Like Or As

 Caterpillar

"Bailey remained in the 

driver's seat with the cat-gray 

striped with a broad white face 

and an orange nose-clinging to his 

neck like a caterpillar." 

(398 R.)

 Hippoptamus

"She had her big 

black valise that 

looked like 

the head of a 

hippopotamus." 

(393 R.)

                          Snake

The Mist fit sprang back as if 

a snake had bitten him and 

shot her three time 

through the 

chest." 

(403 R.)

uhhh... some of these are quite disturbing, hippos, caterpillars, and snakes. Mostly animal 

references, which is interesting, because I guess it is way easier to picture animals. Also, these 

animals mentioned are not that attractive, at least not like a butterfly. :) This is good though 

because that adds to the style by the author writes this story.

It was the strangest and faintest dream, but I thank God I finally had one I could actually remember. :) Well I sort of remember it. Well, it began with the setting around a pool; one that I think is much like the one at my home. There was sort of a game like basketball in a pool. I sat out as I usually do in social gatherings and observe; that’s at least what I think I was doing. People would automatically pair up and would play a game I am still unsure about what it was exactly. It did require swimming though. With dreams, it is always so strange that physical things come in feelings and emotion. It isn't stone, but what I feel what would be stone. Fear isn't seeing something; it is premonition that without a doubt something is there, even though I don't see it. So I was watching strangers, friends, and family play this game in the pool. Then somebody I loved touched the bottom of the pool and lost. When she got out of the pool she was angry and hurt she had lost. I embraced her as she came around to where I was and I felt the emotion of feeling cold skin. But I also felt the enormous satisfaction of holding her so close and securely. I wasn't sure who she was. She disappeared from my consciousness and I soon joined the game. But I don't know what it was I was playing. I just wanted to show people how I could launch from the wall and go speeding through the water. However, I touched the bottom of the pool and got the feeling I did something wrong, because I knew I shouldn't touch the bottom of the pool, but I pretended I didn't. Then, just as if I had jinxed myself, I did it a second time, by this time I knew I was cheating by not taking myself out of the pool. Then I touched the bottom of the pool for the third and final time, so when I came to the surface a man was there pointing a thick finger at me. He had a green coat on with a green hat and a orange beard, I got the impression of a dwarf/lepercon sort of guy although he was tall. So I got out and continued to watch the game from the side lines. After that it is just bits and pieces, but none of them are clear enough to tell

Memory

The only thing I could think of as my earliest childhood memory is one takes place on a cracked sidewalk outside my house in Billings. I do not know why I remember this though. It could be because those days were the last days I was with my parents. But now our family is broken and I haven't been with my family in 14 years. The memory is faded, yet what remains is there is printed in my mind like a painting that has been scraped with sand-paper. I was playing with either my brother, friends, or myself. But I was very interested in getting one of those toy cars that look like red and yellow beetles over the cracks in the cement. That is my earliest memory of frustration, yet it may have been something entirely different.

The Brothers Karamazov(17)

I really enjoy Dostoyevsky’s narrative. I have only read beginning the book, but there is something that caught my attention that I would like to “blog” about. It is interesting to notice how writers often find ways of exploring the human complexity in a way that I could not in all my methodical meditations. It is sort of similar to an enlightening and most often leaves one me with a gratitude for reading that I doubt will ever be replaced. However, back to this passage that caught my attention.

“In his childhood and adolescence he was not effusive and he did not even like to talk a great deal, but it is was not from mistrustfulness, nor from shyness or from morose unsociability; quite the contrary it was from something else, from a sort of inner preoccupation, a preoccupation that concerned only himself and had nothing to do with anyone else, but so important to him that he seemed to forget others because of it. But he loved people; all his life he seemed to have complete faith in people and yet no one ever took him for a simpleton or a naïve person” (Dostoyevsky, 17).

It is often in this very similar “preoccupation”, that I find myself caught up in. It is these kinds of introversion I often reprimand myself for, not as a result of my own two-mindedness, but because of society. In the American society in regards to socializing, it is all talk, where always, one is expected to have something interesting to say or some comical statement. Going back to my “preoccupations”, I would not like to think myself as “mistrustful” of others, Or “shy”, or “unsociable” However, it is the label that we, even I, stick to the foreheads of those whose tongues are less free. Instead, I would like to relate myself to Alyosha, “no one would take him for a simpleton or a naïve person”. It is often because of my thoughts that I am silent. 

Le Premier

Well class today was quite interesting and amusing. I am suppose to say something so I guess all I will say is I will enjoy this class. Though I am very unsure about the novel. I had started it high school and I remember all of the names were very hard to get by. However this is a challenge for me and one I am looking forward to surmounting. I really hope it does prove to be one of greatest novels of all time, at least for myself. :)