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| BEFORE Trying to find some writing style I could be cnfident in, I felt like a new kid--or as the picture better portrays a baby--trying to blend in with my peers whose writing level was way above mine. |
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| AFTER |
I felt intimidated being in a college level English course with other students who had years of education against me when I was just a first time freshman. However, this course has shaped me into a better writer and revealed some writing skills that I did not know I possessed and I have accomplished more than I thought I could.
Brianna Ruiz
English 115
Professor Overman
December 5, 2012
Successful Underdog
Being a first time college freshman, I felt intimidated being in a college level English course with other students who had years of education against me. Being in an English class with sophmores, juniors and even seniors who had not only the college experience that surpassed mine, but knew the expectations for it was intimidating. Even worse, I am naturally a shy person. I avoid speaking in class and although I love writing, I have never really had any confidence in my work so taking this course was very character building. I learned new terms and procedures when writing and was amazed at the improvement I made throughout the semester.
I am sure incorporating other work into my writing was not my strongest area. I can still remember how difficult it was thinking of someone else’s pieces to help any argument it was that I was trying to make. In high school I have had friendly debates arguing my points against another peer of mine. However, we appealed to the audience and their experiences because, well, we all knew each other in a school of only three hundred students. We used everyday examples to try and reach them instead of providing factual evidence. So for each written piece in this class to include some sort of scholar as supporting evidence was obviously difficult for me. What was worse is my inability to cite their work within my writing. I had been previously introduced to an easy bibliography making site but never on how to cite the source in an essay. In fact, I did not know up until these past few months that you even had to include them in your work besides a quick mention. Thinking back now, I must have seemed like such a baby in the first few class meetings.
Another task I learned this semester was the ability to be specific. Being an artist—or rather a frequent doodler—I refrained myself from coloring any work I produced because I wanted the onlooker to use their imagination and envision their own colors for whatever it was they were looking at. I hardly used color in an attempt to allow the individual looking on to decide in their minds whether the character was blonde, brunette, or a redhead. The colors within an outfit a character I drew was wearing was solely up to them unless I wanted to get a point across about the individuality they contained. I knew writing was different simply because writing is all about description. Though I love writing, I have only ever written poems and short stories which were not only vague but they were completely created from imagination. To have to write in detail about what I was trying to convey to an audience, about my experience moment-by-moment, and stress how my thoughts were similar to another’s work was a challenge. I wound up short a few paragraphs to the required page count even after wrung out every last detailed moment I could remember. I felt like giving up half way through some projects but in the end, I gave it all I had and am satisfied with my results. There were even times where I found I could really ramble on about a topic I enjoyed arguing about.
I can clearly recall how heated I was after reading Brent Staples’ article in Convergences about altering space based on racial stereotypes. I remember how I called my friend (who is of Jamaican descent) and asked if the stereotypes were true, and then venting on how discriminatory it was when he confirmed them. Writing the piece about accommodation was one I enjoyed and I found myself having to hold back because of the urge to cruelly criticize those who judge based on the color of one’s skin. Maybe it was my passion at the subject and how expressive I was about it that earned me a passing grade and positive comment on it, but I felt as though I triumphed and earned my place in the class somehow. With this piece I found myself realizing that I had the writing potential of my surrounding peers even though just weeks prior I felt like a deer learning to walk.
I have taken a lot from this course and come out a better and more knowledgeable writer. I have learned the important policies in writing, knowing more rules than I had previously thought could be possible. I can now use these newfound techniques to better my freelance writing, and strengthen any poems, short stories, etc. that I am to write in the future. The tips and tricks I now know will be carried with me wherever I go and I thank this semester for providing me with a lifelong skill.
Brianna Ruiz
English 115
Professor Overman
November 4, 2012
Breaking through the Walls
You should not have to accept what is not right. When a problem occurs or you see the changes in behavior towards you, you should not settle with it. Say something, let people know you are not there to hurt them or cause any unnecessary trouble. Break through the walls of stereotypes and change the perspectives people claim without reason. No matter how long it has been and how ordinary it feels, you should take a stand and not accept the ill ideas driven towards you.
Such is the case with Brent Staples in Convergences. As a black man new to the scene of New York, he experienced many moments of fear towards him even before the move. The article opens up with him recalling his first “victim” to the harsh stereotype that befalls his culture. This was his first moment of realization. The first moment he truly experienced and realized the intimidating concept around him. Upon further reflection he notes that he is “indistinguishable” from muggers and the idea of being dangerous in itself is a danger to him. Being seen as a threat, he explains, is and can be the difference between life and death. Walking into a building seemingly harmless will let you pass through to your destination without hesitation. People will walk by you without so much as a second glance and maybe even open doors for you. There is an unlikely chance that you will be stopped and searched or questioned at every turn whereas a menacing person is continuously questioned. If you walk into a building and unknowingly give off an air of menace you will receive suspicious glances, maybe even stares full of concern. More often than not you will most likely see a few people turning to their phones in a worried hurry to let someone know about your presence. Not even five footsteps later you will have security standing directly in front of you, asking your reason for being here. That is the difference. Having an approachable air around you is the difference between getting someplace with ease or going through a task with hassle.
Such is the case with Brent Staples in Convergences. As a black man new to the scene of New York, he experienced many moments of fear towards him even before the move. The article opens up with him recalling his first “victim” to the harsh stereotype that befalls his culture. This was his first moment of realization. The first moment he truly experienced and realized the intimidating concept around him. Upon further reflection he notes that he is “indistinguishable” from muggers and the idea of being dangerous in itself is a danger to him. Being seen as a threat, he explains, is and can be the difference between life and death. Walking into a building seemingly harmless will let you pass through to your destination without hesitation. People will walk by you without so much as a second glance and maybe even open doors for you. There is an unlikely chance that you will be stopped and searched or questioned at every turn whereas a menacing person is continuously questioned. If you walk into a building and unknowingly give off an air of menace you will receive suspicious glances, maybe even stares full of concern. More often than not you will most likely see a few people turning to their phones in a worried hurry to let someone know about your presence. Not even five footsteps later you will have security standing directly in front of you, asking your reason for being here. That is the difference. Having an approachable air around you is the difference between getting someplace with ease or going through a task with hassle.
Staples also read about the situations of others, recalling stories that he deemed worse than his own. He read about another journalist who was mistaken for a murderer. Not because their descriptions were similar and not because he was indentified by a witness, but because he was inquiring about the story. With this, police officers tried arresting him and failed almost begrudgingly due to the fact that the man had his credentials. Staples connected with this and notes “black men trade tales like this all the time” (333). Having shared the story with us, he explains and provides us with examples of the commonalities found with his ethnicity. People shy away from him and seem to mentally secure themselves when passing him on the street in the late evening. They walk faster and look back behind them in a hasty moment of fear, the look in people’s eyes he has seen more often than not.
What surprised me was that he accepted this unreasonably standard concept surrounding him that only really went skin deep. He knew that the issue of stereotypes against him only went skin deep. Still, he let it alter him and become aware of himself. Giving him the idea that fitting in was a challenging battle to be fought and he was just a survivor. It was not until later that, after seeing that a change in his appearance would make no difference, he would carry out tunes that were melodious and recognizable. This “solution” made sense to me, as I agree with Staples that a person with ill intentions would not care for bright tunes.
Still, after reading the article and seeing that Brent Staples avoided rather than solve the problem bothered me. Instead of making a change in the way people perceive those around them, he settled with providing them with a sense of security. Yes, it is common to judge but that judgment can only go so far before you hurt someone. My stance is to clear any misunderstandings from the situation and go from there.
Work Cited:
Brianna Ruiz
English 115
Professor Overman
December 2, 2012
Public Park, Private Space
As humans, we tend to attach ourselves to the things around us. Whether it is an object rooted deep into your childhood, a place that holds various personal memories or a person whom we have experienced those memories with—everyone has something or someone sacred to them. The place we’ve held dear to us does not necessarily have to be private or secluded as some people would argue. It can instead be someplace available to a few selected people or better yet, the public.
The first thing that comes to mind when asked what space is important to you is your room. It is the place most commonly chosen among the answers. However, public places can be sacred spaces too, like a community park. A public park does not seem to hold much value at first glance. It is a place open to the community and therefore regarded as a place without privacy. Little do people know that the park, along with parking lots, libraries, and even roads are important to people. They hold memories to some, so powerful that they are drawn to the same location even years later in life. As the Preface in Making Sense of Place: Multidisciplinary Perspectives introduces, “no place’s ‘sense of place’ is constructed without relations with and/or influences from elsewhere. Nor is any place’s associated ‘sense of place’ likely to be singular. Different social groups within any physical location may live those locations in very different ways.” Experiences attach us to specific locations whether we realize it or not and over time we continue to seek that location. We are drawn to and possessed by the emotional significance it regards despite time.
People have been to a public park at least once in their lifetime. It could have been when you were a toddler, your mom documenting your triumphant first steps or even in your old age as you take a break from the callings of reality to admire the life you have lived up to that moment. No matter whether it was your decision or not, at one point in your life you have been to a park. And each time you made some kind of memory, good or bad. You had taken your time or rushed along the field. You had an intense bonding moment or a bad breakup there. You met someone or lost someone there. Either way, you have had some type of memory take place at the park. Although these experiences can be minimal, they’ve shaped your character in some way. They have helped build your identity which is something that can not be taken from you, it is something sacred. That memory will be forever attached to the area and will shape your character.
It’s true and I understandable as to how people do not think a public park is a valid place to claim as sacred. It is visited everyday by a countless amount of people, strangers that have no connection to you whatsoever. They are essentially invaders on an area that you claim important and there is nothing you can do about them, and to most people a sacred place is one that can not be intruded upon. However, a sacred space is not always secluded just as much as people believe it is someplace that is not violated upon. Take your room for example. A person’s room is commonly regarded as sacred because it provides a time of peace and isolation. Without realizing it, people assume their rooms remain untouched by others or even the people around them. They throw aside the moments their parent(s) have barged into the personal area or when, for those of us with distant relatives, the room has unwillingly become a temporary shack for someone else to sleep in. Another common example would be a car. Stephen Dunn’s poem in Convergences titled The Sacred informs the reader of a boy who shares to the class that he valued his car after his teacher asked if anyone had a place they considered sacred. He shares that “being in it alone, his tape deck playing/things he’d chosen” was something sacred to him because it was a place he controlled and it took him away from the realities of life, as all sacred places do (321). However, a car is intruded upon from time to time, maybe even taken from you as a whole. You give friends, even distant relatives whom you have nothing in common with a ride in your car whether it is your choice or not. You may be unwillingly volunteered to chauffeur a group of your younger sibling’s friends or even forced to lend your car to your parent(s) because theirs has a flat tire. Worse is the moment you sell or take your car to the dump. No one really keeps their first car forever and having it be the first is hard to let go. Someone’s first automobile is considered sacred to the individual and yet it can be taken from you. Having another person, another family even, taking ownership of and making themselves cozy in your once beloved space is an example of the insignificance of privacy.
Another argument made against public places like parks being sacred is that there is nothing at a public park that you can claim for yourself. There is nothing you can legally own and call yours because at any point in time it can be taken from you. Even if there is a playground at the park and you have grown up with it, it can be replaced with a baseball field without your knowledge at any given day. There is no real value of importance in areas open to the public people argue. They push the question: What can you hold dear in a place that is not yours to hold? However, the value of important in a space is not measured by its claim in ownership but of the sentimentality it holds. The entire reason a place is sacred is because of the memories and experiences stored along with that location. Unlike a person’s room where the ability to share memories with others is limited, a park offers much more value to be held. Birthdays, anniversaries, or just random encounters can be attained at a public park. If the argument made is the serenity found in one’s own room is being thrown then it is tossed to nowhere but a wastebasket because a public park provides just that—serenity. More often than not, people wander the park grounds for peaceful moments of thought, as even I have been a customer to. Their feet lead them to the park in an escape from the stressing realities that is their day-to-day lives. There they quickly find an inviting, deserted spot to temporarily find rest in. The individual can let their minds wander off into a state or serenity or choose to think critically about the situations around them, something people usually mistake as only happening in their room. In this way we can closely see the value of counting public parks as sacred locations.
Everybody is different and everyone experiences things in a different manner. Even if two people are looking at the same object or are going through the exact same thing, the experiences are different to each of them. When gazing upon a painting for example, one person may look at the piece with pure bliss, having memories or thoughts similar to the painting itself. Whereas the person opposite to them looks down upon the piece with contempt and hostility, a fiery sense of angst burning within them. No two people look at one thing the same way, not even twins! Obviously, the same goes for determining what is important to someone. The important place does not even have to be a location. As before, everyone is different and a sacred space can be one you share with a toy. You can take it anywhere and the space between you and your object is sacred. You can even take that object to a park and there, find a spot to claim your own.
Parks are sacred places, not only to me but my friends as well. I believe that public parks--whether they have a playground, are sectioned off with sporting areas or are exclusively to dogs—are sacred to some person or another. I know that I myself hold a public park close to me. In fact it is my sacred space. My room is given to someone else every year during the holidays (or even randomly throughout the year) and my car is used by others when they find the need for it. I hardly find myself being able to concentrate or relax myself in the places that most people would call their own; therefore I do not claim them as sacred. The measure of how sacred something or someplace is its ability to bring you mind peace and its sentimentality towards you and maybe even the ones you love. The park for example, has been a place of growth and escape for me, two things that I deem valuable. Being that it is open to the public, I am free to access it at any point in the day. Even better is that there is one just right by my house. Having said that, I am usually able to escape the reality that is waking life and escape at an hour when all is quiet.
In the end, space is a matter of opinion and experience. The sacredness of a space is dependant on the individual’s memories, experiences, and emotional attachment, giving free range over any place or location to be special. Your sacred space and what it means is up to you. Whether you believe an area open to the community can be reserved as important is up to you. No matter what you think of it, it is important to someone and that is what counts.
Convery, Ian; Corsane, Gerard; Davis, Peter. Making Sense of Place : Multidisciplinary Perspectives. Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2012. Ebook Library. Web. 20 Nov. 2012.
Dunn, Stephen. “The Sacred.” Convergences. 3rd ed. New York: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008. 321. Print.
