“I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.” 

- John Green, Looking for Alaska 

Looking for Alaska by John Green is amazing written novel for young adults. It incorporates love and tragedy a combination that draws the reader in. It starts with a young boy  in his teenage years looking for something new and getting away from the life he's so used to. Looking for a great perhaps, and in looking for all of that he meets new friends and a girl that changes his life. Miles Halter enters a new environment where he's nicknamed Pudge because of his contradicting tall and skinny structure. Through out the book they face many challenges, The Eagle, their World Religions teacher, studying for finals, how to spend the holidays, and even pulling off the biggest prank of the year. They’re friendships still remain even when another team player is no longer in the game. They fight and argue, they make up, but most importantly they play video games with the sound off. No matter how bad things get they pull through. Looking for Alaska presents a group a friends that shows solidarity in their best and worst times. It gives an outlook on friendship and the value of life and the people you care about. Looking for Alaska captures a lot of feelings. It doesn’t leave out any real life details. You really get to grow attached to each of the characters as they reveal more about themselves. They each have little details that stand out, The Colonel’s love for his mother, Alaska’s fear of going home, and Pudge’s obsession of famous last words, and more of those little details become more aware to you as you read. Pudge’s struggle, Alaska’s struggle, and The Colonel’s struggle. All of their characters have something they struggle with individually and as a unit. As John Green’s first novel its also the best. “Will we ever escape this labyrinth of suffering?” was a question that come up that caught my attention, because it can mean something different to everyone. This book will affects each person that reads it differently, and how they connect to the story and each character. Pudge, The Colonel, Takumi, and Alaska will always share memories and experiences that will stay with them for the rest of their lives. 

Poem 

Pudge: 

She’s everything that makes my world stop

My heart skip a beat

My fingertips turn to ice

Alaska’s touch is as cold as the words that roll off her tongue

She tastes like cigarettes and liquor 

I long for that taste again

I’m hungry for a women I’ll never taste again

Alaska: 

I’m in love with him 

And even though you’ll never hear me say it

I’m in love with you too

I’m so many things

But not enough of the right ones

I hate to kill you with my serpent's tongue 

But I’ve been hiding in the grass so long 

I forgot what I’ve become

Alaska: He knows so many last words but he will never know mine

Pudge: I know so many last words but I will never know hers

Journal#1

Iago:

(aside) I have rubbed this young quat almost to the sense,

And he grows angry.

Now, whether he kill Cassio

Or Cassio him,

or each do kill the other,

He calls me to a restitution large

Of gold and jewels that I bobbed from him

As gifts to Desdemona.

It must not be. If Cassio do remain

He hath a daily beauty in his life

That makes me ugly. And besides, the Moor

May unfold me to him—there stand I in much peril.

(Looks down to his hands)

No, he must die. But so, I hear him coming. 

Iago looks and gestures to the audience his plan. He looks to the sky/ceiling about not giving Desdemona the gifts from Rodrigo. He looks down to speak to himself when saying Cassio must die. He walks off when he hears them coming.  

Journal#2

            Cassio is Othello’s lieutenant, he plays a big role in the play. Iago uses Cassio to his advantage to take him out of his lieutenancy and trick Othello. Cassio wants to get his job back. He goes to talk to Desdemona in hope that she could convince her husband to give him his job back as lieutenant. Cassio wouldn’t do anything purposely to hurt his General. Though hes told that he can get his job back by speaking with Desdemona. She gave him her word she would help him get his job back. (Act 3 Scene 3)

Journal#3

Desdamona was young when her mother died. At a young age she had to learn how to clean and cook so she could take care of the house while her father worked. She wanted a little sister but never had one. She wished she had siblings growing up because she was lonely. Even when she had time with her father it wasn't much because he was always working. She grew bored very quickly with home life. As she got older she tried to escape the house as much as possible without her father knowing. She felt locked up in that old house. When she met Othello she knew that her father wouldn't like him. Though she fell in love with moor and didn't want anything to ruin it. Even if she had to stand up to her father. Though sweet and delicate Desdemona was determined for her love, for Othello. 

Journal #4

My characters tone of voice is gentle and isn’t in the scene very long. She comes in has four lines and then she leaves. She doesn’t very many movements but talking to her husband about Cassio. My prop is going to be a lap scarf as my handkerchief. My group has worked on different movements that can be done in the scene to make it look better and more convincing. A lot of the movements happen between Othello and Iago. We agreed on certain movements like Iago is moving around a lot whispering lies to Othello.

Journal#5

“Why your lieutenant Cassio, good my lord if I have any grace or power to move you, his present reconciliation take, I prithee call him back”

This is an important line for Desdemona because she is standing up for Cassio. Shes trying her best to guarantee his spot back as Othello’s lieutenant. Though that’s not what Iago has been telling Othello. So it changes how Othello sees her and how he feels about her when all she does is talk about Cassio. I think I did my best for this line. I tried to sound like I was trying to convince him to speak with Cassio. For the group performance I think it went really well. I’m proud of the fact that everyone in my group did there best even thought we all didn’t have our lines memorized and that’s one thing I would change so we could be more into the scene but I think it went really well. I think seeing the performances and performing part of the play helped better with the understanding of because some things registered that I might not have understood before. I think it gave everyone a better understanding of the play because we got to look at it in different ways and tones.

When other people go through a great loss, its not the same impact on you as the other person if you weren’t close to that person. Losing people is probably a fear most people have. When you lose someone you make the realization that nothing is forever. You only have a limited amount of time with the people you care about. I think people more than anything try to stray away from that thought. Something that was new for me was how my great grandmother died. I hadn’t known her, and was never aware of how she died. Though I was aware of how some of my great uncles had died. We are a big family but as the years go one we lose members and we gain them. This is true for every family. We all hope that we are carried into old age with the people we love and cherish. Though it isn’t always that way, and it seems like it should be. I fear losing my mother though I try not to dwell on it. She’s an important aspect of my life, and I know that no matter what she’s there if I need her. 

That’s not my name

The history of my name is a short one. It’s my moms name, no one else in my family that I know of has the same name as my mother and me. My mother’s maiden name is Martina Elizabeth Williams, and my name is Marteena Saraya Johnson. A lot of people think because my mom’s and my name are pronounced the same that I’m a second. But our first names aren’t spelled the same and we don’t share the same middle or last name.

            There are different variations of my name that my family calls me. Lil Mart, little Marty, or just Marty. My mom is called Big Marty when were together because we have the same nickname. It’s a confusing moment when my grandmother calls one of us but we don’t know whom she’s talking to. So she has to say, “No, little Marty.” Or “Big Marty.” It seems weird when you think about it but it’s something I’ve lived with for a long time and I’m used to it by now.

            Personally I don’t like my name. I don’t like the sound of it. I don’t think it fits me. Like James Baldwin says in his essay, If Black English isn’t a Language, Then Tell Me, What Is? “Now, no one can eat his cake and have it too” Just because I identify myself as one doesn’t mean I’m not the other. I may be addressed as Marty, but Marteena is still my name and apart of who I am. I think the name fits my mom better though. My mom is a lot more feminine than me. She doesn’t own a single pair of sneakers that aren’t for working out. I’m used to teachers calling me by first name, but most of my peers and friends call me Marty. I prefer to be called Marty, because it feels like it gives off the boyish quality about me. I don’t like to wear skirts. I usually wear jeans, or sweatpants, and sneakers. Sometimes I don’t respond to Marteena at all, or I’ll reply with “that’s not my name.”

Some people just like the sound of Marteena, more than Marty, and it doesn’t always bother me. Though there’s a distinct difference between Marteena and Marty. Marteena is the type of person to be patient, and polite. A lot of parents joke about trading kids when they meet Marteena. Marty is stubborn and impatient, and often has a bad temper. She also doesn’t like having her sleep tampered with. If she’s sleeping, it’s not the best idea to sit in the hallway near her room.

There were snickers and laughs coming from the hallway outside of my door. My little brother and cousin were in the hallway outside of my room door. I yelled,

“Can you move from outside of my door!”

“We’re not outside of your door, we’re in the hallway.”

“Well, can you move? I can hear you in my room!”

I throw my sheets over my head and lay down. I can still hear my brother and cousin talking. I hate having to get up when I’m tired. I get up and go outside. My brother and cousin are not even a foot away from my door.

            “Can you move from outside of my door?”

They look at me and keep talking like I didn’t say anything.

“Move!”

I hate having to yell to get them to listen. It’s annoying and they always want to act tough and talk back because I am not an adult. I am still older than them, therefore, they still have to listen to me. It seems that they only listen when I yell. As they move from in front of my door, I go back to my room. My chances at getting sleep are at a zero now because I did so much yelling. I lay down anyway, and my mom comes in my room about fifteen minutes later to tell me there is pizza downstairs.

                        Unlike Marty, Marteena isn’t the type of person to yell. She tries not to be rude. She’s also a lot more soft spoken. I think there’s a middle where Marteena and Marty live together. There is not usually just one and not the other a lot of the time. Sometimes there is but its not often, but Marty does show a lot more. Marty is more of a nerd, she like video games, watching comedy, she’s funny, she doesn’t care about much it depends on the situation, and she’s loud. Marty also has the more “do it yourself” attitude, if she wants something done, she’ll do it herself because she’s to impatient to rely on other people and she’s wants it done her way. Marteena is quite, shy, silly at times, a little girly, and she’s more sensitive to peoples’ feelings. Marty is more loose and free while Marteena is more conserved. They also share some of the same qualities. Which is a love for writing whether it be poetry or a story, reading because reading has always been apart of my life, I try my best to make time to read a good book.

I think they both come together on an emotional level, especially when it comes to writing because there’s a lot of feeling in the writing and they share those same feelings. When it comes down to emotions Marty is more conserved with her feelings, while Marteena is an open book. Marteena is the pen while Marty is the paper and the words are the middle, which is where they meet.

I don’t know. That’s all I’ve been saying lately. It seems like I don’t even know myself. I don’t know how I feel. I mean I do, but I don’t at the same time. I don’t understand how you can know but not know how you feel. It’s confusing to me and I’d rather not even try to explain it. I don’t know what words to use to describe how I feel. I’m not even sure I could string together enough sense to make sense of what this feeling is. You just feel it, there’s no name for it not even a vast vocabulary could describe this. My only explanation is through metaphors and similes. It’s like light shining after a long darkness. Not an eye stinging early morning light, but peaceful. Like the warm sun shining over your face while the light flickers off of your irises and makes them look clear and bright. Its like that nervous butterfly feeling you get mixed with a little despise. It’s a weird plot twist that can but cannot be explained. There are emotions that conflict but don’t seem to come anywhere near each other.

Her long hair always seems to tangle and intertwine between my fingers. I love the way her fingers stroke the back of my neck, while I burry my face in her neck resting my chin on her collar bone. When she sees me her grey irises grow wide and her smile becomes soft. Looking up at my bedroom ceiling I think of the way her brown cheeks look. How there’s a faint red in those cheeks, and they feel like rose petals beneath my fingers. I know she’s not mine, and she may never be mine. But how long is never really? Never could end tomorrow, there’s a light in this woman’s soul. That just might put an end to the dark road I’ve been traveling on.

 Do I make sense? Or is this just too confusing. Its just one of those things you have to know personally to understand, but does that really matter? Because I know the feeling and even I don’t understand. I keep second-guessing myself on what this feeling means. I think from now on I’ll just call it “that feeling” ‘cause it’s really just that feeling. That feeling you get when something beyond what you were expecting happens, and in that moment the flutter of a heart beat against eardrums and constricting arms become home. I swear I could sleep in her arms forever.