Blog Post #5

This picture reminds me of the many things in which people title themselves. The person in the picture is surrounded by all the thoughts that a person might be struggling with. I feel like this represents me because I struggle with these thoughts of am I good enough, just like the girl in the picture and everyone else. This reflects the thematic motif of identity/self because the girl is making those thoughts part of her identity.
self-esteem-girl
http://www.godandtacos.com/your-identity-in-christ/your-self-esteem/

Blog Post #4

Ugly by Christina Grimmie is a fitting song for Esperanza, because it is talking about what to do if you feel ugly compared to others. This fits Esperanza because she often feels bad about her looks when she looks at girls like Sally. In the song , it says “Funny how it looks when you switch the roles, Oh, Oh, Oh Oh, Never know what’s underneath until it gets exposed” and Esperanza never sees that even in their beauty that they, much like her, see flaws within themselves. Sally cakes on makeup to feel pretty, and that’s an example of trying to cover up the flaws that Esperanza sees in herself. It’s basically saying that everyone has flaws no matter how hard they try. This portrays Esperanza because she sees these other girls, and immediately feels ugly and like she is less than them. Esperanza looks at them and tries wearing heels and fancy dresses because she’s trying to be something she’s not – fake.

Blog Post #2

Dear Esperanza,

I know I usually am soft spoken and rarely give you the time of day. For that, I’m so sorry. I am here for you, and you know mama is. Nenny loves you a lot as well. She may not understand your problems, but she loves you so much, just like me. I’m sorry we throw Nenny at you, sweetheart. I’m working extra hard so one day we may have a better life. You handle life here well, even through the struggles. I know a lot has happened here, some that are good memories, and some are memories that make living life hard. I promise I’m working to get us out of here. I’m doing it for you and the rest of my beautiful children. I love you Esperanza, my special headstrong little girl.

Love, Papa

Blog Post #3

ME
I look different than the others

Their silky hair and pale skin like milky skim

“You’re beautiful” says all the mothers

But my mother can see I’m nothing like them.

They are the epiphany of beauty –

I’m just a plain Jane…

I wish I could share in their beauty

Instead of sitting thinking of all the gain.

I’ve been used but also had fun

My friends keep me busy

We play jump rope and dress up lit up by the sun

I think we are bees much buzzy.

Sometimes the world is unfair

But even now I see it something we must bare.

Blog Post #1

In the novel The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros, she uses symbolism in the short story The Family of Little Feet. The symbolism is directed towards Esperanza’s interest in feet and shoes that expresses her want to get far away from Mango Street. Just in the first couple sentences she begins looking at the fact that “Their arms were little, and their hands were little, and their height was not tall, and their feet very small” (Cisneros 39) portraying that she already has an interest with feet and their purpose within a family, hence the name The Family of Little Feet. It’s an example of symbolism because the readers can see the bridge from feet and shoes to Esperanza’s want to get away from Mango Street and all the people and things that come with it. Rachel, Lucy, and Esperanza receive shoes from the mother with “feet, plump and polite, descended like white pigeons from the sea of pillow, across the linoleum roses, down down the wooden stairs, over the chalk hopscotch stairs, 5, 6, 7, blue sky” (40). Esperanza enjoys the attention she obtains from these heels, as does Rachel and Lucy, which shows that sometimes she has fun living on Mango Street. “We must be Christmas” (40) portrays that Esperanza and her friends see these shoes on their feet as an upside to life here.Therefore, this symbolism shows that even though Esperanza’s obsession with feet ultimately tell of her desire to leave Mango Street, that somethings make living here nice, which is part of the theme of entrapment.

Self Identity.

Self Identity

In Sandra Cisneros novel The House on Mango Street she depicts the theme of identity/self definition through the book using stories of her adventures on Mango Street with friends, and events that all impact her to create her overall character.

In the first section of the book, there are two stories that portray identity and self definition. The first story I selected is My Name because it gives the reader a first glimpse at how Esperanza feels about herself. “In English my name means hope…don’t like their women strong” (Cisneros 10) shows that Esperanza already thinks that she’s cursed to begin with, because her name is too long, and because people make fun of her name “as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth” (11) proves the insecurity she has in her name because she longs to be different even to the point of wanting to “baptize [her]self under a new name.. Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze the X” (11). This portrays the crisis she has in her identity, and how she realizes she will always be Esperanza, the unlucky, ugly named Spanish girl.

Another short story I chose is Sally because Esperanza is seen fascinated with this girl, Sally, who “is the girl with eyes like Egypt and nylons the color of smoke” (81). Through this vignette, Esperanza seems to be simply wondering about this girl who “paint[s her] eyes like Cleopatra” (81) then before going home “rub[s] the blue paint off [her] eyelids”(82). But at the end, the reader can conclude that she is not only questioning Sally, but applying these thoughts to herself when she says “Sally, do you sometimes wish you didn’t have to go home?… and no one could call that crazy” (82-83).

Overall, the thematic motif of identity/self definition occurs many times in the book, and portrays how we look at ourselves much like Esperanza looks at herself and her situation. Therefore, identity/self definition is a major thematic motif.

Sara the Dancer.

Sara Who Dances

ballet
I watched as Sara danced across the glossy, wood floor of the ailing gym. She is a dancer. She enjoys standing on her tiptoes and twirling in her short ballerina dress. She’s really good at it too. She tried to teach me once, but when I tried to do one of her fancy spins, I fell on my backside, and got real red when I noticed people watching me try to be like Sara. I sit and watch Sara for hours and hours as she does what she’s best at. Watch this! I look up as Sara yells right as she goes into a perfect arabesque. I don’t know how to say that word out loud, but Sara says it all the time. She says it’s a ballet position where you stand on one leg with the other in the air behind you and go onto your tiptoe and balance. And Sara said if you’re really good, then you can even spin like that. I go in my kitchen, which has just enough space to be be a ballerina in, and twirl like a streamer in the wind. My mother gets angry and tells me to stop before I knock over her glass of bubbly pepsi that is dangerously close to falling off the counter to its death. Sara oh Sara. Why can’t I dance like you? I want to dance like a flower does with the soft breeze as its partner. I ponder and ponder. Why can’t I dance? I avoid Sara for a few days. I can’t bare to see her dance. After a few days, I miss Sara. I miss the way her feet move across the floor and the way she flutters gracefully to the ground like a green baby leaf leaving its mother for the time. When it’s time to go home, I find her gently moving across the floor to her dancing music which seems to be dancing along with her. I’m sorry Sara. I can’t dance, but I’m happy you can. You dance like beauty. I love your dancing. We embrace and I sit against the wall to watch Sara and her music dance ballet together.

Blueprint.

Blueprint.
My house is what some would call nice, and middle class. Its white outside and trees give it the feeling of home. Having lived in the same place since I was four, I recall many memories. One that has stuck with me for a very long time, was one that involved my brother, Chris. We had a bench at our dining room table, and I often would finding myself sitting there, drawing, playing, etc. But one night, I learned that benches were evil. We were having a dinner with our neighbors, whose daughter I frequently played with. As the adults prepared dinner in the kitchen, we sat in the living room, playing with our dolls. Once the smell of food started filling the rooms, we decided to abandon our meaningless game of dolls, and investigate. Since the kitchen is visible from the dining room, we settled onto my bench and watched with watering mouths as the food was assembled. Soon, the adults began bringing the food in. I jumped with excitement. When I jumped, I didn’t land on the bench. I landed against the corner of the table, and busted my head open. My dad quickly cleaned the gash, and upon my order, took the evil bench outside. It’s back inside now, but I still refuse to take a seat upon it

Prized Possession

My Most Prized Possession
To many, my most prized possession may seem completely silly. Most people don’t understand why i hold it so dear to my heart. It is small and is in fear of falling to pieces, but the person who made it is why it is so special. My most prized possession is a rubber bracelet my best friend for me. It is made of small rubber bands all combined to fit around my wrist. The colors dance purple, yellow, purple, yellow- all the way around over and over. I wear it 24 hours a day with the exception of showering. Unfortunately, it’s starting to stretch and groan, and is in fear of snapping right off the plastic clamp that holds the first and last bands in a circle. It holds such a special place because it was not a birthday gift, or for Christmas. My best friend knew I was having a hard week, and made it. It means a lot that she took time out of her busy day to make something so simple. As I stare down at the pieces of rubber, I’m grateful that it’s on my wrist, and no one elses. It means love, encouragement, and a peace inside me because I know I have an amazing best friend, and an amazing prized possession. The colors on the bracelet are my favorite. Purple means love and pride. Yellow is for the sunshine that warms me as I read and drown out the world. Combined, these colors signify me. They are what makes me me. My best friend took this into consideration when she asked my favorite colors a week before. These bracelet may seem insignificant, but to me it means the world.