Musical Memories

         If one were to flip through my Itunes they would find no pattern in the way I choose my music. My library ranges from twangy country, to soft lyrical melodies, to obscene rap beats full of ignorant lyrics. I guess you could say I am bipolar when it comes to my music. Each song holds a different meaning to me.
        As I sit here shuffling through my songs, Usher's hip-hop classic Yeah sets me in a homecoming dress, uncomfortable heels, and a stiff over sprayed hair do. Bloc Party's Signs sends me to the funeral of a best friend, stinging my body with goosebumps. Rascal Flatt's Banjo gives me an invisible instrument pounding out the solo in the car with my twin sister after a "long day" of high school. Strawberry Swing, a Coldplay original remade by the lyrical genius, Frank Ocean, helps me to vividly invision the hazy (pun intended) first time I dared to be a rebel. J Cole's Workout brings me to my eighteenth birthday when I had the pleasure to meet him after he wandered into the athletic store I worked at. With every single click of my mouse, a jar of memories is re-opened, creating an array of emotions flooding through my brain.
      If it was not for my diverse music library, some key memories of my life might disappear never to be evoked again. It is a linear relationship, really. As I grow and experience, my library grows and remembers.

Critical- A Natural History of the Senses

“The tiny ridges in our fingertips, whose roughness makes it easier for us to grasp objects, are randomly formed, resulting in the unique swirling weather systems we call “fingerprints.” (Ackerman 117)

Ackerman does it again. I cannot tell if the immense and hyperbolic description is engaging me or making me question how someone can really come up with this stuff. A fingerprint, a topic that to me seems so small, is transformed into a whole paragraph used to describe the touch of something. Maybe I am just having a bad day, but her anecdotes are dramatic and I am sure by the end of the book my annoyance with them may just grow to be unbearable.

One Of Those Nights

I’ll never forget the smell that filled my parent’s bathroom as I sat in their over-sized tub and watched my mother swipe on her mascara. Her powdered deodorant left behind a baby soft aroma as it puffed through the air. The most distinct though was a pure, sweet, and innocent perfume smell. My mom only wore the expensive Angel perfume when my father and she went out on date nights, usually leaving my sisters and I to fend for ourselves that night. To me, Angel smells like mediocre TV movies and kid cuisines.

Short Takes- Confessions (Amy Tan) and September (Lia Purpura)

For this week's Short Takes assignment I stumbled across Amy Tan's, "Confessions" essay. Tan describes a scene in which her mother and her are having an argument. Her writing and description makes it seem like the reader is in the room with them watching the two characters fight with one another. In this essay, the author uses dialogue to place you there as well. I liked how this dialogue was minimal, and she only included the pieces that were crucial to the scene she was trying to portray. I think lately in our essays we are afraid to use dialogue, fearing that it might take away from the personal relationship you are trying to create with the reader. I think we can learn how to use dialogue correctly using Amy Tan's "Confessions" as a model.

What I Imagine Heaven Smells Like

"Bake chocolate chip cookies right before the open house. Not only will you give prospective buyers something to munch on while they walk around, but some experts say the cozy smell of cookies makes people feel like they're home." Allstate Real Estate Company

        It is a smell we are all familiar with. A smell that is inviting, powerful, and wonderful. Anyone able to operate an oven knows the sense of happiness this smell can create. The smell of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies is by far the most enjoyable to me.
      It begins with a somber kitchen full of ingredients. As the chalky smell of white flour swirls around the room, it mixes with an aroma of underdeveloped chicken embryos and is soon interrupted by the grainy & shockingly sweet scent of granulated and brown sugar. A puff of thin, and starchy baking soda along with a pinch of salt adds to the mix. The soon to be softened chocolate chips solidify the foundation and the batter is complete.
      The oven is preheated, filling the air with a slight burnt aroma. The blobs of joy enter the chamber where, as far as I am concerned, magic happens. As you carry on with your daily tasks, as sneaky as a fox, the odor engulfs your nose and whole house. The rich, scrumptious, and heavenly odor creates a ball of anxiousness for the next thirty to forty minutes as the cookies bake.
     The time is finally up, and as you open the oven the delightful and divine smell wraps around you like a blanket. The mouthwatering scent forces you to the fridge, as a chocolate chip cookie is lonely without milk.
    

Short Takes Essay- Brief History of My Thumb & Those Who Stay and Those Who Go

"Those Who Stay and Those Who Go"

Ann Daum

 

An essay in Short Takes that caught my eye was "Those Who Stay, and Those Who Go" by Ann Daum. The topic Daum centers around in this essay is based on a small farm-driven town in South Dakota. While reading this essay, the author does a very good job of setting up a scene in which her readers can vividly picture. She describes the town, the people you would typically find there, and then brings a personal memory of this town into her discussion. I like the way that she sets up the scene for the audience first, then uses personal experience to prove her "argument" in regards to the topic. I would suggest this essay as an example for writers who struggle to tie the topics they write about together. 

Emulating Montaigne- Using Elevated Diction, Excessive Metaphor, and Vivid Imagery.

 "Of Gingers"

What comes to your mind when you hear the word Ginger? Do you think of a hot fragrant spice made from the rhizome of a plant or do you imagine the pale pink lump on the side of your sushi plate? Can you feel the temperature in your mouth increase as you dare taste the fleshy plant? You may imagine the ever-famous Bath and Body tangy scent, "Orange Ginger" with mention of the word.

I could narrate an immense list of uses for the plant but I already know that none of those images I listed above would have come to mind first without my mention. In an aged decade it is very possible that the term would be used in the right context, but not in our society today. The term has taken on a new definition. The "ginger" epidemic started for me as I transformed into my teenage years shortly after a soul fifty minute episode of the popular show "South Park" was aired.

"Cartman: My speech is entitled "Ginger Kids". Children with red hair, light skin, and freckles. We've all seen them. On the playground, at the store, walking on the streets. They creep us out, and make us sick to our stomachs. I'm talking, of course, about Ginger kids."

Teenagers world wide never looked at redheads quite the same after this episode. I was a natural heir to the recessive gene after my mom. The gene forced many summers of friendship for Aloe Vera and I. The impossible games of "count Kristen's freckles" never seemed to get old for my peers. I hated my fair skin and spent countless hours trying to think of how to become a bronzed goddess, when it dawned on me. I had much more fun swimming in the pool than trying to achieve something I knew was out of my reach. It took me a while to finally accept the fact that whether I liked it or not, I was a full-blown natural Ginger. The stereotype never quite went away, but it grew to be a part of me. People remembered me as "the ginger" while my friends were stuck in the blonde and brunette stereotype. My unique quality turned from an enemy to a characteristic I embrace and love to this day. It is much more fun jumping in the pool in order to embrace your unique quality, rather than dancing round the edge hoping it will one day change.