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Truman Capote

Truman Capote was a famous American author. Born in New Orleans, Louisiana, on September 30, 1924, Capote began writing seriously at age 11, and at the age of 17 was hired to write for The New Yorker magazine. Even after his death in 1984, Capote is remembered for his short stories, novels, and plays, including Breakfast at Tiffany’s and In Cold Blood.

          As a writer, Capote’s style seems well-detailed and elegantly worded, which I enjoyed while reading his short story, A Diamond Guitar. Truman painted a picture of the characters and the setting using metaphors and imagery, and left most of the narrator’s true thoughts about the memory of his friend unanswered. Consequently, I was left to decide for myself the motives the narrator’s friend truly held, which, for me, was a favorable ending for a short story.

         Compared to Bryan Stevenson’s stories from his experiences as an attorney in Just Mercy, A Diamond Guitar seemed more fantasy-like. While the mood of Just Mercy was often intense due to interactions between Stevenson and a client or opponent, the mood in A Diamond Guitar seemed more optimistic, almost hopeful, especially after Tico Feo’s arrival. In addition, Capote used a surplus of imagery and description to emphasize the prison setting and prisoners, while Stevenson often focused his stories on the interactions between people in his cases.

         Praised for creating work considered literary classics, Truman Capote wrote professionally from a young age, and is still remembered through his writing today. His elegantly written, descriptive short story was personally enjoyable to read, and I look forward to reading more of his work in the future.

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Truman Copate and his work

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Truman Capote is a creative writer that puts his readers inside the minds of his characters to bring them the emotions and thoughts of his characters. He is an amazing writer that not only puts his readers inside the character’s minds, but also compels and sparks these emotions within the readers themselves. In his story of the Diamond Guitar, I felt as the same sadness and despair as Mr. Schaeffer after Tico left him behind. In my mind it is only a great writer that provoke such emotions from his readers.

Both of the writers from Just Mercy and The Diamond Guitar are both great writers, but for very different reasons. Bryan Stevenson brings an air of truth and personal experiences to the table, bringing all of its readers into the realities behind the justice system. Stevenson does not however, take in the internal emotions of other characters within the book. Stevenson also manages to capture the emotions of his readers. Often times it seems he does this by using of explicit details to describe the horrific occurrences that he had to endure. Capote on the other hand writes from the eyes of the characters bringing creativity to the pages. The stories do contain some contrasting moods and styles, however both surround the tough lives of prisoners. At the end of the day although the two pieces are so different, we see the writers use many rhetorical devices and in the end create two amazing pieces.

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A Lovely Man With “Hate” Written on His Knuckles

It was the beginning of Christmas break, and our parents decided to kick off with brunch. We had already known about the famed Palace Diner from a local news report that caught the whole family’s attention. A quirky little restaurant, the Palace Diner made its home an old train car which can only fit about fifteen people. It boasts the claim that it is the oldest diner in Maine.

With high expectations, my parents, my big brother, and I narrowly squeezed through the entrance. The only light wafted threw the weathered windows. We sat down in red-cushioned, spinning stools attached to a long table that housed all of the diner’s guests.

A man pranced up to us and asked if we wanted coffee. Upon seeing him for the first time, I instantly found him peculiar.

He was covered in tattoos. Pale green ink seeped into his skin, spreading outward cell by cell, creating an effect of soft edges that suggested the passage of time. His arms were a tapestry of skeletons, death, and unfamiliar gods. The natural born part of him was non-threatening; his pale skin was yet untouched by stress, save the gentle crow’s feet accompanied with a genuine smile. Fuzzy blond hair subtly poked outward from his chin. From the bottom of his chin, another tattoo began: it was a simple, thin line, needle-pointed into the middle of his throat. It cut down his addam’s apple, then slithered into his shirt.

He bounced away with our orders, tending to neighboring customers. When he returned with coffee mugs in hand, I read the message on his right hand: “H-A-T-E,” one letter per fisted finger.

The waiter dashed into the kitchen, jaunted across the counter, and danced toward the doorway. His mannerisms were endearing; the way he softly sang to himself the projected music he had heard hundreds of times before, how he lightly tapped the shelf above him in tune to the retro songs. In the shady train car, he beamed with the utmost respect and kindness to each customer, welcoming one with a smile and asking the name of another. His infectious optimism made it seem like his disguise of an adult would fade away to reveal the joy of a child.

As I ate my greasy brunch, I pondered the question: how could such a polite person have “HATE” permanently written on their knuckles? Surely, no one with that many tattoos would not attach meaning to them. I tired to picture a life which would compel one to make such a decision. Perhaps this young man had seen death. Maybe, with each skeleton etched into his arm, someone he cherished had passed beyond the void. With each pound of the needle, he shed a tear for  the memories of past kinship. When he chose the images of gods, he was yearning for meaning, a reason to keep going, a why, a how, yelling into the deep abyss of his brain, begging for a response from the numbing silence. As the minuscule blade slid down he throat, he was reminded of the fragility of life, and how his live will eventually run out of ink.

We set up to leave with full bellies. The waiter came back, carefully cleaning up the mess of plates and mugs we had left behind. As he cleared my place, I noticed his left knuckles.

“L-O-V-E.” I left, carrying a little of that infectious happiness with me.

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Blog Posts on Blog Posts on Blog Posts

I love these blog posts. Reading them gives me so much insight into the minds of my peers (not in a creepy way, I promise) and they all feel relatable in some way. Despite this, however, I don’t necessarily enjoy writing my own—after all, I have a tendency to resent any and all homework that comes my way, regardless of subject or specific type. That is why, instead of writing about something of my own creation, I’d like to write about a pattern I’ve noticed as our time with the AP Language blog has progressed.

Stress. Anxiety. Pressure, expectations, doubts and fears. These are some of the most prominent feelings in my brain at the moment, and, as I already knew, the brains of so many others my age. They are also some of the most prominent topics of this blog. Though we might handle the subject differently, both healthily and unhealthily, we are all still high school students facing a mountain of expectations and commitments, trapped on one side by our own critical attitude towards ourselves and in the other by the looming threat of GPAs and prospective colleges.

When given absolute freedom in choosing our writing subjects, many of us focused, voluntarily, on the anxiety we’re facing. This is by no means a coincidence. The common themes throughout these blog posts and the similar catalysts that propel them into the light lend themselves to the idea that maybe, just maybe, high school has become an overpowering and debilitating force in a teenager’s life, physically and mentally. Furthermore, these writings suggest that school can become not a force in everyday life, but the force, the sole concept dominating the majority of our waking moments.

To an extent, this can be expected. High school constitutes a handful of a person’s most formative and educational years, inside and outside of the classroom. Because of that, mistakes will be made. Lessons will be learned. Limits will be pushed, and personal discoveries will be made. Beyond this, however, the ceaseless and omnipresent anxiety shouldn’t be tolerated. Levels of stress and depression in teens are at record highs. This could be attributed to many things, like the spread of social media and the internet. It could also be argued that the internet is simply the go-between that allowed our generation to voice our struggles and connect, making the stress ‘epidemic’ known. Maybe the American school system is to blame. Who can know for sure, when we’re all busy doing three homework assignments at once? Not me, that’s for sure. But it is still a fascinating, albeit disheartening, subject. Maybe I’ll discuss more anxiety and causes in a future blog post. I can guarantee stress will be on my mind.

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Passion

33607e29-9523-4718-bd2d-2f300ec4a9c8Passion is key to enjoying life to its fullest and my passions have changed over the course of my life quite a bit. When I was very little I was part of the many kids who played soccer, but I was put in as goalie and my passion for soccer instantly shriveled up. From there I graduated into basketball, which I played for 7 years as point guard. I had a few other small, short-lived passions like painting, wood burning, and a small stint of a pottery making. However throughout all of those there has been one constant: singing. Which I’ve been participating in since I was 4 years old.

For as long as I can remember singing is the one thing that brought me joy, no matter what. Bad days, long days, stressful days, happy days, sad days, any of them could always get at least a little better with a few songs. There is just something about being able to do it anywhere, anytime and knowing that it will immediately bring me happiness.

I recently achieved one of my goals of being in treble choir at TA, as well as continuing my journey in my adult choirs with Camille Saucier. I have put so much time towards my love for singing as well as perfecting my ability and talent in such that my passion has grown to be such a huge part of me and my happiness.

My passion for singing will never go away, nor do I want it to due to the fact that it is my happy place, even if it does take a backseat throughout some parts of my life.

 

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Cramming

76CFCF64-2B17-4B07-8C10-99B0F3697574.jpegI have been in school for 11 years, and it has taught me a slew of things over my course of happy elementary days, dreadful middle school days and busy, stress filled high school days. In elementary school I was extremely self disciplined and I was lucky to have it follow all the way through up to now. However in high school there is so much more weighing down on me that I’ve had to change some of my ways.

Freshamn year I had fantastic study habits and I worked very hard for the straight A’s I got, but sophomore year changed my mind set of being able to spend hours on studying for just one subject. This is where cramming came into play.

Some believe that cramming doesn’t work as the job of short term memory is not to move information to long term memory. However for me cramming is a gold mine. I’m the kid sitting at their desk intensely staring at their notes 5 minutes before the test or quiz about to happen. Contrary to what people believe, this method has helped me pass and succeed with flying colors on many tests and quizzes.

Im a very strong believer in the benefit of cramming because I am living, breathing proof that I can work. I am not guaranteeing that this method will work with everyone but I think that for high school students it can be a best of both worlds. I think this is the case as our schedules are quite busy and stressed during our four years of high school.

 

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Truman Capote: Life and Work

Author, actor, playwright, and screenwriter, Truman Capote began his prolific career at the tender age of eleven.  As Capote himself said, “I used to go home from school every day, and I would write for about three hours. I was obsessed by it” (Wikipedia.com).  Discovering his passion at such a young age allowed Capote to perfect his craft.  By twenty one, he had earned critical success with his short story, “Miriam”, resulting in a contract with Random House publishers, and his first novel, Other Voices, Other Rooms.  

During his childhood—from 1928-1933—Capote lived in Monoroeville, Alabama with relatives.  It was in this period of time that he forged a strong bond with Harper Lee. On Saturdays, he would take trips from Monroeville to Mobile, Alabama, on the Gulf Coast.  Truman Capote’s short story “A Diamond Guitar” is located near the coastal town, in a prison.

“A Diamond Guitar” exemplifies one of Capote’s specialties; crime fiction.  The story details the life Mr. Schaeffer, an inmate, and his experience when a new convict, Tico Feo, arrives at the prison.  In his haste to escape confinement, Tico Feo utilizes Mr. Schaeffer as a scapegoat, betraying the careful trust built between both characters.

Compared to the horrific stories, of Just Mercy, “A Diamond Guitar” reads with a more lyrical prose.  Capote’s metaphorical description and heightened language create a melancholy tone because of their ability to depict the emotions of inmates.  Thus, we ar able to sympathize with Mr. Schaeffer as he craves the outside world. Conversely, the tragedy of Bryan Stevenson’s novel is based on cold truth.  The narrative passages of his book are simply to facilitate the reader in imagining horrible realities, as the facts he provides drive forth the mistreatment of his clients.

Stylistically, the two are very different.  Their subject matter and underlying themes however, bare a common trend of humanizing social outcasts.

Truman Capote Portrait Session

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Stress is Attacking Me

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My personal relationship with stress has been an unpleasant one.  Although many, if not everyone, has experienced stress, few of us truly know how to cope with it. For example, my sister:  at the age of 24 and in her second year of medical school she runs everyday easily eight to ten miles to relieve stress. Running is great, but when it’s freezing outside and the only other option is staring at a cement wall in my basement on a metal and rubber contraption called a treadmill I would rather not.  The big problem right now is my body has an autoimmune disease, more specifically eczema, which covers my body from head to toe.  Every time I get stressed out my body literally attacks itself coming to the dreadful action— the itch.  Succumbing to the itch is like treason to my own body.  Often, I can’t control it. Whether at night when I’m sleeping or extremely tired, when I have a test I’m nervous about, even just sitting in class for too long can cause me to get red, hot and itchy.  

It’s winter, it’s dry, but having a dry red face at the time of most insecurity is not an experience anyone wants to go through but something everyone does.  If you don’t have problems with your skin, that is just not fair.  Coping mechanisms for teenagers of stress just doesn’t exist.  We often procrastinate, inflicting more pain upon future ourselves.  I once watched a TED talk about procrastination.  It talked of how there was a monkey who kind of did whatever it wanted for short lived reward until suddenly there was a “panic monster” who would make the monkey do the work just before it was due.  This works, not well, but it definitely works and is how many kids in high school and college get through school and life.  Those small rewards mislead the minds of teenagers to believing what they do is okay. But in reality it causes pain, even to the point of physical and mental health issues.  

Back to my face…

I ended up going to the doctor because of my eczema.  The doctor was like, “yup, it’s stress,” I laughed sarcastically and thought, yay.  I went to some medicine and my skin had a massive change in about a week.  Getting off the medicine was my next challenge.  And everything returned a few short days after causing me to groan and grumble about my stupid face.  Teenagers need to be more informed on stress, how it affects your body and outlets for it: working out, hanging out with friends, meditation or just eating healthier and caring more about your body.

Kristina Arabatzis

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Should Have Been a Snow Day

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Life is a giant stress ball and this morning was just a cherry on top.  I was supposed to drive to school on my own in weather that was simply dreadful.  Snow was falling in clumps the size of tennis balls.  A layer of slush was building up to a few inches in a matter of minutes.  About twenty minutes before I was planning to make an exit my father left for work. Shortly after his blue Prius returned and he sauntered in saying, “a girl down the street got stuck in a gulley.  I’m grabbing a shovel to go help her out.”  At this moment my mother told me I was not going to school.  She grabbed the phone, called the school and told them her daughter was new to driving and would not be sent out in this weather.  Not even twenty minutes later my phone got a notification: excused absence.  

Living in Maine one has to be accustomed to bad weather.  Driving in the snow, sleet, freezing rain, normal rain, it’s all dangerous and causes many accidents every year.  But it also creates amazing drivers.  Maine is known for having some of the best drivers in the United States.  We get a few inches of snow and still go to school.  Even when there is a half day and they should just cancel school.  We still go to school.  

The scariest part of this weather is the ice. Black ice is the worst of it. Not being able to see then having the feeling of your car shuffle forward and the break pumping is terrifying.  I remember when my sister was driving and we were going down a long tall hill last winter.  There was a truck in front of us and the car started to skid.  My sisters face became panicked as she realized she had no control over the car.  *bang*  The car bounced off the back of the truck causing my head to hit the back of my seat.  “Shit,” my sisters voice cried out as she began to follow the truck to a nearby parking lot.  Although there was much damage in either side I learned that day that on hills to be especially careful, on that hill to be especially careful.

Maine can be a very dangerous environment to drive in, but by learning to drive here in these conditions Maine develops some of the safest drivers in the entire country.

Kristina Arabatzis

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The Importance of Tigers

images Tigers. Some of the most beautiful and majestic animals to walk this earth; known for their orange and white fur, painted with black stripes. Bengal and Siberian tigers are the most well known tiger, but there are seven other subspecies that exist: Indochinese, South Chinese, Sumatran, Malayan, Caspian, Javan, and Bali. Out of the nine subspecies of tigers, three are extinct, one is extinct in the wild, and the remaining five subspecies are endangered. In the entire world, there are approximately 7,000 tigers left and while 7,000 may not seem like a dangerously low number, it is. There are approximately 30 million deer located in the United States alone, there are about 4,285 times more deer in the United States than there are tigers in the entire world, and the number of tigers is only going to decrease unless we do something about it. But hundreds and thousands of animals are extinct or endangered, so why do we care about tigers?

Yes tigers are a major predator and have the potential to do major damage to small, defenseless animals, they also have a much greater potential to destroy the health and diversity of an ecosystem. A tiger is a top predator, meaning it is at the very top of the food chain; a tiger’s job is to maintain the balance between herbivores and the vegetation that the herbivores eat. If tigers were to go extinct, the entire food chain and ecosystem would collapse and leave behind a scar on the forests. A tiger not only protects the ecosystem he is a part of, a tiger protects the entire forest. Losing tigers would instill a drastic change within forests, making clean air, water pollination, and temperature regulation a much more difficult task for ecosystems within a forest.

Today, and in the past, tigers have always had struggles to face, but one of the more prominent and deadly hardships they endure, is poaching. Poachers, who are people who hunt animals illegally, hunt tigers for their coats, whiskers, claws, and teeth. In places like India and Nepal tiger poaching is a common practice that kills dozens of tiger for no more than money. Although poaching is illegal, it is also very common and extremely difficult, maybe even impossible, to put an end to it. By raising awareness about tigers and spreading the word as to how vital they are in an ecosystem, we might be able to give tigers another chance at life; another chance to reproduce and thrive, and to never be killed and ripped apart for nothing more than money. 

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