This week I learned two new things about myself. First, I actually very much enjoy creative writing. I haven’t been forced (I guess politely asked and compelled by responsibility is a better way to say it) to sit and write about whatever in a very long time. Timed writing has always been a very common thing for me to do in english class but there has always been some sort of prompt. There was something freeing about the experience of just being told to write, about whatever I want, keep writing, keep my hands moving, keep information flowing because you are not done till you need to stop. Beforehand I decided I wanted to write about what was the most fresh in my mind: a long, transformative summer. Being able to reflect on all those things in anyway I wanted was nearly cathartic, it made me more at peace and ready for school. I used as much flowery language and morbid sarcasm as i wanted.
On the other hand I also found that I and many others in my class have a very closed mind when exposed to poetry. This week we read “The Eagle” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and were asked to reflect and analyze the poem. Often, nearly in every mention of the poem we’d say “Dude, it’s 30 words about an eagle, I don’t know what you want me to do with this.”, But by the end of the week, through tpcast and group discussion I had realized that even if it sounds stupid or tired any thoughts about what something might stand for that changes the meaning of the poem is worth looking at.