Graduation Speech -- 1st Draft

     Hey everyone. Here's a little blurb of what I plan to be writing for my graduation speech. At my school, each student is required to write a graduation speech. Then, our peers will congregate and select the three best speeches. Then, depending on what the teachers and administration think, three speeches will be selected for graduation. 

     I tried to express my whole high school experience in a very short 350-word nutshell. I wanted to express the loss of friends and the new ones I gained. I wanted to detail some of the fond memories that occur to me while I look back at these last four years. Personally, I doubt I have properly expressed in proper words how I really feel. Lastly, I wanted to express how my school had changed my life. How the teachers, students, administration, community, and everyone else worked with me to bring me an experience that no other student has ever experienced. Sure, other students may have had a similar experience, but this one is mine. So please enjoy this speech, which will hopefully be updated more and more to reflect how I truly feel about this amazing school.


     Do you remember walking into the doors of our school for the first time?
     How about how you felt when you sat down in your first high school class?
     When your doe eyes stared up at your first high school English teacher, who talked with such a passion it was considered yelling?
     Do you remember all the friends you got the year after, all the ones you lost?
     Or maybe picking on the freshman because you were the cool sophomores now and you could?
     Only last year we struggled together with figuring out what we were going to do with the rest of our lives. Not only that, but we started to become a family for the first time. I think we can all agree that Jaysen’s dancing led him to be that funky uncle who can rock the Cha-Cha Slide.
     Now here we are. We’re splitting up, each going our separate ways. You cried and you laughed and you experience so many emotions and now, you’re being forced to leave. Looking around at my peers now, it seems we all have those same doe eyes that I noticed four years ago when we were just little freshman, but a new set of headlights barrels towards us. The nervous anxiety of graduating high school is finally here.
          So what do we do? Well, there is one thing the big passionate English teacher has told us day by day. Carpe Diem. No matter how cliché or cheesy it is, it’s a sound bit of advice. We’ve got to seize the day and never give up, even when the going gets tough. The satisfaction of success will far outweigh the struggles of not doing anything at all. We’ve got to seize the day and be ourselves. Even when other people try to change us, it’s so important to be the person we want to be. Finally, you need to seize the day and know there is always hope. Worries and fears aside, everything is possible when you set your mind to it. As our school motto says, imagine the possibilities. Thank you.

(Word count:  548 words)

Late-Night Drinking -- A Rant

     Just a note in advance; if you think you are offended easily, I would avoid reading this post.

     These past two weeks, my English teacher has been constantly repeating a single phrase. Sometimes it's a statement, sometimes it's a question. The idea remains the same:

Has any of this been ruining poetry for you?

     I always feel my answer is no; I feel that I can easily handle the class, and even though I spend an hour or two working the hundreds of poems my teacher throws at me, I still understand them. I feel I take these poems like one would take wine at a tasting party.
     I take the poem, and give it a long whiff. I shake it around a bit, and try a sip. The words flow into my mouth and settle on my taste buds, washing them over with a unique yet bitter flavor. My expression sours, and bystanders might see my nose cringe or my lips purse; a normal reaction for this kind of experience. I mull the poem around inside of its cup, letting the red drink breath. Once again, I bring the glass to my lips. This time, something's different. The taste of sweet grapes fills my mouth, saturating the spaces all the way through my nostrils with the strange aroma of alcohol. My palate soars with flavor. I sit back with satisfaction, reaching for a chunk of cheddar, and selecting another drink.
     That was a way to describe that, wasn't it? Every other night, I attend these tasting parties. I whet my appetite with so many different selections of prose. It's one of the many reasons I enjoy reading so much. Even when poems have deep subliminal meanings, I feel I at least have some grasp of understanding on what I am reading.
     So what is the problem? Well, that's easy. The problem is that the whole experience is ruining poetry for me.
     Despite my deep adoration for written language and poetry, my English class in general is something I am beginning to despise. My goal past graduation is to major in English, eventually becoming a teacher of the same subject. The whole idea of me hating my English class must be outrageous to some. The situation is complicated, a whole other story, for a whole other day. What I have made clear to several people though, is that my belief is that the class isn't challenging enough.
     I selected an AP course this year specifically to be challenged in my education. Of the five AP classes I am taking, or have taken, four have succeeded in being challenging; AP Literature, the class I am in right now, has failed to meet that criteria. Maybe it's because I understand the course so well that it is a breeze for me, but I have an entirely different opinion.
     I feel that many of the students in the class do not give the effort required for an AP course, and it's reflecting on the class as a whole. Our teacher has been forced to sit down and explain the poems to us, as if he were teaching a class of freshman a work of Shakespeare for their first time. Students who are called that cannot give an answer, can ask for someone else to be picked. Don't get me wrong, there are several students who do put the effort in. I'm only pointing out what I have noticed from an extremely skewed perception. 
     When I wish to answer a question, I'm asked to put my hand down and let another student try. I  understood the logic behind this when the year first began, and gladly adhered to my teacher's request. Now I am into my second, and final, semester of high school, and I'm still receiving the same request.
     Tell me, am I still intimidating to students who choose to stay silent this far into the year? Or is it just an excuse for why students aren't participating? Am I seen as a know-it-all McSmarty FartyPants who's expected by the class to know every answer? To be brutally honest, many times I find myself having the completely wrong answer. I can't voice my opinion to know if I am correct though, and it leaves me distressed.
     The challenge that I feel in every AP class simply diminishes when I step foot into my English class early every other morning. I want to just walk out of class sometimes and not come back, because I know it would not make a difference. I want to sit in the corner and spend the class period enlightening myself, rather than wishing to participate. Participating in class feels like a chore now.
      So that's the rant I have prepared for you on this cloudy, dark night. I would like to note that if I did offend anyone, I am truly sorry. I felt it was necessary to express these feelings that have built up for so long. I don't want to compare myself to anyone and emerge superior, because I sure as hell know I'm as average as they come.

      Now I am off to a wine tasting. Late-night drinking is my favorite pastime.

Hobey ho,
-- Nate



(Word count: 874 words)

Blurb #1: The Romantic

     A mini-post perhaps. I don't really want this to count for anything cause I don't think it will quite be long enough, but I felt it was necessary to share and hey I might be wrong. Still, this will be more of an informal and sarcastic post, rather than the more serious stuff I tend to post. Hence, a blurb. 
     A new post will be up tomorrow, perhaps discussing the eye-opening experience I had reading this Emily Dickinson poem, or maybe something about the Lovecraft I had been reading lately, or analyzing a movie...or a song... there are so many things I would like to do, but haven't gotten the chance or the concept of putting it out into words and comprehensible language. Then again, that is always the fun of writing.

     Here's your fun mini-post, enjoy;

     There are many ways you can describe to your girlfriend that you appreciate her beauty as she spends time in that eternal regions that she experiences whilst she dreams.
     The first option is to be a hopeless romantic, telling her that you thought of that lame Aerosmith song that is too catchy for its own good, and then proceeding to be that guy with the guitar and singing it for her.

          I could stay awake, just to hear your breathing
          Watch you smile while you are sleeping,
          While you're far away and dreaming
          I could spend my life, in your sweet surrender
          I could stay lost in this moment, forever.

     Wow dude, that'll be something she remembers. Maybe she'll think of you when that song comes on the radio after you guys end your relationship. It was pretty hopeless in my opinion.

...then again, you could throwback to the early 19th century and recite some poetry for her.

          No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
               Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast,
          To feel forever its soft fall and swell,
               Awake forever in a sweet unrest,
          Still, still to hear [your] tender-taken breath,
          And so live [for]ever--or else swoon to death.

     Nailed it dude. Get some roses and candles, you just put yourself in the romance business. You smooth, sly dog.

     So pick your poison, if you think the guitar and somewhat off-key singing will win her over (please never try to hit that high note again), go right ahead. But if you think you can recite some poetry like a smooth Samuel Jackson (for the word I really wanna use... well yeah), and want to relay the same message, know you now.     Crazy how these days, love is just "everything that's been said before in a thousand ways by a thousand songs (and poems), some with the same four chords."

(Shout out to my references. I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing - Aerosmith (1997), Bright Star - John Keats (1819), and finally Repeat Stuff - Bo Burnham (2013). I want to thank The Academy for this post. Good night America.)



(Word Count: 488 words)