I have approached the summer of my life.

As a young child, I remember playing with mommy’s shoes and make-up, and not caring whether I ruined her expensive products. Eyeliner, eye shadow, and blush masked my chubby baby face while I tripped and fell in the large 80’s heels, and to me I was a “grown-up”. Those days of playing Barbie’s and digging up the yard to make mud pies were the “spring periods of my life”. Now I have approached the “summer” of my existence. Sixteen years old, and I have discovered the boundaries between a child and an adult. I also acquired the voice of reason, learning from my mistakes and teaching one’s who are younger or less mature to stay out of dangerous situations. Approaching “summer”, I became more aware of the world and understanding what I have to do to succeed in life.

One example illustrating that I am a “summer” being, is am not a carefree or a careful being; there is a balance to my life. Don’t be mistaken, I do have fun and at times I do look like a moron dancing in the street with friends but other times my conscience dictates that was not smart. My childish needs are always met, yet my moral and ethnic beliefs are not upset. When I was younger or more involves in the “spring”, my best friend Chelsea and I always went to the playground and got in trouble. Chel and I would often get caught smoking at a young age, fighting with people or just climbing and exploring the outskirts of the playground out of the boundary we were allowed to go by her mom. As the years packed on with responsibility, we learned that we can have fun but at a level where it’s not going to kill or harm us.

Another example exposing that my life is placed into the “summer”, is I am the person who let’s others know right and wrong in a certain situation. Juliene, my boyfriend, was going to fight this one kid Frederick. Everyone hated him and would love to get their hands around this boy’s neck and strangle him, but when people grow up, they need to understand that fighting people does not get anyone anywhere. Frederick was never harmed horribly because I was always there, telling Jul it is not worth the drama to beat up another student and get suspended or even expelled. Marigolds, a story by Eugenia collier is about a young girl names Lizabeth who is a lot like Juliene when she was goaded to do something and have fun causing others pain. Those two relate in many ways, but if I could say anything, I think they both learned a lesson on life. I also guide younger girls generally, to keep away from older boys, drugs, and alcohol using my life experience as an example to help them understand what I mean.

Finally, my last example is, I have opened my eyes to the world. I go to school every day, do my work, and stay after school to work on projects for days and months, because I know I cannot waltz into a college with any hard work on my hands. Growing up, the world was small and everyone was doing everything for me I never had to cook, clean or even dress myself when mom was around, and now I have these decisions to make and places to be in order reach these goals of success. People in society have this image that women can not do much without a husband to survive and that is a small part on why I wanted to grow up so fast, to throw that scent off of that trail with a strong head on my shoulders, and a finger that says it all.

In conclusion anyone would notice I have both characteristics of a child and an adult. Having said that, there are limits to my fun; urges to do anything I want are halted as long as my conscience is present. Situations regarding anyone else in a quarrel with another is prevented when I am around and girls are staying out of those events that can harm their lives because of the lack of role models left in this world who are mature. World occurrences have an impact on what I am and what I will become, I open my eyes to comprehend that I am on my own and that mommy and daddy are not always going to be there every single moment I need them. I am no longer that baby who is covered with beauty products or shoes, who does what ever she wants with no worries or consequences.

Preface To A Twenty Volume Suicide Note.

Preface To A Twenty Volume Suicide Note. Yeah, those words made me want to read this poem too. Not too long ago, I came across this incredible poem by Amiri Baraka, and it was an instant sensation. Images that fill my mind with sights, sounds, that helps me imagine what's going on. Connections to everyday activities and feelings like walking a dog or being in a depressed state. Meaning between the stanzas that rack my mind for a conclusion asking myself what does it mean?! until a conclusion comes to mind, Oh, I get it, or do I?

One reason why Preface To A Twenty Volume Suicide Note is so great is because of the images. While reading this poem, I have seen vivid pictures that are well expressed in Baraka’s piece. Amiri discusses the “broad edged silly music the wind 
Makes”; every word puts a depiction in my head. Baraka also paints a picture of these stars that the main character is always counting, but also converse the wholes they leave as well, all in which are very descriptive pieces of art.

The second reason why this poem is so addictive, is because of the connections I, the reader, can easily associate with the main character that is easily depressed and thinks a lot. He thinks about the ground enveloping him, or the stars leaving holes when they are not present which are deep thoughts. “And then last night I tiptoed up 
To my daughter's room” I obviously don’t have a child, but I linked that little girl with a younger being and understood what this guy means. Feelings churned while reading this that possessed sorrow, depression, but hope as well.

Of course the last reason, is the meanings within the poem. Some time during the poem, I have concluded maybe this guy is already dead and is a ghost, or maybe he’s just a depressed guy who finds hope in his daughter. All my conclusions are backed up with evidence. For the first result of the poem, I put together the running for a bus, indicating he’s invisible, and the daughter talking to an invisible person as the main character being a ghost. Giving away the title, I also guessed he’s just a depressed guy who finds hope in his daughter; an example of this is at the end when he states “ In her own clasped hands”.

Very carefully, sit down and think about this poem. While you sit there, think about, the powerful images and how they tell a story in a whole new way. Everyday junctions that describe everyday feelings and thoughts make a reader link to this person. Impacts this poem leaves on the readers mind with deep emotional filled meanings and confusion. So get off your ass and read it, I promise you will LOVE it.