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Notebook Entry #6
Before participating in the abandoning of my object and secret, I thought a ritual was only a series of actions that repeatedly happened. I knew rituals had a purpose, such as my own family example, but I didn’t see the real reason behind them. Rituals are cleansing processes. When I left my object, for instance, I was filled with anxiety for a few days, but when I retrieved it, I felt so much relief and joy. Rituals are recognitions of what has intrinsic value to you and to your kin. The rituals I have undergone have shown me that I am capable of letting go of things. I feel as if this has released a huge burden off of my shoulders. I also feel as if it brings me closer to others performing the same ritual - a sense of community.
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Notebook Entry #5
When looking for a place to hide my object, I chose a place near to me and secluded. I’ve put it somewhere where weather cannot harm it. I don’t like the idea of leaving it, but I am sure it will be there when I return. One man watched me hide it. It made me anxious.
I thought about retrieving the object before left for home yesterday. It makes me uncomfortable to leave it on campus without me there. Not only will I be upset if it’s gone, but so will the person who gave it to me. I thought I could retrieve it and no one would know, but I realized I had to leave it in order to feel this way.
This object is irreplaceable and one of a kind. I’ve put myself in a position where I cannot go and retrieve it, and that makes me feel anxious. I hope no one has walked by and seen a glint of silver sticking out from under the bush. This experience has made me want to put the necklace on and never take it off again.
When I first returned to where I had left my object, I saw several clumps of pine straw had been overturned as if someone had been looking for something. Although this bothered me, I continued to search for where I had left my object. At first, I didn’t see it and was convinced someone had taken it. However, I barely noticed it tucked further underneath the plant I had originally left it under. It was covered in dirt but still perfectly intact. It made me cherish the object more because I know I would feel a sense of loss if it had been gone forever.
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Notebook Entry #4
I haven’t felt like I’ve belonged for the past four years of my life. Although I knew I was different throughout middle school, it never really struck me until I entered high school. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it made me resent everyone around me, which isn’t how I should’ve handled my feelings. In my high school, nearly everyone shared the same ideologies, lacked a sense of caring, and lived extremely consistent lives. I, on the other hand, was always the one who cared too much and who despised the way everyone else thought. I found myself acting as more of an observer of others rather than a part of my school population. An example of this was the National Walkout Day. It was supposed to be a day in which students remembered those who lost their lives in the Parkland shooting as well as a protest against the detrimental effects of gun violence. Living in a very “Bible Belt” style, conservative area, most people scoffed at the idea of placing any more restrictions on guns. Knowing that I would be nearly on my own against the issue, I put my “observer” status behind me and created protest graphics and spoke with the media during the walkout. I cared deeply about the issue and felt as if I was really standing up for my beliefs. However, doing something that generated attention had an effect on me. A photo of me holding my poster went viral around my school and town. Many of my peers began to talk about me, saying that they had “lost respect for me” or that I was “weird.” Although I didn’t regret my actions, it still hurt to have so many people isolate you and make you feel so much different. I was only tired of all of the shootings and I cared enough to make my views known. All they cared about was ridiculing me for it. I could’ve abandoned my views and stuck with the majority, but there was something about not belonging that made me feel all the more powerful.
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Notebook Entry #3
September 20, 2014 - date of my first concert - $96.82
December 28, 2015 - my boyfriend and I’s anniversary - $36.62
June 27, 2017 - my first national competition & my first plane ride - $47.31
May 26, 2018 - day I graduated high school - $76.44
May 28, 2018 - day I was accepted into Georgia Tech - $77.50
Although I cannot think of my own personal instance of injustice, I’ve had several friends that have experienced forms of discrimination. I know a boy who could not apply to the schools he wanted to go to because of his immigrant status. I know a girl who used to get talked about due to the hijaab she wore around school for her religion. I have female friends that have been sexually harassed or taken advantage of. I know injustice exists.
Prior to visiting the museum, I was not aware of the 16th street church bombing in Alabama following the March on Washington. I learned that four innocent girls lost their lives while rehearsing gospel songs that day. While walking through the exhibit, I could hear them singing and it brought me to tears. No one should lose their life that way, especially at that young of an age. It made me feel disgusted to be a part of a race that has heavily discriminated against another, and I continue to be unable to understand the concept of racism and how it creates such evil human beings.
I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality.
To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.
We are seeking the triumph of truth over lies.
Women’s equality is the vision of the future.
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
If I could bring anyone to the center, I would bring my grandfather. Although I have never seen him be intentionally racist, I know that he feels a sense of superiority over other races, especially African Americans. He was born in the pre-Civil Rights generation and therefore holds some of its ideologies. He has told me jokes they used to make about them back in his day. I want to show him what brought me to tears - the full extent of their suffering to gain equality. I want him to witness it and alter his opinions.
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Notebook Entry #2
Every Christmas day, my family engages in a series of events before we open gifts. The first thing routine is that I am always asked to read the story of the birth of Jesus from the Bible. Since my grandparents are devout Christians, it is respectful for me to honor them in this way, as well as to remind the family of the origin of the holiday. Following this, one of the grandkids it always assigned to be the “Santa” for the day. When I was younger, it usually fell to me, but now it is bestowed onto one of my younger cousins. The “Santa” makes sure all of the adults get a gift first, and that at least everyone gets one gift per circulation so no one in the family is left out. I’m not sure how these traditions were started, but this is how my family has performed Christmas day for as long as I can remember.
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Notebook Entry #1
dirt exists, dirt exists
earthworms exist, wriggling between
the fingers of children; children exist,
playing in the dirt that exists;
grass exists, housing various insects
that exist, ants exist, and caterpillars
and centipedes and ants exist.
trees exist and bushes and bumblebees
exist, swarming around a construction of swings and slides
where children exist; imagination exists, bending and swaying to the will of a
childhood mind; thoughts and memories of laughter and joy exist.
sunshine exists, shining light onto the
field that exists, showing us where to find the earthworms; earthworms
exist, nestled in the corner of the field; fences exist, prohibiting us and
the earthworms from escaping.
our imagination exists inside the fence with the earthworms. they keep us occupied as the adults chatter away inside.
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