Journal #9 Power of Pictures

One of my favorite pictures of all time is one me and my cousin Anthony at my sister Marcella’s baptism back in 1994.  We were both 3 years old at the time and we were dressed in the most outrageously hideous clothes ever!  I had bows all over me and he was draped in who-knows-what with gold chain crosses all over him.  Looking at the picture now makes me laugh for hours.  We were adorable but our mothers were crazy no doubt.  In this picture we were sitting in one of the pews before the ceremony and we looked exactly alike.  It was really freaky because out clothes were the same colors, white, black and red, our faces looked the same and our hair was even cut in the same mushroom-cut type style.  Looking at this picture, you’d think that we were twins.  The only thing is, he’s my cousin and about 7 months older than me. We’re related on our dad’s side but the funny thing is that we both look like our fathers.  This is my favorite picture because it reminds me about the closeness that my cousin and I share with each other.  I don’t really know a lot of people who consider their cousins their best friend or like a sister/brother to them.  Many of my friends don’t talk to their cousins, hardly ever see them, and some even can’t even stand them.  I think it’s because our parents always hung out and brought us along so we could play.  Since birth I’ve considered Anthony as my older brother, even though I’m definitely more mature and responsible.  That picture of us at the baptism shows how much we’ve grown up but still love each other unconditionally and would rather hang out with the other than with our own siblings.  We’ve established this type of bond that can’t be broken and that picture of us when we were 3, the one of me clinging to his neck for dear life with the goofiest grin on, the one of him smiling because there’s no one he loves to spend time with more, shows how much we need each other.

Journal #8 Happening Truth vs Story Truth

I stood on the dark stage waiting for the music to start.  My friends standing next to and around me were waiting too, waiting to start what we've been practicing all year.  The music finally began and we started to move around, showing off all our hard work.  We leapt and spun, jumped and twirled until the music came to an end and we struck out final pose.  The lights went out as the audience clapped and we ran off stage so the next set of dancers could take their place.  Our moment to shine was over.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

It was finally the day, they day I've been waiting for since September when class first started.  It was a warm Sunday in June, Father's Day to be exact, and it was the day of my dance recital.  As I pulled into the Bergen Academy parking lot, I thought about all the hard work and effort I put in throughout the past year.  I reminisced about the past 15 years of my life dancing at the same studio since I was 2 1/2 years old.  I parked my car, took out my costumes, makeup, and dance bag, and walked through the backstage door.  As I walked though the door I noticed most of my friends were already backstage warming up.  I found my usual changing spot on the stairs and started to line up my costumes in the order I had to wear them.  Afterwards, I walked over to the girls, sat down and started stretching with them.

"You ready for this?" said Jackie.

"Oh yeah, " I replied.  "I'm so excited!"

"Yeah, me too, but I'm still nervous that I won't be able to do the axel into a triple pirouette after the illusion."

"I think you'll be fine," I responded.  "I was worried about that too but we broke our backs this year trying to get it so I think if we don't think about it we'll nail it."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

The anticipation was starting to build.  There was only 15 minutes until the second act started and I was getting butterflies in my stomach.  I walked back over to my little spot on the stairs and started dressing into my costume for my jazz routine.  As I was teasing my hair and applying makeup in the bathroom, Sam came in to tell me that we were going on in a couple minutes.  I put that last touch of hairspray in my hair and walked out of the bathroom and headed towards the stage.  All the girls in my dance were standing behind the curtain, waiting for the signal to take the stage.  The curtains were still down, but the lights backstage went off.  My stomach did a summersault.  We got the signal and set off on stage to take out spots.  I was nervous, but it was a good type of nervous.  I was ready to show off all that I had learned the past year and put everything I had into this dance, heart and soul.

The music began and my body took over my mind.  I danced to the music, twirling and leaping in the air, putting in attitude where necessary.  I finally came to the part of the dance that gave me such a hard time months before, the illusion followed by an axel into a triple pirouette.  Without thinking and hesitation, I put all of me into the combination and to my surprise nailed it perfectly.  It was as if a heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders and I was able to dance the rest of the routine in peace that I nailed what I thought was the most difficult part.  I glided across the stage like a skater glides across the ice, elegantly and gracefully with passion and expression.  Finally the end of the dance came too quickly and we all struck out last pose and the lights went off and the audience clapped away.  The curtains closed and we exited the stage, panting, but glad that we did our best and showed everyone what we've worked so hard on.  Our moment to shine was over, a bittersweet ending.

Journal #7

I’m really not a big fan of writing.  I don’t think I ever have been.  Journal type writing is what I would prefer over anything but the actual process of taking a pen or pencil and scratching it across paper just bothers me.  I can get so much more across by talking and explain myself that way.  I feel like writing is just a way to get your emotions out if there’s no one listening.  Even when I’m writing about my day in my journal, it gets tedious and annoying after a while and I end up stopping after 10 minutes.  I guess with my short attention span and lack of patience I’m unable to stick with things for a long period of time, especially if what I’m doing is boring or uninteresting.  When I’m forced to write about something that isn’t fun for me, I simply can’t do it and experience problems trying to think of things to write about.  When I’m given the freedom to write about things I like, I find it much easier to write and I’m not frustrated while doing it either.  Creative writing is my other favorite type of writing style.  I’m open to write about anything without any restrictions or guidelines.  Poetry and essays are a lot harder for me because they have guidelines and requirements most of the time.  Especially in school where I’m told what to write about it, I particularly hate to write because I have no freedom, everything has to be done a certain way.

Journal #6 Stockings

In this chapter O’Brian talks about Henry Dobbins’ superstition with his girlfriend’s stockings. The stockings are a reminder of what he left back home and are essentially what keeps him going.  It’s not so much the thought of his girlfriend as person, but her as a reminder of what he has to go home to after the war.  The stockings are a sense of security that Dobbins has.  This story affirms Henry Dobbins's notion that his girlfriend's stockings, which he ties around his neck, keep him from harm.  At the same time, however, it emphasizes that this tactic is, in the end, nothing but superstition.  Dobbins first rationalizes wearing the stockings because their smell and feel remind him of his girlfriend and of a safer world away from Vietnam.  But even after their breakup, he continues to wear the stockings, saying that the magic is still there. Though his ex-girlfriend no longer offers herself as a source of comfort to him, he continues to think of her as one.

I think people have superstitions because they need something to justify the way they think about things.  Just like Dobbins believes that he will be safe with the stockings, people place their faith in inanimate objects to justify the way they think or believe.  Some people have good luck charms, and others believe that if they do a certain thing it will bring them bad luck  It seems that people have superstitions so that they can, in a way, feel safe, even though in reality, whatever they believe is only a superstition.  For Dobbins, the stockings give him a sense of security and because it distracts him from the reality of the war, he is able to go about his day as he normally would and not preoccupied with the thoughts of dying at any moment.  Because he is cushioned from reality, he is able to think clearly and ultimately live to see the end of the war.

Journal #5

According to O'Brien, a true war story is never moral. It doesn't instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done. There is no rectitude whatsoever.  There is no virtue.  You can tell a true war story by its absolute and uncompromising allegiance to obscenity and evil.  You can tell a true war story if it embarrasses you.  In many cases a true war story cannot be believed.  If you do believe, you should be skeptical.  Sometimes you cannot even tell a true war story.  Sometimes it’s beyond telling.  You can tell a true war story by the way it never ends.  If a true story has a moral to it, you can’t tease it out.  True war stories do not generalize.  They do not indulge in abstraction or analysis.  A true war story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe.  In a true war story, nothing is ever absolutely true.  Often a true war story doesn’t have a point.  You can tell a true war story by the questions you ask.  Absolute occurrence is irrelevant.  You can tell a true war story if you just keep on telling it.  A true war story is never about war.

According to O’Brien, stories are important because they have the power to shape listeners’ opinions and experiences.  Because of this, the reader is unsure what aspects of the story are true and which are untrue.  Throughout this vignette, O’Brien describes the characteristics of a true war story.  He explains why it doesn’t have to be truthful or make sense, or even have a moral.  Therefore, the reader is left confused because they do not know what to believe as truthful or a figment of his imagination.  Did the water buffalo incident occur or not?

For me, I was more upset about the baby water buffalo's death.  To me, that was more gruesome than the death of Curt Lemon.  I have a soft spot for animals as it is, so when I read about how it was just tortured, I pretty much cried.  The reason this part really upset me was because the poor baby water buffalo was being tortured because Kiley couldn't cope with Curt Lemon's death.  I don't believe that repeatedly shooting at a water buffalo can help someone overcome the death of another.  It's cruel and inhumane.  I understand he was obviously extremely upset about Curt Lemon's death, but torturing a poor animal is not the way to go about handling anger.

When O'Brien said that this wasn't a war story, it was a love story, I was confused.  I didn't understand how any part of this vignette could be related to a love story.  Nothing about it was romantics or sweet.  O'Brien tells Curt Lemon's death as a love story. Though it is gruesome, he describes the scene as beautiful.  He focuses on the sunlight rather than the carnage.  Blood and carnage aren't even discussed, not even when O'Brien and Jensen have to go up the tree in order to throw down Curt Lemon's body parts.  The way O'Brien describes this action, and the death as a whole, is not specific and detached.  His storytelling functions as comfort so he can deal with the difficulty of war experience, so much even as to twist the story of Curt Lemon from a war story to a love story.

Journal #4 How To Tell A True War Story

According to O'Brien, a true war story is never moral. It doesn't instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done. There is no rectitude whatsoever.  There is no virtue.  You can tell a true war story by its absolute and uncompromising allegiance to obscenity and evil.  You can tell a true war story if it embarrasses you.  In many cases a true war story cannot be believed.  If you do believe, you should be skeptical.  Sometimes you cannot even tell a true war story.  Sometimes it’s beyond telling.  You can tell a true war story by the way it never ends.  If a true story has a moral to it, you can’t tease it out.  True war stories do not generalize.  They do not indulge in abstraction or analysis.  A true war story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe.  In a true war story, nothing is ever absolutely true.  Often a true war story doesn’t have a point.  You can tell a true war story by the questions you ask.  Absolute occurrence is irrelevant.  You can tell a true war story if you just keep on telling it.  A true war story is never about war.

According to O’Brien, stories are important because they have the power to shape listeners’ opinions and experiences.  Because of this, the reader is unsure what aspects of the story are true and which are untrue.  Throughout this vignette, O’Brien describes the characteristics of a true war story.  He explains why it doesn’t have to be truthful or make sense, or even have a moral.  Therefore, the reader is left confused because they do not know what to believe as truthful or a figment of his imagination.  Did the water buffalo incident occur or not?

For me, I was more upset about the baby water buffalo's death.  To me, that was more gruesome than the death of Curt Lemon.  I have a soft spot for animals as it is, so when I read about how it was just tortured, I pretty much cried.  The reason this part really upset me was because the poor baby water buffalo was being tortured because Kiley couldn't cope with Curt Lemon's death.  I don't believe that repeatedly shooting at a water buffalo can help someone overcome the death of another.  It's cruel and inhumane.  I understand he was obviously extremely upset about Curt Lemon's death, but torturing a poor animal is not the way to go about handling anger.

When O'Brien said that this wasn't a war story, it was a love story, I was confused.  I didn't understand how any part of this vignette could be related to a love story.  Nothing about it was romantics or sweet.  O'Brien tells Curt Lemon's death as a love story. Though it is gruesome, he describes the scene as beautiful.  He focuses on the sunlight rather than the carnage.  Blood and carnage aren't even discussed, not even when O'Brien and Jensen have to go up the tree in order to throw down Curt Lemon's body parts.  The way O'Brien describes this action, and the death as a whole, is not specific and detached.  His storytelling functions as comfort so he can deal with the difficulty of war experience, so much even as to twist the story of Curt Lemon from a war story to a love story.

Journal #3 Vietnam/Iraq

Part 1: I don't think that O'Brien is a coward for going to war.  I understand why he thought this way though.  He didn't want to fight in this war because he believed it was being fought for all the wrong reasons.  He believed that there wasn't even a legitimate reason to start the war in the first place.  Because he wanted no part in the war, he decided to run off so he wouldn't have to be drafted.  When he finally came to terms with what was going on and decides to enter Vietnam, he calls himself a coward because he was afraid of what people would think if he didn't go to war.  His largely uninformed community nonetheless wields a moral clout that overpowers his own opposition to the war.  I definitely don't blame him for wanting to run away.  Why should anyone pay in blood for a war they don't even want to fight for, a war that has no purpose for them?  However, he is by no means a coward.  War is nothing to joke about and I consider him brave for entering a war for which he doesn't feel strongly.

Part 2: Unfortunately, I believe that the US has found itself in another "Vietnam" type situation.  I don't believe that this war is about terrorism anymore.  Honestly, I think that we've become obsessed with power and trying to control everyone else to make sure we aren't harmed.  I also don't believe in the draft.  War for me is something that can be signed up for.  It's wrong to make the unwilling go to a war that they don't support.  Vietnam was a controversial war that not everyone agreed with.  I feel that The war in Iraq is the same way.  If there was a draft, I would definitely try to find ways out of it.  I wouldn't consider myself a coward.  There's nothing cowardly about not wanting to die for a war that I do not support whatsoever.