At birth we are given a name as our identification.  It is passive: “the state of being identified,” (“Identification”). But slowly, as we begin to grow into the environment we were thrust into, as we learn and develop and interact with our world us, we actively define that name we were given for ourselves to the people we are surrounded by. We become doctors, lawyers, mothers, fathers, and friends, and that is our identification.  In the office we are a co-worker, in the classroom we are a student, in the bar we are a patron in the bedroom we are a lover. Yet these are all things the world defines us as also, they shift and change as we lose our jobs and boyfriends, or graduate from school.

In just hearing the name, I feel a presence about the area. Not speaking of the souls that may linger about Harriton Cemetery but a person much closer to my heart, my father. His middle name is Morris and he loves the outdoors. He could spend hours just taking in nature and naming trees. He could almost sink into the environment if he sat still for long enough. In honor of him, I decided to try and do the same. Having had a stressful past few weeks, it was nice to simply be and bask in the sunshine I was able to find. The time in between each gust of wind was a peaceful moment of bliss. In response to the student survey's that deemed the woods "far from pristine," I can only question by what are they judging.

This is my favorite clip from the movie Freedom Writers. For those who havent seen the movie, its about a white teacher coming to an inner city school with predominantly students of color. The clip is essentially about how useful the students' diaries are and a young boy's difficult summer. The students are given a diary to write whatever they want and the must write everyday. The diaries are not graded, not read by the teacher unless given permission, and are put in a locked cabinet so people can't read them.

I think I'm glad I was alone

I took a walk down on the path behind Wyndham on a super windy, lovely Sunday. I would have enjoyed the view better if the wind was not that strong. Other than that, everything is super beautiful. When I was walking down on the path, I can feel the sunshine, its not like summer sun which is hot and dazzling, but warm and gentle. The sun shined down on the leaves that reflect a clean, bright green mixed with yellow. The scene as a whole made me just want to lie down on the ground and mingle myself with the leaves and dirt (again, IF without the wind). I used to hate Fall, because I thought everything is dieing and the weather is getting cold.

I’ve broken up Emmanuel’s argument into three main parts for myself, two of which I disagree with, and one of which I agree with.

(Sorry this is late. I thought I responded to this earlier in the week but my post is nowhere to be found so I am writing it again.)