When it comes to proofreading, the red penis your friend.
Most times I avoid blogging because I don't like to think about some things in my life. Sometimes I feel stupid for posting certain blogs because after re-reading them, I realize how emotional I was when I wrote them.
So, so! We got our new groups in Media Academy awhile ago. After the first major project of the year, our teachers allow us to request people to be in our groups. I didn't turn in one of those slips because I wanted to be surprised. I had regretted not turning in one of those slips but I'm more satisfied with my new group now. And this is the poem we chose:
Affirmation by Donald Hall
To grow old is to lose everything. Aging, everybody knows it. Even when we are young, we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads when a grandfather dies. Then we row for years on the midsummer pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage, that began without harm, scatters into debris on the shore, and a friend from school drops cold on a rocky strand. If a new love carries us past middle age, our wife will die at her strongest and most beautiful. New women come and go. All go. The pretty lover who announces that she is temporary is temporary. The bold woman, middle-aged against our old age, sinks under an anxiety she cannot withstand. Another friend of decades estranges himself in words that pollute thirty years. Let us stifle under mud at the pond's edge and affirm that it is fitting and delicious to lose everything.
I was so proud that I was able to pick up on the water motif.
My English teacher, Ms. Thurston, played this poem for us at school
today. It's called The the impotence of proofreading by Taylor Mali.
Listen to it.
"I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours....Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed, and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." --Thoreau
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