Experimental Essay Discussion: Freedom of Speech and its Limits 

This was my free write from Joel's class this week.

Prelude: I have posted the writing in the serendip format, but I posted the actual document, colored the way it is supposed to be read, as an attatchment. I have synthesia (which means I see words and letters and and numbers in color) so I wrote this piece, which speaks to 'you', from my point of view. So you can see at least in part, how I see writing. (Although I don't see writing in chunks of color, I see individual words and letters in different colors). The purple is Rankine's voice because 'Rankine' is purple, and my voice is in red, because 'Joie' is red. The questions are green because I wanted a color that was unrelated to purple and red and it seemed calming after the tumultuous red and purple.

As a child, from my earliest days at preschool, I usually played alone. This was not due to social exclusion, or from an unwillingness to play with others; instead, I found the games most of the other children played just weren't as interesting as the activities I could do on my own. I could sit for hours on end in the sandbox, marveling at the texure of the grains, and the way they trickled between my fingers. I climbed trees frequently, earning me the nickname "monkey" from my mother, who felt that rather than trying to stifle my impulse to climb into the top reaches of trees, it would be better for me to learn my limits by myself, and offer assistance if asked. 

I have always been taken with the idea of witches and the occult. Even now, when the leaves turn and the air turns crisp, I can't help but imagine possible potions and concoctions. My birthday is in the fall, and I'm sure that plays a role in my particular fondness for it, but regardless it makes for the most perfect, witchy afternoons.

I can't remember ever playing alone.

I'm sure I did, at one point -- in fact, I know I did, because my sister is a full two-and-a-half years younger than I -- but I don't have any vivid recollections of that time. My little sister was not there, and then she was, and then we were never apart.

Over the summers, I volunteer my time as a camp counselor at a state park on the seacoast. Since the summer program is hosted at a center for scientific research, it revolves around discovery as much as it does fun. Having been a camper myself, I have plenty of fond memories of my summers in Rye, New Hampshire, but the most magical thing to happen there occurred when I was counseloring in 2013.

As an only child, most of my experience with play was solitary. Sometimes my parents or grandparents would play with me, but otherwise my only playmates were my dolls and stuffed animals. This solitude greatly influenced my development and my relationships with my peers. I had to use my imagination more, but never in collaboration with someone else. This instilled in me a love of writing stories, but has made it difficult for me to work in groups. Playing by myself, I did not talk much and then only in a whisper; now, even when many thoughts are running through my mind, I often find myself loath to say anything out loud. When I do speak, it is sometimes too quiet to be heard.

Most of my childhood play memories involve made up games. My best friend and I would constantly dream up games to play in the playground or to pass time while we were sitting on the forty minute bus ride on our way home from school. One of our favorite games to play was one we made up, called spy girls. We we were some sort of super hero-spy hybrid possessing every super power we could imagine and even came up with code names for each other. We spent endless hours at the playground and in our houses giving new lives to people and structures, making them part of our pretend world. Innocent bystanders at the playground became the villains we hid from or victims in need of saving, and the slides and swings became unfathomable obstacles.

Originally, I proposed a research project in collaboration with Farida. However my research has taken me along a different path. I’m interested in doing more research on what Ruth Gilmore coins the “civil death.” I want to learn more about the violence being done on incarcerated individuals by the restriction of their rights and how this violence affects their citizenship and what this violence tells us about their citizenship.