For our English project on Narrative Visual Perspective, we were assigned to write a lyrical essay about the topic of our choosing. Our main goal and achievement were to include disruptive imagery and poetic devices which we learned about during class to create a compelling narrative for the reader. For my Lyrical Essay, I chose to write about the stationary in my pencil case, a special delight to me. I chose to write about my stationary specifically so readers of my work can understand how important something as simple as a pencil or pen can be to another person. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
To open up my pencil case is a delight all on its own. To trace my fingers along the zipper, nails clicking on the metal. The fabric, stained and worn on the edges, a history of school days and at home art projects engraved in its material. To hold the pull of the zipper tenderly between my thumb and index finger, the key to opening a treasure chest full of sweet delicacies. I pull the zipper, a crevasse opening like the maw of a hungry beast, its contents grasping at my eyes, holding my attention. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
There\u2019s too much to see in my pencil case. Every pencil has its own story, every eraser its own battle wounds. Although stationary has slowly begun to lose its relevance, I\u2019ll never understand it. Colors colliding together like tidal waves, textures and plastics, a harmony of textile heaven. A green pen catches my gaze first. A Uni Jetstream, 0.7 tip. I remember how I found it, in a bookstore with an old childhood friend of mine. We were originally filling our morning darting through the downtown streets. Once our feet had tired and our eyes began to droop we decided to look around more closely, and stumbled upon a tiny door with an even smaller windowsill. We peaked inside to discover, to our delight, a stationary store. We quickly entered, being pulled as if magnetically to all the pens, papers, stickers, pens, erasers, tape, stickers, papers, and an occasional bookmark. My friend stopped by the pens, her eyes inspecting each one with great intrigue and care. Her expression widened as soon as she saw what she was looking for, her hands reaching out and grasping her prey. \u201cThis is the pen I\u2019ve been looking for for months,\u201d she exclaimed, her voice ringing like bells in my ear. I had to get one for myself, a token of my experience. A piece of my friend that I can keep with me forever. It\u2019s been a good 3 years, and that pen is close to running out. Its edges worn, the plastic grip close to tearing. Smears of graphite and marker can be found upon its once pristine green frame. The best writing pen I’ve ever had. Alas, a pen is not what I\u2019m looking for, so I continue my search through the treasure trove. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
A pencil, my<\/em> pencil, is what my eyes glossed over next. An Uni oxy gel, 0.5 tip. This pencil was less of an old friend like my green pen, and more of a trophy I won back in elementary school. The wars I\u2019ve fought to get this pencil will never leave my memory. Picture 4th grade, sunny school days, where your biggest worry was a spelling test you might\u2019ve missed. Everyone previously had only heard of 2B\u2019s and Pink Pearls until the day the student with straight A\u2019s brings something new to class: An oxy gel. This was no ordinary pencil like you\u2019ve seen before\u2014 no, this pencil had a grip which felt as light as a cloud when you held it. The pencil itself is made from metal, and the grip is filled with soft latex. Originating from Japan, classmates immediately knew of it\u2019s superior quality. Everyone was intrigued, those pencils began to multiply as if by mitosis. Pretty soon everyone had a pencil with a soft jelly grip, everyone but you. No matter how hard you begged your mom, showing how worthy you were to brandish such a tool with A\u2019s upon A+\u2019s, it still wasn\u2019t enough. It wasn\u2019t enough, until the day you were walking into a grocery store. You don\u2019t really remember why you were brought there originally, but you do remember the feeling of seeing the pencils lined up on a shelf, ready for you to reach for them. You spent no extra time waiting, and quickly picked the one you wanted, running to your mother with puppy eyes, spitting out every excuse to convince. You didn\u2019t just want it\u2014you needed it. The next day you walk into your class, grinning ear to ear. Opening your pencil case you pull out your brand new oxy gel pencil, almost a heavenly glow emanating from your new weapon of mass creation. The same pencil looks up at me now, waiting for me to use it again and again and again; however, this pencil is not what I\u2019m looking for. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I look past the numerous stationary left in my pencil case: past the post it notes created by an accident of chemist Spence Silver, past the stub of an eraser I found 2 years ago on the floor, almost forgetting what I was looking for. Past all these colors and plastics and shapes, I finally spotted what I wanted to all this time. A purple pen. Paper Mate Inkjoy gel pen, 0.7 tip. Out of everything in my pencil case, this was the most ordinary piece in my stationary arsenal. A purple pen, bought on a whim from Office Depot when I was out school shopping. \u201cWhat a lovely color,\u201d I thought, holding it in my hand for the first time. I gave it a quick test, saw the ink was smooth, and decided that I\u2019d buy it just cause. It was hard getting used to using it. At first it would write in blotches, its ink coming out in purple blobs, the edges getting smudged when I got too excited. The pen eventually made me angry, and I defaulted to my old friend, the green Uni Jetstream. One faithful day I left my green pen at home, and when it came time to take notes I had no choice but to pick up my purple arch nemesis. Surprisingly, the more I worked, the more I enjoyed what I was doing. The purple pen has its downsides, but once I figured out how to use it we were waltzing in harmony across the page. The loops and swirls of y\u2019s and o\u2019s and g\u2019s choreographing a delicate ballet as I wrote my class notes. It\u2019s purple ink, the color of deep sea urchins or concord grapes, stood out sharply against my bone white page. Perfect. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I had my tool, the primary partner in my future venture. However I couldn\u2019t leave this pen alone all on it\u2019s own, that would just be cruel with the daunting task at hand. A highlighter, that\u2019s what I needed next. I flipped over the flap on my pencil case, now spreading an array of pastel colors in front of me. My trusty Mildliner highlighters. These were no ordinary highlighters of course, they were top of the line. They came with two tips: One thick for highlighting and a thin for detailed work. I\u2019ve used them for nearly everything, my trusty soldiers, my colorful army. These are the ones I come to when I need something attention grabbing, something that shouts \u201cLook at me!\u201d. But who to choose? So many colors before me, all with their own special purpose. Green was too harsh, a bit too dark for my purpose. The pink too dried out, from me using it on everything I could think of. The yellow is too boring. When I had so many colors at my disposal, why would I use yellow? Maybe orange? No, not with the purple pen. I can\u2019t tarnish the pen\u2019s reputation with a horrendous color scheme such as that. Light blue, baby blue even. Soft and gentle, the color of water and the sunny cloudless summer sky. Just what I was looking for. Blue and purple, hydrangeas, lavender, periwinkle. Finally my search was over. <\/p>\n\n\n\n With my new tools in hand I shut the pencil case gently, almost apprehensively. I take out my notebook and flip to a new page, a ballet floor waiting for a history of dance to be spread out upon it. I click the top of the highlighter off and put it back on the end of it, so as to not lose the highlighter\u2019s cap. I hold my pen and click it awake. I\u2019m ready.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Throughout writing this essay I struggled a lot with finding references to include in this essay. Since this was a personal essay about a niche subject, I had to try hard to find relevant sources. However, what I value most throughout this project was learning about lyrical essays in general. Throughout this unit we looked at many different lyrical essays, the ones that stand out most to me is “Citizen” by Claudia Rankine and “Consider the Lobster” by David Foster Wallace. The first included poetry about the struggles Rankine had with racism in her everyday life, while the second was an article published in a newspaper written by a satirical and judgmental Wallace, who took this opportunity to include little sprinkles of comedy throughout this absurd piece of work. Both of these are seemingly opposites, however, they display different ways of applying lyrical essay techniques to create a successful work. All in all, what I take away from this experience most is the written works I got to analyze and the skills I got to take away from them to apply to this essay.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Lyrical Essay For our English project on Narrative Visual Perspective, we were assigned to write a lyrical essay about the topic of our choosing. Our main goal and achievement were to include disruptive imagery and poetic devices which we learned about during class to create a compelling narrative for the reader. For my Lyrical Essay, I chose to write about the stationary in my pencil case, a special delight to me. I chose to write about my stationary specifically so readers of my work can understand how important something as simple as a pencil or pen can be to another […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-366","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~DashaK\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/366","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~DashaK\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~DashaK\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~DashaK\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~DashaK\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=366"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~DashaK\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/366\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":388,"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~DashaK\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/366\/revisions\/388"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~DashaK\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=366"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}A new blank page waits for me.<\/h4>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nReflection<\/h2>\n\n\n\n