Crucible Essay Reflection

      While writing the paper thus far, the only difficulty is arranging my thoughts in a way that flows. It is difficult to incorporate your opinions when you are reading someone else's opinion. I was happy with the draft that I have created, but I believe some work could be done to the paper. My transitions were weak.
      The pre-writing activities only expanded my thinking on writing and in ways, it made it harder to collect my thoughts. I had a more enduring writing experience last year while writing my essay over ways to preserve the planet because I was forced through school work to have parts of the essay completed. We would have deadlines where smidges of the paper would need to be done and we recieved feedback on how well everything flowed thus far. Writing everything part by part is easier than just sitting down and saying "okay, i'm going to get this done today," which is exactly what I did. I sat down and wrote the draft in 3 hours at home. In future essays, I will go back and write only sections of the paper at a time.
     Having another student read the draft was benefitial because it just cemented what I already thought I may need to improve on. Alie said my transitions needed work, but she also gave me support and commented that my writing was very good. When I read through her work, I noticed how different our papers were and it was interesting to see how other people had interpreted the topic. Her paper centered more firmly around John Proctor than mine did, and it supplied me with new ideas and ways I could incorporate him better into my own essay.
      In my next revision, I will work on my transitions and adding meaning behind my points. I know I have alot of very good and interesting information, it just needs to be presented in a more flowy manner. I will also edit my work cited page and have that completed by the time this next draft is finished.

Option 2 - My relationships with others

     I'm a type of person that is influenced by everything around me, including people. And I believe that you don't know the impact someone has on you until that person is gone. Friends move away and relatives dwindle. The people that posed the biggest influence on me were my parents. My mom and I act exactly alike, according to anyone who knows us both. We have the same opinions on a lot of subjects, our laughs even sound the same. I'm very personable and friendly from watching my dad. He always had a way of making others around him feel important and special and I was always aspiring to do as he did.
     I have many of the same friends as I did in grade school, and I believe that's partially because we influence eachother in positive ways. Ronald Franz was influenced by Alex first by becoming his friend. And we all know that if your most trusted best friend suggests you do something, you actually consider it, and in some occasions, you even act upon it. Ronald took Alex's suggestion to leave everything behind and test his luck in the wild, and Ronald wouldn't of done it unless him and Alex had truly had that bondadge. There's such a love between the two characters, you can't help but feel sorry for Ronald when he hears of Alex's passing.
      But the thing with influencing others is it doesn't matter whether you're alive, dead, a million miles away, or right down the street; whatever influence someone had will always effect others.

Rebirth.

        Completely frustrated with my day thus far, I escaped my world and ventured to where my only enemy was the changing season. With exhaustion, I sat upon the ground and pressed my back against a sturdy grand oak. The grass under my legs still remained richened from the summer, and it was appealingly soft. With each gust of wind, a blanket of leaves would sprout wings and dance to different songs; some songs were quick and wicked while others where soft and pittiful. At one moment where the leaves moved to my agitation, a dead, tan leaf landed upon my folded legs and I swatted it away with annoyance, only to regret the action instantly.
        I sighed and scolded myself for my harshness; nature was my only escape and I should not have punished it. For such a thing, I could only blame myself. How could everything around me be falling apart, crumbling through the floor? And how do I take action for the shit in my life? I attack a defenseless leaf that was only given to me by God.
       Closing my eyes, I allow the sun's warmth to melt the lines of stress from my forehead. I was amazed how in such an unforgiving season, the sun was able to avail and turn my pale skin to a glowing silk.
        The black-winged birds high in the branches above me paid no mind to the wind, nor me, who was now folded, knees to chest, beside their tree. And with a quiet toon, I imaged the dark birds were whispering to me. They spoke with pitty in their cries and desperation and I finally realized how I was suppost to move on.
         I stood and a gale rose so mighty that I momentarily feared it would take me from my place and lift me to heaven. But I stayed sprouted and I allowed the leaves to twine into my hair and the sun to burry itself into the poors of my skin. And my eyelids closed as I basked in a feeling that had been foreign to me for too long.... peacefulness.

Character Analysis of Elizabeth Proctor

1)    Elizabeth Proctor has proven to be a static character and a foil character thus far in the story. Her personality has not changed since we learned of her views on her husband's affair; we know she still has not forgiven John Proctor. Her character "foils" with that of Abigail because the girls contrast eachother. She hates Abigail and suspects her husbands feelings for the young girl in every opportunity she gets - "John, if it were not Abigail that you must go to hurt, would you falter now? I think not." page 193. She may embody a protagonist or an antagonist because while you may want to rute for her, she stirs the pot of  arguements with her husband towards the beginning of this act - "You come so late I thought you'd gone to Salem this afternoon." page 192. Because most of the story surrounds Abigail and John Proctor at this point, Elizabeth is not much of a major character, only in the fact that the wall between Abigial and John is she. We do not know much about Elizabeth but that she hadn't attended church because of her illnesses and that she is married to and has children with John Proctor, which makes her seem like a flat character.

2)   Goody Proctor proclaims herself as "...a convenanted Christan woman." (page 199). We are not given much information concerning Elizabeth's background, but I can interpret her personality through her words. She seems like she may have once been a very lighthearted, burden-free woman. She had a loving and honest husband whom she didn't think would every dishonor her and she was a good role-model for her children. But over time, she grew suspicious of John and eventually voiced that suspicion only to find that she was correct, that her husband had cheated on her. When that happened, she felt like she no longer had a grip on her life because the one person that she trusted more than anyone had stabbed her in the back. Now everytime he leaves, Elizabeth can't help but wonder where John is going and what he is doing, yet she claims to him that "I do not judge you..." (page 194). She has no trust in him, yet she is still in love with him. She wants things to go back to the way they were, when they were just a big happy family, but every time she looks at John, she has a pang of anger that pierces her heart.

3)   Elizabeth's main conflict that she faces in the story is how she will deal with her husband's affair and how she can keep Abigail from doing something so awful that will ultimately break Elizabeth away from John. At this point, Abigail has accused Elizabeth to be a witch because her 'spirit'  jabbed a needle into Abigial's belly. This is an obviously false accusation and John knows it well. Elizabeth faces the problem that because everyone in the town of Salem is treating Abigail like she is the hand of God, people may now actually suspect her after the unjust claim; Abigail may have condemned her to death. Elizabeth's life is basically in the hands of her husband, whom she doesn't fully trust any longer. Not only is she dealing with his betrayal, but now she must face her own demise. There is a moment in Act II where Elizabeth has an outburst and says "The girl is murder! She must must be ripped out of the world!" (page 203), and this is a prime example of how Elizabeth is struggling at this point in her life.

How Dare You Call Me A Sinner

-A Puritain citizen who has lost touch with God and their religion.

     Today in church, Reverend Edwards delievered a sermon that slowly peeled away the layers of my skin. He stood before me saying that, "The bow of God's wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on the string, and justice bends the arrow at your heart....it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God.....being made drunk with your blood." (pg. 154) It is after sermon's like this that I question myself, yet again, if God would truly be angry with me. Have the small curses and foolishness that I commit truly cursed me to all damnation?
     My elders always taught me that God is a loving and caring being. That I was pure enough in spirit to have it ensured upon me that God would grace me with His hand the moment my heart seized to beat. And I believed in my faith, and held my faith like a child clutches a blanket to their breast. God was a beautiful dream that filled me with enough contemptment to sing me to sleep in the coldest, darkest nights.
     Then, as I aged, my luck fled from me. My crops refused to grow and as my elders left me, one after the other, I felt myself sinking into a bottomless pit of dread. I would sit alone, trapped in my thoughts, and wonder if I would still be graced with God, if he was only testing my faith. But how can someone (God) be so great in His mighty and not turn his head as I pleaded on my knees day and night for change?
     So today, I unlocked myself from my only shelter and sat awkwardly in the back pew of the church. Somber faces walked past me, staring in a confused fashion in my direction. My chin lifted, for how dare they not accept me! I sat tall, my backbone stiff as brick, and gazed forward as Reverend Edwards centered himself at the front of the room.
     "We find it easy to tread on and crush a worm that we see crawling on the earth; so it is easy for us to cut or singe a slender thread that any thing hangs by; thus easy is it for God when he pleases to cast his enemies down to hell...", (pg.153)  preached Jonathan Edwards.
      I looked around in bewilderment as faces remained stilled and children sat silent. How could these people not react? How could they possibly believe that we would be victums of  the "fierceness and wrath of Almighty God..."? (pg. 156) Was this some kind of horrible game, that a speaker of God would be throwing words like flames at us? The God that Edwards was preaching of would surely never be cruel to the young children that sat, wide eyed, in the pews! He would never judge so harshly and He would surely never want His name to be one that made people cower in fear! A sudden rage flamed in my chest and it took all of my will-power not to storm down the aisle of the church and hollar what a sham and what dishonor was being preached!
     Instead, I sulked in my seat, my shoulders brushing my ear-lobes in an attempt to cover my ears without bringing attention to myself. And every time "hell" was spoken or "wrath", I felt as if I were being stung by an annoying wasp. By no means could I believe, even for a moment, that what was being said may possibly be true. By the time Reverend Edwards exclaimed "O sinner! consider the fearful danger you are in: it is a great furnace of wrath, a wide and bottomless pit, full of the fire of wrath, that you are held over in the hand of that God, whose wrath is provoked and incensed as much against you, as against many of the damned in hell."(pg. 156), my head began to spin and my stomach churned. The room was suddenly to warm to bear and the last thing I heard before the large, splintering wood doors  swung behind me was, "It would be dreadful to suffer this fierceness and wrath of Almighty God one moment; but you must suffer it to all eternity." (pg. 156)
     Loose rain drops splattered my forehead as I crouched on the front steps of the church. In that moment, I vowed that I would not return to church until Reverend Edwards bid his eternal fairwell. His God was not the same being that my God was and until people saw His light as I once did, I would no longer feel His grace at all....
 

My views on writing...

    I am looking forward to this more challenging english class because I feel like I can actually do the work. I like to be challenged in my writing and I love any excuse to write. In the past, when having to write a paper, be it research or creative, I have taken alot of time and thought into it. I even have afterthoughts when I know there is no way I can change what I wrote, and I think about how I could've worded something better, or added humor here, or carried the story in a different plot turning way. I consider myself a good writer, but I am usually not confident in showcasing my writing. I do feel pride, usually, instead of embarrasment after my work is read, but in the past I haven't been too thrilled to have to read my work aloud. I think that is because I pour alot of myself into my writing; it's my way of expressing myself.      When I write for more of a research paper, I spend alot of time editing and revising. Last year I had over fifty note cards of quotes and statistics which I organized and numbered and filed into different catagories. I chose a topic that was different than any one elses and received an A on my paper. Even when it came to writing a speech about the topic you chose, I continued on my topic and felt empowered when I delivered my speech. As soon as it was over, I wanted to stand up and give it again. But beforehand, sitting there writing the speech, I remember being completely flustered because I didn't want to portray something in a way that no one could understand.        
    When I was younger, my teachers would always comment that I wrote the way I spoke....back then I didn't understand whether that was a compliment or an insult. And I saved mostly all of the things I had to write from way back then, and I understand somewhat more now. I didn't have much of a filter when I use to write, and my papers would be filled with my own opinions. I have learned to many more words since those days though, and I never turn in any writing that I'm not 100% comfterble with; otherwise I'd be up the entire night beforehand, rewriting the entire piece.

   I am mostly excited for the romance and horror sections of reading for this year. These are two generes that I read mostly and feel like I would enjoy the most. The poetry and some of the novels have me a little worried that they won't hold my attention as much, but I'm willing to try...