In Which I Type Up My Essay For You All To Read

So, I kinda sorta got another nine on a paper in AP lit. I must say, as I was writing this paper, I knew it was good. I could feel it. And it was great. Yay!
I decided to share the nine awesomeness with you guys. Yes, I love this essay that much. It's actually one of my favorites that I've ever written. The beginning is terrible; just get past the stinky intro and into the good stuff. It gets better.
The passage was from Tillie Olsen's short story "I Stand Here Ironing" and the prompt was to "write an essay in which you analyze the narrative techniques and other resources of language Olsen uses to characterize the mother and the mother's attitude toward her daughter."

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After all a mother can do, her child will have to develop their independence. Mothers won't always be there to provide a safety net; they can only hope they have prepared their children for life's difficulties. In Tillie Olsen's story "I Stand Here Ironing," the struggles of motherhood are vividly portrayed, and a mother's dearest desires for her daughter are felt through the author's imagery, tone, and reflection.

As the mother looks back into her past, her thoughts move "tormented back and forth with the iron." She sees her daughter "poring over her baby pictures, making [her] tell her over and over how beautiful she had been-and would be-" in a time when she lacked self-confidence and a realization of her inner beauty. Her daughter was a "miracle" to her amidst times when she endured poverty, abandonment, and a fight for survival. A keen sense of regret and blame is felt as a weary mother reflects upon a time when none helped her and she felt hopeless toward her own daughter. Olsen's use of remembering a difficult past allows for a deeper understanding of a mother's struggle.

The first image of the iron, trudging back and forth, back and forth, causes one to realize that this is not the mother's first time going over her past. The image of her child's cries causing her to tremble, her "breasts [aching] with swollenness" rouse a picture of a strong, but tired, and loving mother. A hint of a smile seems to play around the corners of the mother's mouth as she remembers her daughter blowing "bubbles of sound" and her love for simple things such as motion, light, "color and music and textures." But then her husband left, and she begins to frown as a sad look crosses her eyes. She recalls her daughter's failure to match the societal standards for beauty; she recalls the inability to provide for "her [daughter] the soil of easy growth." Olsen's vivid imagery, ranging from joyous to depressing, allows for a glimpse into the mother's inner conflict. She seems disappointed as she has "been dredging the past."

The tone in Olsen's piece is so poignant it's almost tangible. She hesitates to reflect on the hardships of the past, fearing she'll "become engulfed with all she did or did not do, with what should have been and what cannot be helped." As she explains her history, she seems to be asking her daughter for forgiveness, hoping she'll comprehend her mother's shortcomings. Olsen's imagery illustrates an every day struggle, creating a tone that is weary yet loving. She ends the story echoing the beginning with the image of an iron. But a gleam of hope shimmers in this final image as the mother desires for her daughter to know "that she is more than this dress on the ironing board, helpless before the iron." This image sees the mother wishing her daughter a better, easier tomorrow. The stark difference between the two images of the iron, one weary and the other hopeful, grants a well-rounded and versatile tone to the narrative, allowing for a more holistic attitude of the mother towards herself and her daughter.

Olsen's piece gives a complete view of a single mother's daily struggle she experienced to provide for and raise her daughter. Vivid imagery, bittersweet reflection, and a tangible tone help to characterize the weary mother and her conflicted feelings toward her child.

January

In the past, more specifically the recent past, January has the distinction of being the worst month of the year. I'm happy to report that January still maintains this position, although February and August provide some serious competition. Thank goodness it's over.

It's like a Monday: one, gigantic, perpetual Monday that happens to be 744 hours* long.
Ew.

*I will have you know, that I multiplied 31 times 24 all by myself. Like, I wrote out the multiplication on a piece of scrap paper and multiplied it using my brain and mad math skills. I really hope it's not an incorrect figure, because I'm too lazy to get out of the chair, find a calculator, and calculate the figure. I'm also too lazy to multiply it using Google or the calculator on the desktop. But apparently I'm not too lazy to work out the figure myself, which I'm pretty sure involves more energy than all of the alternatives. You know, sometimes I just don't make sense--even to myself.

Um, yeah.
I'm trying to get in touch with my inner Audrey Hepburn.