To Be or Not To Be

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Is it better to be alive or dead?

Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
Dying is just going to sleep

The heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
and ending the pains of life

That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
The reason people don’t kill themselves is because they don’t know what happens next

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
The reason people don’t kill themselves is because they don’t know what happens next

For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
Who would want to put up with lifes struggles

The Oppressor's wrong, the proud man's Contumely,
Being abused by superiors and arrogance of man

The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,
The curse of love and the corrupt legal system

The insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
Why would you choose this life over the next?

But that the dread of something after death,
Because we are scared of death

The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn
No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,
No one has come back to tell us

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
We’d rather stay with what we know

Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
We are cowardly because we think too much

Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy Orisons
Be all my sins remembered.

Pray for me, Ophelia.

Through the Storm

I went outside on a warm night in May

The stars were blocked by clouds up in the sky

The night was dark the trees started to sway

Cold rain began to fall upon my eyes

Moves down my shirt to my shoes and my toes

The rain picked up and now lightening began

Thunder is near the storm is now too close

I had no choice so I turned and I ran

I ran and ran but could not escape it

This storm is strong, survival is crucial

I hope, I pray for the strength to not quit

My faith in God is keeping me hopeful

Look up ahead a light now visible

Could this be one of God's great miracles?

Stereotypes

Being a teenager, it is easy to get blamed for anything that goes wrong. For example, if you were diving down the road and you see two cars that had gotten in a wreck and standing outside the cars were a teenager and a middle aged man, who would you think caused the wreck? Almost everybody, including teenagers, would think that the teenager caused it. This is because all teenagers are stereotyped as being excessively wild and out of control when most of the time that is not the case. This is similar to the character in Wanda Coleman’s “Sears Life.” The character has grown to dislike shopping because when she goes to a store she fells like all of the employees are watching her to make sure she doesn’t try to steal anything. She is stereotyped as a shoplifter because she is a black woman who does not look like she could afford to buy clothes. People need to learn to put stereo types aside and consider the situation before they start judging you by your age or the color of your skin.  

Who Burns for the Perfection of Paper

As we continue our tour you will notice on the right is Martin Espada’s poem “Who Burns for the Perfection of Paper.” In this poem, Espada tells a story of someone who developed a good work ethic in high school, working after school until 9 PM manufacturing legal pads. Espada says they worked “till both palms burned at punch clock.” He also says that the character in the story would “gather slits thinner than the crevices of the skin, hidden” which tells us that they were motivated to get their job done and done correctly no matter what happened. Espada then lets us know that the characters hard work paid off because they are now in law school. He says “ten years later, in law school, I knew that every legal pad was glued with the sting of hidden cuts, that every open law book was a pair of hands upturned and burning” to tell us that the character will never forget the hard work and determination it took to get to where they are.

Get To Know Me Before You Ride My Bumper

In Jorge the Church Janitor Finally Quits by Martín Espada, Jorge the janitor feels like he is undervalued and underappreciated. When Jorge says “No one knows that I quit tonight, maybe the mop will push on without me” he is telling us that he quit his job because no one appreciates his work and they will probably not even notice that he is gone. If I made a bumper sticker to represent this story it would say “Get To Know Me Before You Ride My Bumper.” This phrase could convince people that they should take the time to get to know someone instead of just taking advantage of them.  

Que es Poesia?

¿Qué es poesía?, dices mientras clavas
En mi pupila tu pupila azul.
¡Qué es poesía! ¿Y tú me lo preguntas?
Poesía eres tú.

What is poetry? You ask as the wonder
of your gaze falls upon my eyes

What is poetry? If you ask me
You are poetry

Cardinal

“What happened” I asked as opened my eyes and noticed that everything was blurry. I heard my mom begin to answer the question with sorrow in her voice. I prepared to hear something bad, but nothing on earth could have prepared for what my mother was about to say. “There was an accident on the way home from the golf course” she explained.  “Your father collided with a drunk driver. He didn’t make it.” I remember that night three years ago like it was last night.  I don’t remember anything about the accident but I remember what happened before it and the brief conversation I had with my mother that changed my life forever.

                I was practically a celebrity at the age of 15 in Denver and people were always telling me I was a golf prodigy. My father and went to the golf course that Saturday and stayed a little longer than usual because there was a storm coming the next day and I wouldn’t be able to practice. My dad was especially pleased with my performance that day and he decided to tell me his aspirations for me as a golfer. He explained how he grew up near Stanford University’s golf course and dreamed that he could someday play there, but he was forced to give up playing before he had the chance. He told me that he would really like for me to keep my grades up and keep working hard at golf so that one day I might have a chance to play there  That was the last conversation my dad and I had before the collision.

                One month later, I was lying in my bed with a broken wrist from the accident. I looked around and saw all of the golf posters on the walls and full trophy case in the corner. I thought of my dad, about that night, and about what he had told me. “Stanford” I said to myself. I decided then that I would do everything I could to make my father’s dream come true. I talked to my mother the next morning and shared with her everything that happened before the accident for the first time. I then asked her if we could move somewhere with a climate that would be better suited for golfing. After much discussion and debate, we decided that would move to Austin, the capitol of Texas.

                In Austin, I quickly rose to the tops of the local golf ranks and soon after that the state ranks. Since Texas was a much more competitive golf state, I was quickly receiving a lot of attention from colleges all over the nation. Florida, Oklahoma State, Texas, Syracuse, they all wanted me but wasn’t interested in them. I was waiting for Stanford but for some reason I hadn’t heard anything from them.  I decided that if they weren’t coming to me, then I’d go to them. So my mother and I packed our bags for Palo Alto, California, home of the Stanford Cardinal. They hosted a tournament every year to make sure they weren’t missing out on any big recruits. I won that tournament and shortly the award ceremony I was approached by a man with a red S on his chest. He introduced himself as the head golf coach and simply said “how’d you like to be a Cardinal.”

                My dad would have been so proud of me that day. All of my hard work and commitment toward the sport was for him. I fulfilled his dream and joined the Stanford golf tem the next year. Now every time I’m on that same golf course he grew up by, I’m playing for him.