fluttering captured by the minds eye and the lenses snap shutness

The pole was a heavy iron or lead pipe probably twenty feet long... the pipe, crafted into a flag was raised in Iwo Jima during the war in 1945, inspired the troops to fight on and advance the lines to victory. the diploma, my pipe, propelled me to finish school with a blaze. high school was my war and it took every bit of my strength to get past and conquor the foreign knowledge that stood in my way. with a great cheer at the end of the four years it hit me like a boom i can do this i can start my next years tackling college and blasting my way to the life i want and deserve. the site and emotions i felt that day i raised up lifted in my own amazement i look back at those days leading up to graduation the feverish studying and impossible late nights frantically pursuing this last chance to make my mark i think of those times when i look at my pictures, captured by a cheapo disposable camera it reminds me i can do it i just need to conjure the strength and the will to get it done. "i was surprised by the fifth day they could do this..." their fifth day was my last day of junior year i tasted this nectar, completion and the pride that follows. enthuised, like the soldiers in "Flag Raising On Iwo Jima"by, Joe Roseenthal, i pushed myself and i made it through that gut wrenching years obstacles ( friends and fun) and i pushed ahead i made it an immense pleasure waiting to be called for my stage walk my Flag Raising at Luther Burbank, June 14, 2007 !

i rember the place i was in

edward hopper and the house by the rail roads, oddly familiar i think i can identify my late vw jetta with the house.,"..someone being starrred at someone holding their breath under water, hushed and expectant," the house is truely handsome its said to be disappointed in its glory, i bought a car and with all my heart i was in love but it broke and it sat with out use or reasin and with my own desperate heart i viewed the car lpoking back at me with soften and appologetic features. the poem personofies the house , the arthour, i imagine,had to of felt these emotins themself to capture and view such an iridescent expressions from a house or poem.

And then one day the man just disappears, he left his afternoon shadow moving across the tracks, making its way through the vast darkening fields," edward hirsch, my interpretation for this line describes my feeling of the car as my attachment grew weaker and i finally just let it go. i was so upset with that day i called a tow truck and they gave me $170 for it in total, i was heart boken but i knew it was time to let go but it lingered in my mind ,the afternoon shadonw easing away to the vast darkness, of it being gone and me losing this mechanical automotive creation to dispair and metaphorical human like emotions. i was cuoght staring gawky abandon by my own willed choice.

hearts tock so ordinary

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOBMbHbXVOg



considering time and the effort in which i tried to keep it tamed its nieve to believe i can stop it at any rate. the most of ordinary thing i know is the clock. this contraption created first from stone then later electrified. its function contemporary but older than the idea the earth is flat. ordinary its marvelously intriguing i cant stop the effects of time but i try to hide, fool the eye, with rejuvenations and topical creams or the latest cover girl powder foundation.
"each one visits a thousand flowers a day... they can fly for hundreds of miles without pausing to rest", joyas voldardores by Brian Doyle, these humming birds zoom zam through space at much greater speeds than any living organism. time at their speed would be mind blowing and unbearable for me. I would love to spend split seconds through the bad on contrary i know id feel like the good times are gone fast as my eye blinks.
tick tock minutes flutter one by one by one a predetermined pace, unchanging literally i find my self losing such precious moments with all efforts unable to maintain i feel helpless. "but when they do rest they come close to death" the most difficult of actions to rest i cant seem to do with rest time seems to slip away and i lose my barrings.

then again when time well spent i feel i cheated existence i feel like i stoped the hands from ticking away my departure i forget the minutes closer to the end.

So much happens in a day and its hard to think i can prevent it all or stay trapped in a single moment no matter how bad i want it. not all moments make me rejoice but i know that the next might be better. Doyle describes what he sees happens the hearts with time,"... that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn..." time in its self is destructive yet also just as repairing.

diffrence through time

Now V.S. Back in the day

( high school)

Change is as change does, but a change in place or a change is color doesn't necessarily make a difference. In the chapter i read about differences and i couldn't help but think of myself and when i was in high school. i found some old pictures that reminded me of the mischief i got in. i realized also that i as a body i changed too. my poses and facial expressions were different. i figured it was me becoming an adult, but after reading "coming into the country" by Gish Jen, it dawned on me I'm not different physically so much as I'm different in my mind set.

Summing up the article i understand that the real meaning isn't just about leaving from a place to come in to America. its about the the dreams associated with the idea of "America." getting into college was a step taken towards something better. that better was open for interpretation, whether it meeting friends and partying my heart out or studying my butt off and getting on with life as i know it. - We newish Americans leapfrog from world to world reinventing ourselves en route... high school i didn't know who i really was , still today I'm wondering, but once grad day hit i was this college kid. Ive changed but to know Ive chaged i really needed to examine the differences. - Indeed nothing seems more typically American than to obsess about identity... high school was such a a whirl wind, i was surrounded by all this stimulation and i couldn't help but to become and submerge myself at least for awhile to actually understand and realize this wasn't who i am or wanted to be. now I'm this culinary student with other culinary students and not much variation. me now versus me back in the day are comparable but so different its wicked.

to rember is more violent

the picture represent me in high school and the craziness i went through. each tell a story.

When I turned to fish cheeks, the picture reminded me of the picture I took in high school. The family photo of my brothers and sister jumped right out at me.
After reading the article Fish cheeks, it reminded me of my family and how we are the same but I so much wanted to be different from them and resemble my friends instead. "you want be same like American girls on the outside... fish cheeks, by Amy tan" I had wanted to be this idea I thought everyone else was, and I tried to blend in but at the same time I was sticking out more also clashing with my family. High school not just the place but the actually years are memorable moments. Intense and some so amazing, although it was hard I can’t see me done anything else.
I remember my grandmother telling me," you can do whatever you want in life as long as you do it with respect. I thought I understood what she meant but after a while it stuck Whit me and I didn't quiet understand until I reached my senior year of high school. I was skating through school I did just enough work and my senior year. Respect didn't mean necessarily showing or giving but just doing whatever it takes to get it done or go about life proud and with reason. Fish cheeks brought back memories and my picture helps me remember what life was like then.