"Civil Disobedience" by Henry David Thoreau and "Letter from Birmingham Jail" by Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Civil Disobedience" by Henry David Thoreau and "Letter from Birmingham Jail" by Martin Luther King, Jr. are both powerful, effective essays that adeptly convey their messages. However, I not only loved reading MLK’s essay much more, I find his way of presenting his argument much more effective as opposed to Thoreau. Both authors call the reader to help join in on marking an end to slavery—take immediate action. The message in both texts is the same in that they both call people to use their conscience to see the evils of slavery. For me, Thoreau was too wordy. Moreover, it was complicated—I had to read most sentences twice to understand what he was saying.
MLK’s form of writing is by far one of the best ones I’ve read. He has a unique way of reaching out to the reader. Throughout the letter, he is calm, friendly, and peaceful. He addresses his audience as “friends, brothers” many times. I found this very effective because it made me feel directly attached to him, pulled me right into his ideas. His writing flows and he makes his argument in an extremely orderly, logical way. Response and attribution are evident throughout the entire letter, making his argument credible. Anything that may raise an eyebrow or create any confusion on the reader’s behalf, he acknowledges immediately and provides clarification. For example, he starts the letter off by talking directly to the reader, “I want to try to answer your statements in what I hope will be patient and reasonable terms.”
He further goes on to analyze each of his point, citing any questions the reader may have. This is demonstrated in, “You may well ask: "Why direct action? Why sit-ins, marches and so forth? Isn't negotiation a better path?" You are quite right in calling, for negotiation. Indeed, this is the very purpose of direct action.” I found this technique extremely effective for I felt that King was answering really any opposing argument and clearing up any confusion. It is truly marvelous.
Another literary device widely employed by King is the usage of allusion. He alludes to many great leaders, intellects, such as Socrates. He does this adeptly, smoothly putting their beliefs to support his argument. This is seen in his citation of the history of nonviolent action, “To a degree, academic freedom is a reality today because Socrates practiced civil disobedience. In our own nation, the Boston Tea Party represented a massive act of civil disobedience.”
In the incredibly long paragraph where King is citing the myriad ways blacks faced prejudice, he achieves tremendous sympathy, understanding from the reader. He puts in his own personal experience of his daughter and how the harsh truth bit her so badly. I found that one paragraph so poignant, and crucial to his argument as it tells of people’s stories.
While I enjoyed both texts, MLK’s was by far more effective and is now one of my favorite readings of all time.

Blog 12:: What is knowledge?

Fiddling with a pencil, I stroke my hair consistently and stared at the words of the Torah. Engaged and captivated by Noah’s persistent and humble character, I read the holy verses attentively as the spiritual journey of the slender, reflective Siddhartha from Herman Hesse’s novel danced in my mind. Only a week after I had completed the philosophical novel in my junior year, I found myself continually questioning the concept of learning, teachers, books, and doctrines in everything I read and performed.
Endowed with intellectuality, wisdom, and a handsome physique, the protagonist Siddhartha goes on a spiritual quest to find himself. Siddhartha discerns early in the novel at his acquaintance with the highly esteemed Buddha that the key to gaining true wisdom lies not in the words of the Samanas or holy books, but experience to search for himself. The theme of learning in Hesse’s novel challenged the concept of learning that I had believed since I was a child. I had always thought learning was limited to simply memorizing, nothing more than that.
Siddhartha’s simple quest to find himself through learning struck me. Socrates once said, “Know thyself.” Yet, I had never realized that even after studying several holy books and reading all sorts of books, magazines and newspapers, I had, like Siddhartha, never found myself. I kept asking myself, “What is the meaning of the holy books, history and text books if they are not applied in real experience to finding ourselves? Shouldn’t learning be more than just grades?”

Upon finishing the novel, I was left with utter confusion as the message that Hesse conveyed shed new light upon my understanding of the world. Yet, at the same time, I was swimming in a pool of tranquility as I now understood the meaning of learning and knowledge. I learned since then to take in knowledge, learn from it, and apply it to my own life and self.

Letter as an Argument Blog

I found Nate and Kristen's letter effective and powerful. It's straightforward and achieves in conveying their message of love and commitment to the parents.

Their audience is obviously the parents of the child they are adopting. They do a great job addressing them. They establish a friendly, understanding tone that illustrates that they are taking the parents situation into concideration as well. They state that they very well understand how they must be feeling. They continually strive to ensure that they plan and hope to build a connection with the parents, to embark on this new "journey" together.

The purpose of Nate and Kristen writing the letter is to convince the parents of their intentions and help the parents see that they are committed to being responsible parents. They strive to achieve this purpose throughout the essay. They emphasize the fact that adoption is what they want--that the are prepared. They explain their whole situation--how they had been thinking about raising a family in general, but are ready to take on the situation that they are confronted with. This also presents their level of maturity--that they didn't give on the idea of raising a family. They also cite Kristen's desire to adapt.

Their occasion for writing the letter is to convince the parents to permit them to adapt their child. This, as aforementioned, is adeptly presented through the personal commitment they explain in the letter.

Reform at JMU: communication

Walking inside a class, you have two choices: you can either walk in with a straight face, not smile at those you make eye contact with, take a seat and not greet your neighbor. If this routine continues every class period, and you never make the effort to get to know the person sitting next to you, you may have missed out on knowing someone who may have even become your best friend.
Does this sound familiar? Upon coming to JMU, one of the greatest things I missed was the fact that in high school, you’re bound to get to know everyone or almost everyone in class. The class has a certain mood, made up of the different personalities of the individuals who make up the class. Although JMU is definitely has one of the friendliest environments I’ve experienced, there is still a lack of communication, a disconnect between people.
A psychology professor here at JMU presented during the last Make Your Mark on Madison meeting that when he asked several of his classes at the end of one semester if they knew even the name of their neighbor, only a few raised their hand. And from my observations, I find that true in pretty much all of my classes. We students just walk in and out of class without actually making some real connection, some communication with others.
This is something that greatly needs reform. Sure, we’re all busy in our lives, have our own issues, but shouldn’t we all make an effort to get to know others around us? Time flies. Before we know it, these four years will have flown by. Maybe at the end of it all, we may just regret not knowing enough people. And you never know how much you can learn by engaging in one conversation with someone. By not even attempting to get to others, it’s almost as if we disregard their existence. This may sound far-fetched, but it’s true. When you continually just crumple around in your own little world and never make conversation with the very person right next to you, what else could this act be called, but utter disregard?
Sure, sometimes you may not receive a friendly response. That may just put you down altogether. But you never know until you try.
So come out of your comfort zone. Talk to someone who’ve never said a word to before—see what you can learn.

Blog 8-Random-SMILE!!

What makes you smile? Is it a word, a certain song, an activity, a special some one? I believe that smiling is one of the greatest abilities of mankind. “A day without smiling isn’t worth living.” This topic may sound so random, so absurd, but to me, it’s tremendously important to me. Smiling and laughing are the highlight of my day. No matter how gloomy, depressing, unproductive my day may be, I must have at least 30 minutes of just laughter.
So you may be wondering, what do I do to make myself smile? First of all, every morning when I get up, I try REALLY hard to have an upbeat, positive attitude. I wake wanting to get up, get my day started, and face what the day will offer. So one of the best ways of possessing such an attitude is simply looking at yourself in the mirror and smiling. I know, sounds weird. People may think you’re weird for smiling at your reflection, but hey, you can smile at them if they comment, which thus might just make their day.
One of the most beautiful images ingrained in my mind are images of babies smiling. I love it. It really does make my day. Why? Because babies are so genuine in their smile, they give off a brightness that illuminates when they smile. It’s enough to make my day.
The greatest thing is that just one smile from a total stranger can just make some one’s day. Doesn’t it feel good when you randomly walk by some one and you’re feeling so happy inside that it shows from the glow on your face? To me, it’s one of the most encouraging things that may seem so insignificant, but actually matter so much.
And the thing is, no one can ever get enough of smiles. I know for myself, I get discouraged when just one person doesn’t smile back at me when I may randomly smile when some one passes me. But it really shouldn’t be like that. The previous Monday, at Make Your Mark on Madison, we discussed the important of smiling. And it was amazing how many people actually love smiling at random people while walking. I do believe that smiling is truly one of the greatest charities ever.
Sooo, SMILE!

Outside writing blog

The most exciting writing I do outside of this class is for my own pleasure. I have recently began this activity actually. I have started to write in a journal that’s saved in my e-mail, where I just write about my life. I was motivated to begin this ritual upon entering college as I feel it necessary to write down and reflect upon the changes in my life. I try to write in it every day, though of course, this doesn’t always happen. This writing isn’t all too different from the personal narrative writing as I’m still narrating in my journal. It’s also my personal account. It’s different in terms of formality as in my journal, I write about whatever pops in my mind, without worrying about a thesis and all the other wonderful stuff that writing a formal essay entails.
The other writing that’s quite frequent for me is writing essays for my Comparative Politics class. These essays are always argumentative. So this writing is similar to what I will be beginning for this class. It’s similar because I have to make an argument and then provide evidence to support whatever I’m trying to prove. It’s different because obviously, in Comparative Politics, I write about political topics, whereas in this class, it’s an account of my own experience.
That’s really all the outside writing I am currently doing. I’m sure as the year goes by, more classes will become more extensive with more writing!!

The Enlightening Experience

Standing amid a huge, roaring crowd, I feel my velvet, bright pink hijab, or head scarf, envelop me in its warmth. The voice of Chris Martin, from my favorite band Coldplay, is vibrating in my ears as he sings the uplifting lyrics of my most inspirational song “Viva la Vida” meaning Live your life. I scan the exuberant, heterogeneous crowd around me, and feel a sudden rush of happiness within me, a happiness born from the fact that I am in Manhattan, NY, enjoying a concert among people from all over this vast globe. I’m fascinated at how music has the power to unite people; regardless of where we come from, what beliefs or ideologies we hold, the beat of the music is the rhythm we are all intoned by. But my happiness abruptly diminishes as I hear some one behind me yell, “TERRORIST!”
Upon hearing this, I froze. My thoughts jumbled, my smile faded, I felt suffocated in my hijab. Chris Martin’s voice was now just a blur in the background. The only thought that was swimming through my mind was, “Does everyone here think I’m a terrorist?”
At that moment, I could have turned around. I could have yelled back, I could have expressed intense rancor in response to that disgusting, ignorant comment. But that would have been a complete contradiction to how I felt because I wasn’t feeling any thread of anger within me. I wasn’t angry at the comment, nor was I surprised. I was simply, confused. And hurt. Hurt at the fact that a piece of cloth on my head, which is supposed to serve as a symbol of peace and purity, may arise fear in some one else.
So, I did nothing. I didn’t turn around, nor did I say anything. In fact, it was at this very moment, amid the upbeat instrumental music from “Viva la Vida“, the blaring crowd and that person, who had in a matter of three seconds burst my comfort zone that an epiphany dawned on me.
I had so many times before read about the woman whose hijab had been snatched off her head or the woman who had rocks thrown at her somewhere in Britain. I had also discerned, a long time ago, from which these nasty stereotypes, sullying my way of life stemmed. In this post 9/11 world, I have become accustomed to reading those bloody headlines about the latest suicide attack that blow up buildings, trucks and human bodies in a matter of seconds. But before, these were all just words. Since I myself had never had felt any specific connection to those headlines, none of it held much intrinsic meaning for me. I walked around ignorantly and mindlessly living inside my own little world, unaware of the turmoil embroiling across the globe in Afghanistan or Iraq.
From that moment, I began to realize that I have a strong desire, a deep passion to help strengthen the strained relationships between the East and West. Being there in NY that day and realizing that the person’s anger was directly at me woke me up in so many ways. Now when I pick up the Washington Post and see the sanguineous picture of the little dead boy coming out of the ashes of the rubble that yet another suicide attack left behind in Iraq, I feel empowered to educate myself so I can one day help these people.
I can either do two things: Live my life as Chris Martin calls the world to do and help make change or shut the world and walk blindly and ignorantly on Earth while some ignorant fanatic across the globe blows another bomb in the name of my religion.

James Baldwin and Brent Staples

I loved Black Men and Public Space by Brent Staples. It is written so well, and it’s such a fast read, but nonetheless, he reveals his message so powerfully. I found his writing technique MUCH more useful than James Baldwin’s in Stranger in the Village. I found Baldwin’s essay too verbose, so much that I actually found it difficult in the beginning. I had to re-read several parts to understand exactly what he was saying. Additionally, it seems as though Baldwin seems to be making many arguments in one essay. Given that Baldwin’s audience is well-educated white men and women, it is clear that he may be using such verbose language in an effort to demonstrate his intellect, and therefore, prove his point that black men are just as capable as white men. In comparison to Staple’s essay, I found that since Staples was inundated with personal experience throughout, he created strong pathos as opposed to Baldwin. I found Baldwin to be making large philosophical statements a little too much, with little to grab the reader’s attention.

The readers of the Ms. Magazine that Staples wrote for was read by women who were afraid of black men, as the introductory paragraph mentions. As aforementioned, if found Staples essay serve well for his purpose. He cites many instances where he was harshly and wrongly judged as a thread since he is a black man. At the same time, he adds his own feelings to each specific experience, thus allowing the reader to understand the whole point of his essay. His experiences recount the female's fear, his women audiance can clearly relate to his point.

Random Blog

It was a beautiful, yet hot and humid day. Watching the mountains as I sang Hindu songs at the top of my lungs, several things were going through my head as we drove to the place that has become my second home. When I first arrived at James Madison University on August 19, 2009 with my older sister, younger brother, and my lovely mother, I was, simply, lost. Looking at the various license plates on the many cars that were lined in the parking lot in front of my hall, Shorts, I felt excited that there were people here from so many different places. But at the same time, I remember I had already begun feeling nostalgic. And even nervous. Okay, I was REALLY nervous.

Coming here, I didn’t know anyone besides one girl from my high school in Northern Virginia, who is currently a junior. The fact that I was going into a completely different place (I had never been to Harrisonburg prior to starting to school here) was arduous for me. Don’t get me wrong—I love meeting new people. Being a journalist all four years of my high school taught me to become a people person. Yet, there is always that initial feeling of just being apprehensive.
Now, only a month later, I, for a lack of better word, love it here. It’s amazing because I’ve NEVER met anyone who says they don’t like JMU.

There is a certain optimistic vibe here that I’ve definitely caught onto. The highlight of my time here has been joining clubs. Student organization was overwhelming because it had so much to offer, yet so exciting. I signed up for anything that caught my eye, and if someone called me over to get me to join their organization, I just could not refuse. So I ended up signing for the Astronomy Club, Student Ambassadors, the political science society, International Student Association, Muslim Student Association, the Bhangra Team, the Sign Language Club, and many others.

Of course, since time is the devourer of all things, I have decided to cut my list short, and commit myself only to about four clubs. And I’d say it’s a good mix of educational and social experiences. For fun, I’m in the Bhangra (type of Hindu dancing) Team and the International Student Association. The Muslim Student Association will really give me a chance to educate myself and the Harrisonburg community about one of the most widely misunderstood religions of the world, Islam. Being the Multicultural Representative will allow me to get to know people in my hall much better.

Most importantly, it’s the thought of being independent that doesn’t cease to motivate me. I love the idea of waking up on my own, doing my own laundry and grocery shopping, and being responsible for every decision I chose to make. It’s so enlightening. Yet, this thought itself is a continual reminder for me to make the right decisions and really utilize time. Quite honestly, I have not mastered time management yet, but I am working on really becoming satisfied with how each day goes.

I really do hope that by the end of my four years here at James Madison University, I can look back at it with pride and know that I’ve grown academically, socially and culturally.

My Writing Process

I’ve always thought of writing as a flower. In sixth grade, my English teacher, Mrs. Gilliam, had asked the class to think of metaphors to describe the writing process. My two favorite comparisons that my brain can recall are the salad bowl and the flower. In my amateur writing, I remember describing writing as, “Just like a flower takes time to bloom, writing takes lots of patience and drafts. But the end process is beautiful, just like how a flower turns out.”

And so it has always been this way for me—a LONG process that entails LOTS of patience. First of all, as I am doing now, I like to write down my drafts. As old school as I am, I let my thoughts flow on paper and be written by a pen, not the keyboard. I would say that like Anne Lamott, I definitely write AMAZING shitty drafts. If you could see my paper now, you’d see the many scratches, the terrible spelling, and the numerous side notes.

It’s almost like going for a run. When I first start out writing, I somehow ALMOST always feel frustrated, even a little incapable of writing well about whatever topic. But then, as the words form and my inner voice starts forming thoughts and ideas, I start feeling a sort of adrenaline rush—an exigency to keep going. Similarly, after a good 15 minutes of running, I become refreshed energized as I sweat bullets all over my body. After 15 minutes of intense focusing on writing, my brain gets excited and as long as I am making SOME progress, I feel good.

Another part of my writing process is that I LOVE to write outside in the nature. It’s inspirational and helps me think of metaphors and similes. After writing the first draft on paper, I then type it up. I find this quite beneficial as when I am typing, I make more additions and corrections as needed. So I’d say that I follow the traditional writing process as I then I make revisions to my first draft. Again, I prefer to edit on paper, not on the computer. Additionally, I really prefer numerous people reading my drafts to get as much feedback as possible. My final piece has to be read by me many times before submission—something I can truly value and turn in to be read by someone else.

A detriment to my writing is that I really, really cannot write last minute or under pressure. It continues to amaze me that sports writers or journalists are continually writing on some intense deadlines, especially the articles that must be published two minutes after a game. However, I do hope that one day I would have the ability to form ideas at such an amazing speed.

My Childhood Room

It was a magnificent home. In it, I was Alice in Wonderland, getting lost in the new things I explored day, discovering myself and the world around me all over again each day. Born in Pakistan, I vividly remember the huge home I grew up in—all seven large bedrooms, the beautiful garden, the porch, and the trees that enveloped our house in their mysteriousness.

The small desk in my room bore perhaps little resemblance to the desks of most children. I am and have been obsessed with newspaper clippings every since I was a child. I kept different notebooks of various cut outs, categorizing them in a way that only I could understand. During the evening, while I sipped on mango lassi or milkshake, I’d immerse myself in the pages of the notebooks, getting lost in the stories my mind created with their images and headlines. A cut out of a teacher teaching a class brought about endless stories in my own mind—I’d think about my own teachers, I’d think about what my says about respecting teachers, I’d think about teachers in other parts of the world, and finally I’d think about what could the teacher in this specific picture be teaching. It may sound a bit naïve, but this was the highlight of a my evenings until—

“WHY do you have this newspaper on my desk again??” interrupted my older sister as she snatched the newspaper and threw it on my bed.

Despite the size of our house, my sister and I shared a room. Like many other siblings, we didn’t get along too well as children. There was a dividing line between my side and her, so much so that we even outlined this line with duck tape.

The favorite part of my room was the money plant. My love for the money plant that both my mom and I grew together never died out. My mother gave special attention to it, increasing my interest in this piece of nature. I’d water it at the break of dawn when the intense Pakistani sun would show its face across the sky, signifying the call for the morning azan, or prayer. To me, the money plant represented life. I remember at night, I would vigilantly watch one of its branches that stretched all over my wall, trailing the mysterious green “texture”. I’d imagine the branches as different roads of my life. I’d sit comfortably in my bed, sometimes in the warm care of my mother’s arms around me, which road was the safest, the one that would take me to eternal happiness in life.

Of course, now when I look at a money plant, I know there is no such thing as “eternal” happiness. Life is filled with happy, sad, challenging and successful times.

"New DNA Age"

Through the usage of Amy Harmon’s vivid imagery, I found myself immersed in the DNA stories from the first article. She adeptly starts the article off with a straightforward statement, “The test, the counselor said, had come back positive.” This succinct statement pulls the reader right into the story. The vagueness surrounding the beginning of the article stimulated me to keep reading to find out what exactly this test was about. Additionally, the usage of dialogue between Ms. Moser and the counselor makes the writing alive, engaging my mind to an exciting story.

This was exceptionally beneficial as Harmon is writing about a serious, complex topic that the average American isn’t well-educated on. But instead of confusing the reader, she puts everything in simple language, and most importantly, makes the story interesting. Her first article greatly utilized the usage of pathos, creating a mixture of moods in the reader. Through the usage of strong word choice, as in “possessed” and “ravaged,” she creates a serious tone that displays the tense debates surrounding the DNA testing debate.

Her writing is rich with extensive research, as presented through the numerous interviews. The research makes her writing credible, and most significantly, she is not biased. She leaves the reader to decide what he/she may think about DNA testing. For example, she describes the genetic evolution, citing the ability of scientists to discern which areas certain diseases are stemming from, and at the same time offer that this same phenomena is raising eyebrows among many as people fear that it may give rise to prejudice and discrimination.Harmon’s audience is not limited to one specific group of people. In fact, throughout the series of articles, she reaches out to all kinds of people—people who may have been diagnosed with some sort of deadly disease, such as Huntington’s disease, people who may have some sort of genetic disorders running in the family, and also average Americans who simply need to be informed about DNA.

The purpose of her writing the series of articles on DNA is to inform readers of the controversial topic of DNA testing and how far technological advances have led scientists to learn so much more about the remarkable DNA. Her first article definitely targets families who have struggled through a deadly disease, such as Huntington’s, and she provides insight on how DNA testing is perceived by different kinds of people. She presents both sides of the argument—Ms. Moser who wanted to utilize DNA testing, and the mother who was completely averse to finding out about the gene that she may be carrying.

The occasion for her writing the series is revealed through the purpose of the articles—as the advent of technological tools enables scientists to learn more about the mysterious DNA, more controversies are arising as some people do not wish to find out all that science is making possible. Lastly, she simply wishes to explain the paramount significance of DNA—stories about exactly where Columbus came from and how DNA is continually being used to determine his past.