I used to have many pets before I came to the US, including a turtle, goldfish, bunnies, baby chickens, baby ducks, and snails. Among all my childhood companions I formed the strongest bond with the turtle. After touring the pet market in kindergarten, I was inspired to have a little animal friend of my own. I picked the turtle because it was easier to take care of since later in primary school I would be very busy. My mom loved to mark my height once every month on the wall by the kitchen. After we had the turtle, my mom started to put the turtle’s length on the wall too, just next to my height lines. Those tiny pencil marks witnessed the time that my turtle friend and I spent together. We never had a cage for him, so he just roamed around the house freely. At night, however, it became a little creepy when the turtle’s shell banged against the floor during his adventure; I often thought that someone had broken into our house. When I took him out to play, he often got lost in the long grass. So I had to watch the grass’s twitching to know where the turtle went. He passed away one day before I finished primary school. Now thinking back, I realized that I have never had a concrete name for him: for some reasons I did not like to give pets names.
My other animal buddies came later on one by one until I graduated primary school. I used to have two bunnies. The first one was white, and the other one was caramel colored. They were my favorite pets after the turtle. I remembered one time when I put a pot of flower too close to the bunny’s cage, and by the time I realized my mistake the bunny had already eaten one third of the flower’s leaves. I never had any pictures of them because back then I did not understand a camera’s point of existence and I resented being photographed myself. My animal friends taught me the importance of responsibility and friendship. Their short lives made me treasure every moment I had with all my friends and family, for “the world is like the fleeting presence of a white stallion”.
First of all, I appreciate the fact that the university did not try to cover up the video and suppress the event. Like the co-director Davis said, the responded after the act of racism had been caught on camera, but what about the racism actions that never saw the daylight? From this event, we are again reminded that “racism is alive”. Moving from Ferguson to the fraternity, we can see that the monster is not only alive, it is thriving on the history’s hatred and horror that seeped into the present like dark oil, sneaking through the filters that protect the equality and rights of man.
The fraternity reminds me strongly of the Brotherhood in “The Invisible Man”. According to Brother Jack, the organization’s purpose is to make the world a better place by creating equality and commonality among men. The fraternity holds a similar purpose, however, it failed miserably in pursuing its goal. Members of the Brotherhood warned the narrator that there are enemies within the organization. According to Brother Wrestrum, ” ‘there’s lots of poisons around. Some don’t want to shake your hand and some don’t like the idea of seeing too much of you’ ” (Ellison 393). Many are playing double parts, who ” ‘call you Brother to your face and the minute you turn your back, you ‘re a black son of a bitch’ ” (Ellison 393). Those “poisons” are shown by the fraternity members, making the fraternity of University of Oklahoma a real representation of a fictional structure.
The glorious golden beast perches on a rock among the sun-bleached grass; two streams of inky tears burst forth from its hazel eyes and are dried by the scorching sun as they tumble down the jaw, gracing the feline with a veil weaved of melancholy and mysterious beauty; the long and elegant body, starting from the petit head, sprints down the length of the spine, its lasting momentum elongates into the elegant yet powerful swing of a tail; finally, when the moment of long-waited savageness flickers across its burning eyes, the athletic body suddenly brims with energy and it rises and drops lightly onto the ground and in only three heartbeats, the beast transforms from a exquisite work of art into a hunter aimed to kill.
Looking back, I realized that I have never actually bought my own music before, not even on iTunes. Yes, never; which is quite interesting because I always liked music but I never even bothered to buy a music CD. I guess it was because that I could often find the entire album online, so I considered buying CDs for music a waste of pocket money.
When I was little, my parents got me a whole box of classical music CDs to try to nurture my interest in this particular type of music. Each CD had part of a famous composer’s face on the spine of it, such as Beethoven or Mozart. If arranged in the correct order, the CD spines would connect and complete the illustration of a row of brilliant composers’ portraits. I never really listened to them, which defeated the whole purpose, but I did play with the CD arrangements a lot.
My dad, however, was completely opposite from me. He always bought stacks and stacks of CDs on all types of music, moving from Chinese traditional songs to modern pop music. He often played them during meals, when the family was united from a day of work. There were so many CDs that we had a whole book shelf dedicated to them. The tunes and lyrics were embedded deeply in my memory, thus whenever I hear the familiar songs, a trigger would seem to go off and I would get lost momentarily in the old days.
A particular music connects to a particular situation or scenery, and I use this trait to my advantage when remembering events. For example, my dad used to play “Hotel California” frequently when he was cooking dinner, so whenever I feel nostalgic, I can just start the tune in my head and short clips will play behind my eyelids, allowing me to relive the moment.