Undertow in "Things We'll Never Know"

I fall in to the unfortunate category of, obsession (it looks a lot like oppression (in spelling not in action)). I find a band or artist I like and suddenly the only thing I listen to, there music. My current illness (the proper way to refer to my obsessive behavior) the singer songwriter duo Hannah and Maggie. I know ever one knows them (seeping with sarcasm). I am guessing that most people in my class never stumbled upon the acoustic melodies of Hannah and Maggie, which I understand due to the fact that they still live in the world of unsigned and pretty unknown. The unknown unsigned artist to me seems the most pure and quickly arise as my favorite. One of there pure Hannah Maggie moment’s occurs in their song “Things We’ll Never Know”. I probably played the song a million times (major hyperbole to give the allusion of an artistic writer) and yet the words and melody still to me seem so new and so alive especially the stanzas

“Why don't we just fall asleep in the back of the jeep

with our shoes still on and the embers burning low

I can tell that you're reaching for me

but I don't want to be caught in the undertow

Maybe it's just me

we have come so far

afraid you'll disagree

to break another heart 

you've broken into me

let's find another 

start”

Hannah and Maggie create this indiscernible picture of love (now I am going to proceed to try and describe what I just called indescribable). With the use of the words jeep and shoes they create a tone of simplicity. This tone proves a symbol of the type of love or liking in witch they describe one in which people fall asleep “with our shoes still on”(2). The simple love though finds interrupted with the word “but”(4). The abrupt dialect along with the word starting a new line shows the halting of one type of love and transition into a different type of love. “I don’t want to be caught in the undertow” the use of the metaphor undertow, an aggressive powerful force, indirectly characterizes this other love as powerful and scary. Humans often times shrink away from powerful and scary forces. In a fallowing verse though Hannah and Maggie show the other side of human nature, the adventuress unable to resists side of humans. The kind that says I know I am scared your just here “to break another heart” but “you’ve broken into me let’s find another start”. Hannah and Maggie reveal the true confusion of love. Love dos not care about the pain that could occur. Love does not care how the person does not want to get caught up in the undertow. Love for someone or even liking them does not care the inhabitants that exits. To love the only thing that matters, that the feelings exist. I am not fooling anyone, none of us do. We as humans would do anything for love and just about anything for some one we like. We all experienced that point in a relationship where slowly the undertow takes over, and all of us allowed it to take us in hopes it would spit us up on the shores of some place where heartache and pain don’t exist. With out the broken hearts though none of us would find the point we currently exist in, so maybe the benefits out way the risk. The Dani I am now would not exist with out the past relationships, no matter how rocky. Ultimately the relationship I happily reside in now would not exist with out my past. For me that makes the risk much less important. So I must depart now the undertow awaits to take me over.

The song in video form although the album version is much better

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqq5lFuifQ0&list=UUn-brDpVnLmPwp-rFbnfcTQ&index=40&feature=plcp

Devilish Technology?

It seems simple, no cell phone one hour. Then though it buzzes taunting me with the sound it makes reminding me I'm not paying attention to it. Yelling at me almost "Dani someone wants you, someone is trying to get your attention". Often times my phones on vibrate, (that way no one gets annoyed with the mass amount of texts I have and I still have the knowledge of if or when someone tries to get a hold of me) but on the rare occasion its not on vibrate, when I receive a text the beautiful annoying voice screams out of my phone in an British accent "Hello its your phone in your pocket I'm on vibrate buzzzz see buzz I'm vibrating because you got a text bzzzzzzzzzz read it then bzzzzzzzz" This ring tone to me sounds like what my phone would yell at me if it had a voice. I bought into it though. My phone vibrates and I hear it wondering, who? why are they texting? what do they need? maybe its urgent, what am I missing? The last question disturbs me the most. It shows the true mentality I live inm one in which my cell phone appears the vein of life. I worry when my phones not on me. If I'm not home my parents demand that my cell phone is on me, just in case. At what cost though? What am I sacrificing when I have my cell phone constantly on me, when I'm costly in conversation like that? The best conversations I've ever had, the most hart to heart honest conversations occurred when I ignored my phone. My family goes boating in the summer and skiboarding (everyone in my family skies except me, I'm a snowboarder) in the winter. When I'm all wet or when gloves cover my hands I can't text, I cannot answer my phone. These are the times I have seen the most beautiful scenes, the sun setting on a lake, or the breathtaking view form the top of a mountain. Experts say that texting causes a decrease in ability to write properly; I would say that’s a very important problem with overuse of cell phones. I think though the thing we risk the most by over using our cell phone- we could miss out. Miss out on breath taking views, heart to heart conversations, the quietness of nature, the simplicity of it all. I'm part of the technology generation full of instant information, quick conversations, and overuse of screens. I have sat through Original Oratory speeches one after another speaking on the danger of technology and detrimental it will prove to the human race. Technology proves incredibly helpful (especially for the dyslexic kid who can't spell) I am not saying down with technology. I just think sometimes I need to go on a walk through the woods and leave my phone on silent. I need to go hang out with my friends and ignore my phone; sometimes I just need an hour of simplicity.

W, X, Y, and Z The Ending of The Alphabet and The Ending of Our Journey

I really really like poetry (last night I learned really has two L’s not just one) and Andrea Gibson’s poetry especially interests me. For the longest time I could not figure out why. She’s a poet, nothing special or different, just a poet. As my iPod filled with her poems and I found myself dwelling over the words I kept finding the same question arising: why? Why this obsession? Poems are not like songs with catchy melodies, they’re just words, words on pages filling lines, and eventually flying out of someone’s mouth. One day while listening to a Gibson poem it hit me (not like a pound of bricks but rather like rain falling in a heavy storm) I admired her honesty. Gibson writes with no hesitation, no apologies, she writes the way she speaks. She makes no apologies for the swear words she may say or how honest she may be, her poems all seem to lead to self discovery. For so long I have forced my writing to reveal the least possible about me. I wanted myself and my writing to stand separate. I thought for some reason that I could do this. This project, though, made me realize the impassibleness of that. As I let myself become the subject, instead of the back round noise, I started to understand myself more (or who I thought of as me). My writing started to look less and less like the work of an overly structured person and began to look so much like me. The parentheses in my writing representing the side notes that, when I talk, slip out of my mouth; my overly sarcastic voice and ultimately a huge helping of me. I stopped trying to hide myself from my writing, but began finding myself in my writing. Although it sounds a bit schizophrenic, sometimes I do not know something about myself until I start writing. For me, writings no longer just means writing, it means discovering. I think for me that’s what blogging has done. I have learned more about me. I think more importantly though blogging has maid me much more reassured in myself. I think we often struggle with who we are and what people expect of us. This project shows me, I am only me, and I should be proud of who I am. I am someone who likes to play music. I like listening to poetry. I believe everyone has something important to say, I am a writer but not a writer. I am the middle child but the oldest child (depending on who you know). I am loud, but I am also quiet depending upon whom I am with. I am often referred to as a five-year-old boy. I am also told I am wise beyond my years. I am independent and I am unsettling to some and incredible welcoming to others. I am a rebel rouser. I refuse to conform. I am Dani Boucher and I wrote these posts with my own hands filled with my own thoughts and poring out my heart into them. Now I know that type of writing, the whole hearted full body writing, that’s the only kind I ever want to do, and this project shows me that.

A Bunch of Loons

Loon: A type of bird symbolic of the north often found in Canada or the northern United States. (Thank you allaboutbirds.org)
Loon: A person who displays behavior that seems or appears out of the ordinary and some may view said person as crazy (Thank you dictionary of Dani Boucher.)
I find my use of the word loon ever increasing. The more I think about the word loon the more I use it. Often times I say it about my friends “ Oh your such a loon” “Oh you’re loony”. At times I feel the courage to use the word with myself. Yesterday while at my girlfriend’s house I thought or spoke (look at the pristine memory I have) while we had a snowball fight “We’re just a bunch of loons”. As I sit and think about school and my life and the life of those around me (I know, why don’t I just think about the whole universe and the meaning of life) I could think of no better way to describe it. I, or we, live in a society full of social normalcies and unspoken rules that no one truly knows, but simply abides by. There are things in this “society” that no one should speak of, that we all must abide to. Why? (That’s rhetorical (I felt the need to inform you of that due to I never know if a presenter of questions intends their question to have an answer giver or not)) I have theories upon theories of this. Some nights when I can’t sleep or other times when I should sleep, but would much rather play my guitar. I wonder where they stared and why do generations see them differently. I see no better example of this generational gap then with in my own family. My grandmother (Best grandma ever) believes girls should not have their ears pierced and God made the body as a temple tattoos are a disgrace to that temple. My Mom (sometimes I call her Debbie she does not like that) says its ok to have your ears pierced and have tattoos, but an excessive amount is frowned upon I think, if some one has a body they should do with it as they please. I can’t tell some times if this gap stems from generational gaps or from social changes and influences or own personal beliefs (that’s the topic of my Original Oratory speech). Social stereotypes arise everywhere. If one goes to McDonalds and asks for a happy meal they find themselves faced with the question “Boy toy or girl toy?” (this was always a problem in my home. Hot wheels are so much cooler then Barbie’s, and so is Gi Joe for that matter). Why do we categorize toys? A more age appropriate example: clothes. Storeowners divided their stores into men and woman’s clothing. For some one like me this makes shopping quite interesting. I don’t like tight clothes, I don’t like sparkly or frilly or stylish, I like plaid and flannel. I like loose jeans and cargo shorts and finding me outside of school, church, or debate without a hat on my head; well that’s the apocalypse. My style and comfort level leans more towards the societal view of masculine clothing. They are the clothes I like to wear though. Sometimes I sit in English and look around the students in this class arise as the best writers in Chagrin more often then not. I worry though with that thought. We all have so much power with our words, how will we use it? Will these students, friends, classmates weld their words to hold up and abide by the social normalcies that I see plaguing our society, or will they write for change? I worry every time for the future of our country when I get strange looks walking down the street in my overly baggy cloths with my baseball cap laughing with friends. I worry that we forever will stay in this awkward place of discontent with ourselves and unhappiness due to societal expectations. I worry that this world will never change. That I will always get strange looks holding my girl friends hand as we walk down the street. Its late now though the hours have fallen back into single digest and if I play my guitar any louder my mom might come scold me for never getting enough sleep. How long will we stay a bunch of loons abiding by unspoken social norms?

5 Thing's They Will Never Tell You About Writing

1. We do not have the same voice- I have learned this year that my writing voice arises much like my speaking, witty, cunning, and charming. (I do sound like that right?). We might (probably) have different voices and that’s all right.

2. All topics come back to me- Although not often liking the center of attention role I find in my writing, I am learning more and more to write about me. Whether that simply means my opinion or some way to connect a book to my life.

3. I need to write- I found that I need to write and write and write(or talk) in order to understand my own ideas. Writing helps me organize the crazy spastic world of my mind.

4. I am much more open in my writing- I find that when I write I am much more open about me as a person. I say things I would never normally say and am much more open with who I am.

5. Life depends on writing- Everything I learn about writing matters today and tomorrow. My writing, no matter what I choose later in life, will matter in some form or another.

Super Dani, The Titanic, and Laurel

As I read the prompt today for English as every great AP English student does I focus so intensely that my eyeballs almost popped out of my head. All right, maybe I caught my self in that incredible unfortunate place where my mind wondered. I never mean to do it, I look up at the clock and I start thinking about time, which leads into thinking about how this week filled quickly with activities. Packed with getting new snowboard bindings, homework, the art project I need to finish, the tournament at Chagrin this weekend, and then Wednesdays. Oh Wednesday, middle of the week Wednesday. Wednesday the day I normally attend Speech practice, but this week I do not have a typical speech practice. Oh no this week I have the opportunity, to go practice at Laurel. Now for those out side of the speech and debate world. I, Dani Boucher, am in Original Oratory. I will not disclose the overly boring details of it except this one, Laurel dominates in this area of Speech and Debate. When I say dominant, I mean it almost never occurs for only one Laurel O.Oer to place. Now if that wasn’t enough to get my panties in a pinch, Clair (an O.Oer (that’s original oratory for the speech and debate impaired) at Laurel, among other things.) informed my that every one and their cousin shall attend the practice on Wednesday simply due to my presence. I don’t scare easily, I have very few fears, I am normal the oh so calm one who comes in, in scary situations and says the oh so calming words “Don’t worry, I am here, I will handle it”(picture cape and dramatic heroic music). This situation though, the Laurel practice with every one and their cousin, scares me though to the point of wanting to crawl back into bed and cuddle with my bear dog (not a typo, it’s a dog from Build a Bear). The Laurel girls only have kind words to say to me, along with incredible accepting spirits, but I find my self scared to death. The reason I know though, I sit in rounds with these girls each weekend and I listen to their speeches. All have an incredible amount of eloquence, their all so poised, and incredible intelligent, and I find my self humbled. I often find myself walking into situations where I have to talk saying oh I can do this; I am the president of speech and debate, as though that should mean something. Then Saturday rolls around and I listen to Megan Zupon talk about the need for thinking in politics with brainwashed Americans, Or Maggie’s pledge for global education for all people, Or Claire’s incredible intelligent thoughts on understanding gender identification. My descriptions of their speeches do no justice to the string of words and emotion and well thought out points of view they all present, and I sit there every single weekend laid flat down on the floor with humility. I find myself questioning the overly cocky nature I explode with at times. I think myself so powerful nothing can ever stop me. Like those who built the Titanic who proclaimed, “God himself could not sink this ship”. My cocky smirk probably resembling the one the above ironic speaker displayed when he spoke the phrase. Although the Titanic inevitable sank due to the fate of one very large iceberg, humbling those humans who dared to test fate. The Laurel girls although not even close to as painful as the iceberg; they serve about the same purpose when I rise far to high upon my horse that I am only human. Although I like the thought of Dani the super hero I have many areas of kryptonite, and thankfully I have friends, even though from different schools, who keep my sometimes overly large ego in check. As for English that ever so loud ticking clock brings back my wondering mind to the task at hand, the easy…. now focus.

Balancing AP English, My Sitter and ADD

I sat and ponder what words and brilliant things I would pull from my mind this time to write about for English. As always many incredible, intelligent and enlightening blog topics came to mind (dripping with sarcasm). Somehow the oh so uncommon (let’s be honest a very common) event occurs, my attention somehow had drawn away from English and turned to my sister, as she stood high upon a stool reciting one of my poems. For the next five (lets be honest more along the lines of fifteen) minutes I became distracted by her antics and silly nature. As I burst into laughter at her I couldn’t help to think how good it felt. I had just spent another day of school going from class to class trying to absorb some piece of information that each teacher bestowed upon me that would inevitably end up on a test. The day topped off with speech and debate (its like the frosting to a cake). Let me take a moment to pause and evaluate the situation I find myself in. I am not saying I have a difficult life because of some higher authority or because of how the man keeps me down. In retrospect the inability to focus in class rests solely on my shoulders. (I let my mind wander all to often). I choose my class schedule and I choose how difficult of classes I take. What I do think though, all too often students, my self-included, complain about school, about teachers, about just about anything, and for what? How often do we cause our own stress, yelling and cursing out a teacher or parents, when we ultimately maid the decision to take the classes we do. I think that’s something I appreciate about my English class, somehow even if at my own expense I get a laugh out of the class. AP English seems to be the most intense and thought provoking class I have ever taken, but also the most fun. Somehow Ms. Serensky creates this balance in class between intense work ethics and awkwardly-funny situations. Balance I believe all of us need in our life’s, whether we find it with friends, with classes that make us laugh, or even a sibling who makes the afternoon a bit brighter.