Find the shape and tell it!
All Students: Be sure to read the entries for this group --November writers). Everyone is required to comment on at least THREE different pieces of writing. You must submit comments
on Canvas (for each one, include the name of the author and the title
of their piece, and then your positive, specific comment ) by Tuesday, December 6 on Canvas.
Consequence is a noun—a result or effect of an action or condition.
Action is a noun as well. The fact or process of doing something, typically to achieve an aim.
What one does not think about is the consequences of one’s action. How would that affect them? How would my actions affect another person?
As the darkness entered, sunrise never happened. She lived on with no other choice. She had a friend; She trusted Her. Her friend said, “We are in this together”. Where is that promise? What happened to Her? Her mind knew no right from wrong for she was in the darkness even on this bright and sunny day. Her mind was split.
She walked across the street, after waiting for the white light, the shape of a man to appear. Her eyes gazed as She walked across the street, closely, watching..waiting …to attack. Waiting.
She is now screaming, she is left alone with nowhere to go. What happened to Her? After all, they went through together? Her not thinking of Her actions? Her actions had consequences that She had to suffer. She saw them coming, but She could do nothing about it. How could She? Weren’t they supposed to be in it together? Forever?
After She was gone there was nothing that Her heart could do. She saw the flash of the car from the side, eyes dilating with pain. Legs buckling from the impact. She felt tossed like a rag doll being thrown across a room. Too late. The car hit, quickly, before She knew what was happening. The car kept going with them inside, not stopping to see She fell with closed eyes.
“What have you done?!!” She silently yelled into the night hoping the sound would reach Her. How could it be? She took shortened breaths with each burst of pain surging through every muscle. She looks up and sees Her, watching and waiting for Her to do something. But She watches Her do nothing, standing motionless under the blinking man.
She reaches out to Her, little strength left in the ruined body. But Her body stood there watching, silently.
“Where did She go?”, they all asked, Her mouth had no response, for Her body did not know where She had gone. For Her mind knew where She had gone but refused to speak it because
Her eyes had watched, and Her mind knew who did it. It was Her own darkness who caused it. Her own actions. And Her actions had consequences
Her eyes watched as She was slowly lifted, then put down six feet into the ground. Her eyes stared, watching as She was put in the grave. Was the void happy now?!
Remembering Her mother's words telling Her, “Remember, your actions have consequences”
Her actions had consequences and Her mind understood Her actions. This realization came too late for She was long gone buried, with all of the other dead bodies. Her breath faltered, Her sadness and loneliness descending upon Her. Her eyes teared up. Her ears could hear a distant ringing, getting louder and louder. Successfully taking Herself out of Her darkness. Her hands shook as she reached out for her phone. Shakily Her hands call Her friend.
“Sorry the person that you have dialed has not picked up, please try again at a later time”
Her mind spun in circles not understanding what is happening. Suddenly Her eyes shut, falling back. Unable to catch Herself falling, Her mind switched, from sunlight to midnight. Eyes opening. Crazy. Her mind was black for that is what caused her actions. But the void was not remorseful. With a crazy glint in Her eyes, Her legs walked until she reached the road. Where She was killed. “How beautiful is this sight,” The darkness said. A smile creeping across Her face.
Consequence is a noun - a result of an action or a condition
Action is a noun as well. The act or process of doing, to typically achieve an aim.
We had gotten all the way through no man's land when the siren went off. It wasn’t until we were in the woods when we heard the shirl whistle and barking of dogs. K looked at me and I could see the fear in his eyes but only for a moment. “We have to keep moving.”
We kept running through the deep brush, under branches, and past bramble bushes that caught onto our clothes and dug into our skin. I was behind K the whole time. It was dark, but I could still see his striped uniform and scarred shaved head. My chest was burning, heart thumping in my ears. Sweat beading down my temples and nose. But my feet kept moving. As we ran, the barking of the dogs became more distant. My heart leaped.
“K, I think we lost them-” My left foot caught on something, causing me to fall. No. I hit the ground hard, tasting blood in my mouth and felt the instant pain in my ankle. K turned around and saw me on the ground. “V!” He ran to my side. “What happened, are you hurt?”
“My ankle.” K looked down at my foot which was caught in the roots of a tree. We tried hecticly to untangle my foot from the thick roots. Then we heard the whistle again. This time it was closer. The dogs began to bark and I looked at K disheartenedly. “Go.”
“-What?”
“Leave me. Go.”
K shook his head, “No, I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together, remember?” He grabbed the back of my head and pressed his forehead to mine. “But they’ll kill us--”
“I’m not leaving you, V. I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I’m going to get us out of here.”
K lifted me up and I winced at the pain in my now throbbing foot. “Can you walk?”
“Yea, I think so.”
We began to move again, more slowly this time. I was only slowing him down. But K was determined. The guards' shouts and whistles were getting louder. The flashlights through the brush and trees were getting closer. “Over here!” One of the guards yelled. I tried to move faster, but my foot hurt too much. Every step we took I suppressed a yelp in pain.
“Keep moving, V.”
After a few more steps I couldn’t take it anymore. The pain was too much. I fell to the ground on my hands and knees. We’re not going to make it. K bent down and tried to pick me up again. “V, we have to keep moving. We’re almost there.”
“I can’t.” I replied, defeated and in pain. We were silent, understanding that we might die. The dogs were getting closer, we could hear their collars jangling. K looked around desperately for an escape, until his eyes fell upon the muddy swamp under the large roots of the trees. “I know how we can lose them.”
We began to crawl to the swamp, avoiding the lights of the guards and the sound of the dogs' collars. K motioned for me to get in the mud, and I did, until my whole body was fully submerged. K was right behind me, until we were facing each other more than neck deep. He suddenly started covering me with it. On my shaved head and on my face after he did the same to himself and put his finger to his lips as the dogs that were chasing us emerged from the brush and began sniffing the area that we just were crawling through. I held my hand to my mouth, to keep my teeth from chattering due to freezing mud. K pushed my head more under until our eyes were the only thing above the mud. The guards flashed their lights at the swamp, but we were too deep inside to be spotted. We continued to watch the dogs sniff us out, the guards with their flashlights followed them earnestly out of sight. After a few moments until we were sure they were gone, we emerged from the mud and K helped me walk the rest of the woods until we got to the main road.
“Do you think they’ll help us?” I asked K, as we spotted a small farmhouse a few miles down the road. “They’ll have no choice.”
Once upon a time, there was a carrot by the name of Kix. Kix lived a busy life and was always rushing places. Although he was an adult he believed fairies were real and often said he saw them. One early morning Kix was late to work and his bus was taking forever.
Kix stands impatient and perturbed “Of course the one morning I’m running late this stupid bus wants to take its time.” A turnip named Trix on a pogo stick suddenly appears out of nowhere and approaches Kix. “Don’t stress brah. Live life to the fullest. Enjoy it.” Trix exclaims. Kix slowly acknowledges the eye sore of a turnip and dryly responds. “I won’t be enjoying anything if I get fired from my job. Trix takes a deep breath and gets an airy look on his face. He begins to say, “One door closes…” Kix quickly realizes what is happening and cuts off Trix midway through his sentence. “Oh God not another cheesy saying, ” he says. Trix hesitantly says, “…I don’t know what comes after that.” Trix pogos an inch or two away as he notices the carrot’s mood worsening. Kix deadpans, “Are you serious right now?” As he speaks, the annoyed look on Kix’s face becomes more evident. “As a heart attack brah,” Trix states matter-of-factly. Kix suddenly becomes silent and focuses his attention elsewhere. In a confused tone, Trix inquires, “Aren’t you gonna help me out, man?” Kix lets out a big sigh and reluctantly turns to face the godforsaken turnip again. “I was hoping you’d leave if I stopped speaking to you.” Trix looks hurt and exclaims, “Totally not radical dude!” Kix gives Trix a dirty look at the sound of his poor vocabulary and states, “I hope you can hear how cretinous you sound right now.” Trix, in a perplexed tone, says, “Just cuz I don’t use big words like crate nose doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” Trix then begins to smile to himself as if he has learned something. Kix is unaware of Trix’s sudden revelation and instead in a sarcastic tone says, “Oh really? How so?” Trix starts laughing and says, “Well your bus pulled up a minute ago, and now it's leaving without you. Bet ya didn’t notice that huh.” Kid acquires a ghastly look on his face as he quickly turns around and screams, “My..MY BUS! WAIT DON’T LEAVE ME HERE WITH HIM!!” Kix runs a couple of feet before realizing that his efforts are futile and the driver isn’t planning on turning back anytime soon. As Kix accepts defeat, Trix is still pogoing in place behind him. He then says in a pleased tone, “Told you I’m not stupid.” Kix whips around and hisses, “Go pogo somewhere else ‘brah’” Trix, content with the outcome of the situation, listens and starts to leave. “Alright, catch you later brah.” Under his breath, Kix mutters, “Maybe in another lifetime.” Out of nowhere Kix spots a fairy, and his lifelong love for them overcame any dignity or common sense that he once had. “Wait, is that a fairy over there?!” Kix exclaims as he runs across the street. Trix seeing this turns and shouts, “LOOK OUT BRAH” Bet you didn’t see that one coming did you? Kix’s body lays still in the street as the plastic bag he thought was a fairy floats away. Kix’s spirit now seems to be talking to us. “This isn’t funny,” he says in an irritated tone. His guts are hanging out. His body has been shredded. He’ll make quite nicely for this salad I’m eating later. Kix’s spirit interjects in a disgusted tone, “You’re sick.” Trix the turnip looks at the gruesome patch of asphalt that Kix’s demolished body lays on. In a resigned tone, he says, “Guess another lifetime came a little too soon for you huh brah,” as he begins to escape the crime scene on his pogo stick. Kix’s spirit is still here and in a heated tone he roars, “Screw you, you pogo-stick-using, illiterate, hot-breath turnip dude. I don’t even know your name!” He can’t hear you, you’re literally dead. Kix’s spirit lashes out with his hot breath and fiery features and says, “Go to hell.” as he floats away. Sheesh so hostile. So caesar or ranch dressing?
Isolation leads to boredom and boredom leads to loneliness and loneliness leads to sadness and sadness eventually places you in a state of depression. During quarantine I lived through all these stages. As I was already forced into physical isolation due to a pandemic I then pushed myself to emotionally isolate myself from my friends and family due to depression. Being alone you are stuck within your own thoughts and feelings to overthink the image of disappointment you see in yourself. The constant dread of performing simplistic tasks like eating, brushing your teeth and even changing the same clothes you have been wearing the past few days became my new lifestyle. Consumed by the feeling of being tired all the time but unable to bring myself to a full night's sleep because I spent all night staring at my reflection questioning if my existence is even real. I was stuck in this endless cycle for months. Living through my mental state I felt misunderstood and alone, no one reached out to help me because I had deleted myself from social media to not be contacted. I also found myself alone in my room away from my family so they could not question why I was in such a negative mental state because I knew they would respond in criticism and insults. Undergoing such a lifestyle brought me to feeling alone and not cared for. Almost a year of being lost and feeling alone, I then explored my new form of therapy, music.
Before music my head felt drowned in my own negative thoughts but was now then flooded by relatable lyrics and endless rhythms. What had consumed my sadness the most was the idea that I had felt like no one understood me, exploring music and analyzing lyrics opened my eyes that other people were undergoing similar situations and feelings. Analyzing the meaning behind songs became my new hobby and taught me that I was not struggling alone. Within my battle I had craved the feeling of being heard and understood. A variation of artists taught me that my complicated feelings of not being able to accept love or finding comfort in harmful habits were all things someone else was also struggling with. I always enjoy the loud bass or the soothing acoustic rhythm but it was the lyrics that held my attraction to music. Understanding the meaning of music and its story gave me life. Not only was the music my inspiration but it also gave me the understanding of other people's growth. Many rappers come from horrible backgrounds but were able to build art from their trauma and are now currently thriving in success. They projected how capable we are as humans and how life is all about your reaction to situations. I learned that our reaction to life's challenges and how we choose to take action is what builds our character. Knowing people have gone through much worse situations and are still able to succeed granted me knowledge that I was able to get out of the situation I was in. Listening to music furthered my knowledge on many more topics as well. It has taught me acceptance, healing, self love and how to set self goals. Following self lessons I also learned the struggle of others and how to be open minded towards types of discrimination and peoples backgrounds. The acceptance of new knowledge through music has built me to be more open minded to my peers and their struggles from their backgrounds. Both music and artists have built me mentally as a person pulling me away from the dark and guiding me towards a new mentality.
Music is life saving in numerous ways. Finding a form of therapy to lose yourself in a void of comfort is the antidote to self confusion. The power of being able to manage your feelings and emotions through your choice of music gives you self control. Control empowers you to understand yourself as a person which allows you to come to your own senses. All the needed steps to better yourself mentally can be achieved through music. The idea of music is overlooked and seen as a source to break silence in the car but it is also a form of therapeutic art that saved me. Being able to interpret music in a way that you want it to help you whether it is to find relation to your current struggle, a need for motivation, a sound of comfort or even learn about life and its lessons can be used in so many beneficial ways. When struggling you are never alone or misunderstood because music is able to understand you in ways others can not. When in need of comfort or enlightenment music is able to grant all needed.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2d31tMZCzriVk3gwaNZkKx?si=d5c6d37adb3f463e
My spirit was silenced again. My voice, yet again, ignored. Replaced with the soothing sounds and “encouraging” murmurs of the one who seeks to mutilate her mind. She follows him blindly, knowing not the mayhem he intends for her life. She follows, convinced he’ll bring her gratification. “This time will be different”, his forked tongue hisses into her innocent ear. She can hear my gentle promises ringing in her heart, yet she shudders at my tone and delights in the enchantments of his double bladed words. She suppresses my greatest efforts and succumbs to his seductive artistry.
Moments after their meeting, he abandons her. Empty. Vulnerable. Distraught. She realizes instantaneously that she’s not only misjudged the situation but fallen into the depths of her emotions. Tears moisten her eyelashes. The salty droplets sting her lips. One by one, they spill out until her vision is blurred and her mind is silenced by the pounding of her head. Remorse. Guilt. Loneliness. Foolishness. She seeks his comfort but he’s nowhere to be found. She reaches out, waiting for her cries to be subdued by his presence but he laughs in the distance. Mocking her. Her tears symbolizing to him, his victory over her spirit. Just as quickly as he found her, he moves onto his next victim.
Alone, she calls out to me and my spirit converges with hers within the thought of my name upon her heart. She closes her eyes and she can feel me, her Father, enveloping her into my arms. Her tears stain my breast. My scarred hands hold her firmly. She is my lamb, and I, hers. My innocent daughter, lured in and masticated by the cunning wolf. Yet my bruised hands heal the wounds of her soul, circumcise the deadness of her heart, and new flesh begins to yield anew. She cries out to me “Abba” and, I to her, “Daughter”. Our spirits intimately joined together again. As her ear presses against my chest, listening intently to my heartbeat, I whisper softly to her “Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of him. For it is me who goes with you. I will not leave you or forsake you.” Hearing this, she breathes in deeply. As she exhales, the sight of me fades. She opens her eyes to find her vision restored. Her heart beats softer. Although her physicality has not changed, she feels as if the weight of one thousand pounds has been lifted from her chest.
“Thank you Jesus.” she says aloud. I smile down at her from the Heavens. A smile she cannot see but feels eternally in her heart.
Author’s Note: I encourage you to read this again, now understanding that the story is told from God’s point of view about his precious child falling into the talons of Satan. Whether or not you believe this to be true, I pray you can appreciate the beauty of this story as the love of a father for his wandering daughter or any other way it can bless you.
“Surely I am coming quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus! The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.”
So, what does the title actually mean? The title carries a heavy significance. The world is so small to an extent that it’s basically infinitely small, or “finite.” But first, let's set up the true definition of “the world.” Every definition of the word “world” on the internet seems to be synonymous with “Earth” and “globe.” In other words, our world. However, the “world” is much more than this which essentially makes our “world” appear even smaller. One definition of the “world” that I got from Wikipedia - I know, “very untrustworthy.” - defines this word as, “the totality of entities, to the whole of reality or to everything that is.” This definition suits my topic the best and I plan to use both this and the first stated definition interchangeably, so try to keep up.
This leads me to the point I would like to make out of all this. The world truly is infinitely finite. For example, one fact I find interesting about the world is that the difference between the highest and lowest points on the earth's surface is estimated to be around the 12-mile mark. This comes from a statement made by Neil DeGrasse Tyson. In fact, most of this has taken inspiration from Neil DeGrasse Tyson and his ideologies. However, my “contribution” is a completely bipolar mixture of nihilism and optimism, two things that you probably would’ve never thought to have seen together, even in the same sentence. My approach is an incomplete yet almost homogenous mixture of my experiences and whatever else comes to mind in the months I’ve spent drafting this.
Continuing on, the nihilistic and optimistic approaches to this fact. The world is infinitely finite brings us to a fork in the road. Either one can “do everything “good” that there is to be done and make the most out of life” or “don’t do anything and do whatever you feel like doing, life is temporary.” These approaches are called “optimism” and “nihilism,” respectively. My ideology is a blend of these two. My ideology is optimism heavily backed up by nihilism to promote a benefit for all. By “benefit” I mean overall and long-term benefits, not something narrow-minded and egotistical. A couple of weeks ago, I was shopping for a gift basket I was putting together. During the process of this basket, I was given a spot in line by this sweet old lady who let me in front of her and continued to wait on me while I left my items with the cashier and ran around to grab a couple of things. After this was all done, I made a split-second decision to stay back and pay for her groceries. Her entire cart came out to about $100 and all of it was paid for. My only regret was that I had somewhere to be and I couldn’t help her load her groceries into her car. This displays my ideology, clearly. I’m using nihilism to support more optimism. In this situation, my reasoning to do this was because if nothing really matters and we “live on a rock,” then I can definitely give up some time and money to this cause. The reason I still regret not helping her load her cartful of groceries into her car is that I had already drafted this before that happened and now I’ve contradicted myself and will look horrible on the blog post. But then again, nothing really matters.
Pink. Not the kind of pink I’m used to. When I think of pink I think of sunsets and neon lights, not a notice of uselessness. I have been working for the company Juniper for 12 years as a payroll manager and have now been handed a pink slip because a computerized system can work faster and more accurately than me. It was a job that I took because I had to. I am a high school dropout but I am a hard worker. I dropped out of high school because it was as plain and simple as I didn't enjoy it. It wasn't for me and, don't get me wrong, the dances and Friday night lights were fun but that was only a few hours compared to the long days I had to be there. I didn’t think my job would be replaceable. Now, I have no education to save me. Though it was a job I had to take, I loved it. My coworkers and the atmosphere were great. I could walk downstairs and grab a cup of coffee supplied by the company. There was a beautiful view in my office of the Malibu canyons. It was miraculous, but that was over in the blink of an eye. School was a miserable place for me and I’m certainly not going back now.Though I was happy at my job, I was always looking for a sign to follow my dreams and become some sort of fashion designer kind of like my mom. My mom really just worked for fun, she didn't need a real job. I guess she wasn't necessarily a designer, but a seamstress by trade. I grew up with money. There was not a ton of it but enough that we were comfortable. My parents were able to visit the city and the Hamptons for a couple weeks in summer every year with a new wardrobe and take me with them since I was born. It was time for our trip. I love the Hamptons and the city well, not so much. The subways were dirty but New York City was just something we did. Everyone in the Hamptons was fashionable and had much more money than we did. The residents of the Hamptons were who everyone wished they were. The women wore long flowy dresses and the men wore Ralph Lauren purple tag collared shirts. Everything the women wear is beautiful, nothing flashy.To us the Hamptons was a getaway but flying into JFK and having to see the city was another story. But, there were a few perks about spending a few days in the city. Of course, we had to stop at Zaros first for a black and white cookie. After we got settled into our hotel we were hungry so we made a quick stop at Joe's pizza because why would you need anywhere else? We headed back to the hotel and called it a night we were too tired for the city that never sleeps.The next day was a classic day in the city, you wake up head to Rue 57 for eggs benedict before heading to the Edge of Hudson Yards then to Columbus Circle for some shopping. Lunch was an obvious option, serendipity for truffle mac and cheese and to split a frozen hot chocolate. Then we took a train to New Jersey to Liberty state park for a nice view of the city and ended the night at Juniors for coffee and fresh strawberry cheesecake. It doesn't get much better than that. I know that my family and I are technically tourists, but I don't feel that way. I understand the city and its dynamic. That doesn't mean I like it, it just makes sense to me.Though some may argue the streets are confusing; there is only one street that really matters anyway—5th Avenue. More specifically, Tiffany’s. My parents always took me to Tiffany's. There is something about the Tiffany experience that is just incredible. A man or woman dressed in all black with some sort of Tiffany piece on them (usually on their wrist), will walk up to you and ask if you are in need of any assistance and when you say yes they assist you and depending on what you're looking for they ask do you like your water sparkling or still. When you respond, he or she will walk to the back while you are looking at what piece they pulled out for you. When they return your body will fill with excitement and you get to decide what you want. When you find the perfect piece that you decide you can't live without and it just has to be a part of your collection, they will take it and wrap it up in that iconic Tiffany Blue box with a beautiful white ribbon wrapped around it tied in a bow that any woman would be proud to carry around the city. This trip my parents saved a lot so I could have whatever I wanted. Though Tiffany’s always executes well, the piece I wanted just wasn't perfect. It needed some adjusting. I saw a link necklace on their website. I just thought it could use some adjustments so I brought in a drawing I made to see if they had something like it. The sales representative said no, but it could be customized. So they sent it to be redesigned and everyone loved it so much it made it to a higher up. When it was finished it was given to me from the hands of the hiring director and she offered me to be a designer for Tiffanys on the spot. It was perfect. I was job hunting and this was it. I was getting to fulfill my dream. I was given an apartment until I could find my own and that was it. Then just like that I was happy, fulfilled, and knew exactly what I was doing with my life so I hated New York City, until it was everything I ever wanted .
