LAPD

I have spent the week deciphering my feelings and opinions about our visit to Skid Row. My initial reaction was utter confusion--once we entered the space, I couldn't seem to figure out what intentions and persons were behind what we were watching, nor could I manage to follow the train of thought behind the performances themselves. I caught on soon enough, and thought nothing else solid about the matter until I was working on a free write poem in my next class-- and the beginning pangs of disgust set in. How is it that we could possibly take a class field trip to Skid Row? It seemed eerily similar to taking a field trip to the zoo. Indeed, sometimes I caught myself looking at the residents as I would the caged animals: as something removed and lesser than myself. I hesitate to admit such a thing, for it does not reflect too positively on my person-- so I must be redeem by expressing utter disgust with myself. The whole time, I felt like I was watching a cartoon more than real life. The skits did not help this notion. Somehow, I felt they made a mockery of the deep rooted, precious stories of the residents of Skid Row. The trip did not serve the purpose (for me) of exposing me to the realities of other people's lives, no matter how I tried to open my eyes and observe. I'd like to have a more eloquent, fair reaction that proved my character worthwhile, but in reality..... I sicken myself with this reaction. So it is.