During this project, I have learned that realistically speaking, no one's life follows the hero's journey unless it was made so. My life did not conform with the linear expectations of the hero's journey. Even after sketching out my life, fitting the format, it did not make me feel any different about my life. It helped explain some things, however, the knowledge was not completely new. When I initially started this. I felt it would be too hard, since my life is pretty uninteresting when compared to that of a hero's. But that's alright, since it's real life. There are no Hydras (Hercules) or Hydra (Captain America) in real life, but that's okay. Others should take away from this, your life may not be explosive but it certainly has small aspects that you perhaps haven't noticed until you analysis it. That is certainly what I realized about myself. (I realized that I may be a little more twisted than expected).
Monday, June 15, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Beginning Paragraph
Hello! My name is Sarah M.J. I am half-French, and half-Moroccan. This blog is my life put at random, my random thoughts, and random moments in life. In this blog here, I shall write poems (Option 8). There are also going to be things that I often share first with others about me. I am even contemplating about posting my unfinished fan-fiction stories on here as well. Whether or not those stories will ever be finished is a mystery. Other items, however will be posted and be complete by the due date.
Monday, June 1, 2015
Le France
I remember when I was younger, I went to France. Keep in mind, it was the old country part of France; sadly I didn't go to Paris. As a half French, (my mother is French) I had relatives there. Honorable mentions are my grandparents, my uncle, and my great aunt. My grandparents were in a retirement home, with a lovable old black Labrador. I was told she was a guard dog, but honestly speaking she was as old as them and far too friendly for a role as such. She'd sooner roll over for a belly scratch then maul a robber. (Who happens to find retirement homes the ideal place to rob.) I went along with it anyways, (Hey, I was, like, nine years old). Turns out, movies don't lie as often as you'd think. Old people really do play Bingo all the time. It was the highlight of the day, apparently.
Next is my uncle, my mom's younger deranged brother. No joke on the deranged part either, in fact there's an emphasis. The guy ran around naked in Paris once because he forgot to take a medicine pill prescribed to him. (Let's be happy that he remembers now.) Of course, I hadn't known at the time, I found out years later. It wasn't exactly something you would tell your nine year daughter about your brother, only for them to be stuck in an apartment with said uncle. Not a good first impression. Although, even at nine, I could tell something was off about him. (I personally call him Tonton Thierry.)
Lastly, my great aunt. Boy, oh, boy, was she a piece of work. She looks and acts just as the aunt from Harry potter, the one that floats away from Harry's magic. She owned a farm with chickens, goats, cattle, sheep, however, what she didn't own was a toilet. Mind you, we were in the middle of nowhere, with no toilet, for three days. No way to avoid nature's calling. Remember, she has chickens, and had one rooster. Anyone ever tell you how aggressive, and well, cocky, roosters are? Well, I'm telling you now. They are aggressive and cocky. Whilst performing the toilet ritual, I had been surprise attacked by the farm's rooster. Quite literally caught unawares with my pants down, I still have the scar on my knee. It's probably the most embarrassing scar I have. My great aunt had the audacity to blame me as well. I'll never forgive her for doing so. I was more than happy when we moved out.
And brimming with elation when I found out, years later, that the same rooster was killed and eaten for a dinner party. That was a rare instance of revenge served on a warm dish.
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