrilling. 

In short, I am extremely thankful for the blogs. They have opened up a whole new media to me and my classmates and the skills we acquired in our short time on blogger.com will surely help us in our future  writing. 

Taking Control of Our Education

Normally anonymous voting in Ms. Serensky's class entails choosing a homecoming queen or something, but Friday the votes were cast for something much more important. We were voting for the fate of the blog project. I consider this a very important matter. After all, the blog project takes up a considerable chunk of time every week, and Ms. Serensky acknowledges this. Especially with the return of poetry papers, keeping up the blogs will become an even greater challenge, but I feel it will pay off in the end. Looking over my past blogs in preparation for the final gives me a sense of accomplishment. We will have these blogs to look back on for years to come, and I can definitely see some of the ideas we started here being expanded to help us in college. 

I remember feeling surprised that Ms. Serensky would bother asking our opinion about the project. In most classes, if a teacher wants us to complete an assignment, we have to do it, no matter how the students feel about it. I appreciate that Ms. Serensky cares about how her students feel; after all, it is our education, we should have a say in it. I wish more teachers would survey their students before assigning large, time-intensive assignments. I understand that some teachers feel that without their guidance, the students would not accomplish any work. Although I can see this being an issue in some classes, I do not see it being a problem in AP classes. Everyone who takes an AP class is motivated to learn the material for the AP exam, so I feel that, for the most part, the students will be willing to complete assignments if the work will genuinely help them learn. More teachers should learn from Ms. Serensky, and respect their students' opinions regarding coursework.

Theme Songs

I feel a little rejected whenever Ms. Serensky starts up the blog talk with music from her ipod. Before break, providing Bobbie's Blog Banter with catchy tunes was kind of my job, and over break I worked really hard compiling some new songs. I was getting quite good; sometimes I would trick people into thinking the nightly news was on with my fabulous news music imitation. But alas, it seems my efforts were for nothing since I have been replaced by a machine. :'(

Neil Diamond, Ms. Serensky's teenage dream

But instead of moping, I shall try to analyze Bobbie Jo's song choices. Monday her pick was "Hello Again" by Neil Diamond. This song makes a lot of sense, since we had been on a two week hiatus and not seen our dear teacher during that time. Unlike many of the love songs out today, this song celebrates the joy in seeing an old friend again. The lyrics "I couldn't sleep at all tonight" reveals Ms. Serensky's anticipation at seeing her student's faces again. Or it reveals her deep hatred for us all and her dread of coming to school in the morning. Or it could be alluding to her troublesome back pain that kept her up all night. Clearly, this song is open to multiple interpretations. On Tuesday we started the banter with Michael Jackson's "Thriller." Everyone is familiar to this classic, and this creepy song could simply be paying homage to the creepy movie that we were about to watch. But upon further inspection of the lyrics, Ms. Serensky's clever choice foreshadows the twist ending in Shutter Island. The lyrics "You close your eyes and hope this is just your imagination" is Ms. Serensky's clever way of hinting at Teddy Daniel's mental disorder and the fact his "imagination" created the characters Rachel and Andrew. Although we did not actually get to that part of the song in the short 30 seconds we listened to "Thriller," I believe Ms. Serensky used this as a test to see who her most dedicated students are who took the time to look up the song lyrics. The prize? Spoiler to Shutter Island, of course! Unfortunately I did not catch the name of the song Ms. Serensky played today... perhaps she kept it intentionally hidden because the song lyrics hold the key to a 9 on our next in-class writing. 

Can't Escape It

Over break I purchased a new book, House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski, with the notion that I would have plenty of time to read it before AP English started up again with a new book selection. Needless to say, I accomplished very little over the holiday, and unfortunately most of my book remains unread. I say unfortunately because I really would have liked to finish, but because of the book's ridiculous complexity it was hard to stay vigilant for more than half an hour.

The book was so complexing because there were roughly three plot lines going on at the same time, and they all twisted together and interrupted each other at really inopportune moments. The book begins with an introduction by an unnamed narrator, and he expresses his regret at becoming involved at all (this is kind of  a scary novel). A old man, named Zampano, had recently died, and upon investigation of his apartment the narrator finds a manuscript for an unfinished novel. The novel focuses on a documentary (which the narrator reveals to be entirely fictitious) in which a family moves into I guess what I would call a haunted house. From as far as I got in the novel (not very far) the house does not seem to be haunted by ghosts; however, there is a door in their living room that should lead outside, since there is no more to the house on the other side of the wall. But instead the door leads to an intricate labyrinth of darkened hallways and a seemingly never-ending staircase. And there seems to be some sort of sinister creature living in all this empty space. Although I normally do not enjoy scary movies or novels, this one is not written to be startling or frightening. The events are recored very matter-of-fact, yet they are quite disturbing nonetheless. Anyway, that is the main "plot" of the novel. The writer of this manuscript, Zampano, interjects with numerous allusions and opinions and even quotes from authors and experts (many of them also fictitious). On top of all that the narrator, or the person who found the manuscript, comments throughout on anecdotes from his own background and also how his life is being affected from reading the story. This is probably a really confusing summary, and I apologize, but I did the best I could.

A typical page from House of Leaves

While I was reading this book I could not help but relate things back to One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. When the narrator finds the manuscript for House of Leaves, he seems like an ordinary enough guy, mentally stable and whatnot. Then everything starts to unravel the further he reads into the manuscript. He beings to have irrational fears, paranoia about leaving the house, even experiences hallucinations. As he begins to question his own sanity, I cannot help but parallel him to Chief Bromden, a character also crippled with paranoia and fear. Luckily, Bromden recieved help from McMurphy; I will have to continue reading to see if someone will come to the aid of the poor narrator in House of Leaves.