Free Write!

Today, as I sat down with my hands on the keyboard to type, my mind drew a blank. I did not have any clue what to write about. I tried looking up prompts, but that didn’t even help. So I asked my parents. My mom said, “If you were an animal, which one would you be and why?”. Here I am now, writing about if my personality was transferred into an animal, I would be a pine marten.

At first glance, these creatures look like a cuddly pet, but in reality, they are known as “nature’s most adorable assassin.” These ferocious furries chase squirrels, their primary food source, through trees until they catch and kill it. Now you may say, how is the pine marten like you? Well, while I don’t devour squirrels on a daily basis (or at all), I would say that the first impression that most people get of me is not who I really am. Just like the pine marten, I think that I come off as kind of innocent, but as you get to know me, you discover another side of me. In reality, I’m a very sarcastic person. I love to play around, but I can also get very serious. I hope that as the year progresses, I can get to know all of our Western Literature class and the other side to everyone’s personality.

How Does Pattern Affect One’s Understanding of Literature?

When reading or analyzing and piece of literature, it is vital to recognize patterns. Sometimes these patterns come in small details that only the expert would draw attention to. Others are like a giant flashing lights sign. Paying close attention to recurring patterns helps better our understanding of what exactly we are reading. In difficult works, noticing repeated pieces of information shows us what exactly the author was trying to symbolize. Often times, people who read these tough writings only read them at a surface level, only following the basic storyline. When an individual learns how to analyze symbolism, they can take the lessons learned from the book to a whole new level. Another benefit of hidden patterns is being able to make educated predictions on what will happen next. Without taking these symbols into consideration, most predictions are just random guesses. Overall, patterns help us read literature in a whole new light.

The best and most common example of patterns and symbolism that I have read is in George Orwell’s Animal Farm. Orwell uses farm animals to satirize the Russian Revolution. Without blatantly being told which animal symbolizes which person, it is pretty easy to tell. Two pigs symbolize the competing leaders of the day, Leon Trotsky and Vladimir Lenin. The way that the author uses the pig, an intelligent yet dirty animal, to symbolize them is genius. One of my other favorite symbolisms is the Bourgeoisie to that of an Arabian horse. The horse is beautiful, and sees nothing wrong with being controlled by the farmers. Once the farmers are overthrown, she runs away to a different farm because she wants to keep the ribbon in her hair. This is a hilarious comparison to the upper class of the Revolution, who did not want socialism and fled to different countries because they wanted to keep their possessions. The book was a wonderful introduction on how to use symbolism well, and I would recommend it to anyone looking for a fun way to learn about patterns and symbolism.

Pip’s Moral Development

In “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens, the main character is a young boy named Pip. Pip lives with his abusive older sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, and her husband in the marshes of London. Towards the beginning of the book, Pip has no purpose in life. It says on page three, “and that the dark, flat wilderness beyond the churchyard…”. There are not many people around, not much drama either. He kind of lives a ho-hum lifestyle, not having to face any choices. Pip just gets used to not having to make moral decisions. Once he is threatened by the suspicious man in the graveyard, Pip had to choose. Was he going to risk stealing from the people that work hard to feed him and help a starving man? Or was he going to go against his word and not return to the graveyard? He eventually decides to steal food from the house.

As Pip is in the process of doing so, he thinks, “I was clearly on my way there [the Hulks]. I had begun by asking questions, and I was going to rob Mrs. Joe.” This quote shows that Pip actually think about the consequences of his actions. Instead of just doing it, he questions the value of each choice, showing quite a bit of moral growth. The book continues on, and Pip does not change much in his morality. Although he experiences a lot more, none of the events enormously impact his moral development. I predict that Pip will be faced with many more hard decisions in the book, and I look forward to tracking his moral growth and moral decline.

“1049”

Subtract the one, carry the two. And the total is… wait. Is that the time? 10:49? I was supposed to meet Mallory at 10:00. Good job, Matt. This is the fifth time I’ve missed a date. What am I doing wasting all of this time? Let’s go! I need my wallet, my keys, my coat, and… Is that a math mistake? Better fix that! No, no, no. Stay focused! You have to go. Turn off the light. Am I the last one here again? In my twenty-six years of living, I have never been the first one to leave work. I’m such a workaholic. But I’m an accountant, and I just got this job last year. It’s all for the company, all for the company.

“Mallory?” I called into the crisp Chicago sky, “Are you still there?”

There was no reply. Suddenly, a startling oscillation began from my back pocket. Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.

“Hello?”

“It’s Mallory. You missed another one.”

“I know! I just got so caught up and-”

“No buts! This is the fifth time!”

I knew she would remember. I knew that I shouldn’t have worked late. I just lost track of time.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed.

“I’m just tired of these antics. I just want to have a normal date for once.”

“I lost track of time. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll give you one more chance. How about a late dinner, tomorrow, at 10:30? At Antoine’s?”

“Okay. I’ll see you then. Love you!”

“Love you too,” she giggled.

As I slid my iPhone into my briefcase, it hit me. I was supposed to go visit my mother at the hospital tonight. Drat. She was almost finished with her chemotherapy, and her cancer had almost disappeared. Although I was grateful for her recovery, it was still disheartening to see the way the disease had weakened her. Once an animated platinum blonde now withered away like a dead sunflower. I briskly started my White Mini Cooper S and zoomed to the hospital. As I stepped into the lobby, familiar nurses acknowledged me. I had been there countless times, and it was peculiar to think that this was one of my last stops here. I strode into the elevator and pressed the “1” button. Now onto room 1049. As I meandered into the room, I noticed that there were various bouquets of flowers around the room, added since my last time in it. I looked up and greeted my mom whom, though gray and tired, still brightened up the room with her smile. Next to her, my father stood, trying to match her joy. When he finally realized he couldn’t, he welcomed me with a tight hug. “I missed you son,” his deep voice bellowed. Though both of my parents were only in their late 50s, they both looked much older. This was a result of my mother’s treatment. A lot of stress was put on the entire family, especially my dad. He constantly was worried my mom would not make it to see another sunrise. His once sewn on smile diminished into his staring statue face, only to be seen once in a while. Finally, my mom broke the silence. “How’re you doing, Matthew?”

She had always called me Matthew. Never Matt, never “son”, never “bud.” Just Matthew. It was her way of making me feel special.

“Pretty good.”

“Are you sure?” She seemed to know that I was lying.

“Well, not really. But let’s not focus on me, okay? How are you doing?”

“Today, I went through my last round of treatment. It was brutal, but it’s all worth it to be back on my feet again.”

“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to have you back home again.”

My mom grinned. “Me too. This cancer has hit me hard, but I’m still alive and kicking.”

“She’s almost there,” my dad exhaled. “She’s broken my heart along the way, but she’s almost there.”

I smiled. These two years had been rough with my mom in and out of the hospital. They even moved from their home in Utah to mine in Illinois, to be closer to me in case of emergency.  I eyed the clock on the wall. It was 11:30 already. I needed to get back home.

About fifteen minutes away from the hospital, I opened my front door, apartment #49. I switched on the lights, and my cat, Fitzwalter, greeted me. His silk-like raven fur stuck to my suit. “Down, kitty.” I went over to his food bowl and filled it. As I put the food under the sink, I found an old picture of Mallory and I. I slid off my work shoes and got on the sofa. We looked so happy together. Her blue eyes lit up the picture, and her bouncy blonde hair covered some of my face. Then there was me. My average brown hair and brown eyes were nothing special, but she still thought it was the most unique thing in the world. Our two years together had been amazing. She was a light in the darkness for me.

The next morning, my alarm went off at 4:00 A.M., as usual. I sprung up, got dressed, slipped on my dress shoes, and headed to work. I arrived at about 5:00, which was not nearly early enough. It wasn’t until around seven o’clock that my coworkers started to work. The day was typical. I worked while everybody else played. I worked so hard that I didn’t even stop for lunch. Later in the day, I remembered that I had a date that night. As I began leaving, Jason Grey stopped me.

“Hey Matt! What’s up?”

I dreaded talking to Jason. I could count on him to invite me to some social gathering that I was too busy for.

“I’m doing well. Bye-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to come to the college football party I was throwing. I just need to take a break from work. I practically work myself to death! It’s on Saturday at 4:00. I hope you can make it!”

“Okay, I’ll try!” I said as I ran down the stairs.

I dashed to my car, and raced back home. I quickly got ready, but it took a little longer than I thought. As I got back in the car, it was already 10:30. It’s okay, Matt. You’re only going to be ten minutes late. About five minutes before I arrived at the restaurant, when my phone rang.

“Matthew, sweetie, it’s your mom. I need you to come to the hospital right now. Your father’s had a heart attack.”

For what felt like an eternity, I was in shock. Not my dad. No.

I made the fastest U-turn I have ever made and made a beeline for the hospital. Once I got there, I sprinted into his hospital and I burst through the doors.

“Dad, are you okay?!”

There was no response.

“Are you okay???”

“I’m fine son. Come closer.”

It was a relief to hear him talking.

“Yes Dad?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you. This might be my last night with you, so, I love you.”

No. This can’t be. Not my dad. Not mine.

“No, Dad, you’re going to make it. You are.”

“Matt, the doctors told me that that is a very unlikely story. I’m not going to make it.”

Silence. This silence was the death of me. I just could not fathom it.

“Bye Dad.” I said as I wept.

“Bye, son.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. We sat in silence. Just about ten minutes later, his machine flat-lined. He was gone. Right then, my phone starting to ring. Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.

“Hello?” I was still sniffling.

“Matt! You missed it again! We’re over.”

“But-“

“No. We’re done.”

She hung up. She didn’t understand. I wasn’t ditching her, I was watching my father take his last breaths.

The next two weeks flew by like a blur. Funeral plans were made, more work was done. I didn’t want to think about it.

His funeral was just a couple of weeks later. Many friends and relatives I had never even seen before showed. It was a nice service. Several encouraging speeches were made, but none of them could take the sting away. Since my mom was recovering swiftly, she was able to show up. I enjoyed seeing her walk around without IVs and nurses. As I was chatting with some of the attendants, I noticed a woman. She looked almost exactly like Mallory. Probably one of my distant cousins. I disregarded her and continued to talk. Later, when I tried to leave, I was stopped.

“Matt, stop.”

It was Mallory. What was she going to say this time?

“I’m sorry. I overreacted. I just, I just didn’t know and-”

“It’s okay, Mallory. I’m fine.”

“No, Matt, I want you back.”

“What?”

“I want you back. I miss you.”

“How about 10:00 at Antoine’s? Tomorrow?”
She grinned ear-to-ear, “Okay. See you then.”

Multiply by four. Square root the final answer. 1049. All I have left is one more sheet… Stop. It’s 9:30. Time to go. Turn off the lights. Time to be with her.