It's interesting how humor, in its many forms, often hinges on the unexpected or exaggerated. A lot of the time, I don't catch on to sarcasm right away, which makes me feel like the gullible odd one out. Take, for example, last month when my dad and stepmom started making fun of how badly I parked at a restaurant. Half of my car was hanging over two spaces, and they sarcastically asked if I was planning on becoming professional at parking. At first, I thought they might have been genuinely upset with how poorly I parked, but then I realized they were just exaggerating the situation for a comedic effect. In the SNL clip we watched this past week in class, the woman secretly involved in the lesson says, "why do you have to criticize everybody?". This made me think about humor in general and how a lot of humor is based on making fun of people sarcastically or singling out one person. Humor often comes from something small and is exaggerated so we can laugh at something w...
"Roar" by Katy Perry is one of those iconic 2000s hit songs everyone knows. As a little girl, Roar was the song I would always make dances to and sing at the top of my lungs. I was just four years old, and while I didn't fully grasp the meaning behind the lyrics, I was drawn to Katy Perry's famous persona and her powerful voice. Now, at seventeen, I have found myself rediscovering Roar, and this time it resonates with me in a whole new way . After years of not listening to it because I played it on repeat as a kid, I began to listen to it again and understand its meaning. The song's message is extremely empowering, emphasizing overcoming obstacles, finding your voice, and standing strong in the face of adversity. The structure of Roar plays a key role in emphasizing its overall message. The song begins with a softer more vulnerable verse, setting the chorus up for a journey of self discovery. As the chorus hits, the music swells, and the lyrics transform into a...
Show up, fight, be eager, I do. But my heart aches. His words are cold, sharp like glass. The ring hums beneath my feet. His silenced anger is louder than any word, Never fast enough, Never hard enough, Never the version of a "man" he's hoping to see. Show up. I do. Be eager. I do. But I ache. His words cold, brutal, shattering. Nothing pleases him. My body trembling as my feet fall into the ring, fearful and uneasy. His silence crashes upon me, stronger than anything he could have said. I'm here, but I am not a man. Therefore, I will never be enough for him. As I broke down this poem I embraced the "mess" Royal talks about in her essay, "Art of the Mistake". My original version was more structured, and could have a couple different ways of being interpreted. But when I broke up the words and let the poem fall apart, it became more real. It's the understanding of the poem where we find the raw vulnerable parts of its meaning. Specificall...
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