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Daniel Perez

Adrian Comly

English 1010

11 April 2018

A Dead Poets Portrait

A portrait of my writing life? I think a portrait of my eating life would be more

impressive and essay worthy. That’s not because I don’t write, nor because I am no good at

writing. It’s more because I don’t write that often and I am less than mediocre at it….

LOL…(not even the crickets are chirping). Instead of being a normal post high school jock and

beating up a punching bag or hitting the gym, I bust out my Pilot G-2 .05 pen to express my

feelings. My “portrait” consists of 1st world problems and petty complaint dressed in poetry and

executed with sloppy penmanship. Buuuuuuut, we all need to blow off steam somehow, right?

Well, then let me paint for you my portrait, so as you follow along you can see what I

see. First, my masterpiece starts off with my mood swings and current situations. This will show

you why I complain so much and how I feel about my situation. Second, ranting/venting. Self

explanatory, but this is my silent, imaginary pacing and yelling puked out on a 6 by 6 piece of

lined paper. This is how I blow off steam which ties the pretty bow of my portrait. Lastly, the

Christian trademark of “generating hope” in most of my poems. This is the stabilizing factor that

keeps clinical depression off my bucket list.

My Moods and Situation

To give some important background to this particular portrait, these all originate from my

LDS mission down in Buenos Aires, Argentina. The armpit of the world as I like to call it. Don’t
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get me wrong, I loved my mission and it was the best 2 years for my life, but it was definitely an

intriguing experience, preaching in a 3rd world country. So without further transition, about 14

months into my service, I had gone through a lot of trials: lazy companions, being robbed,

rejection, and living with no power nor water, etc. But I also have had a lot of incredible

experiences: baptisms, witnessed miracles, and restoration of light and water! But I always

seemed to have been affected more by the negative than the positive. I’ve expressed, “Sitting

here stuck frozen in time” (T.A. 3) or “ I was transferred to a super dangerous area with a lazy

companion” (Reflections 2). I’ve noticed that depending on my situation or area I was in and

with a certain companion that wasn't to my liking or expectations, it irritated me. It felt like time

was glacier like, and also like nothing was going my way. I feel like this is because I’ve had

great companions with great success and when I was sent to a new area with a new companion

that wasn't like the previous, I became bitter. But writing this out has served as a resource in my

life, to get me through these issues. As I bite my tongue I let it all out on paper to keep myself

sane of the surface.

Venting/Ranting

I assume that everyone vents and/or rants to something or someone. There are the typical

grunting-pacing people, the sobbing the world hates me people, the gabgillion words in one

breath under 30 seconds people, etc. But for this ol chap, I am a little old fashion. So poetry is a

big resource for me to not commit suicide…. or homicide. I like to think I am creative with how

I express my rants and venting, “Time is a paradoxical zombie” (T.A. 1) also, “sitting here, stuck

frozen in time, rotting into my future.” (T.A. 3) Again, this is correlated with my previous topic

of moods and current situations. I’ve noted that I don't really rant or I don't really like to rant, so
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to spare those around me from that. I like to try to creatively jot them down. My rants were brief

but for me they felt like a million words, even when I wrote, “The transfer was a drag”

(Reflections ) or “I moved a lot… I hate moving” (Narrative). Writing down these simple

phrases of intense emotions has helped me control my anger. I have learned to cool down and

address my problems better this way. There was a time with a certain companion who wouldnt

get up. We have sooo much to get done in the morning before we leave at 10am every morning

and this companion was making it particularly difficult. So after my patience wore thin of trying

to nicely get him to get up I stormed into the kitchen filled up the biggest cup of water and

dumped it all over him! And he still didnt get up, so before commiting suicide or homicide, I sat

down and burned my thoughts into my notebook and felt relief overcome my body.

Generating Hope

Now as I went about writing poetry I was often asked if I had a purpose to my writing or

if my poems had a purpose. Now at first, I didn't know what that meant and my answer was

usually “no” or “I don’t know”. So as I continued to write poetry, especially out on my LDS

mission, the main purpose was to deal with my moods and situations and not have to violently

vent to those around me. But I always found myself in the middle of poetry, worse than before. I

felt more despair, and I sunk more into what was happening. Aside from being a Christian, I

wanted to change my mood not just vomit it out on paper. I’ve vomited, “The end of a lazy

companion.” (Reflections ) and also “ lets treasure these times but refuse to bury them deep

inside” (T.A. 3). I’ve noticed that instead of ending my poems with the negative emotions I try to

throw in any glimmer of hope. I’ve stated, “ I thought of a better time/place.” (Reflections )

Whether that was in the mission or field, in the past or the future, these poems have served and
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continue to serve as a lighthouse for me. During times of trial, I often write poetry yes, but I also

re-read my poems to remind myself that I was there before and I've gotten out of it at the end.

This is the biggest part of my portrait as a resource in my life. There were times in my mission

where I was robbed, arrested, and had my faith contested. Looking back on how my poems

dressed these emotional wounds, I ended up happier than ever before.

Conclusion

Well there is no poem or fancy way to wrap this up but I think the subtitle and this

sentence should give me the credit I’m hoping for. Poetry for me, is expression, therapeutic, and

guidance. I’ve had my eyes opened up to how important poetry has been and is in my life. I've

seen how I am a wuss in my life and complain about my situation and moods (but at least no one

has to hear about it haha). I’ve seen how my vomiting of complaints has served me well in not

getting in fights and more clearly be able to make decisions ( kind of). Lastly, I don’t become

suicidal due to my poems. It helps me trudge along and to also give me a friendly reminder from

the past that everything is gonna be okay!