BE MY FRIEND

As an accepted member of Elon University, I have noticed the feasible hunger that people have for acceptance from others. Not simply others for that matter, but strangers. Once accepted into the University, the student automatically becomes a part of the Elon 2017 Facebook group, a place for people to find roommates and post about themselves. Yet as more and more people choose to attend Elon, the group became stranger. People post bios about themselves that would make eHarmony proud in hopes of finding friends or maybe that one special person with whom they will share a room with for their freshman year. This page has shown me that college, a time for self discovery and exploration, has become rather predictable. No one dares to venture out in their once in a lifetime chance to make friends through Facebook. They stick to “chill” people who “like to go out but care about grades too” and “are down for whatever” and will always “need a gym buddy”. This cookie cutter template for posting about oneself just proves that no one wants to make a wrong impression (if you want to hear about bad impressions, talk to me about orientation week). People worry about the judgements of complete strangers in fear that their Facebook posts will not attract any potential friends. More than twenty of these word for word replicas cloud my Facebook, my peers practically begging people to like them. Our society has come to making virtual friends and hoping that they will like you in person (again, ask about orientation). However for as fascinated I am by my future classmates and my constant fear that I will not make any friends, I have not posted on this page. At first my judgement of the overeager, Elon-lovers kept me away from joining the post about favorite TV shows, and then I began to choose who I wanted to friend based on if they posted on the wall. A post automatically crossed them off of my list, harsh but necessary during my time of hatred for the group. Yet now, I realize that the main reason I have not posted yet, lies in the fact that I do not know who I am yet and I certainly do not know how to accurately portray myself over the internet. I do not find myself in the cookie cutter category but how can I show others how I want them to view me if I remain unsure of that myself? So I must refrain from telling everyone my major and how “I’m SO not a morning person” until I know for a fact who I want to be. 

Snoop to Stay in the Loop

Dear I Hate Cupid,

I do not find it appropriate to blame a tiny cherub who has unfortunately stumbled across dangerous artillery for your romantic shortcomings. Cupid has nothing to do with your boyfriend’s lack of commitment or your clingy personality. That aside, I feel curious as to the series of events that lead to your loved one’s rapid departure from your relationship. Does he always act flaky or do you run his sanity out the window? Concerning. Assuming that you do not resemble a crazy cat lady in any way and try to stay away from obsessing over your boyfriend’s facebook, I will advise you as best as I can. You claim that your significant other desires to distance himself from you through a breakup, meaning limited contact and an avoidance of awkward run-ins. I would recommend snooping a little bit. You seem vague in your knowledge of his reasoning for breaking your fragile little heart and I think that would serve as a beneficial first step. Convince him to accompany you to Starbucks where you can talk out your problems over a scalding Americano and a scone. If he refuses, suggest a simple phone call where he needs to explain himself to you. You have the right to know if the simple-minded man has another lady or if he has simply become bored with your tea pot collection and ceramic cats. If he has a woman in the wings, I would recommend revenge. A little Carrie Underwood style of a swift key to the car or a slash to some tires always does the trick. However, if his motives remain honorable and he just feels as if the love train has made its final stop, accept it with dignity and exit the locomotive. It all depends on perspective, dear cupid hater. So, analyze the situation, determine all possible outcomes, weigh the positives and negatives of each, and act accordingly. If all goes smoothly then maybe Cupid will redeem himself, and if not, I suggest buying a puppy. They like to snuggle and will not judge you for polishing off another carton of Ben & Jerry’s.

Yours in Romantic Council,
Ms. Serensky

The Tenth Member of The Fellowship

I truly regret burdening my small amount of blog readers with yet another chance to gush about my unhealthy obsession. However, this prompt demands it of me and AP English 12 knows that I seldom pass up an opportunity to divulge into my love for The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Yes, if I have not made it clear already, these remain my all time favorite movies. In the fear of harassment from Derek about picking a trilogy instead of “only one movie” I hesitantly tried to decide on which of the three that I love the most. This proved much easier than I expected after sitting in a movie theatre for thirteen hours for the three part marathon (an awesome, yet unfortunate truth). I came to the conclusion that my favorite has to fall to the second movie: The Two Towers; A fairly predictable choice as I find this movie to act as the climax of the story, yet I love it for many other reasons as well. Aside from my love for Aragorn, the ranger turned king, and his strong presence in this film, I think that the struggle of good versus evil bursts through to the forefront in this movie. The ultimate theme of these movies, the question of right from wrong, leaves families and friends divided, yet The Two Towers shows more unity than division as the Fellowship breaks up at the end of the first movie. A team player myself, I thoroughly enjoy seeing eternal grudges break in the name of a common purpose, eventually leading to friendships. Differences aside, exiled Rohiram help their people, the trees help the hobbits, and the elves help the men. This warms my overly sentimental heart and restores my faith in Middle Earth as victory and camaraderie often look dim in the darkness of their world. In a movie named after the two forces of evil, one can expect that to prevail throughout the story, and it does. However, this leads to the most intense battles in my opinion, and who does not love a good sword-swinging, arrow-shooting, orc infested war? All said, I think that I love this movie because the series does not finish. I often times find myself in a state of post-fantastic-movie depression and the best thing about this movie lies in the fact that it has not ended yet. The cliff hanger makes it all the more exhilarating as I quickly pop the third movie into my DVD player and set in for a final triumphant three hours.

To add ethos to my favorite movie claim, I have included the majority of my collection.
Not Pictured: Lord of the Rings Stratego, Lord of the Rings Scene It, and my Frodo Baggins
Halloween costume from fourth grade complete with light up sword and furry feet.

The Walk of Shame

This morning at ten I woke with a fright

Shocked and confused at what I did last night

It started out great I felt more than coherent

And now I’m faced with calling my parents

I hopelessly grope around the dark room

Trying to find my socks and left shoe

Not bothering to change from last night’s clothes

In too much of a rush to walk on tip toes.

But I guess that’s the price of not being cool

Staying up late to study made me late for school.

            In my poem, “The Walk of Shame”, I include many details which strengthen the uncomfortable tone throughout. Firstly, the title of my poem indicates awkwardness as many people in today’s society associate that phrase with something many people feel hesitant to discuss. The morals of today have trained people to think of the walk of shame as something to regret which I use in the obvious diction of “shame” to further my poem’s discomfort. In addition, my phrasing of “I woke with a fright”, laced with a shocked tone, implies regret for the consequences of the previous night, leaving the audience to imagine the different scenarios (1). This vagueness of this phrase in addition to others such as “Not bothering to change” creates a sense of suspense as I leave the interpretation solely up to the reader’s imagination (7). I believe that my stylistic technique to leave out punctuation until the final two lines puts the reader into the poem as they feel the frantic tone and continue reading without a pause, similarly to how the speaker feels in the poem. Finally, I think that the ending of the poem spares the reader from complete discomfort as I ease their imaginations with the true actions of the night and the purpose of the frazzled feeling the next morning. No one can relate to the walk of shame coming into school late quite like I can.

 

A Letter to a Friendless, Gender Confused Eleven-Year-Old

Dear pre-teen Blythe,

            I will start off by asking you a simple question. What are you thinking?! Now, I hope that does not strike you as too harsh, but I feel that I must implement tough love and take drastic measures in handling this very awkward phase. Where do I even begin? Well, let us start at the top. Your hair. Eleven year-old Blythe, that has to go, you look like a boy. I promise that everything will turn out alright if you stray from the china doll, pin straight hair complete with bangs (Foreshadowed Warning: DO NOT go back to them in eighth grade, they will not look any better in three years, trust me). On the topic of looking like a male…please for the sake of your dignity stop shopping in the boy department of Gap and Old Navy, camouflage cargo pants do not look good on anyone. Please take my warnings to heart as I really do know best and spare yourself future ridicule from your classmates about “the boy years”, it will scar you. On a similar note, try and make some more friends to greatly reduce your chance of receiving harassment and allow for less awkward times trying to find someone to sit with at lunch. However, do not lose yourself in order to make new friends. Keep rocking that Lord of the Rings jean jacket (obsession never goes out of style), keep trying to touch Mr. Dole’s mustache and achieve the impossible with all of your fingers still intact, pursue your love to read as it could become your future, remember that Girl Scouts is not lame and never quit as it earns you some big money in the future, and never stop Being Blythe (hint: make that the title of your seventh grade scrapbook). In short, little me, you are a strange young girl. However you will grow into your quirky demeanor and learn to embrace it. So keep up the good work, keep the hair growing, and keep out of the boy’s department. See you in seven years.

Love,

Almost eighteen-year-old Blythe

The First Second Hand

Lights. Lights so bright that they rivaled the stars on a perfectly black night. They illuminated the sweat dripping down the young patient’s face, dripping onto his new white shirt that his mother bought just for this occasion. He sat stiffly on the table with the white paper that ripped whenever he shifted nervously. He glanced around the white room, and wondered when someone would explain to him why they chose such an ugly color; so bland and emotionless save for a jubilant painting of children laughing which only made him more upset and uncomfortable. Finally, after watching the clock tick and his mother’s twiddling thumbs for what felt like hours, a group of people dressed in white coats walked into the room. He could see the eagerness etched on their faces and watched their lips move as their hands slapped together in what he knew as applause. For as long as he could remember, the young patient had made inferences about the world around him. Only guessing at the marvels that surrounded him yet never fully grasping the true sense of how others lived. He had longed for the day when he could once feel normal, like he belonged to this strange world full of silence. A world where he could let the chaos in his brain escape and fill the quiet exterior around him. To finally know noise. As he left his mind swirling with the implications of today, he looked up to see a nurse and her white teeth smiling at him. He understood a smile even without words. He smiled back, reassuring her that he felt ready. She reached over, brushing away his sandy blonde hair to find a new and improved ear. Click. The doctors smiled at him as they waited eagerly for him to start exploring the new world around him and said “Let’s have a second hand for our brave patient”. The young boy, rid of his deafness, heard his first sound; encouragement. He knew that the white of his hearing aid meant a new beginning.

Never Fully There

Today, dismally similar to most others, I take my seat in a number of different classes for a whole seven hours. My brain, try as it may, does not stand a chance against this test of time. My habitual lack of sleep and hatred to fully wake up does not allow full cognition from my brain unless jolted by the force of a pop quiz or a dreaded in class writing.  However even my brain does not always find these worthy causes to come out from underneath the covers and tackle the day. The day dreamer in my brain chooses today to wander and find interest in everything except for my very important lesson on probability. I stand no chance. He has already decided that the probability of focus rounds out to an approximate zero as he laughs in the face of math. Instead day dreamer notices the intricate details on the concrete wall behind the white board. Has that block always had so many cracks in it? And why do they paint it white? White, white board, math, focus. Yet again my mind slips and I wonder why anyone would wear that to school and they must feel so cold because of the snow and oh, look at the weather. Focus. The problems on the board have now changed and my brain claws at the walls of my head begging me to remember the crime show I watched last night and how realistic it seemed and what if a robber comes to my house and I should map an escape route: out my window, on the roof, jump into the snow, run. Run. I should run after school but I know I will not and now I feel lazy and when did we move to this problem? My day dreamer finds humor in my struggle to keep up and notes that I should focus…on how these problems relate to problems that I will help my kids with some day and we will live in a big house and now I have to name them and the bell rings. I look up to find that day dreamer has effortlessly won control of my focus during yet another class and I challenge him to a rematch which reminds me that I should probably play ping pong in commons. It starts again.