Today’s blog I will give you feedback on, Hills Like White Elephants written by Ernest Hemingway. Weather I think she stayed with the American man or she left him after making her life choice decision.
I believe the girl did not leave the American man. She might not have been the only one he was with, but the girl did stay in a relationship with him. I feel that the American men use reverse psychology on the girl. He made her feel as though she had the upper hand in making the decision of getting the abortion. He was there to show support and that he cared. He paid for everything so that everything would go smooth. He made sure the girl felt comfortable and had a good time. In her head, she thinks this man loves her, they're making this decision together, and she’s going to be his number one. I have seen this story played out too many times. Some young girls are not mutual or wise enough to date an older man. A man like the American man knows how to get what want and young girls fall for there games and stay. A female whom I am very close to dealt with a man like this. He was an older successful man who claimed to be separated from wife. In the being he wined and dined her, I was even jealous. I was only jealous because I never had it easy, I had worked for everything got. She would tell me about the places they would go to, what he had bought her, and how much she was in love. Even though life seemed good, he never could stay long when he visits and he was very secretive. She would always make excess when he could not make it to family and friends events. I still could tell when she was hurting, even when she kept a poker face. Things changed when she became pregnant. He started to come around more and answering all her calls. Then he drops a seed in her head, that he did not think that they were ready for a child. She though sharing this major life decision would make him love her more and bring them closer. The act that he put on was only temporary. After she had the abortion, he returned to his jerkish ways. She continued to put up with his crap, then finally after three abortion, no divorce from his wife she moved on. I never understood why she put herself through something like this. I try to give her advice on numerous occasions, but I was on the outside looking in. She needed to see for self and make a decision. In my life, I also dealt with my fair shared of guys I should have left but stayed. One of my relationships that I should have gone before I did was when I was in my early twenties. I was two weeks away from getting married. Reality kicked in, I came home and explained to my ex-fiance that I would be canceling the wedding. In the being, I was dating his representative, a lovely, goal drive, family man. My children loved him and he was so into me. Going on a year, we thought it would be a good idea to move in together, and we could save money. Then the honeymoon stages started to fade away, and this new person started to emerge. His business was not doing as well, so he took it out on me. He became distance towards me, and arguments became normal. I though his behavior was just a phase, caused by stress and loss of income. My children loved and were so happy around him, so I put up with his mess. It was until I was up for a promotion, then my eyes opened a little. He had a lot of negative and degrading things to say about me taking the promotion. I took the promotion anyway not caring about anything he had said because he was not bring in any money. Time went on, and he proposed to me I said, “ YES!’, because this was a real ring two and a half carats. I thought this was a dream, I never had anyone loved me and my children like this. Most of my family was not married. When I was a little girl, I was never told marriage was something to look forward to in my future. I started to get caught up in the wedding plans, and I ignored all of our other issues. We had issues with money, communication, and conception. It all came out when we started to go to pre-marriage counsel. At first, I thought we could fix these issues and move forward with the wedding. I had paid so much move for the wedding I wanted this to work. It was time to decide on dress code, and this is when I had enough. I told him I want him to wear all white, a small, little request. No, no, no, that was way to much to ask for. Then I brought this issue to my pastor, and I had opened a whole new can of worms. The entire time he thought everything that I was doing or asking of him, I was trying to control him. From taking the promotion to asking him to wear all white. He was trying to get in my head to make me feel like I needed in some form or way by beating down things that was good for the whole family. His behavior was caused by an inability of not being the head of the house whole. In another word, he did not feel Like a man. As the issues vented to my pastor, my pastor expressed if I marry this man the issues would not stop and I would struggle for the rest of my life. My pastor looked at him also than expressed if he married me he would ruin my life. I started to think real hard why I should marry him. Only one thing that kept coming up was I had spent a lot of money for the wedding. So I decide that he was not the man for me and canceled the wedding. I can always get more money, but time and happiness cannot be replaced.
7 Comments
Today’s blog is on a podcast What You Don't Know (Lulu Wang). It was about how little girl named Lulu Wang had to lie to her grandmother. I was ask Did I agree with the family's choice to deceive Wang's grandmother. In responses, I will also tell you about a time I had to lie. I do agree with the decision that Lulu’s family made. It had to weigh heavy on their hearts, to know when someone would die. I could not even imagine knowing when I was going die or knowing when someone else was going to die. But if I did know when someone time was about to be up and they were much older, I would do the same thing her family did. At that level of a severe disease like cancer can cause enough stress and pain on its own. Why put more on top of it. I would have given that person the last best day of their life. So I could remember their smile, smell, encouraging words and how they felt when I held them. So when they were put to rest, they would rest in peace. When some people are giving the news their life is being cut short, they die right there. They become more stress because of family, unfinished business and death itself. The family would start to mourn and talk as if they're already dead, well my family anyway. Their unfinished business like bills and arrangements they needed to make would cause unnecessary stress. The time that they were giving would turn it a time clock, tick-tock. I feel that know it would cause death to come sooner and or unnecessary tension on the health. The mind is a very powerful thing, and if you believe it, it will happen. What I mean by that is, I remember I was at a restaurant. I usually order my food and then wash my hands. I believed that menus are cover the walking germs. So, I would never dig into food after touching the menu. But, this day I did, and it hit me after I eat all my food. It was on my mind all night into the morning then I became sick. After I vomit, I felt better, but nothing was wrong with me. I had siked myself out; I believed grams was crawling in my body. I laugh about it now, but I always make sure I wash after touching a menu. My boyfriend thinks I am crazy and I do not care.
I was young, and I had to tell a lie. At a young age, I had to see my mother being a drug user and getting abused by my younger sister's father. Mom tried to keep her addiction and the abuse undercover, but I knew. When she was high, she would act differently. Bruises would appear the next day, but she could not see them. I caught onto her patterns fast; I even play along as if everything was normal. My brothers never showed any concern for my mom’s behavior and appearance. At one point I thought I was crazy, it was until I had gotten a little older I started to connect all the dots. I was awakened out my sleep by a loud noise. “PLEASE CRATE!!!!’, my mom cried out screaming at my little sister’s dad. Oh yes, his name was Crate! I jumped up ran into the hallway, but the cry sounded far away. My mom screams again, “ NO, CRATE DON’T DO THIS!”. They were down the stair; her voice carried from underneath my feet. I look back into the room to see if my brother had woken so they could walk me downstairs. They were dead sleep; I ran downstairs scared out my mind. I open the door to the first floor of my house, only to see my mom getting pushed in the face repeatedly. Her left eye was turning bloodshot red, and cheek was starting to swell. Crate was yelling, “ WHERE IS MY SHIT BITCH!". He was so far gone, he did not see me open the door, but my mom did. I started to cry like a cartoon character, when the tears are spraying out of their eyes. My mom looked at me with her bloody face and said, “ Baby, go upstairs.” I ran back us stairs to try to wake up my older brother, but he was a dummy. He told me to leave him alone, “ No! Marky, Crate is hitting mommy!”, I said. He went back to sleep, I had no choice but to call the police. “911, what your emergency?’. “ I need help my mom is getting hit on by her boyfriend come fast, and he’s going to kill her.”, I told the police dispatch. By the time I got back downstairs, he had through my mom to the floor. He had found a bed rail and was trying to push it through my mom's chest. My mom was lying flat on the floor pulling one end of the rail up from her chest, while he was trying to push it down. The police were not coming fast enough, and I had no choice but to intervene. I jump in between my mom's arms laying on her chest and help her push the rail away. I also screamed “ IN JESUS NAME, SATAN I REBUKE YOU. JESUS, JESUS, JESUS, I REBUKE SATAN!”. He drops that pole so fast; I thought the devil was in him. He started to paste as I consoled my mom. Then the police finally showed up. Knock, knock, knock! They banged on the door. A male officer yelled, “ Did anyone call the police?”. My mom looks at me with her bloody face, swollen cheek, and lips, as I was getting up to rush to the door. She grabs my arm and pull herself up and said in a soft, tired voice, “ No, keetta, don’t open the door.” The police knocked and said again, “ Did anyone call for help.” My mom begged me to say no. “say, no keetta. He didn’t mean it”. He still pasting, wait for my response. I hate him; I hate him, I hate him!. I scream inside of my head, so the police would not hear me. My mom said the cops would take us if I let them in, referring to my siblings and me. With my child mind, I thought, why they choose us and he’s the devil. I know why she said that now because they were high and under the influence. I loved my mom, and I’m very spiritual. I believe in honoring your mother, father and your days will be long upon the earth. So at the end of the day, I had listened because I was always scared of cutting my life short. So, I never open the door, and I told the police he held left. I regretted that day, and my mom continued to get high and take the abuse from Crate. It got worse, and I had to pretend life was peaches and cream around family and mom friends. I wanted Crate locked up, or better yet I wished some big man to come and beat him down. When people made comments, and about Crate being a good dad to us I use just to cut my eyes with hate. I started to ask my siblings if they hated Crate is much as I did, they always said no. They never saw what I saw, and they were too lazy to get in the night when loud rumbling and sound of things falling was happening. I had to save her life every time. Deep down I think everyone knew, but they did not want to get involved. She kept running back to him anyway. I never told anyone. Eventually, Crate fell down his mom step one day, suffer a severe blow to the head and was never able to recover. My mom moves on to the next knucklehead, after me and my siblings placed in foster care. I know now, everything happens for a reason and you can not help people who are not ready to be helped. This blog is in response to a question connected to a vignette I read; My Name is Margaret (Maya Angelou). I also have added my own experience. In which, I was placed in a similar situation. The question asks, “Did you agree with Margaret's choice to break the casserole dish and two green glass cups?" I will say, I do agree with Margaret’s decision to break the dish and cups. I still do not know the reason why Mrs. Cullinan wanted to change her name. She did not seem to bother calling Margaret by her full name. Was Mrs. Cullinan trying to appease her friend or show some control over Margaret?. Either way, I do not think it was right to force someone into accepting an undocumented name. I could only imagine having to grow up in Margaret’s time. Having to deal with being call names like niggers, jigs, and blackbirds. If I had to accept being called vulgar names like that, it would have been a tough pill for me to swallow. I understand why Margaret did what she did; it was for the principle. Her name is her identity, it is what she is known by and she Owen's her name. Due to era and time, no one would have understood that she wanted to quit because of a name. Her mother was probably like Miss Gory, easily persuaded to accept orders like that and find a good reason to why it was o.k. Breaking those dishes reestablish her rightful name, placed Mrs. Cullinan in her shoes of losing something she cares about and ultimately giving her a way to quit. But, I think she was fired. I was once in a similar position also, when I struggle to get into college. It was the most challenging situation that I had encountered. I had finally decided to go back to school after years of procrastinating. When I started to register I ran into to hiccup, my high school had permanently closed. This made it difficult to request the transcripts that I needed to register for college. The school district of Philadelphia was no help, they said my transcripts was never received after the school had closed. I was frustrated after receiving this news, so I try to fight it by complaining. Every person that called me back from the school district sing the same song, “ unfortunately Miss. Lewis, I was unable to recover your transcripts.” I continue to call, left voicemails, wrote emails to any and everyone in the school district of the city and state. I even went as far telling the school district that I would seek legal counsel. Nothing came of my complaints, and if I were unable to receive my transcripts, I would have only two options left. Option one takes the GED testing and option two pay for school out of pocket. I needed the transcripts to receive financial aid, but it did not look like I was going to receive them. Taking the GED test or paying for school was not an option for me. Knowing that I spent four years in high school going through all kinds of drama, having a child young and still was able to achieve my diploma. I could not stand to let someone take that away from me. I continue to be persistent, I called more people and wrote more emails. I felt like no one on the school board cared. When I try to put a petition together explaining to my classmates how this will affect their opportunity to continue education as well, they did not care either. At that point, I felt the board of education had control of my future. Some of my friends and family even said to me, either take the GED or be comfortable with being an eyeglasses managers. Not having a degree would leave me limited to better opportunities in the work field. The biggest thing was having the feeling of someone stopping me from being successful and enabling me from being a blueprint to help someone else like me. This setback was hard to stomach, I crying and became very depressed. After a year had passed, I was about to give up. Instead, I waited patiently for help. You would never guess what happens to me. Next, my high school principal walked into my current job. He encouraged me to stick to going back to college, and he was able to point me in the right direction. After explaining my situation to multiple people from the school board and financial aid, I was able registered. Now, I’m here in my second semester of college. |
AUTHOR:
|