My Personal Odyssey!!

Watching a failed marriage is one of the most painful things in the world. In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Bennet married Mrs. Bennet for her looks, and he hardly knew what she was like inside. Later on in their marriage, it seems, at least from the narrator’s point of view, that he is no longer in love with her. Two people I know, Jerry* and Karen* have a marriage sort of like the Bennets, but a bit different. Karen and Jerry got married when Karen was about 19. Jerry was a high school dropout but Karen was convinced she was in love and decided she didn’t care that she was so young and her husband was a high school dropout with no job.  Karen’s father was very upset about them getting engaged and refused to speak to Karen for a period of time.

            Karen now works Monday through Friday at a job she doesn’t like. She has two kids, Jeremy* and Gracie*, who are very rude to her. Jeremy spends all of his time with sports and doesn’t know if he wants to go to college. Gracie spends her time acting or with her friends and is unbearably rude to Karen, and Karen doesn’t do anything about it. Jerry still doesn’t have a job. He sits home all day, sometime goes fishing, and, from what I’ve heard from Jeremy and Gracie, he is an alcoholic. Every day, he goes to the store, buys a 6 pack of beer, and drinks them all. Gracie tells me that no one in their family likes him. Karen is depressed and goes to therapy as well as taking antidepressants. Her mom gives her divorce books sometimes, but Karen refuses to read them; maybe she’s in denial. Her sisters are worried about her and don’t want to see her going on in this relationship.

I agree. Every time I see Karen, I want to talk to her about it. I want to ask her if she’s happy, if there is something, anything she could do to make her life better. I’d like to tell her that she has to leave that loser, the one who sits on his ass all day, doesn’t make a cent, and never goes anywhere, never to family gatherings, never to parties, it seems like he never even leaves the house. I want her to be happy. I want her to leave Jerry, I want her kids to start being nicer to her, I want her to have a job she likes, I want her to have a good life. She’s not a bad person; she may’ve made one mistake in her past, albeit one big mistake, but she needs to make changes. She needs to start taking one step at a time to change her life for the better.

 

 

 

(*) names have been changed

I sit down on a firm but soft couch, staring at the strange, clashing, non-matching art on the familiar walls. The tile floors reflect the soon-to-be-setting Mexico sun and give the room a warm glow. I look out the window that takes up the entire wall facing the ocean and breathe in the scene. It is absolutely beatiful, and I’m dying to go outside and feel the superfine sand between my toes as I sprint the 100 yards down to the freezing ocean. I get up and walk outside to join the others who are standing around talking, eating chips, salsa, and guacamole and parents drinking margaritas. I sit down next to Olivia and grin widely. This is, without a doubt, my favorite time of the year. Summer in Mexico. There’s nothing better.

Desirable women in The Odyssey were depicted much differently than the desirable woman today. Athena, a beautiful goddess from The Odyssey, is famous for her brains and strength, while Paris Hilton, for instance, is famous today because she is fits the “beautiful” stereotype today. In pictures, Athena was curvy and muscular. Also, she was incredibly smart and cunning. Paris, on the other hand, is tall, blond, thin, and, from what we see in the media, not very smart.

As well as being sought after because she was a beautiful goddess, Athena was desirable because she was sharp and very persuasive. Throughout The Odyssey, Athena is scheming and coming up with plans to get Odysseus back home. Any time her plan is stumped, she is quick to come up with a new one.  Athena uses her wit for persuasion, if she is trying to convince someone of something, she will, without a doubt, succeed. At the beginning of the poem, she speaks to Zeus, her father,  about helping Odysseus and she “drove the matter home” (1:53), putting up a sly argument and succeeds in convincing her father to help Odysseus.  Paris, on the other hand, does not use good judgment.  She was recently arrested and put in jail for getting multiple DUIs, and yet men today still obsess over her and young girls look up to her.

While the two females are very different, Athena and Paris have at least one trait in common.  Both are very inspirational. “Athena’s inspiration spurred me” (16:263), Odysseus says to Telemachus as he describes how Athena has helped and inspired him on his journey. Paris is also influential, though a little bit differently. She inspires clothing, perfume, movies, TV shows, movies, songs, and without her, magazines would probably be only half as long.

So, Pallas Athena and Paris Hilton are from very different times and are almost polar opposites, but they both are considered beautiful in their time. Both are know for their beauty and their different strengths, and their strengths are very different as well as their images. It just goes to show how different desirable women were in Ancient Greece versus today.

I sat on the colorful

Mexican blanket

That night; my hands

Swinging around me picking up

Sand and letting it fall through

My fingers.

It’s beautiful.

I look up, sailing flags

And Christmas-y white lights

Hanging down, covering the stars

You can actually see

in Catalina.

I’m sitting quietly, thinking.

Olivia is sitting a few spots

Away from me

Playing guitar.

My heart starts to ache.

I miss my family

More than words can

Explain.

I put my elbows on

The blanket and burry my eyes,

Not wanting anyone

To see the tears streaming,

Rushing down

My cheeks.

I feel like someone

Ripped out my heart

And threw it in the ocean

That ebbs a few

Yards away from us.

I crave the summer nights

In our back yard,

After dinner,

Sitting and talking and laughing

While Jack plays on the swing set.

Mom argues with Aaron

And Dad sits quietly, listening,

Speaking up

Now and again to back up

One of their arguments.

I’m on Aaron’s side

No matter what.

I finish my silent weeping and

Secretly wipe my eyes.

I look over at Olivia,

She’s focused on her guitar

And I don’t

Make eye contact

With anyone.

No one needs to know how

Homesick I am.

I hate midterms. The don’t make sense, they’re hard, and they make me want to purposely fall down my stairs so I can go to the hospital rather than study for hours on end or sit in a room with 100 other girls freaking out about a test that counts as 15% of their semester grade. With that said, let me tell what I did last night to study for my history exam. First I took out my binder, inside which was a study packet. The study packet has three maps; each map has thirty-eight or so names of areas, cities, and bodies of water in the Ancient Near East, Ancient Greece, and Ancient Asia. Not only do we have to be able to plot each place on the maps; no. We also have to be able to discuss any relevant people, buildings, events, time periods, and ideas associated with that place. And we have about a week to learn it. But not just a week of sitting down at your computer after breakfast and working for a few hours before taking a break and going out. Again, no. We have school every day this week, some of us have sports practice, we have homework, and then we can finally begin study for this unbelievable amount of history (before bursting into tears because we’re so stressed). Are we done yet? Of course not!! Next we get to study for science. Although I haven’t started studying for it yet, science seems like it should be much easier to study for than history. After science and history, we still have math and our language, mine being French, though I, personally, am not too worried about the last two. I’m not really a history person, so I’m not really sure how it works. My forte is math, so I have no problem understanding it. It sticks in my head like super glue. I’m pretty good with French too, once I learn it, it’s in the back of my head, filed away, and sometimes I just need a little refresher to remember it. But for history, I learn the information, and as I’m writing down the answers on my test, the information I write down is coming out of my brain. It’s like I’m a sponge full of water that just won’t absorb anymore. I just think it’s completely unfair. They say the point of exams is to see how much you’ve absorbed during the course, but to tell you the truth, as soon as the exam is over, we just forget all of it again. I’m convinced just do it as torture.

There’s something about me that I would like to say out loud, but I’m not sure if I should, seeing as I am rather superstitious.  I believe that if you’re having really good luck and you mention it aloud, your luck will disappear. But maybe writing it down won’t do that.

I’ve always had somewhat amazing luck with raffles and winning prizes. For example, in seventh and eighth grade, we had pool parties at school. At each party there were raffle baskets.  Surprisingly, at both parties, I won baskets. I couldn’t figure it out, was it just luck? Were the gods on my side?  Whatever it may be, I won.

The next year, in ninth grade, we had casino night, and there were baskets there as well. I kept thinking I’m sure I’ll win one of these baskets, I always win. And guess what. I didn’t win. What had happened there? Had my luck run out? Had my superstition come true? Were the gods no longer on my side? I’ll never know. People say that it’s just probability, but I put the same number of tickets as everyone else for the pool party and I won. But maybe they’re sometimes right, because at casino night, I put in way fewer tickets than some people. But no matter what they say, I like to think that it’s just my good luck.

What is it about grudges? It just doesn’t make sense to me. I get mad at someone, I have some alone time, and I get over it. But even if I don’t care about what they did anymore, I feel the need to make them pay. Maybe it’s just me, maybe everyone does it, but whatever it may be, I don’t understand. One time, I got in a fight with my friend. I can’t even remember what the fight was about, I just remember it was on a Friday. I thought about why I was irritated and slowly over the weekend, my anger simmered away. I got back to school on Monday and saw her. She smiled at me but I couldn’t smile back. So there I was, I wasn’t mad anymore but for some reason, I felt the need to pretend I was still mad. Why would I do that? Was it that deep down I wanted to make her pay? Finally, I realized it was useless being mad at her (because, 1. because I see her all week, it would be hard to ignore her and act like I was still mad at her, and 2. because she’s my best friend and if she was ready to get over it, then so was I), so I talked to her and we made up. So next time you’re in a fight with someone, think about whether it’s necessary to be mad at them or if you should just forgive them and move on with your life.

Have you ever wanted something so much you just couldn’t stop thinking about it? I get that feeling all the time. One time in particular, it was a purse. A chocolaty-brown Kooba “Paige” bag to be exact. I could not stop thinking about it. I would go online every few days and look at it. I started obsessing over it and would not stop thinking about it. I kept telling my mom that I wanted it for Chanukah or my birthday. The problem was, the bag was $450, and that was on sale. I kept thinking of ways I could afford it. I knew my parents wouldn’t pay for it, at least for the whole thing, so I was determined to get it. I definitely had enough money in my bank account, but when I buy expensive things like the “Paige,” I don’t like to take that much money out of the account. I had about $150 from my most recent allowance and from when my uncle had come over the other day. I knew that I would probably get $100 more soon because my sibling’s and I all get a “bonus” when commercials are filmed at our house. That would bring me up to $250; Still more than $200 to go. I pictured the bag. The first time I saw it was at my friend’s house. She lives in the Hollywood Hills and has my dream wardrobe. When I saw that she had this bag sitting on her door handle, it was love at first sight. She hardly ever used the bag though, she had loads of beautiful designer bags that her mom buys her or gives her once she’s done with them.

So, I sat there at my desk, thinking about the bag. I decided I would ask my parents for one of my Chanukah presents to be $100 which could go towards my savings and I could ask my grandparents for the same thing. I thought this was the perfect plan, I would just have to wait until December, and I could pay the tax with money I already had. It got closer and closer to December. It was the end of October. Just one more month. I waited and waited. The days passed and every afternoon I would look online to make sure the bag was still on sale. Then, one Saturday morning, I went to sit down at my desk. I opened my laptop, started Mozilla, highlighted the URL box, and typed in kooba.com. I ran my cursor over the “Shop Online” link and immediately a box fell down with “Shop Sale” written on it. I clicked on the link. The images of all the on sale bags loaded. I scrolled down to where the bag’s picture was.  Then I scrolled back up. I scrolled back down once more, scanning the page. The picture wasn’t there. My heart dropped. The bag I had waited so long to get was now $650, and while $450 was a ridiculous amount to spend on a bag, $650, for my family, is unheard of. For the next few days I searched other websites trying to find the “Paige” in the same color as I’d wanted for a low price. I found the bag, but it was either sold out or in a color I didn’t like. Now I realize it’s an outrageous amount to spend on a purse. But not because I won’t like it in a few years. No; and that’s what my mom said, there’s no point in buying a bag that expensive because in a few years, you’ll have moved on to something else. I still don’t believe that. Even today, I think I’d always love it, but, being me, I could easily find a bag just as good for $20.

Thus, don’t  just buy something because you think you can’t live without it. I always find that if I really want something and I wait a while to buy it, I soon decide I can easily live without it.

Take a classroom full of people. Tell them all to draw five circles, three lines, and seventeen triangles. Evaluate each of drawings. Do they all look the same? Obviously not. Everyone thinks in different ways. We all imagine things differently. When two people read the same book, they most likely won’t have the exact same image playing in their head. When they listen to a song, they don’t both think of the same things. If two people are listening to the same love song , one may think of their significant other , the other many think of a love they once had whom they listened to the song with.

Look at the pictures posted. Do any of them look the same? Maybe a little bit. Each picture is based on Polyphemus, the Cyclops from The Odyssey. Every picture is different. Some of them portray the Cyclops as a huge giant, and the humans are the size of his foot. In others, the humans are the size of half the Cyclops’ body. In some pictures, Polyphemus is naked, in others he wears rags or cloth.

Reading The Odyssey paints a different picture in everyone’s mind, sometimes based on their experiences in life. If they’ve seen a movie based on the epic, they may imagine the characters as they were in the movie, if there is something in the story that they can relate to, they may just think about that experience as they read.

That, in my opinion, is what makes art so interesting; the exact same assignment can be portrayed in millions of different ways.

She’s sitting on my bed with

a magazine quietly,

intentionally annoying me.

With every move she makes

every word that comes out

of her mouth

I cringe. I want to slap her.

She’s been staying here for

almost a week.

The first few days were fine, but

we just can’t stand each other

anymore.

We irritate the hell out of

one another;

feel the need to disagree with

everything the other says.

I want to go for a walk.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

she says.

“No,” I reply in a snotty voice.

She goes back to reading her magazine.

I clench my fists.

“Okay, this isn’t working.

Why do we keep fighting?”

“What do you mean?

We’re not fighting,” she says,

passive aggressiveness dripping

from her sweet pink lips like butter.

“Did you happen to notice

how tense it is in here?” I ask;

putting extra emphasis on some words.

It goes on for the next few days,

the tension between us like both negative

sides of a magnet trying to push together.

Not that we want be any closer

than we already are.

Sitting on the opposite sides of my room

is close enough for me.

The days are longer and more depressing

with the bright blue skies now gray,

and we have nothing to say to each other

that’s not in a bitchy tone.

It feels like my room got smaller…

Now only a quarter of its original size

With its brilliant blue walls now caving in.

It’s no longer big enough

for the both of us,

and I have a pretty big room.

The day she leaves,

I go upstairs and sit on my bed.

My room has grown, and it’s tension-free

and the walls are back in their correct positions

I walk back down the stairs and

sit in the kitchen with my mom.

“Oh, *****’s parents have to take

her sister to college next weekend

so she’ll be staying here for a few days.”