Analysis

Song Analysis


I have to sit,
For six hours of this
And every single minute of this
For me is time wasted
And if I had to be perfectly honest
I could think of tons of things
That are better than school,
But one thing comes to the top.

I don't want to work,
I just want to surf
In the waves all day

I don't want to play,
I just want to surf
In the waves all day

But even if the waves
Are kinda sub-par
I can always find
Some surf
on another far shore

I don't want to work,
I just want to surf
In the waves all day

I don't want to play
I just want to surf
In the waves all day





Surfing has become a big part of my life ever since my dad decided to teach me, back when I was about 6. Back then, I never enjoyed it one bit. But my dad always wanted me to go out with him, and I began to see the fun of it all. I had only used a huge 12'0 board, which I could barely carry and was hard to paddle. After I got a little better, my dad kept giving me shorter and shorter boards. The short boards today let you surf much better than in the old days. When you catch a wave on a short board, you gain so much speed that you can do insane maneuvers.

My song reflects my love for surfing, so much so that I would rather not go to school if there was good surf. I express a desire that I would rather go surfing than play, which is kind of like playing, but not in a amusing sense. Surfing is really hard on the back, because you have to keep your whole upper body above the water. You also have to have good arm strength, because you need to keep paddling through the breaking waves or else you might get stuck underwater and drown.

I also said in my song that if there aren't waves where I am, I can always go to the north or east or west shores to find surf. Sometimes it becomes an adventure, like if you run out of cash and you need to eat something. Me and my dad have even done kitchen work for half of an hour just to get a couple burgers.

To wrap it all up, I love to surf and my song reflects that. I just wanted to show how much I liked it, and that surfing while maybe not most important, comes before a lot of things in the fun department.

Lacrosse Sonnet Analysis

My sonnet was about lacrosse. Lacrosse is a brutal sport and was invented by the Native Americans. I tried to use imagery that would remind the reader of a medieval battlefield, because of how you need your skills and wits in order to survive. I likened the stick to a sword and the pads to armor. Even though the sport is tough, I tried to show that the hardness and strife the victories taste that much sweeter.

Sonnet

The sport of the Iroquois graceful, fast
At the same time it is grueling and rough
Greats like the Gaits go hard until the last
If you play this sport you better be tough
The pads are the armor, the stick is the sword
The game is like a battlefield of old
And on a battlefield you are never bored
You must fight through opponents untold
But the pain is worth it when you hear the crowd roar
When you see that the winning goal was just scored

Another Episode

Another Episode





I don't know how, or why I did it. All I know is that I needed to get into the fresh air. To this day I still don't see what made me do it. I left the stuffy hotel room, where I couldn't get a wink of sleep. I wanted to walk. I slowly unbolted the door and stepped out into the dark, musty–smelling hallway. I'd guess it was about 3 in the morning. Just out of curiosity, I listened at a door to see if I could hear anything. It seemed like the whole world was asleep except for me. I pushed open the stairwell door, feeling the cold updraft from the lower landings on my face. I started descending the stairs, feeling each step in my knees. It was so quiet that I almost walked on tiptoe, to preserve the almost holy stillness. I finally reached the bottom, a 2-story walk, but it felt much longer. I stepped through the lobby, avoiding a snoring drunk lying on the floor. He had probably been lying on the ratty and threadbare couch, but fell off. I pushed through the old doorway that didn't look like it had seen a fresh coat of paint in a very long time. Seeing the sky calmed my heart, and cleared my mind. Something nagged at me then, to start walking, do something, to move. I strode along the sidewalk, seeing the city in a whole new perspective. There was no noise, and the lack of cars made the air taste fresh and clean. I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't care. I walked for about 3 blocks, not caring where I turned, not knowing where I was. I saw the central park wall, and realized I was in the middle of the city. Almost before hearing the scuff of feet, I sensed it and whipped around. I was on guard for what might happen. There was a lot of crime in the city after dark. The peaceful air of the night was suddenly broken. I saw a figure step out from the shadows of a tree. The person that had surprised me so much was just an old homeless man. He looked at me with eyes that had seen too much sorrow and sadness.
"What are you doing out here so late at night?"

I replied: " I couldn't sleep and wanted to take a walk, so what?"

"I was just wondering, most people don't take walks at night"

He was a sight to see, clad in old rags with a large backpack overflowing with junk. I asked how it was you are able to live as a homeless person among this rich city. He said: "I had to learn. I wasn't always like this, you know, I came from a fine family, and I just couldn't stay in school long enough to get a degree." He went on saying that the same unwillingness to stick with anything kept him from keeping a job, and he became homeless, rummaging in trash cans for the last chicken McNugget someone didn't want. After he said that, my mind went into overdrive. He was a regular guy who just didn't have the will to succeed in life. I began seeing parallels that seemed too similar for my liking. I realized that I was on the same downward spiral: dropped out of school, running out of cash, can't get a job. I was going to end up like this guy, without family or friends to love. Then my head finally clicked. I knew what I had to do. I had to get my life into shape, and I was going to do it now. I said goodbye to the homeless man, and set off back the way I had come, with a sense of urgency in my stride.



Analysis


I decided to show Holden in another episode, separate from the book.

He cannot sleep one night, and takes a walk. As he is enjoying the night, he is startled by a homeless man who inquires into Holden's intentions. Holden starts a conversation with him, and realizes he was not always a man without a home. The problem that the homeless man had was that he lacked the sense of direction to go anywhere in life, and he eventually has to look through trash cans to feed himself. As he talks about himself, Holden begins to see strange but similar parallels into his own life.

As a struggling student, Holden hasn't realized that his life is going down the drain. He flunked school, his cash is running out, but he refuses to get a job. He prefers to let life pass him by until he is startled enough by his predicament to try to escape. But by then it is too late. He will be trapped in a vicious circle.

But now, seeing what his life will be like, he is galvanized into starting his life anew. He is rebellious to begin with, but now he is rebelling against his fate.

This last semester I had a math teacher who was just a huge phony. His name was Mr. Pavich, and he didn't quite seem to get what was going on around him. He'd say he's been in this business a looong time, and you can't fool the pavdog, I mean, who cuts their last name in half and adds dog to it? He would also have these little things about instead of saying fifty, you had to say it: fitty, like the rapper, and that just kills me. He gets more angry if you yawn than if you don't do your homework. I opened my mouth once and let out one goddam yawn out, and he explodes at me. He rants and raves about no manners and how my classmates (who yawn everyday behind his back) are ashamed at my lack of respect. At this point, I'm apologizing like a madman but he sees this only as me trying to argue with his own moron self. He sends me outside, and as I stand; I put down my metallic pencil, which makes a rattling sound. The Pavdog has now officially lost it. This kills me. I put my goddam pencil down, and he thinks I'm calling him out or something. He decides to send me to the deans, and so across the quad I trudge, fearing the worst. Do I get kicked out? Call home? I had no idea. I make it to the dean's offices' bench of execution, and I wait for my sentence. After about ten minutes. Mrs. Chun looks up and asks if I came from Mr. Pavich's class. I say yes, and she tells me how this sometimes happens and he is a little odd sometimes. A LITTLE odd. Wow.