The "Final" Post: A Blog Reflection

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                The blog project, I didn’t get this one at all in the beginning. It was weird, and it was the most unorthodox project that I have been given so far! But, once I got the hang of it, I really enjoyed it. It was like creating my own mini website and customizing it so that it fits how I want it to look like. After playing around with it for a while, I learned about all the customizations that the website provides for you, and there’s even an area in which, if you know how to code, you can add your own code to it and modify the code of your blog as well. The blog also allows you to add pictures to your post, which brakes the whole norm on writing papers since you can add multiple pictures related to the worded document, adding a sort of immersion or helping your reader get an idea on what the essay might be about.

            I found the blog to be a very helpful platform to express your righting. It gives you a certain creative liberty on how you write things and how you post them which is good. I found myself intrigued and a bit freighted that I will be posting my works online. Because it’s one thing posting your writings in a website where you need a password given by the teacher to access it than putting all those writing on a website where basically anyone can have access to.

            Overall, though I had a bit of a rough start, I ended up enjoying this project very much. I loved customizing my blog and adding the pictures to it as well. This project even inspired me to continue my writing and possibly even create my own personal blog where I can upload my own stuff.

Reflecting As A Whole: A Group Project Reflection

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Group projects can sometimes be a hassle, especially if they’re chosen by a teacher, in this case, a professor. My experience with group projects in the past have been appalling, some members barely do their work or no work at all, some members would distract others and slow down the progress, it was usually up to me and a person who already did their work to pick up the scraps. When the day to submitting the project got near and everybody started to freak out, the other classmate and I would already have their part done and ready. Gladly, this didn’t happen in my group, everyone did their own part, they carried their own weight, and if they needed help we would help each other out since that would be detrimental to both the group grade as well as their individual grade. But besides work, it was nice to talk to my group members and hear their ideas and points on an essay or a topic in which we were debating.

During the project, I was tasked with being an administrator as well as the notetaker. Being an administrator was easy. All I had to do was collect the work from my classmates, organize the work, and then put it in order. Plus, I also had a classmate who shared the same responsibility as I did. Thus, if I didn’t pick up the work or I put it in the wrong order, he would notify me to fix it or even doing it himself. Now doing the part notetaker was a bit harder. First, the position fell on my hands, second, I didn’t know what to do and at first, it was sort of a hassle, especially when it came down to taking attendance and following the MLA format, so many trees died in vain. But nonetheless, I learned to do it properly and it just became a normal part of my routine. Overall, I really enjoyed my experience with the group and I wouldn’t mind repeating the experience with them. 

An Educational Interview: Featuring Grandma

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Interviewer: Jan C. Navarro (Grandson)

Interviewee: Bruni Borges (Grandmother)

Questions and Answer:

J: Were you required to go and study?

B: “If you didn’t want you didn’t have to. Some stayed back to find jobs and start families while others went to college and study. My parents did want me to go and study, and I did go to college, but I never finished.”

J: Did you enjoy studying at a young age?

B: “Yes I did. I had good grades throughout school. I just made stupid mistakes, like leaving college and getting married.”

J: You went to college but dropped out of college, did anyone else from your family go to college to get a higher education?

B: “My sister went to college and finished her bachelor. My brother, on the other hand, went to a technical college but dropped out.”

J: Was there access to a higher education back then?

B: “Yes there was. But it wasn’t needed as much as you need one today since there was a lot of blue collar work back then.”

J: If you would have stayed and finished your degree, what would your class have been?

B: “If I would have stayed in college and finish my degree, I would have studied law afterward.”

            I believe that one of the main differences between my elder’s education and my current education is that for most of them, education was optional. Since if their father had a small shop or a business the son would be taught from a young age to manage the business and once he reaches a certain age then he’ll inherit the shop. Now, in the present, even if the family owns a business or a shop, the parents will tell their children that they will need to go and study and once they’re done then, they can own the shop. Another key factor is that nowadays the more education you have, the more value you have as an individual. That’s why getting a bachelors doesn't cut it anymore and more people must strive to get a higher to secure a comfortable job in a field of their choice. 

A Compass of Emotions: A Life Compass Reflection

A Compass of Emotions: A Life Compass Reflection

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During the time that we did this activity, I always wondered what its purpose really was. Well after doing twenty-four of those and then reading over them again, I can say that I’ve figured out the purpose of this activity. Obviously, it’s to know how you’re feeling at the day you do the compass. However, this exercise helps you be more connected with your emotions since you’re doing self-meditation analyzing how your day go, to help you fill out the compass. It also helps you understand the emotions you are feeling for the future purpose of asking yourself, “Oh, why am I feeling like this?” You’ll be able to tell yourself, “I’ve felt this way before and this is how I cope with it.” Even if I didn’t understand the purpose of this assignment I think I do now, it helped me understand more what I was feeling and coming to terms with it, something that’s easier said than done.

            A pattern I saw in these compasses is how close my overall score per area was from each other. A little bit odd if I might say so myself, regardless a bit happy since I am neither super low or super high any of the areas. I’m right there in the middle. Except in the Awareness, I guess I’m not as aware as I thought I was, or maybe I wasn’t as aware as I usually am since I this is my last class. Another interesting aspect that I saw was the connections between all the areas of the compass. Sometimes when my mental score was low my awareness or physical score was low as well. It was an experiment that a thoroughly learned from and will use in the future.  

Total Compasses: 24

Total Points: 202

Overall Score Per Area and Average Score Per Area:

Work Cited

Pittmann, Cynthia. “Compass Reflection Essay"

The Greatest Disaster In Puerto Rico: A Reflection On Maria

Reflection on Maria

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It all happened with a bang. The power of my house went out, the windows began to shake, and the sound of the booming thunder and roaring winds filled every room of my apartment. From the rushing winds to the down pouring rain, all these beautiful and powerful sounds of nature, all of that coming to a rough stop as soon as it started.

Once the storm passed, it left behind a new and different Puerto Rico in its wake. But this new Puerto Rico wasn’t good, it wasn’t the beautiful island it once was, this new island was something perverse. Everything that the storm touched was destroyed leaving debris in its trails. I saw people doing lines for places with food, water, and ice that stretched for miles and lasted hours upon hours for them to not receive anything since they either closed shop or they ran out of stock. You could also see many others doing the same lines but this time for gasoline, or as I liked to call it, liquid gold, as the value of a gallon of gasoline could sometimes be compared to that of a bottled water in the hottest of days. I knew that this storm was going to test my will as well as my strength as a person, a son, a grandson, and as an individual.

With the passing of the storm many new problems aroused from it. One of them happened to me after the passing of the hurricane, one of the drain pipes that helps the water flow from the roof of the apartment to the ground got clogged and instead of the water flowing down the pipe it began to flow into our floor. For the next four hours my father and I had to grab mops and towels to try and control the overflow of water that was caused by both the damaged drain pipe and the downpour of water caused by the hurricane.

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An important aspect that I learned about myself is that I am quite a capable caregiver. My grandmother has Alzheimer’s and she’s also bedridden. Since there was no electricity on the island her nursing home had to temporarily close. We had to take her in and take care of her since she’s bed ridden and all. So basically, until her nursing home gets power again, I’ll be a college student as well as a nurse. Working with a handicapped person is challenge, especially one who’s bedridden. They have to be fed, cleaned, and taken care of in every single way. That has been one of the hardest things that I’ve had to do. When I first started taking care of her I was surprised on how easy the nurses made it look. For instance, moving her from a bed to a chair was a two-person job. She would stiffen her body which made her weight of 80 pounds multiply by two.

During the storm one of my main concerns was the safety of my friends. I didn’t have any sort of communication with them. My mind would always wonder to the worst outcome possible, even though I know deep down that they are fine but still those always lingers in my mind. My best friend, who has a generator, main concern was getting gas, since he was part of those that had to do an hour-long line to get some gas, just to have a little a bit of power and normality again in his house. He was such a good friend that he let me charge my electronics in his house as well as giving me cold water. Even now that I have yet to get electricity in my house he offers me his house to sleep with air conditioner.

Works Cited

Pittmann, Cynthia. Narrative essay on Hurricane Maria. Class assignment UPRRP. 28 Nov. 2017.

Looking Through My Notes: A Journal Reflection.

Looking Through My Notes: A Journal Reflection.

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            When I first heard that I had to do a journal for English, I was surprised. I have never done a journal, not because I didn’t want to but because I usually forgot to do record an entry, I could also be considered a bit inarticulate at times, but now that we were going to start writing on a journal and I couldn’t wait to have the experience of writing and maintaining one.

Albeit as we were getting ready to begin writing our journals, the professor began to give some rules that we had to follow. Some were basic, such as using an ink pen for all entries, don't worry about spelling, punctuation, grammar, and keeping your hand moving. Those rules were easy to understand. Then there were some rules that I didn’t understand at the moment such as lose control, don't think, don't get logical, go for the jugular, and write your first thoughts, out of these the ones that I had a hard time following were the ones of not thinking, not being logical and, the one of writing your first thoughts like, how were we supposed to write a journal entry without thinking what to write about or the ideas that you write about in that paper not being coherent with each other. Yet, as the teacher explained it more it made more sense. This wasn’t going to be your typical journal where you start with “Dear journal…” or “Dear diary…” The purpose of this school journal, unlike a regular journal, was to do a sort of psychoanalysis on ourselves with the thoughts and ideas that you’ve had during the day. This is better shown when we begin to do the daily compass, as its purpose is for us to analyze how we’ve been feeling during the day. 

Before we started doing this project I would take my time writing and thinking of the correct way to put my ideas together, dropping the pen and thinking. But now that we were in a time limit, and we also had a rule to not stop moving your hands for the time limit helped me to think of words quicker and to memorize them. This also helped my grammar since if I would forget how to write specifics words I replaced it with a synonym.

Ever since starting this project, I believe that I have been writing more about how I’m feeling as well as the thoughts and ideas that I have during the day, something which I didn’t do much or at all. It’s something beautiful and yet so fragile seeing these entries filled with those raw emotions that someone can have and yet it kind of makes a person vulnerable, after all its all your emotions and thoughts that are trapped in that in that thin white paper, marked with the ink of a pen that helps you express what you’re feeling on that day. For me, just the thought of someone reading the notebook terrifies me, the fact that they can know who I am, the real me, what I feel and what I think makes me feel so vulnerable, I guess that’s why many people don’t write in journals and if they do they hide it, since they’re afraid to be known to the world but yet it’s nice to see who you are and all the stuff that you thought and you did when you look back and read through it.

Works Cited

Goldberg, Natalie. Writing down the bones. Shambhala, 2010.

Pittmann, Cynthia. Journal Reflection work. 2018.

Black Men and Public Space: An Essay Analyzing on How Actions Can Mold a Whole Race

Black Men and Public Space: An Essay Analyzing on How Actions Can Mold a Whole Race

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            In the essay, Black Men and Public Space, by Brent Staples, he expresses his struggles of being a black man in a world where there’s a certain reputation that follows African Americans around. These struggles that he is self-aware of can be seen at the beginning of the essay with the following paragraph:

My first victim was a woman-white, well dressed, probably in her early twenties. I came upon her late one evening on a deserted street in Hyde Park, a relatively affluent neighborhood in an otherwise mean, impoverished section of Chicago. As I swung onto the avenue behind her, there seemed to be a discreet, inflammatory distance between us. Not so. She cast back a worried glance. To her, the youngish black man-a broad six feet two inches with a beard and billowing hair, both hands shoved into the pockets of a bulky military jacket-seemed menacingly close. After a few more quick glimpses, she picked up her pace and was soon running in earnest. Within seconds she disappeared into a cross street. (Pg. 419)

In the beginning sentence of his essay, you can see that there’s an ironic twist to it since the way he words it’s like he’s done some sort of crime, specifically a murder. But really, his “victim” was just someone that due to the place that she was and the time that it was, took the decision of running away from Mr. Staples, even if he didn’t pose an immediate threat, but because he looked like he could, after all, he was bigger than her, both in height and width and possibly stronger than her. But besides his size and his build, a factor that determined her to take that decision was because he was black. 

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Yes, the action that the woman takes does injure Mr. Staples, as he posed no threat to the woman but because he was black and his physical characteristics of a mountain she mistook him for a mugger, rapist, or even a murderer, when he was just walking to try and kill his insomnia, this event is the first of many that makes Mr. Staples realize that he has an ability, like he says, “the ability to alter public space in ugly ways.” But this cursed ability that he has wasn’t because he wanted to have it, it’s actually because of the actions that other black people have taken that affect this view of themselves. According to US Census Bureau, “13.3 percent of Americans are Black or African American and 76.9 percent of Americans are White (this percent includes Hispanic and Latinos)” (Bureau) and according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, “Black offenders committed 52 percent of homicides recorded in the data between 1980 and 2008. Only 45 percent of the offenders were white.” Now if you look at it, the numbers do look similar, there only being a difference of 7 percent. But what you must see is that the African American population is only a 13 percent and yet they have a higher homicide rate than whites, a population that is much higher than the black one. Because of the actions that a minority group inside of the African American community, the ones that do the crime, the rest of community suffers with them. Like the old saying goes, one bad apple spoils the whole bunch.

Works Cited

Jarmin, Ron. “Census”. Gov. 2017

-   https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/US/PST045217

Cooper, Alexia and Smith, Erica L. “Homicide Trends in the United States, 1980-2008” 2011

-   https://www.bjs.gov/content/pub/pdf/htus8008.pdf

Staples, Brent. “Black Men and Public Space” 1986

Life, a Long, Treacherous, and Emotional Crossroad

Life, a Long, Treacherous, and Emotional Crossroad

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I ended my one-year relationship with my girlfriend six months ago. Though I loved her very much, she didn’t feel the same way. Up until this point, we’ve had fun. We’ve gotten out in many dates, watched many movies together and had have spent countless of hours hanging out both inside and outside the school, as well as talked over the phone. However, in later moments this all changed, she grew colder, more distant and less affectionate. At first, I thought I did something to offend her or hurt her feelings but every time I went up to her to ask if she was ok, she would have a ghastly look on her face and say, “I’m fine.” That hideous phrase, that damn and retched phrase.  I knew she wasn’t fine, but she would never say anything, I tried to talk it out with her to see what was the problem, I even went as far as to think that maybe I was the problem, but whenever I brought it up she would look at me straight in the eyes and usher that foul phrase, “Jan, I’m fine.”

Perhaps a more intellect and a less emotionally driven version of me would have seen the signs a mile away, but at the time I couldn’t see them and thus I denied them, I would lie to myself, “Maybe she’s just tired”, “She’s been arguing with her parents again, maybe I have to give her some space.”, “She’s been doing a lot of work recently.” Nonetheless, at the same time, I would answer myself those questions, “She does less work than you, how can she be tired?”, “You argue with your parents all the time, yet you don’t treat people differently.”, “We’re both in the same school plus you have a job so how can’t she find time to talk, if you can.” So I began to ponder, why was she treating me so differently? Why was she being so cold and evasive and yet… she wanted to remain together. Now, five months later, I’ve been told that she just stopped loving me, she has not been loving me for quite a while and yet, we remained. She was unhappy with me and I was worried about her coldness. Something she could have avoided entirely if she would have just told me these simple words, “Jan, I don’t love you anymore.” And still to this day I have yet to hear those words come out of her mouth.

Before the day that I ended our relationship, we’ve had many fights. Some were stupid, while others had a great impact on me. However with every fight we had, I wanted to resolve the issue at hand, but she wanted to avoid it by saying, “Stop bringing it up.”, “Let’s move on.”, “Could we start over?” I couldn’t keep doing this anymore. I grew tired of her being so distant and cold to me when I never did anything to hurt her or make her angry. I was tired of feeling this inexplicable pain in my stomach and always feeling ill when she would so cold and heartless towards me and then act as if nothing was wrong. So on a Sunday morning, I gave her a call, and I told her that we should go our own separate ways, even though I didn’t want to, I had to cause I couldn’t take her being cold and distance, I couldn’t take this pain anymore and her response from the other side of the phone was a monotone, “Okay.”

Works Cited

Pittman, Cynthia. Class assignment from reading "Using I..." by Cynthia Pitmann

Girl: A Guide On Becoming A Woman

Girl: A guide to becoming a woman

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            I would first like to clarify that the title that I have chosen for this essay is both a mixture of irony and the truth. For starters, the whole purpose of this short story is how a mother teaches her daughter the do’s and don’ts of being a woman and giving her both the wisdom and the help on keeping a house and a family one day. This could be seen in this small excerpt of the story,"Girl"(122) “Wash the white clothes on Monday and put them on the stone heap; wash the color clothes on Tuesday and put them on the clothesline to dry; don’t walk bare-head in the hot sun; cook pumpkin fritters in very hot sweet oil;” The rest of the short story follows the same concept as the mother continues to teach the daughter. But besides household chores, she also tells her how to catch fish and make herbal medicine, either to help your health or “to help your life”. She also tells her daughter about relationships as well as behaving in different situations. Thought for some it might seem crude when her mother calls her a slut, at the end of the day she just really wants what’s the best for her. After all, that’s what every single mother wants.

            Something to take into consideration is the time that this short story was written. Though the story was published during June 26, 1978, the author, Jamaica Kincaid, was born in 1949 and lived during the 50s and 60s, a time where women were basically objects for men or as the term goes, “trophy wife”. The advice and teachings that her mother offers her are that in which she could be the woman of the house and take care of her family.

            Something I find very interesting is the title of this short story. You see, the title can be seen in a few ways. First, it could be the way the mom refers to the girl, an example of this is “Girl, wash the white clothes on Monday and put them on the stone heap.” compared to the original sentence from Girl (122) which is “Wash the white clothes on Monday and put them on the stone heap.” Second, it could be about the word girl itself. The definition of girl is, “a female child” or a young or relatively young woman. The character who the mother talks to can fall in either of these definitions or in both, as she can either be a child or a young woman when she’s being told these lessons by her mother. Another way of seeing it is that she’s being told all these lessons from a young age and they continue to be taught until she’s close on becoming a woman, and with this, I bring my third point, the story is called girl because compared to her mother that’s what she is. She’s an innocent and naïve girl who’s about to enter womanhood yet she hasn’t, hence her mom warning her of not becoming a slut and acting more ladylike.

            Girl was an excellent short story where it tackles both social issues as well as the role of the traditional woman, especially housewives. The short story also shows us a glimpse to the past as it was a sort of “tradition” for mothers to teach their daughters on how to be ladylike and being housewives by doing chores and taking care of your family. The way that the mother gives all these lessons to her daughter across the story, is so that she could be ready for a life of family and commitment, even including one lesson that is all about the relationship between wife and spouse, saying that you can love a man as much as you want but if he doesn’t love you back you can and must move on. Overall, though sometimes some advice in the story was a bit harsh and she called her names a few times, mothers only want the best for her daughters.  

Works Cited

Pittmann, Cynthia. Reflection on "Girl". By Kincaid, Jamaica.

“Girl.” Dictionary.com, Dictionary.com, www.dictionary.com/browse/girl.

Kincaid, Jamaica. "Girl" 1978

Salvation: The Irony Of A Title.

Salvation: The Irony Of A Title.

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            “Salvation” by Langston Hughes is anything but what the title says. Salvation is part of Langston Hughes’ memoir The Big Sea. This part of his memoir focuses on a coming of ages experience he had when he was twelve years old. The essay begins with Hughes explaining how he was “…saved from sin when I was going on thirteen.” This first sentence of this memoir briefly defines the concept of what salvation is, salvation means “preservation or deliverance from harm, ruin, or loss.” but that’s just one definition, another definition of salvation in the concept of theology is “deliverance from sin and its consequences, believed by Christians to be brought about by faith in Christ.” thought the title can be viewed as any of these definitions it mainly focuses on the second definition as the setting of the essay focus mostly on a church as well as the main conflict of the essay.

            Hughes begins to explain how there was there has been a big revival at his auntie’s church. If you’re a Catholic or a Christian, you might have had to go to at least one revival in your life but for those who are not Catholics or Christians, revivals are a restoration of the church itself as well as a relationship with God after a period of moral decline. One of the “activities” that happen during this period of revival is mass conversions of non-believers, which is what Hughes focus on his memoir.

            As the revival period came to an end the church decides to do a special meeting where they would, “…bring the young lambs to the fold.” In other words, they would be officially converted to Christians. When Hughes heard this, he was excited to be converted like the memoir indicates, “My aunt told me that when you were saved you saw a light, and something happened to you inside! And Jesus came into your life! And God was with you from then on! She said you could see and hear and feel Jesus in your soul. I believed her. I had heard a great many old people say the same thing and it seemed to me they ought to know. So, I sat there calmly in the hot, crowded church, waiting for Jesus to come to me.” Even though the church was uncomfortable he remained sitting waiting to see and hear Jesus. But as the preacher finished his sermon, he asked the children “Won't you come? Won't you come to Jesus? Young lambs, won't you come?” and while some children stood up immediately, most of them stayed sitting on the bench but little by little, probably by the pressure of the singing and praying people they stood up and went to the altar. Until it was only Westley and Hughes sitting on the bench, after a few minutes Westley gets tired of sitting and goes to the alter leaving only Hughes behind. Now, this worries all the members of the church including the preacher and his aunt, the preacher even asking him “Langston, why don't you come? Why don't you come and be saved? Oh, Lamb of God! Why don't you come?” But the reason for this is because Hughes hasn’t seen Jesus yet and this worries him as he has been told that he sees a light and all of that but nothing of that happens, almost taking it to a literal level instead of symbolic but then again, Hughes is only 12, he’s still a child who’s concept of symbolism is quite little so when his aunt told him he would see a sign, he thought he would see a literal sign, but it never came.

            Feeling ashamed of himself for holding the revival up, Hughes stood up and went to the altar as he has finally seen Jesus. As he walks to the altar everyone begins to celebrate since he has found Jesus, everyone believed it except Hughes himself. Later that night, Hughes begins to cry in his bed, his auntie believed he was crying tears of joy as he had seen Jesus, but it was the complete opposite. Hughes was crying because he had not seen Jesus or like he says, “I hadn't seen Jesus, and that now I didn't believe there was a Jesus anymore since he didn't come to help me.”

            Like I mentioned earlier this memoir is an excellent example of what a coming of age story is, as Hughes, a boy who wanted to believe and see Jesus slowly loses his faith as he neither showed up in the church nor did he help Hughes at his time of need. 

Works Cited

Pittman, Cynthia. Class assignment reflection from story "Salvation" by Langston Hughes