Hello everyone and welcome back! In this fifth blog assignment, we watched 3 videos, which I have linked down below, from the Wizard of Oz. For this blog post, I will be answering 5 questions about how narrative writing affects the heart, mind and nerve, how we have agency in our writing and what I believe shapes a persons sense of identity. I will be sharing my own perceptions based on my personal experiences.
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Hello everyone and welcome back! In this blog assignment, we were asked to read Hills Like White Elephants by Ernest Hemingway. It was about a couple on a train station arguing about whether or not they should have an abortion. In reading the story, we learned about motifs, symbols and how to write with some dialogue. I also felt many emotions and the two that I was able to relate to the most was discomfort and uncertainty. In this blog, I am going to write about the day I left the Philippines and how I was very unprepared for that moment. “Watch the house.” “What about it?” I asked my little brother. “It’s going to get smaller and smaller until you can’t see it.” My two brothers and I stuck our heads onto the car window. “Goodbye truck” “Goodbye house” “Goodbye Grandpa” We started naming a lot of the things and people we were leaving behind. We winced as the house got smaller. Finally my father took the slight turn which made the house vanish. My brothers and I screamed as we realized that that was the last time we would see the house. It felt like a sin to have the image fade slowly in our minds but there was nothing we could do to control it. I do still remember the dirty bricks with the vines growing over them, the rusty red gates with peeling paint and the dark brown soil which surrounded the front of the house. The place wasn't well taken care of but it was home. The car ride lasted for a couple hours. It may be a small country but due to how the roads were constructed and the heavy population, traffic was horrible. It was odd to see both my parents in the car together since they’ve been divorced for a very long time but my brothers and I were thankful that everything seems to be just fine and that our father was with us. The clouds began to darken and that made sense since it was late May, the rainy season of the Philippines was on its way. When we arrived at the airport, it started pouring. The front was packed with so many people and cars that I could not even see the entrance. “I’ll just drop you off here” said my dad. Our youngest sibling panicked, “No! You’re leaving this soon? I thought you were coming with us, please don’t leave.” “Don’t worry, I'm coming in,” my dad laughed, “I just have to find a good parking spot and we need to drop off a lot of luggage.” All of us kids were relieved as we were all thinking the same thing. We took our bags and got soaked in the cold rain. We waited for him inside at a 7 Eleven store. My dad arrived and we decided to eat together. This was also going to be one of those "last times." “Bhrodyne, sit here with daddy, I’ll take pictures of you two.” My dad wrapped his arms around my brother tightly and tickled him until he was screaming. “When you come back, you’re going to be such a big boy!” Bhrodyne giggled, “Yeah and I’ll finally get my 1 on 1 and beat you up!” “You wish.” “No way, you won’t be able to handle all my strength, not even 50 percent of it.” The scrawny little boy boasted. “Oh, you really think so?” He started tickling him again and even put him in a head lock until he yelled, "Tap, tap, tap!” We hung out for an hour or 2 in the 7 Eleven until it was time to go. My father turned to me, “Maxyne, you know what, we don’t really have to worry, I don’t want you and the boys to be sad. When we talk again, it will be as if we just saw each other yesterday. This is nothing.” I agreed and I knew this to be true because my dad would usually disappear for weeks at a time but whenever he came back, everything was always back to normal like nothing ever happened. As we were boarding our luggage onto the plane, my friend messages me, “Hey, do not board your guitar on the plane because they’ll toss it and you’ll have to buy a brand new one. It happened to me twice.” I told my mom that I had to give my guitar back to my dad and she let me. I ran as fast as I could, jumped over big carts, went through bags and crowds to get to my dad before he left. This was my first ever electric guitar which my father gave to me when I was 13, a black Gibson Les Paul. I didn't want to give it back because it was one of the only few things I had that reminded me of him. He saw me and I explained to him they’d snap my guitar’s neck and that I already had a hand carry. He took my guitar which was wrapped in a black fabric case and put it around his shoulder. I hugged him tightly, holding back all of my tears. We said our goodbyes and I love yous. I walked backwards and gave one final wave. The words of my brother echoed in the back of my mind: “Smaller and smaller until you can’t see it.” I watched him until he was swallowed by the crowed of people. Through the tight exit and big glass windows, the clouds were still dark outside, contrasting the bright white walls of the airport. Welcome back! This is my third blog assignment for my English Composition class. In this assignment we were asked to read several passages that would help us compose an emotional scene from our lives. The passages included “My Name Is Margaret,” which is a small section from Maya Angelou’s book, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings”. In that passage, I read about how Mrs. Cullinan, changed Margaret’s name into “Mary” because “Margaret” was just too long for her. This then infuriated Margaret. Although my story will not be focused on anger, I did relate to the feeling of losing one's identity and isolation.
3 years ago, my ex blindfolded me on the way to a surprise. I honestly thought we were going to his house and I was going to remove my blindfold to some nasty raw chicken like last time. It was pitch black and so quiet for a good 20 minutes until the driver yelled angrily "EJ, please sit down I can't see the damn road!" Wait, EJ is not my ex's name. I wasn't aware that there were several more people in the back of the car. We all burst out laughing and cussing the driver as he just uncovered my surprise birthday party! My friends told me to wait until we reached the venue. When I untied my blindfold, they all screamed, "Surprise!" We were in a sports plaza and after tiring ourselves by playing a bunch of different games and finally having delicious chocolate cake, one of my friends brought a box onto the table. It was about the size of a regular shoe box but with patterns and a little bow on top. What I found inside brought me to tears. It was multiple letters from many of my other close friends. The letters were all handwritten behind photographs of me with whoever wrote the letter. They made me this special present because they knew I was leaving the country in 3 months. That was probably the happiest and saddest day of my life. I left the Philippines on May 27 of 2017 and whenever I look at those letters now, I feel happy but also a sense of loneliness. Although leaving was going to be beneficial for me, it also sucked because had to leave many people who were close to my heart. Most of them I’ve known for over 10 years. I also left not knowing when I will ever see them again. My family, friends and I didn’t worry so much at first because we knew that we would be able to communicate through the internet. Unfortunately, when I moved, we realized our time zones were exactly 12 hours apart. That means when someone is going to bed, the other is just getting up. It was challenging to find a time that worked for both people especially with school, work and family to take care of. This was definitely hard for everyone, especially for me because I was in such a new environment with no one to really talk to. Being in a new country means experiencing a different culture. Learning about other people and the way they live can be fun but sometimes it made me feel alone. I didn’t really have anyone to relate with nor anyone to understand me fully. No one has had to deal with leaving their whole family and basically all of the people who has been by their side their whole life behind. I’ve tried making many friends here and I do get along with people easily but it never feels the same. I consider most of the people I meet as acquaintances rather than friends. Sometimes, I even have to deal with people who would treat me like garbage just because I’m Asian. I’ve heard a couple comments in the halls of my predominantly white and black high school. I only knew about 5 Asians there, most of them born here thus not knowing how the Asian culture is really like. In the process of living here, I find myself adapt to the new culture. There’s nothing wrong with it but I do occasionally get lost and forget who I am. My looks have changed, my values have changed, my sense of humor and just about everything. I’ve changed so much that I don’t even recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I'm worried and afraid that when I come back home, no one is going to recognize the person I’ve become inside and out. When I was little my dad taught me that “the only constant thing in life is change”. This has helped me go through life when it got tough. Sometimes reading the letters and looking at the photographs behind them brings tears to my eyes. It hurts to know that I will never get to experience or feel the same way again. I may be a little upset but at least I know I had a great time in the Philippines with a bunch great people. That somehow, although thousands of miles away, people still care about me. That despite growing apart, there will still always be a special connection between them that I can never have with anyone else here. Things may be different but when I read those letters, I feel at home. It gives me hope that maybe one day, I will feel the same way about this new place too. |
Maxyne LimcacoHi! Welcome to my blog. Archives
November 2019
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