Max Vandenburg's Facebook

This method of analyzing Max Vandenburg, a character from The Book thief  didn’t terribly influence my perspective or help me understand him any better. I feel that using social media was a rather irrelevant method, considering when the story takes place. My opinion probably stems from the fact I don’t terribly think social media is something deep or something that really reveals character. When you talk to a friend, you don’t think about what you’ll say for long periods of time, debate how it will make them perceive you, and if they’ll like it. You do all of those things when you post something on a social media site. More often then less you’re not expressing yourself, you’re advertising yourself. Regardless, this was interesting to do. Technology wise I did learn a bit more about photoshop and it was enjoyable along with making up posts. It was pretty fun. I really enjoyed looking up songs in particular. Ask anyone, I have a lovely knack for finding a song fitting to anything and any occasion. Finding songs for Max to post about was definitely fun for me. 

Some Facts About

***SOME FACTS ABOUT***

CLAIRE DONAGHUE

She was a short, plump young lady, 

and her face was always covered in red patches and scabs.

She helped care for her mother,  who just barely escaped me. 

She was a wonderful artist,  and could make paints dance to her every whim.

She wasn't as skilled with words.

Surprisingly, her first learned language wasn't English, 

it was sarcasm. 

Though she was good at masking that from strangers,

at least, until they stopped being strangers to her.

Fifteenth Birthday ( Color Based Memory )

The murky low hanging clouds were close enough to suffocate
As she grazed her hand against the rough concrete barriers. 
She observed a haze of pale grays and whites, clinging to the ground, 
The veil of mist, and melodic singing that was ringing in her ears
The piles of snow on the ground, and the soft rumble of water cascading
She moved towards the sound, with a humble ashen trench coat hugging her body. 
Hugging her, because no one else would. 

She stood, the spray of the crashing water brushing her cheeks
The river was roaring, churning, pushing against the barriers. 
So close, the muddy green water, you could reach out and just, touch, it. 

It spit and lashed out, arcing waves trying to break the concrete chasm. 
She watched it closely, pale pink skin blending against the mottled stones. 
The water looked welcoming and almost reassuring. 
She wanted nothing more than to vanish into the churning white turmoil, 
Two steps forward, no turning back, and she could. 

She thought, chestnut hair pulled tightly back, she frowned annoyed
It was eight feet down, to the cold river, the gray icy void
Just six feet below ground, to black dresses and small oak boxes
She moved back as rain began to fall,
funerals are too expensive now a days, 
and I don't have any black dresses.

Lightning Strike

What if this storm ends?

And I don't see you
As you are now
Ever again

The perfect halo
Of gold hair and lightning
Sets you off against
The planet's last dance

Just for a minute
The silver forked sky
Lit you up like a star
That I will follow

Now it's found us
Like I have found you
I don't want to run
Just overwhelm me

What if this storm ends?
And leaves us nothing
Except a memory
A distant echo

I want pinned down
I want unsettled
Rattle cage after cage
Until my blood boils

I want to see you
As you are now
Every single day
That I am living

Painted in flames
All peeling thunder
Be the lightning in me
That strikes relentless 

Photograph

Together two boys squeezed into a oversized leather coat. If it weren't for the hair color the two could be mistaken for twins. Both the same hight with the same goofy smiles on their faces. They're unaware of so much, both are happy. One doesn't understand the danger his father has been in, just to protect their country. The other doesn't know that fourteen years of smoking in her youth would give his mother an illness known for it's high death tolls. Neither know. They don't know that in the next few years they will drift apart and that their brotherly friendship will only briefly be mentioned and will only be mentioned in past tense. These boys don't know much, but it's what gives them joy. They don't know that they're lower middle class. They do know that rolling down hills, in old vacuum cleaner boxes, will provide hours of fun and head trauma. These boys don't know much. But maybe. It's for the better. 

Poems

Poem that I love;
Robert Frost's "Fire and Ice"
Some people say the world will end in fire
Some say in Ice
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire
But If It had to perish twice, 
I think I know enough of hate 
to say that for destruction of ice
Is also great
and would suffice.
Personally it is one of my all time favorite poems ( ironically not listed on either website we were given to use, so screw that I'm still using it ), I've adored it since I was younger, I love poems that rhyme, and simply sound pleasing to the ear and this poem definitely does it for me. I also love the meaning that one can find within the poem I don't believe poems have one set in stone meaning; that's like saying a painting is only meant to mean one thing to everyone. That's not true at all. I think that poems as well as any form of art, hold different meaning for different people, you can't just say it means one thing, to everyone. You can't really tell me "Oh this poem, it only means one thing, one way, ever, at all" I mean, you could say that to me, but I sure as Hell wouldn't listen. So I can personally find a good few different meaning to the poem myself. I don't think it necessarily is referencing the and of the world but the end of the world I find for me in this poem is an allusion to love. At least, that's the impression I've always gotten from it. Sort of explaining how first it can be of warmth desire, heat and fire, but when it ends it tends to be cold. I'm not very good at explaining what it means to me, but I really do love this poem. I'm very fond of it.

As for the poem I hate?
I couldn't find one.
I love poetry in general, and I genuinely couldn't find one I had a severe problem with. Even if I didn't necessarily adore the poem, I didn't hate it. It's hard for me to find things art related that I really really dislike. I'm a terrible disappointment that way. I mean the whole idea of finding a poem I hate, or violently digging for meaning reminds me of a poem;
"...But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.


They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means."
-Billy Collins
I mean I love poetry, I even love things that poets just say 
"To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work" 
-Mary Oliver
I mean that's not even a poem, that's just a quote from a poet and I really adore it. Guh, it's hard for me to find things that I really hate. That's all I suppose. 
So I think I'll just put up more poems that I love. Because I love them all.

Macbeth V

Durring Act Four we actually got to see some perspective on Macbeth from other characters which I very much enjoyed. I really liked getting to see Macduff, and he was probably one of my favorite characters for a lot of reasons. The fact that he's not just a cold man, and that he does actually value human life.  For example his quote to Malcolm after Malcolm suggested killing Macbeth for revenge, like a man "I shall do so/But I must also feel it as a man/I cannot but remember such things were/That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on," Showing that he did grieve for his family, and that violence shouldn't always be a man's first reaction to something negative. Overall I did really like getting some new perspective on Macbeth's actions. Perspective was something that I really did enjoy in act four. And the perspective on many of the characters


Also a song about perspective for you!