Dear me, Deep down, we always knew we would end up at Stockton. Yes, you wanted to get away, live with roommates, and have the adventure of a lifetime. But we both know that our thriftiness and realism tops all else. Thus, we chose the safety school and dreaded the fact that life would more or less be the same. I remember the first few days of classes, the excitement of new subjects mingling with the anxiety of not knowing anyone . Slowly but surely, I started to speak up in class, make acquaintances, and feel more at home. After a few weeks of missing my previous life, I decided that Stockton wasn’t as “bad” as I made it out to be in my mind. I joined Gymnastics Club and was reminded of all the things I loved doing as a child. I felt involved and began to make some friendships! Being in Gymnastics Club really helped me establish myself in my own school and allowed me to have a home away from home. Fast forward to this semester, particularly this course. I wanted to take this ...
I first read this article during my Junior year of High School in my AP English Language and Composition class. I remember discussing the ethics and morals of boiling a lobster and how disgusted I felt after leaving class that day. To this day, I have not eaten lobster. Why? Because of Mr. Wallace and his existential crisis of an article. Re-reading this paper today was certainly different from reading it two years ago. Back then, I was ready to be upset about anything and everything. Thus, I wrote off lobster from my life. Now, I relate more to Wallace’s ending statements, in which he writes that he has “an obvious selfish interest…since I like to eat certain animals and want to be able to keep doing it.” This statement reflects the Maine Lobster Festival as a whole. On the surface, it is a fun festival in which one eats plenty of freshly cooked lobster. Digging deeper, we find that this festival is a place where lobsters are inhumanely boiled alive by the hundreds. It wasn’t unt...