They

I know I am not the first person to question this particular anomaly in the English language, and it very nearly pains me to know I will not be the last. All the same, I spend many nights awake in bed contemplating the fact that no, I do not know what they say. I want to know who the heck they are, where they came from, and what they want. What if "They" was once a legitimate name? What if this "They" was so influential, his/her name forever embedded itself into our language? Maybe the law enforcement was once referred to as the "they." It could have been a slang term for royal or religious leaders. Regardless of where the phrase and the word itself originated, it has come to represent a positive and negative entity. Most people, very nearly all people use the phrase "you know what they say" without even realizing they said it! They is a collective term so internalized, we do not even care who these things are. What if they are not human or plant? And how would we know?

A Little Humor (Free Entry)

While talking to my mother, I came to a wild realization. Relationships are like bus rides. We ride them to the end of the line, and then we get off and wait for the next one. One can easily become frustrated while waiting. Equally as easily, one might long for a repetition of the previous rout. Some routs are longer and bumpier than others. Greyhounds are like rebounds. Some are cleaner, quieter, and run smoother than the rest, and some run all the way to your final destination. My aunt rode the Chinatown bus from Boston to New York once. It sounded similar to a one night stand, and similarly, the faint heart should not participate. A ten dollar ticket takes you across the east coast. Depending on who is driving, you are not guaranteed to make it out alive. In fact, during the ride, one might regret their decision to board and long to be in a New York cab. Lastly, there is the party bus. Usually a nice time and sometimes ridden with those one actually cares for, the passengers tend to feel relief and comfort upon returning home. Most people eventually tire of riding the bus, especially if they take the same road to the same disappointing destination daily. After careful consideration, test driving, and self evaluation, they purchase and care for a car of their own.

History

In my practical criticism class, we discussed the concept of "New Criticism." Although it is hardly new anymore, it emerged in the thirties, the methods are still practiced. Even though I (as nearly all people) was trained to read in that fashion, two points boggle me. One: everything the reader needs to know about the content of the text is already in the text, whether the author intended it to be or not. Two: historical context may be considered, but should not effect the way the reader interprets the literature. I had a hard time finding these two elements possible, and I am thoroughly impressed by the reasoning behind this science. New critics believe that a text must be strictly read for content and that any moral to the story is irrelevant. They wanted the reader to be wary of history due to the fact that history tends to be distorted through individual perception, and texts possess the ability to actually alter the way events are perceived. Over time entire occurrences can be morphed into something else entirely. The entire concept baffles me, even though I see it all the time. It is the seemingly simple matter of people seeing what they want to see, and projecting that image onto and into something else.

How I Rate Creativity

First of all, I would like to state that I find creativity to be an extremely personal thing. Studying poetry is an opportunity to gauge how people have changed their perception of creativity over the centuries. One thing I find important is how many questions a person asks. Curious people tend to display a wider range of intellect, and tend to be more "creative." If you like knowing how things work, or stop your class, even if there is two hundred of you, to demand clarification, you are creative. If you desire to work with color through sculpting, painting, or describing, you are creative. If you wish to discover alternatives to a particular problem, or cannot seem to receive the help you desire and develop your own methods, congratulations! You are creative. If you have a passion for life, art, imitation, even understanding death, well, you know what you are. If you are capable of loving, and have a willingness to share that emotion, or any emotion, you are most certainty creative. My point is that in twenty short years, I have found that one needs not have a knack for words to be creative. All you need to do is live, breathe, feel, and realize "it is such a simple thing to look beyond the immediate present." Winnifred Gies stated perfectly in her poem, the title of which slips my mind, "that all she really needed was simply just to be." I think THAT is what it means to be creative.

Free Entry: On My Favorite Word

My Favorite word is benevolent. I first noticed it, I believe, while reading my favorite book Everything is Illuminated. Maybe it is the fact that I found it in my favorite book that makes me partial to it. I think I might like it because it evokes the same feeling in me that the dictionary says it represents. It's positive, vibrant, not overused, or "sticky." It's versatile, clean, and looks pretty written in script. I tend to feel similar towards the word eudemon, meaning good or benevolent spirit. It takes something that is feared and morphs it into positive entity. I have found that most people have a favorite word. Sometimes two or three. A lot of people do not know they have a favorite, but use it all the time. Words fascinate me because of the way they can change and grow and transform over time. They are like people in that sense. Sometimes, a generation does not even realize that they have transformed a word. That interests me.

An Old Favorite

Angel's Destiny
I looked up to the sky
My wings were spread in the summer breeze
A halo of gold wrapped gently about my head
Each feather along my wing
Tells a warrior's great legacy

Banished from mortal villages
I search the sky
Looking for the one who's perfect for me
Questions run through my mind
My doubts of finding love grow each day
Will I find her or will I die?

Days have passed and I fall from the sky
Suddenly I find my self caught in a woman's arms
Her wings are radiant!
Full of beauty!
Our gazes lock as we fall into a kiss
This is the one for me
~Grunkle Bob~

This poem was created (forgive me if this is the work of someone else), by the boyfriend I had my freshman year of high school. Although he was sixteen when it was written, and I was little more than a girl, the words resonate deep within me to this day. I feel that it is "good" because it feels complete. It possesses a beginning, middle, and end, and it centers around a conflict while still including a resolution. The subject matter appears to stem from Greek literature. Although there are no hidden metaphors or meanings, the reader can still sense the speaker's urgency and fear in the first and second stanza, and feel the relief of the speaker in the third. The speaker must find his lover, who he has not yet met, or he will perish from existence. Love sustains him; nothing else can because he is obviously not human. He's not a god figure either, or he wouldn't have been sent away from "mortal villages." However, like a god, he knew his lover, one of his own kind, immediately. I often ask myself, who is he? Equally important, who is she? And why does it matter? I find the lack of rhyme and the present word order aesthetically pleasing. I'm thrilled to have an opportunity to share this piece with you all.

#1 About Me

My name is Ashley Miner, and I am twenty years old. My brother, Mathew, is sixteen, and both my parents are living. I have a cat, and help my brother take care of two lizards and a ball python. Since I was eight I've taken horseback riding lessons and still own my horse who I have worked with since I was fourteen. As with most little girls, and to this day, I enjoy all things that involve horses. I paint them, write about them, ride them, and use them to teach confidence and self-assurance to other young girls. I started coaching when I was twelve, and when I was thirteen, I began assisting challenged children and adults at a specialized riding facility.
I thoroughly enjoy helping others and learning, and am happiest when those two elements combine. Writing has always been a passion and I look forward to expanding my abilities. Being technologically challenged, I ask for forgiveness for my frequent, seemingly ridiculous questions. Also, I am impossible to offend, so there is no need to preface a comment with "no offense but..." That is not necessary, I am here to learn.
Lastly, I love to work. Whether it be waiting tables, washing dishes, working in a barn, cleaning a house, or working on a paper or project, I absolutely love to work.