That was TOTALLY Uncalled For.

On Friday, I walked into class with a frown on my face. Not only did we have a quiz on the assigned reading, but we also had a vocabulary quiz (ew). Normally, I don’t really care about the vocabulary quizzes -they’re fairly easy. But on the night before, as I was writing my vocabulary definitions, I stumbled across a spoiler about Gatsby and it made me mad. In class when I jokingly expressed my disappointment, Mrs. Valentino (roughly) exclaimed, “Well, we all know how Romeo and Juliet ends -it’s not that different”. This is where my blog idea stemmed from. Today, I will be comparing the iconic Romeo and Juliet to the Great Gatsby. 

There are a lot of parallels between the two famous pieces. The most obvious is the concept of a “forbidden romance”. Obviously, Romeo and Juliet are forbidden to be together- which ultimately leads to their downfalls. It’s not that Gatsby and Daisy are forbidden to be together, it’s that they can’t. Although they used to be in a relationship, Gatsby was drafted and Daisy got married to Tom. Also, like Romeo and Juliet, Gatsby and Daisy live near each other- which is a constant reminder of the pain and longing that come with this unfortunate situation. We can even find Gatsby peering across the bay towards Daisy’s house.

Unfortunately, we still need to address the elephant in the room. Like any romantic tragedy, someone has to die. We know that both Romeo and Juliet die in that piece, so obviously either Daisy or Gatsby -or both­- may die in the end. Unfortunately, I can tell you that someone does in fact die. Thanks, literarydevices.net.

The Twisted Reality of a Seemingly Normal Family

Hello. My name is Milkman, and my life is kind of crazy (yes, I just quoted a TikTok. Deal with it.). To start, I’m not only African American- but white AND Native American as well. How cool is that? To add to the chaos of my heritage, my mother went into labor as a man jumped off of the roof of a hospital! Not only that, but my mother and I were the first African American patients admitted to that hospital- and it had nothing to do with the fact that her father was a doctor. Following my birth, my mother breastfed me until I was about four years old- which is where my nickname comes from. 

Shifting to my father’s side, my grandmother was Native American and my grandfather was murdered. Unfortunately, my grandmother passed away while delivering my aunt -who was oddly named Pilate- who literally forced her way out of what could be described as a cave of flesh. To add to this, she has no bellybutton. Or should I say had? She was murdered by my ex-best friend (he was trying to shoot me!) who decided he wanted to be a part of a cryptic club that killed white people.  Pilate’s granddaughter-who oddly became my lover- actually also tried to kill me. All because she couldn’t get enough of me, I guess. Anyway, good luck reading about me! With my family, NOTHING is out of the question. After all, have you met anyone with a life that comes even close to being as twisted as mine?