Manifesto (I Hate Writing Poetry)

I hate writing poetry

            Because once I’m finished with one poem             

I want to write another

            And I really shouldn’t

I hate writing poetry

            Not because I think it’s bad

But because I know it’s bad

            And no one can tell me otherwise

I hate writing poetry

            Because sometimes you have to read it

In front of other people

            And they don’t like it either

I hate writing poetry

            Because I feel proud of it for a minute

Then I remember that it’s bad

            It smells dead, like a rotting carcass

I hate writing poetry…

Every time I try to sound profound

I sound like I’ve copied the works of the greats

            Every time I try to just write

It sounds like I don’t care

The truth is I don’t hate writing poetry

            I hate trying to sound like I’m someone I’m not

I hate repeating myself for dramatic effect

            Maybe if I say this phrase three more times I’ll get a good grade

No one writes for fun; it’s always for English class; some people try, but

            Others don’t care at all

Why don’t people just care?

            Not care about the assignment, but about exploring something new

Learn something from poetry

            I am so sick of people not caring about anything but themselves

Which is saying something because

I’m the most selfish person I know

            And if I’m selfish, I’d like to be selfish

I am so tired of trying to be something else

            I just want to write a poem or a manifesto or something

I want it to mean something to me and no one else

            I just want it to write itself or maybe flow out like water from a tap

I want it to be for me and only me

            I don’t want people to tell me what I mean by this line

I want it to mean what I say it does

I’m not writing this for a grade or for someone else

            This is only for me, and I need to remind myself of that

But you’re expected to be concerned about other people and help them

            But what if I don’t want to?

I hate writing poetry

            Because now that this one is over

I want to write more

            And I’m going to

Drafts

From the Vista Cruise

     I think it's so funny that I have 9 blog drafts right now. That number will change, but I'm just feeling like I can't finish anything. It's not that I'm not motivated right now, it's just that I don't want to publish any errors. I second-guess myself all the time. I just start one and then I realize that what I'm writing about would go better as a separate blog post. I keep going on and on about things... I don't know what to do. I'm so scared to post.
 I was just talking to Dr. N and I said to her, "it's not like anyone will read my posts," but she says some faculty members do. I just don't know what to write about and it's so hard to find pictures... Ugh. I don't know. But honesty, I hope I continue to write and update this blog over the summer and maybe till Christmas break next year. That's my goal. I would like to post at least twice a month over the summer and then I'd like to give little updates once I go to college. Let's see if I can do it! 

Thank You, Mr. Risdon

Dear Mr. Risdon, 
      I want to thank you for being a great teacher for eight years. I can't believe I've had you for that long. You were so much fun to have. At this last Spring Concert, I had so much fun surprising you with the "puppies"; your face was priceless. I have so many memories from the concerts when you'd turn to the audience and say something, then you'd turn your back and say something funny to us. My cheeks always hurt from smiling at you during the concerts. You're the coolest strings teacher ever because you can shred on guitar as well as any instrument in the room. 
     You've really motivated me over these years to continue with the violin. I'm not sure if I'll play in college or not, but if I do, it's because you encouraged me to. I always say how bad I am, because it's true, but you never actually agree, so that makes me feel a little better about myself. You encourage confidence in the orchestra. I hope that when I come back to visit, you won't make me play in front of everyone. I can always talk to you about everything even when it's not strings related. Thank you again for being an amazing teacher. 

-Kori 

I Hate What If's, but....

     If I had written a senior speech, this is what it would be.
     I have a message for the underclassmen: if there's someone, (a teacher, a peer, a parent), who says something negative to you or makes you feel worthless, I want you to bottle that up and use their words as fuel to get you out of here. You're so much more than what they think. I've felt worthless, I still feel worthless, but it gets better. That's the one thing they never actually tell you. It. Gets. Better. That's on thing I never remember. I've been down more than I've been up, but you have to go down to appreciate the ups. I don't think anyone would understand happiness until they've been sad. 
     Sometimes I wonder if I'm here for nothing. I wonder if I'm here at all. I just want to know what my purpose is right now. I hate this waiting. I thought that maybe once I turned 18, I'd just magically figure it out. But here's my birthday cake from this year. I really hope that this isn't foreshadowing of what my year entails. It's all melty and falling apart. 
     My high school experience has had mixed reviews from myself. Sometimes I lie to myself and say, "Oh it was horrible how did I survive?!" But other times, I lie the other way, "It was pretty good." But to be honest, I'm still living it, so I can't decide just yet. My roommate for college next year, Linzi, told me that all the bad things she goes through are for something better; she says that all the bad things are preparing her to be able to handle things better and get a better understanding, so she can help others.

She's a very talented painter, and she painted this in 56 hours. I can't imagine giving something important that much of my time. She's so amazing, and I can't wait see her again at orientation. I've already learned so much from her, and we haven't even moved in yet! 

Goodbye, Marshall!

     At Passage, Mr. Breen said something that really stuck with me. I'm going to paraphrase a bit, but he told us this old Irish story about a son and a father getting in a fight and the son hits the dad in the head with a shovel, and kills him, and then goes off to start a new life, but later, the dad shows back up because he isn't dead, and forgives him, and happily ever after. Mr. Breen said that as we're getting closer to graduation, we're the sons with shovels in our hands and Marshall is the father with a dent in it's head. We focus solely on the negative; we start finding flaws in everything that Marshall has to offer, but it's always going to be here for us. We find flaws so it's easier to cut ties. We find out who our real friends are because most of them we just put up with because we have to see them five days a week.
     

Thirty30 Photography / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

I really liked what Mr. Breen had to say because it's so true. I've been so ready to leave for so long, but now that it's wrapping up, I don't actually want to go just yet. I'm so sad that the last time I'll be up on stage, it'll be for graduation; no play, it's just me, the real me up there, becoming a new person. 
     

Thank You, Ms. K

Dear Ms. K, 
     Thank you for everything you've ever done for me! You've been like another mother to me these past years. You are such a talented photographer. I want to thank you for everything, like being the Yearbook advisor. You've had so many great ideas and I just loved creating with you. I know that this year, I was really busy, and I didn't really help much at all, but you understood because you're amazing. I think that you're an awesome mom to Calvin and Mason. I loved having Calvin in all of my prom groups, so we'd always have excellent pictures. You're so nice to talk to as well. You want to hear about my day, and you actually care when I tell you the lame drama that happens in our class. 
     I will always remember the times when you took pics of Calvin and he didn't look at the camera. I love that, and I'm laughing right now as I'm writing this. I hope that we still Facebook message and text even when I'm away at Drake. I'll still come home to visit you! Thank you again for being the best YOU ever. 

-Kori 

I am NOT a Color (part one)

     I wrote this poem a while ago because I felt the need to express myself. When I shared it with a friend, I pretended like I didn't write it until she said she liked it. I always want to write more poetry about stuff that applies to me, but it's hard to find time and then become inspired. It's also hard to articulate what I mean. 
     I was totally going to share the poem with you, but I honestly believe that it's garbage, so I'm not going to post it. I just want to share something personal with you. 
     

OregonDOT / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

My mom is white and my dad is black, so obviously, I am biracial. This, however, makes me appear more 'black' than 'white' because I have darker skin than some people. It's a struggle everyday because I feel 'white' because I was raised in a city full of white people who know very little about diversity, but I look 'black' because of my skin. I am not 'black' though, I'm brown. It's actually an issue that I've had to deal with on my own because neither parent fully understands; my mom thinks people stare at me because I'm beautiful, but I know it's because I have one of the only afros in our city or because of my skin. My dad doesn't really comment on the issue.
     I don't like talking about this because I'm afraid that if I bring up how I feel about racism and things like this that people will respond negatively. I'm so scared that if I bring it up, someone I trust will turn out to be racist. I had a friend of mine do that to me. We were decent friends for a few years, then he tells me that he wants to burn a cross on my yard and hang me. It's funny how everyone knows I hate him now, but no one really knew why. Some people tell me to get over it, but it's because they don't understand. No one will unless they've been in my shoes! 

I am NOT a Color (part two)

     I started this blog post with one thing in mind, but I completely forgot and started going on this tangent. 
     My mom runs a school, and she has these creepy dolls that the kids love to play with in her office. They're all different races and some are disabled, and my mom likes to tell the kids to put them into families. One thing she's noticed is that the families always change, and they're never ever separated by color. I just think it's interesting that the children are color blind in a sense.

The multicultural dolls

They don't think about what the skin colors are  or if one is deaf or not. They just arrange them in a way so the dolls can be happy. This is so important to me because adults and teens hardly ever do this; we always have to put people in these categories and box them up, but we don't need to do that ever. When meeting a new group of people, it's way easier to find similarities than it is to find differences. 
     I just wanted to put it out there that people shouldn't be view as colors. I know it's fun to joke about race and stereotypes, but in all seriousness, I think that we shouldn't; it's just going to make it that much harder to break the molds we're supposed to fit into.

Thank You, Madame Greenan

Dear Madame Greenan,
   I just wanted to say thank you for everything you do. I've had you for a teacher since ninth grade. You gave me and some other students the opportunity to do French II over the summer and join the Honors French III class. I am eternally grateful for that, so then by senior year, I could complete AP French V. You also wrote my recommendation letters for college, and thanks to your amazing writing skills, I got into my first choice of college and received an awesome scholarship! 
     I will always remember the time when you handed back our practice exams and I was so down on myself, and you told me that I have something that some other students don't. You made me feel so much better about myself because I am an active participant in class even if I can't say it in French exactly. You encouraged me to do my best, and you always motivated me to do my Compte Rendus. I have so much respect for you. I think that you're an awesome mom as well. I love that you call Goldfish, "fishy crackers." I love starting each B day with your class. You are seriously my favorite teacher, and I'm going to miss you next year. 

  -Colette 

Random Acts of Shakespeare 2014

     For Random Acts of Shakespeare, Part Two, I was in a group with Tim P. and HanVit O. Tim called us 'POP Group,' but it took me a second to realize why. My snippet was from Act One, Scene Five. In this scene, Cesario, who is actually Viola, is talking to Olivia. Olivia is mourning the loss of her brother, so her face is covered. Cesario/Viola wants to see Olivia's face, but Olivia doesn't want to show him. After being a little playful, she removes her veil. Cesario/Viola says that she looks good, if it isn't all makeup. Olivia is offended at first, but then Cesario/Viola apologizes, and makes her feel better. Tim is playing the role of Viola and HanVit is playing Olivia. We did this in the library on April 24th.