Critique #3

The Card Player
By: Paul Cézanne

The famous painting “The Card Player” by Paul Cézanne has many versions of the picture; one of them contains four figures rather than the two. The one with two player’s best reflects Cézanne’s conception and his aspiration to seriousness. The narrative of the painting is very clear. It is obvious that the men are engaged in a card game. The painting was done with oil on canvas.

The foreground of the painting is the table that the men are playing cards on. The shade of brown in the background of the painting is very rich in color. There is a spot in the back where it looks like Cézanne may have rubbed the brown paint. The bottle in between the men shows realism to the scene as well does the clothing on the men.

“The Card Player” implicates the act of gambling. It shows two men enjoying each others company while playing a game of cards.

Narrative #4

It was late June and school had already ended. I would be a junior the upcoming school year. I walked outside to start my daily routine. The sun immediately hit my face and warmed my whole body. I descended down the front steps and onto the side way, my flip flops squeaking with each step.
I walked to the end of my street and turned left onto the main road. Ever since I entered high school I spent my summer days volunteering at the local animal shelter and then visiting my friends.
You could say that my friends were different than most. Not because they liked different things or were involved in different things, but because they were older than me…much older. They were also residences of the nursing home in town.
I stopped walking and entered the little brown building for my first event of the day. My job is to help out at the shelter with the animals that are seeking owners. I opened the door and was immediately greeted by a yellow lab that smelled of shampoo. It must have been washing time. I took the dogs into the backyard of the shelter and played with them in the freshly cut green grass. They loved it when they could be wild and free.
Some hours later, I left the shelter in time to meet my friends. I knew exactly where to find them since they had been going there every summer for 10 years. They meet underneath the giant brown oak tree in front of their apartments. They sit there everyday and reminisce on their childhood. They may have not known each other when they were younger, but they sure do have a lot in common.
I walked down the street approaching the usual spot. I could see Olga and Gladius sitting around Phil and then Martha sitting off to the side. She loves to bring her own comfortable chair to sit on instead of the wooden bench built into the tree already.
Phil was not the only male amongst the group. There was Walter, the retired Vietnam veteran. He has since passed but will never be forgotten among the group. The group even dedicated the bench in his name.

As I sit and listen to the stoires of my friends, I take one thing away each time: to never take friendship for granted. I see the group and what they have become. Olga and Gladius have become more dependent on each other. In a way, this is good.

They know that with out each other their lives would be boring. They would probraly end up sitting at home watching television. This gathering everyday allows them to enjoy the fresh summer air and spend time with each other. Friendship is crucial in the last years of their lives. They don't want to leave this life knowing no one cared for them.

Narrative #3

No one expected Jamie to be the first one. In high school, we joked about who it would be, and it certainly was not her. I can remember the day I got the call like yesterday. My jaw dropped open, frozen in its form as I held the receiver to my ear. As I processed what she said to me, I felt a surge of mixed emotions. I wanted to be happy for her but also sad at what her future would become.
Jamie and I met in kindergarten when she accidentally took my plastic blue chair and put it at her table. We ended up getting into an argument but came out as friends. All through high school and then on to college, we still remained friends. That’s when I knew our friendship would last forever. High school will either make or break a friendship with all the drama, and ours survived it.
College was the best time for our friendship and of our lives. Jamie and I constantly double dated, enjoying the life of not having to worry about parents or when you had to go to bed.
My junior year was when I got involved in a serious relationship. His name was Taylor and I was head over heels for him. I loved his laugh and his bright blue eyes. When we weren’t hanging out and seeing each other every moment, we also enjoyed studying together.
Jamie would go out and part with her other friends. I wanted to join her but Taylor wasn’t really the party type. He thought he should focus more on his studies and I respected that and joined him.
The night before I had a final exam, Taylor really wanted to spend time with me. I would have loved to but I really needed to study and pass the test. He reluctantly left my room, saying he would find something to do.
Two days later, I got a call from Taylor. He said we needed to talk. Right then, I knew it was bad. Little did I know, this call would change my future forever.
He started off saying how much he loved me and how he would never do anything to hurt me. He then said he had made a mistake…a very big one. He explained how a few nights ago when he left my room, he decided to go to a party. Jamie happened to be there, he said.
“Yeah, so what?” I said. “She always goes to parties.”
“I know but something happened between us.” He went on to explain how they had been hanging out and had too much too drink. That’s when things happened and they ended up hooking up.
I could feel my face turn red hot and my head was spinning. How could he do this to me? We were planning on spending the rest of our lives together. I had to leave. I could not see his face anymore.
‘I have to go,” I stammered. “I’ll talk to you later.” I quietly got up.
“Wait, are you okay? Please don’t be mad,” he pleaded touching my arm.
I looked him straight in the eyes. “I have to go.” And with that I left, shutting the door behind me.
I contemplated my options on how to handle the situation. I finally decided I had to leave the college. Not drop out, but transfer. How could I finish my schooling having to see my deceiving friend and cheating boyfriend everyday?
Jamie and I never fully discussed what happened. I told her I was transferring to a different college in the fall; she told me that she and Taylor were dating now.
Years passed and I am now 25 and have a steady job. I have not spoken to Jamie since that year. The last I heard, she and Taylor were living together. That was, until I got the call.
At first, I had no idea who it was. The woman on the phone just started crying. Once she calmed down, I heard Jamie’s voice. I was taken back, hoping that after all these years she didn’t choose today to apologize.
“Melissa,” Jamie said. “I know what happened when we were younger was bad. I still have not gotten over what I did to you.”
Silence on my end.
She continued. “I’m calling today because I need your help. I’m six months pregnant and Taylor has left me.” This caught my attention. I immediately straightened up, ears wide open. Her story sounded like Taylor, hurting people and their lives.
We talked for hours into the night. We talked about where we went after college and how everything was doing now. She said she never expected Taylor to leave. They had been fighting lately but not to that point.
Speaking to her, I remembered the friendship we shared together; how she was always there when I needed her and how she never judged or laughed at me.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m coming out to stay with you.”

Community Project

Maybe something with having everyone write their name on a piece of paper and linking them together around the school to represent school wide friendship.

Paradox Poem

I love all foods but dislike spicy
I love music but I hate country
I love to watch sports but hockey bores me
I love to go for bike rides but I don't own a bike
I watch too much TV but I never have the time
I can't resist anything except temptation
I'm cold all the time but I feel warm
Everyone listens to me but no one listens
I'm always busy but I have free time
I like to run but I am lazy

Narrative #2

“Please sit us over there," I said to the young nurse wheeling Ruth and I to our usual table in the nursing home.
"We like to sit by the window and look at the cute older men walking by," said Ruth matter-a-factly.
"Alright you two," said the nurse parking us behind the table, locking our brakes in case we decided to roll away.
" Joan, look at this one being wheeled up," I said pointing a shaky pale finger at the window. I was showing my age these days moving slower than usual, but I managed to catch a glimpse of the man before he entered the building.
" Oh yeah, definitely a cutie," Joan replied." You two are just so cute together," said the nurse, setting down the usual
Friday night dinner of frozen green beans, packaged chicken and potatoes.
“How long have you two been friends?” said the nurse looking at Ruth and me.
“Almost 74 years,” I said.
“And still going strong,” Ruth added.
“Wow! What a great friendship,” the nurse said walking out of the room.
“Do you still remember the first time we met?” I said. “It was so long a go.”
“Joan, of course I do,” said Ruth.
**
I looked out the window that fall day in September, wishing I could go out and play in the crisp brown leaves that were newly fallen off the trees. And then I remembered my mom was taking me to this place she kept calling “kindergarten”. Supposedly, it was a fun place where I would make lots of new friends. But I wasn’t counting on it.
We entered the classroom to a multicolored sea of children, some crying for their moms not to leave and others who couldn’t wait to get away. I was having mixed emotions of how I wanted my first day to go, so I hugged my mom good-bye and walked over to a girl with cute short braids in her hair.
“Hi! My name is Ruth,” I said taking a seat in the green plastic chair next to the girl. “What’s your name?”
“My name’s Joan,” said the girl.
“Oh cool. Want to be friends? My mommy said I could make lots of new friends here,” I told her.
“Sure,” said Joan. “My mommy said the same thing too.”
Now, I wouldn’t exactly call it “friendship at first sight”. It took Joan and I a whole two play dates to decide we were best friends. From then on, we did everything together.
“Mom, I want my hair the way I want it!” I said to my mom, early the morning of my first day of second grade. She was pulling my brown hair tight into a ponytail. I didn’t want it that way and it was making me mad. “I want my hair to be in two braids like Joan’s was on the first day of kindergarten,” I whined to my mom.
“Oh fine. I’ll do I,” my mom said giving up on trying to fight my wants.
Walking into school that morning I noticed a brown haired girl with the same hairstyle as me, standing at the normal place I usually met Joan at. As I got closer, I noticed it was Joan.
“I like your hair today,” I said to her.
She glanced up at my hair and smiled. “I like yours too,” she replied.
**
“All right everyone, clear your tables its BINGO time!” said a nurse from across the room. Ruth and I leaned back in our wheelchairs and smiled, coming out from the memories of our childhood.
“It sure has been a great time,” said Ruth still smiling.
“Yes it has,” I replied. “I’m glad it’s you I get to spend the last years of my life with and not some boring husband,” I added with a laugh.
“Oh yes,” Ruth replied. “Yes indeed.”