why wisconsin is the greatest (part 1)

1. Space. You cannot beat Wisconsin for pure, unadulterated farmland. It is a patchwork conglomeration of fields and forests. Beautiful, green and wide.
2. People. People are just nicer in the midwest. More willing to talk. About anything. I remember a joke saying "You might live in wisconsin if....you've been helped by someone in the store who isn't an employee." So true.
3. Knowing where all the streets go. Not that I get lost in Provo. But there is something great about knowing a neighborhood because your friends live there. Or your teacher.

more to come.

Dear provo,

I will miss you.

I am going home for the summer. See you in the fall.

I will miss your multiple frozen yogurt parlors, your creamery ice cream, late night walks by the duck pond, even later chats with my roommates, the ability to make a joke referencing the Book of Mormon, everyone understanding BYU stereotypes, student singles wards, and living in a giant apartment complex of Christlike love.

And how I knew I could always call someone to listen to me when I needed it. That I plan to try and keep, actually.

But you never know; some things change, even if you try to stop them.

things i have learned this year:

you're not always going to get what you want.
you can be happy without everything you want.

English 452 Final

So I know this is kind of a cop-out of a post, but here goes. Here is the poem that we were asked to analyze for my final. Then we had to analyze our interpretation.

Theodore Rothke

My Papa's Waltz

 

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.


We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.


The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.


You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

My interpretation: (Which I know isn't my best work, but it was a final after all--time crunch. The interpretation actually wasn't the important part of the final)

This poem is about the father's destructive lifestyle of alcoholism, and how it is cyclical. By the end of the poem we realize that the son will become who the father is.
     We learn at the beginning of the poem that even though being with his father was difficult (such waltzing was not easy) because of his Father's alcoholism (The whisky on your breath/Could make a small boy dizzy), nonetheless the boy clings to his father (But I hung on like death) for a sense of identity. In the second stanza the author elaborates that sometimes trying to be with his Father destroyed their physical possessions, and that his mother disapproved of him trying to waltz with his father (perhaps because she knows what destructive ends that lifestyle brings).
     The third and fourth stanzas are when the reader learns about the character of the father. He is portrayed as a man who has suffered, "The hand that held my wrist/Was battered by one knuckle", and worked hard for his family, "A palm caked hard by dirt." This acknowledgement of the father's character shows us that the boy recognizes the difficulties his father has had in his life, how a life of hard labor has affected him, and his good qualities, such as working hard for his family. Also in the third stanza we read "At every step you missed/My right ear scraped a buckle," so we know that when this father makes mistakes, it is his son who pays the price.
     The significance of this "dance" with his father being a waltz is unmistakable. The waltz is a dance where although you feel like you are changing directions, eventually you end up back in the same place you started. It is circular, symbolizing the circular destructive pattern of his father's lifestyle. The inevitable ending of this boy continuing this pattern is shown in the last line "still clinging to your shirt." Even though the boy recognizes the harm that is done by his father's life, the broken home, the worried mother, he still clings to his father as a source of identity.

Other interpretations:
#1
#2 (pdf file)

more controversy about it

It appears that there are generally two readings of the poem; one as a memory of a playful experience, and one of deeper darker themes of abuse. What do you think? What did you think when you first read it?

needy, needy, Betsy

Lately, I found out that it is not always me by myself on the needy-needy, I-want-a-friend end of the stick with a few of my pals. Everyone needs close friends. Even if I am the one to initiate things happening all the time, that doesn't mean that I am not needed as a friend...it means I am good at initiating.

Funny, how we always assume other people are doing fine, and that we are the disadvantaged ones. Oh mortal existence, you do limit my paradigm so.