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I made my artwork about the scene in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey in which one of the secondary characters Pete has an outburst in the ward’s group therapy discussion. For my artist representation, I started with the few descriptions of Pete I read the novel and built off of them in the way that I thought would represent him best. I drew Pete with thinning hair similar to the character of George Costanza from the TV show Seinfeld, with hair on the sides of his head and thin combed over wisps of hair on his crown. In the specific scene that I chose to represent on page 49 where Pete says, “ Ya see, I can’t help it …I was born dead, not you. You wasn’t born dead…I had so many insults I died…I been dead fifty-five years”(Kesey).
I think that Kesey’s description of depression, through the character of Pete, was incredibly realistic. This sad and empty feeling that was described in Pete’s outburst is why I decided not to give Pete pupils in my artist’s representation of this scene because I wanted the viewer to understand that he really and truly feels dead inside so I tried to make him look like such. I think that the reason that I chose this scene in particular is because I have personally related to this. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder when I was around twelve years old and it has been something that I have struggled with for as long as I can remeber. I can say from firsthand experience that this way of describing how depression can feel was incredibly captivating. Kesey’s manner of representing the vast effect of mental health on a person had a way of making me feel seen but also somehow a bit disturbed. This is such a raw and unadulterated feeling for anyone to go through and seeing it reproduced so profoundly and uncanny on a page was kind of jarring. I am personally not a huge fan of this book so far but I can say that I am very fascinated by the way that Kesey depicts elements of mental health like his description of Pete’s depression or Bromden’s schizophrenic hallucinations. I have only personally experienced one of the two but I do think that since he is really good at demonstrating what these disorders feel like internally in a really profound way. For this reason I would guess that a person who has experienced schizophrenia or knows someone who has would probably feel represented by his style of writing and/or can validate his mode of representation for these illnesses. In summation, I think that Pete’s character is most influential in terms of making people feel more related to the overall narrative because so many of the characters really lack anything that most readers can relate to which, I believe, is a very important part of any piece of writing because it is one of many ways to keep a reader engaged.

¨The vote is closed, Mr. McMurphy.¨ ¨Let me talk to ´em.¨ I begin to walk over to the chronics side, can’t even remember the last time I talked to the bunch but I´m desperate. One of ´em best raise their hand, they might be old but everyone likes a good ol´ ball game, better than cleaning the latrine and what not. ¨What about you buddy? You want to watch the World series? Baseball? Baseball games? Just raise that hand up there–¨ ¨Fffffffuck da wife.¨ What´s wrong with these guys man. No one likes a good old baseball game? I mean come on, just need one hand. ¨All right, forget it. You, partner, how about you? What was your name–Ellis? What do you say, Ellis, to watching a ball game on TV? Just raise your hand…¨ The nurse continues, keep on going on about how the voting is closed. Chronic or not, we´re men. I´m sure one of us would like a good ol´ game, world series. Just need one of them to raise their hands. Just one, I mean come on. I look over at the indian, he looks nervous. Can´t remember what was wrong with the guy? I think he was deaf, but I´m desperate. Deaf doesn’t mean blind, I´ḿ sure he likes a good old ball game, I mean come on for cryin’ out loud. Just one of you damn screwups, just raise your hand. Can´t let the nurse get one on me, come on, come on. ¨You, Chief, what about you?¨ I cry out. I´m not even sure he can hear me or not, If I´m honest, I´m not sure I´ve ever heard the guy talk, not a sound comes from him. But he´s been here awhile nevertheless, don´t you want a change of scenery, do indians play ball? Come on man. The nurses’ voice echoes in my mind, ¨The vote is closed.¨ ¨The vote is closed.¨ ¨The vote is closed.¨ ¨The vote is closed.¨ I look over at the chief, looks like something is stirring inside of the guy. I mean, he looks up at me, then his hand. His shoulder moves slowly, his arm bends. The guy looks reluctant, but it´ll do, just need the guy to raise his hand, and he does. ¨Good on you chief, glad one of you gentlemen had some sense.¨ I give him a slap and happily look at the nurse. She stares at the chief, like her anger switched or somethin´, redirected on the chief. And now that I think about it, isn’t this guy supposed to be deaf or somethin? How could he have heard me? These guys get some magic power or somethin´ to mind read? I look back at the television, I can see the guy´s reflection. He looks nervous, I mean, is he really deaf? Why would he be nervous? You know now that I think about it, he was the only one that really shook my hand, I mean he looked terrified like he could hear me. He looked scared too, when I was laughin´. I mean, what if this guy is some type of foney, you can hear me can´t you? I give the guy another look, he’s given a side eye to the nurse, he looks like a deer in headlights, what´s up with this guy? I look back at the nurse, her face is red.. I almost let out a laugh, good ol´ ratchet can’t seem to hide it. She´s angry, and the rest of us are watchin´ her. I was best not to let her get one up on me, now look at her. What´s up with these folk? Everyone’s starin at the nurse, I suppose we´re all thinking about it, whether this guy is really deaf or not. I mean maybe, maybe they know already, and they´re hidin’ it. I best not ask, wouldn’t want to get the little get in trouble since he´s lettin me watch the world series/

Something I wanted to include was McMurphy´s reaction to Chief Bromden raising his hand, naturally he´d be excited but I think something that has been true for the majority of the story is McMurphy´s type of heightened sense of awareness, as if he could see through people easily. That´s why I wrote about him thinking about whether the chief was really deaf. I tried to include excerpts from the book because I still wanted to keep some of the books narration, or truthfulness to my own twist on the inner narration of McMurphy, while including a realistic kind of outsider point of view that came in the form of him not wanting to ask. I tried to make sure to make his narration kind of sound like a southerner, because he´s described as a large redneck or red haired man which is usually connected to the south.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kessy. Narrates of the importance of the impact when someone has control over you. To counteract this effect, you will have and cause others when you test an authority’s power. In the book McMurphy was tired of seeing how the Big Nurse controlling and manipulating all of the patients, but they do is complain. “Hell’s bells,” McMurphy says, “listen at you. All I hear is gripe, gripe, gripe. About the nurse or the staff or the hospital. Scanlon wants to bomb the whole outfit. Sefelt blames the drugs. Fredrickson blames his family trouble. Well, you’re all just passing the buck.” He goes on to say that the Big Nurse is just a bitter, icy-hearted old woman, and all this business trying to get him to lock horns with her is a lot of bull—how it wouldn’t do anybody any good, especially him. Getting shut of her wouldn’t be getting shut of the real deep-down hang-up that’s causing the gripes. “You think not?” Harding says. “Then since you are suddenly so lucid on the problem of mental health, what is this trouble? What is this deep-down hang-up, as you so cleverly put it.” (pg) That “deep-down hang-up” is that they are scared of what will happen to them if they defy the authority of what Chief Bromden calls “the Combine,” with Big Nurse as the head of it. When McMurphy realizes they just want him to do all of the fighting back because they are afraid that their release will be delayed, and when he finds out they are they voluntarily, he can’t believe it: “He looks frightened. McMurphy stands up in the hall and says, “Are you guys bullshitting me!”” (pg). But they all tell him reason they don’t leave is they are really afraid. Just like how they all are afaird to stand up for themselves because they know the consequences that they will face. I to have the same fears when it comes to testing authority power. In middle school when I was in 9th grade we had a person come over for mini-course and they were teaching us about arts. At the time half of the class was not paying any attention and was just messing around. The person got so mad where they went very unprofessional and have used many behaviors to express his frustrations. One was using profanity words to all of and over all abusing all of his authority and power to be heard. At that moment as I have looked around I saw all of my fellow students feeling very uncomfortable. I truly felt like standing up and saying something but I couldn’t because I didn’t want to face any consequences if I were to. Just as McMurphy was stunned after hearing that all of these people still chose to be there even after seeing what the Big Nurse has been doing, I have felt the same way when the rest of the students in the class still choosing not to say anything to our school staff after all that. I even tried talking to some of my friends but they also chose to keep their heads down not do anything about it. McMurphy is not only talking about his fellow patients’ actions and the consequences for themselves, but he is also confronting his own cooperation with the whole system. He is starting to realize that his “allies” are really just using him to do what they won’t, even though they have the freedom to escape whenever they choose. McMurphy has more to lose than they do. So, he is beginning mistrusting them and realizing that he really is all alone in there. He also knows that when it all comes down, none of them are going to join him or even stand up for him. I think that’s where I might have been, too. I wanted the teacher’s bullying to stop, but I knew that no one had my back it would all come down on me.

In all of the chapters we’ve read of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, there is a nurse named Nurse Ratched, more commonly known in the book as “The Big Nurse.” I chose to portray her this way to depict the power, control, and fear she has on the inmates of the asylum. I blended the red accents in her white uniform and obscured her face with a shadow to capture the essence of her character: a symbol of authority and fear. The composition allows viewers to put themselves on the dark floors of the hospital where the nurse’s demeanor embodies the emotional and psychological tension she imposes. Her head turned shows her disregard for identity, focusing on the rules and system she upholds. The significance of this piece is the exploring perspective and asking viewers to question how they perceive figures like her.

The decision to hide her face is one the most important parts of the artwork. It hides her features, allowing the viewer to interpret her character in the hospital. She can represent a figure of power and control and for others, she is a source of fear and vulnerability. Hiding her features ensures her identity is entirely shaped by perception. This artistic choice highlights the power of perspective and what it can cause people to do.

The choice of red accents in her uniform was done purposefully as the color red is seen with power, fear, and terror. Its emotional texture is a reminder of Nurse Ratched’s demeanor. The red coloring adds a layer of indifference that defines her relationship with patients. This choice shows her role as a nurse and oppressor, blending a facade of professionalism and manipulation.

Her head turned in the image, shows how she distances herself emotionally from the viewer, seeing them as nothing more than another inmate. It is done to make the viewer feel small compared to her, which also helps give soundness to her nickname “The Big Nurse.” Her face at that angle also suggests an avoidance of accountability for what may occur in the hospital but also gives her that feeling of always being aware of what is happening. It invites the viewer to feel who she is, overseeing the inmates and experiencing the control she wields over the inmates.

The dim lighting in the background is done to isolate her and the viewer. The flickering lights contribute to an environment of uncertainty and unease. The setting represents the system she upholds, designed to confine, control, and suppress. The background being empty also lets the viewer imagine what may be hiding in the shadows behind her. It serves as a silent commentary on the dehumanizing nature of the institution and what it is doing to its inmates.

The portrait of Nurse Ratched is not just a depiction of her fictional character but of the dynamics of authority and perception. The face covered by a shadow, red accents, and eerie setting contribute to creating an image that is unsettling and thought-provoking. It lets viewers imagine what power may mean to her and questions them on what power means to themselves and how they see figures of control. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is full of characters that have significance and power but Nurse Ratched is the strongest of them all.

The scene that this image was drawn to represent takes place on pages 57-60 of One Flew Out of the Cuckoo’s Nest, where McMurphy talks to Harding about Ms. Ratched and the happenings in the Ward. Eventually, responding to McMurphy calling them chickens in the discussion, Harding describes himself and the other patients as rabbits instead, “… All of us in here are rabbits of varying ages and degrees, hippity-hopping through our Walt Disney world.” (57) Due to how close to the beginning of the book this scene was, the reader has not come to an understanding of what the characters in the ward are truly thinking and feeling, and how differently they think has not truly been demonstrated. This is one of the first scenes that gives the reader insight to what is going on within the ward patient’s minds, and as the reader it was a little unsettling to me. That scene made me feel unsure about my initial thoughts that maybe patients at the ward didn’t have much of a difference mentally.

He continues the previous quote with explaining how their rabbitness relates to them being stuck in the world and their craziness, “Oh don’t misunderstand me, we are not here because we are rabbits - we’d be rabbits wherever we were - we’re all in here because we can’t adjust to our rabbithood,” (57-58). The animalistic comparison really stood out to me, and when I read this moment in the book I had an image in my mind of a giant wolf with sharp teeth making little rabbits tremble in fear and stay stuck in place. I was inspired by both the unsettling feeling this scene left me with, as well as this imagery that was left in my mind of the wolf and rabbit, to try drawing this scene. I tried to demonstrate that through my drawing; the wolf’s jaws and teeth are depicted around a rabbit - which is what Harding describes as the relationship between Nurse Ratched and the ward patients.

The drawing was designed to look similar in a few ways to some of the art styles that are shown in the book. Some of the style similarities can be seen when comparing this image to the image at the very beginning of the book, before the title page. This image (used for inspiration) shows a man curled into himself, sitting in a room with a chair and a door in the background, and his two hands are curled around his face. The drawing is black and white, and appears to be drawn in graphite or something similar. The shapes and lines used in the drawing are very sharp and angular. There is also a dynamic between lightly and darkly shaded parts of the art piece. I tried to use these three stylistic choices in my own artwork to create a similar unsettling feeling that leaves the reader a bit confused and shocked, because that is the impact this scene had on me.

De’Naiza Watson 11/22/2024 Pahomov College English

After Harding had stopped his rant, it became quiet. Eerily quiet. Almost as if a pin could drop and even the Big Nurse could hear it from wherever she was.

Then McMurphy spoke, softer than normal,

“ Are you guys bullshitting me?’, then it got louder.

“Are you guys bullshitting me!”, then it got quiet again.

Then he paced, up and down, back and forth, before he came and stopped near me. I felt his presence before I saw him. My back turned away from everyone else. My back was turned, but I was listening.

I was waiting for it, anticipating it.

I listened as he went on. Speaking, shouting, outraged.

“ You Billy – you must be committed for Christakes!”

“No”, I answered, still not facing the group.

“ You oughta be out running around in a convertible, bird doggin girls. Why do you stand for it?”

He quickly moved on from me. I was no longer interested in the machinery before me, with my back turnt, I listened.

“You could get along outside if you had the guts”, Murphy said aloud again, throughout his entire rant that is the moment that struck me, that’s what stood out.

Guts, if I had the guts. In that moment I can’t recall if I had felt angry, or if I had afterall been sad. Before I even realized, I turned around.

“ Sure!”, I yell the first time. The words came out louder than I had anticipated.

“ Sure” I shout a second.

That’s it, I remember now, I remember how I’d felt. I was angry. Not just at McMurphy, but at myself. If I had the guts. I wouldn’t be here. If I had the guts, who knows what I’d be doing right now.

“If we had the g-guts! I could go outside t-today, if I had the guts. My m-m-mother is a good friend of M-Miss Ratched, and I could get an AMA signed this afternoon, if I had the guts!”

Then I remember I got really angry. I got up and grabbed my shirt, I wanted to leave right now. I could show McMurphy I had guts. But then, I turned around again.

“You think I wuh-wuh-wuh-want to stay in here? You think I wouldn’t like a con-con-vertible and a guh-guh-girl friend? But did you ever have people l-l-laughing at you? No, because you’re so b-big and so tough! Well, I’m not big and tough. Neither is Harding. Neither is F-Fredrickson. Neither is Suh-Sefelt. Oh - oh, you - you t-talk like we stayed in here because we liked it! Oh - it’s n-no use …”

I wanted to keep going, I wanted to keep talking, but then my anger turned to sadness. I went, turned to run, then I don’t really remember much of what happened after that.

It’s silly to me, because on paper I’m normal. As I sit and write to you. You’d have no idea what was wrong with me.I aint deaf like Broom, I dont got any weird thoughts in my head.I envy McMurphy, not for the reason everyone else thinks. He’s got a confidence about him that separates him from us. Maybe if I had the guts, nobody would know what’s wrong with me.

If I had the guts.

Reflection: The stylistic choice I chose to make during my writing was to have Billy Bibbit narrate a scene where he got emotional. I chose to focus on Billy intellectually instead of Billy socially. There’s nothing serious that separates Billy from a normal person besides his stutter, and his childlike appearance. He’s consciously thinking, and he’s consciously making choices and decisions like an adult would. He’s not behind. In those scenes, having it narrated from Bromden’s perspective doesn’t help show a lot of the big emotions that can come with the scenario. Especially in Billys case. Billy has a severe stutter, and as someone with a stutter, it’s something I could relate to on a personal level. People working through stutters or having them doesn’t make them lesser in the brain department and that’s a point I wanted to get across by Billy breaking down scenarios in order to better understand between character and reader.

De’Naiza Watson 11/22/2024 Pahomov College English

After Harding had stopped his rant, it became quiet. Eerily quiet. Almost as if a pin could drop and even the Big Nurse could hear it from wherever she was.

Then McMurphy spoke, softer than normal,

“ Are you guys bullshitting me?’, then it got louder.

“Are you guys bullshitting me!”, then it got quiet again.

Then he paced, up and down, back and forth, before he came and stopped near me. I felt his presence before I saw him. My back turned away from everyone else. My back was turned, but I was listening.

I was waiting for it, anticipating it.

I listened as he went on. Speaking, shouting, outraged.

“ You Billy – you must be committed for Christakes!”

“No”, I answered, still not facing the group.

“ You oughta be out running around in a convertible, bird doggin girls. Why do you stand for it?”

He quickly moved on from me. I was no longer interested in the machinery before me, with my back turnt, I listened.

“You could get along outside if you had the guts”, Murphy said aloud again, throughout his entire rant that is the moment that struck me, that’s what stood out.

Guts, if I had the guts. In that moment I can’t recall if I had felt angry, or if I had afterall been sad. Before I even realized, I turned around.

“ Sure!”, I yell the first time. The words came out louder than I had anticipated.

“ Sure” I shout a second.

That’s it, I remember now, I remember how I’d felt. I was angry. Not just at McMurphy, but at myself. If I had the guts. I wouldn’t be here. If I had the guts, who knows what I’d be doing right now.

“If we had the g-guts! I could go outside t-today, if I had the guts. My m-m-mother is a good friend of M-Miss Ratched, and I could get an AMA signed this afternoon, if I had the guts!”

Then I remember I got really angry. I got up and grabbed my shirt, I wanted to leave right now. I could show McMurphy I had guts. But then, I turned around again.

“You think I wuh-wuh-wuh-want to stay in here? You think I wouldn’t like a con-con-vertible and a guh-guh-girl friend? But did you ever have people l-l-laughing at you? No, because you’re so b-big and so tough! Well, I’m not big and tough. Neither is Harding. Neither is F-Fredrickson. Neither is Suh-Sefelt. Oh - oh, you - you t-talk like we stayed in here because we liked it! Oh - it’s n-no use …”

I wanted to keep going, I wanted to keep talking, but then my anger turned to sadness. I went, turned to run, then I don’t really remember much of what happened after that.

It’s silly to me, because on paper I’m normal. As I sit and write to you. You’d have no idea what was wrong with me.I aint deaf like Broom, I dont got any weird thoughts in my head.I envy McMurphy, not for the reason everyone else thinks. He’s got a confidence about him that separates him from us. Maybe if I had the guts, nobody would know what’s wrong with me.

If I had the guts.

Reflection: The stylistic choice I chose to make during my writing was to have Billy Bibbit narrate a scene where he got emotional. I chose to focus on Billy intellectually instead of Billy socially. There’s nothing serious that separates Billy from a normal person besides his stutter, and his childlike appearance. He’s consciously thinking, and he’s consciously making choices and decisions like an adult would. He’s not behind. In those scenes, having it narrated from Bromden’s perspective doesn’t help show a lot of the big emotions that can come with the scenario. Especially in Billys case. Billy has a severe stutter, and as someone with a stutter, it’s something I could relate to on a personal level. People working through stutters or having them doesn’t make them lesser in the brain department and that’s a point I wanted to get across by Billy breaking down scenarios in order to better understand between character and reader.

The Mind Space

The mind is a complex universe within us, something that only we can understand, from ever fragment, every core, the thoughts that we have, the inner voice that helps us create the decisions that we make, but if we’re fortunate enough to find our person to understand, we’re usually left alone to deal with our mind. What makes the mind different from others? How is handling your mind and your perception of the world different from everyone else? A good example of this would be this quote, “There’s a shipment of frozen parts come in downstairs– hearts and kidneys and brain the like. I can hear them rumble into cold storage down the coal chute. A guy sitting in the room someplace I can’t see is talking about a guy up on Disturbed killing himself. Old Rawler. Cut both nuts off and bled to death, sitting right on the can in the latrine, half a dozen people in there with him didn’t know it till he fell off to the floor, dead.” — In the book, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, main character Chief Bromden is often someone who is stuck in his thoughts. These thoughts can be very disturbing or very intriguing depending how you look at it. The quote above is an example of his mindset, his mind is so spiral, he thinks of gruesome things, he even thinks of the uncomfortable, but that is what makes the mind– a mind. Throughout the book Bromden’s thoughts deepen and switch between his past and his present, sometimes while reading, the reader’s mind can become fogged as if the fog machine is present in their head, like Bromden’s. Meaning that, the reader becomes confused, intrigued, and their thoughts become more intune with the book. Thinking like Bromden in a way. As for me, reading this book has definitely opened my eyes to how people in Asylum’s could be. Of course with previous knowledge, I already knew a lot, but you never can see the inside of a patient’s mind. You never can have the same experience as them– until you’re them. While reading this book my thoughts varied back and forth, even though Bromden’s thoughts were what people would say were weird, I couldn’t help but relate to him. My mind runs a thousand miles per hour, endless thoughts trembling throughout my mind, thoughts that I wish I didn’t have. These would be called intrusive thoughts, where you think about things that are depicted as “abnormal” for example– a constant thought I used to have that I hated was hurting animals. Of course I would never do such, I love animals, so why was this thought in my brain? For nights I stressed myself out about this. The more I dug that shovel deep into that one thought, the more that thought exploded into gruesome thoughts that transpired into something worse. I would overthink so much about this that my head would start to burn from stress. While this turned into an everyday occurrence for years, I felt at a disadvantage. I didn’t know what to do. Back to the book, there isn’t really anything for the patients to do. Like Bromden, he can’t do anything but think. I feel like me and many others, when it comes to delusion, overthinking, intrusive thoughts, just for saying the wrong thing to someone you can be put inside of a Mental Asylum. Relating to the book, for me, it still confuses me as to why Bromden was in there in the first place. This makes me think about when I was almost taken to an Asylum, all because I said an intrusive thought that bothered me. Feeding into your delusions can be dangerous; it’s like liking a boy but he doesn’t like you back, but you believe that he’ll like you back one day so you sit and just hold onto the possibility of him liking you. You change his contact in your phone to something romantic, you daydream while looking at his pictures, then you try again and ask him out and you’re surprised when he denies you. Being delusional can get your heart broken, can mess up your brain, it can create issues for you that you created for yourself. With Bromden, his thoughts are all over the place which confuses the reader. Even me, I was confused, and offended by his constant comments about Black people. The frequent use of “negro”. But all in all, I relate to Bromden, his mind just runs and runs and never stops, and so does mine, and I wish that it wasn’t like that.

On Friday we sit down for another community meeting forced upon us by Nurse Ratched. I look around at the other men slumped over, and muttering to themselves. These poor useless men guarantee that I’m the only one in here in the right mind. Nah I’m really the craziest of them all and old Ratched knows it. I remember that I’m gonna need them all today, so I put on my very best behavior. I raise my hand and politely request if we could reassess the topic of TV time. Then the goddamn woman informs me that this is therapy and my grievance is too petty to discuss. I don’t take that type of disrespect so naturally I keep speaking my ideas. Then the woman interrupted me again and the next thing she said just drove me mad. She suggests that I’m imposing my personal desires on the other gentlemen in the ward, which I’m sure as hell not. Then she has the audacity to suggest the others would be happier with me gone. I keep it interesting around here, and she knows it. One of the guys speaks up though, and tells old Ratched to give me a chance. They bicker for a while and finally she lets me propose my ideas to the group. I tell them I want a revote on TV in the afternoon and the nurse tells me again that there’s more important things to do, but she eventually gives in. I made a quick joke, and consequently she suggests my removal from this ward again. Clearly this woman, if you can even call her a woman, is invincible to my charm.

I decided that a show of hands is the right path forward, and I’m the first to confidently stick my hand in the air. Lucky for me and my dignity, the men raise their hands, one by one. Soon enough, all twenty of the men they call Acutes are raising their hands. I knew they agreed with me, the poor fellas were just scared. Everyones dead silent and even old Ratched is stunned. Then that goddamn woman informs me that there are forty patients in the ward and I need the majority to make a change. At that point I was done with the niceties. I stood up and just about yelled in that woman’s face. I told her off about how ridiculous it is to require those old birds to vote, to change anything around her. Then she and the doctor went on about the constitution of the place. It was such bullshit and I just about lost it. Then the damn woman tells the doctor to write it down like I’m some case study. Before they can stop me I go over and do everything I can to convince those chronic men to flap their wing just a little bit. I go from one to the next begging them. First Ruckly, then Ellis, Pete, Gabriel, and George. I only manage to get a blank stare or a mumble of gibberish in response. Finally I get to Chief Bromden. The man can’t hear or talk so I have little hope at this point. The Big Nurse announces that the meeting is adjourned, but miraculously The Chief raises his hand. I jump up and down whooping, and give him a good hard pat on the back. I cheer and announce to the group that we’ve reached majority. The Acutes gather around me in celebration, and the Nurse walks away with a fake smile across her face.

Later in the day, we see her behind the glass with the same strange smile. I don’t pay her much attention as I scour the baseboard. I check the clock and see that it’s about game time, so I leave my rags on the ground. I walk by Old Ratchet and who’s red faced and glaring at me. I give that woman my best grin and a wink for her troubles. This only makes her angrier though, but I know she likes me. I go get my favorite armchair and I bring it over to the TV. All the other guys glance at me but they’re too chicken to stop working. I turn the tv on, put my feet up, and light up. The only thing that would make me happier is an ice cold beer. I see the nurse staring at me. I knew she couldn’t resist me. Then she turns off the damn tv, so I lean way back, and take another puff. I always win.

Authors Note:

I wrote this scene from the perspective of Mcmurphy. I decided to write in a lot of short snappy sentences with casual and not very descriptive narration. He speaks in a colloquial way in comparison to the way Bromden narrates and Nurse Ratched speaks. He also curses a lot and is often exasperated which I express through his narration. He’s also very manipulative so I made it clear through his thoughts that he’s strategizing how to get everyone to cooperate with what he wants. He objectifies and flirts with Nurse Ratched a lot so I also included that in his thoughts.

On Friday we sit down for another community meeting forced upon us by Nurse Ratched. I look around at the other men slumped over, and muttering to themselves. These poor useless men guarantee that I’m the only one in here in the right mind. Nah I’m really the craziest of them all and old Ratched knows it. I remember that I’m gonna need them all today, so I put on my very best behavior. I raise my hand and politely request if we could reassess the topic of TV time. Then the goddamn woman informs me that this is therapy and my grievance is too petty to discuss. I don’t take that type of disrespect so naturally I keep speaking my ideas. Then the woman interrupted me again and the next thing she said just drove me mad. She suggests that I’m imposing my personal desires on the other gentlemen in the ward, which I’m sure as hell not. Then she has the audacity to suggest the others would be happier with me gone. I keep it interesting around here, and she knows it. One of the guys speaks up though, and tells old Ratched to give me a chance. They bicker for a while and finally she lets me propose my ideas to the group. I tell them I want a revote on TV in the afternoon and the nurse tells me again that there’s more important things to do, but she eventually gives in. I made a quick joke, and consequently she suggests my removal from this ward again. Clearly this woman, if you can even call her a woman, is invincible to my charm.

I decided that a show of hands is the right path forward, and I’m the first to confidently stick my hand in the air. Lucky for me and my dignity, the men raise their hands, one by one. Soon enough, all twenty of the men they call Acutes are raising their hands. I knew they agreed with me, the poor fellas were just scared. Everyones dead silent and even old Ratched is stunned. Then that goddamn woman informs me that there are forty patients in the ward and I need the majority to make a change. At that point I was done with the niceties. I stood up and just about yelled in that woman’s face. I told her off about how ridiculous it is to require those old birds to vote, to change anything around her. Then she and the doctor went on about the constitution of the place. It was such bullshit and I just about lost it. Then the damn woman tells the doctor to write it down like I’m some case study. Before they can stop me I go over and do everything I can to convince those chronic men to flap their wing just a little bit. I go from one to the next begging them. First Ruckly, then Ellis, Pete, Gabriel, and George. I only manage to get a blank stare or a mumble of gibberish in response. Finally I get to Chief Bromden. The man can’t hear or talk so I have little hope at this point. The Big Nurse announces that the meeting is adjourned, but miraculously The Chief raises his hand. I jump up and down whooping, and give him a good hard pat on the back. I cheer and announce to the group that we’ve reached majority. The Acutes gather around me in celebration, and the Nurse walks away with a fake smile across her face.

Later in the day, we see her behind the glass with the same strange smile. I don’t pay her much attention as I scour the baseboard. I check the clock and see that it’s about game time, so I leave my rags on the ground. I walk by Old Ratchet and who’s red faced and glaring at me. I give that woman my best grin and a wink for her troubles. This only makes her angrier though, but I know she likes me. I go get my favorite armchair and I bring it over to the TV. All the other guys glance at me but they’re too chicken to stop working. I turn the tv on, put my feet up, and light up. The only thing that would make me happier is an ice cold beer. I see the nurse staring at me. I knew she couldn’t resist me. Then she turns off the damn tv, so I lean way back, and take another puff. I always win.

Authors Note:

I wrote this scene from the perspective of Mcmurphy. I decided to write in a lot of short snappy sentences with casual and not very descriptive narration. He speaks in a colloquial way in comparison to the way Bromden narrates and Nurse Ratched speaks. He also curses a lot and is often exasperated which I express through his narration. He’s also very manipulative so I made it clear through his thoughts that he’s strategizing how to get everyone to cooperate with what he wants. He objectifies and flirts with Nurse Ratched a lot so I also included that in his thoughts.

Authority is “the power or right to give orders, make decisions, and enforce obedience.” I’ve experienced many forms of authority throughout my life, from many different people, that all fall under the umbrella of being adults. As children, we are told that adults should be met with respect and have the right to exercise their authority over us when the situation calls for it. My experience with authority has been very mixed throughout my seventeen years of living, I usually fall into line when met with most forms of authority. The book, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, has various alternate perspectives on how to adapt to authority.

Throughout the book Nurse Ratched serves as the leading authority over the ward, seeming to have connections to the supervisor, a sense of control over everyone, and the power to do as she pleases. The two characters that embody the responses to authority are McMurphy and Harding, who often conflict with each other due to having different views. McMurphy is against leading authority while Harding fully accepts and supports it, both disgusting their viewpoints on her authority in long detail. On page 54 Harding states, “Our dear Miss Rached? Our sweet, smiling, tender angel of mercy, Mother Ratched, a ball cutter? Why, My friend, that’s most unlikely.” To me, this sounds like what I remember from my mother being like a parental authority that made me feel safe. That safety she gave off was why following her authority was easy because I knew that following someone I trusted wouldn’t hurt me or have any consequences. The quote is also interesting to me because I know that others don’t feel the same way about her. Submitting due to fear of her, which also connects me back to my parents. How it wasn’t a fear of them but a fear of what could happen to me, fear of being punished, a fear of negative consequences.

McMurphy has played a very significant role since his introduction, almost always being the cause of something interesting happening in the ward. At first, he seemed rather carefree and joyful about being in the ward, disrupting the hierarchy of control. Although he changed once he learned that the nurse could extend his time even further he started behaving. On page 164, he confronts Harding and others by asking, “It’s interesting to me that you bums didn’t tell me what a risk I was running into…” This reminds me of the education system, how there’s always something a teacher can say or do to enforce their authority. An example of this would be when a parent is called, or detention is threatened. I’ve never been a fan of consequences, more so any punishment that takes things away from me. The act of something being taken from you that you have no power to get back is why authority through fear is so powerful. I’ve gotten many things taken from me growing up and they’ve all been things I could get back, items that give me joy. When I look at McMurphy’s situation he could point to his sentence which is time he can never get back, therefore his incentive to behave would be much greater.

Respecting authority has alway been a choice, everyone makes it every day when we decide to obey the law. In the Ward the characters have very limited options which causes them to often go the easy way out, as Harding chooses to do, obey the authority and keep it moving. I’ve never truly thought to defy authority because I have no reason too, but through looking at the resident ward members I understand why defiance would strike out in some, mostly McMurphy. On page 176, McMurphy snaps and breaks the window with his bare fist, blood trickling down his hand while he speaks with Nurse Ratched. This symbolizes that everyone has a breaking point when it comes to authority. I remember getting in trouble with my father and giving all my energy worrying about what he’ll do or what he’ll take away, all of a sudden I don’t care anymore. It gets to the point where they’ve taken so much from you that there’s no real fear of consequence anymore because you have nothing left. I fear that eventually due how cornered every patient is at the ward it’ll eventually cause anarchy anarchy among the ward.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Has opened my eyes to a new view on authority, I’ve been fortunate enough to have a kind nurturing authority growing up, one that I felt comfortable submitting too. This book made me question how far is too far? When is it alright to defy authority? And, What is the appropriate way to combat toxic authority? I would never anything as extreme as in the book but I know one day authority and I will bud heads, and that makes me worried about the consequences.

Throughout Ken Kesey’s book “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest,” Chief Bromden is an unreliable but insightful narrator. His detailed descriptions of life inside the mental institution often show a slight drift on the lines between delusion and reality, compelling readers to examine their perceptions and memories. One moment I found particularly interesting was when Bromden describes the “Combine,” which reveals a metaphorical interpretation of societal control that he perceives as a machine designed to suppress individuality. This concept reflects Bromden’s struggles and invites readers to reflect on our minds and how societal expectations shape our identities. Bromden’s portrayal of the “Combine” as a mechanical resource resonates with me as a reader. He describes it as an oppressive entity that manipulates individuals while also stripping them of their autonomy. This imagery is an insightful reminder of how societal norms can constrain our identities. Throughout my own life, I often find myself trying to conform to certain standards, whether it’s through my academics or social interactions. For example, the expectation to achieve high grades can sometimes make me feel like just another tool, rather than an individual with unique interests and talents. Bromden’s experiences help to highlight the struggle between individuality and conformity, allowing me to question how much of my own identity is shaped by external pressures. One of the lower moments in Bromden’s narrative is when he reflects on his childhood memories, particularly the loss of his mother and the impact of his Native American heritage. He describes these memories with a sense of distortion and pain like no other, illustrating how the past can come back to haunt us and influence our present. Bromden recalls how his mother’s struggles with her identity affected him deeply, causing him to feel disconnected from his roots. This reflection was crucial for me because it resonates with some of my own experiences grappling with family expectations and cultural identity. Often I find myself torn between following my family’s traditions and creating my own path.

Bromden’s struggle with his memories encourages me to confront how I let my past influence my present choices and perceptions. More to that, Bromden’s narration highlights the theme of delusion and its role in coping with reality as he often retreats into a world where he feels invisible and safe from the oppressive environment that the ward imposes on him. The desire to escape speaks to a universal experience that many humans face in the world, needing to find refuge from overwhelming emotions or situations. I have experienced similar moments of escapism, more specifically through daydreaming or submerging myself in books and movies. I use these tools as a way to provide temporary relief, but they also raise questions about the importance of being willing to face reality. Bromden’s journey challenges me as the reader to reflect upon the balance between engagement and escapism. How do I navigate my desires to escape while also confronting life challenges? His perspective as a patient in a mental institution allows readers to see his world through a lens that is often treated as if it’s insignificant. His unique viewpoint forces us as readers to consider the ways mental illness is frequently misunderstood and often stigmatized to where it isn’t represented correctly. This aspect of his narrative allows me to develop a better understanding of mental health as I’ve come to realize the ways society views mental illness and how that can distort our perceptions of those who struggle with it. Bromden’s voice serves as a reminder to approach these sensitive topics with empathy and understanding rather than judgment. This insight encourages me to be more compassionate towards others and recognize the complexity of their experiences. Bromden’s has a complex relationship with memory and can sometimes have man features. He often revisits the traumatic events from his past, shaping his view of the present. For example, his memories of being treated as less than a human in the institution reflect his fear of losing parts of his identity. His connection between memory and perception challenges me to consider how my memories influence my current mindset. I often notice that particular memories, especially those tied to failure or disappointment can cloud my judgment and affect my self-esteem. Bromden’s struggle with recollection prompts me to confront how I allow my past experiences to make the choices for me in my current place, urging me to have a more balanced understanding of my experiences.

“ The clock hands hang at two minutes to three and she’s liable to let them hang there until we rust…. The old Chronic next to me has been dead six days, and he’s rotting to the chair.” - (68-69) My Nana believes she sees visions—a calling of some sort from God, her ancestors, or a higher being—it doesn’t matter. There are patterns in her visions. They manifest themselves through dreams, the deceased she once knew speaking softly to her in deliberate, painted imagery—a pricked finger with a small needle, a child in bed with a fever, a burning house in the pouring rain. Nana was taking care of me when I was little and both my parents were away on family business. She went to sleep in the guest bedroom exhausted from a long day of babysitting but her sleep was cut short, a message overlapping horrid imagery of smokey hallways and an uncontrollable inferno. “Would you really let my great-grandbaby die so soon?” Nana recalled hearing. She swiftly snatched me from my cradle and sprinted out of the house calling the fire department. She called them without any real piece of information to justify them coming out but reluctantly they did and searched the house. They found a gas leak that was coming from the gas stove in the kitchen that filled the entire house. This only solidified to Nana that she and I had just narrowly escaped death.
I used to believe that these visions were just another thing that grandparents talk about to trick their grandchildren into doing or believing something– I know for a fact that when I reach that age, I’ll be making up all sorts of stories for my grandchildren– however, when you’re young sometimes it’s hard to feel empathy or know what it’s like trying to understand others. This is why kids are usually taught empathy early on in their lives to make sure that they don’t become selfish or closed off to the rest of the world. There is a philosophical idea people develop instinctually which could be reinforced later in a person’s life leading to not just apathetic behavior but behavior that other people deem as “psychotic” or “crazy”. “Solipsism” is the philosophical concept that states “the only real mind that exists is your own.” Everything someone sees, hears, and feels in life is all in your head. A lot of times it boils down to the core value of distrust and questioning. I can never truly prove that my Nana has these visions, the only thing that I can say is that I don’t have those visions meaning that in my mind they mustn’t exist. This is what I fear will escalate into a smooth ease into isolation and distrust. It’s something that I fear for most people. My Nana had visions like these come true often enough to question what I thought was real. However, the doubt can never be expelled from the back of my mind that Nana is living in her crazy fantasy world where things like prophetical visions could be true. The term “crazy” in and of itself is rooted in Solipsism. This label comes from the lack of understanding of another person simply because of the difference in how they perceive the world. I’m guilty of this as well, treating others in a more distant way because of the psychological differences between them and me. Our worlds are of different colors, shapes, imagery, and memory. It’s wrong to deny this reality because it’s present in everyone’s subconscious. Is Nana crazy for having these visions? Or am I crazy for denying the existence of visions in the first place? Is it crazy or weird for Bromden to perceive Nurse Ratched as someone who can slow down or speed up time? For him, that’s just the reality that he lives in. It’s something that McMurphy, Harding, or Billy Bibbet wouldn’t understand, they aren’t Bromden. It’s an underlying issue that Bromden acknowledges when talking about the Combine. Every patient in the psych ward is there because they are deemed as “crazy”, or “damaged machinery” in the words of Bromden. Whether I support or denounce the factuality of Nana’s visions doesn’t matter, life will continue on. Whether the Combine thinks patients in the psych ward like Bromden or McMurphy are crazy or not they will continue to live on in their heads with their own perspectives, just like how I live in my own understanding of Nana’s visions.

(Prompt 4 - pg. 45-49)

I’m tired.

Tired of living. Tired of insults. Tired of bein’ dead.

Born dead. I was born dead.

But I still hang around. Like a ghost, or some kinda cloth they forgot to took off the hanging line, after the wind an’ rain torn it to pieces.

Tired doesn’t cut it. I’m… f’there was a word for it, I’d say it. So much more than tired. ’S in my bones, my head, eyes… every part of me. Like they put a old ball-chain on all my cells.

Fifty-five years. The same every day.

Holes in my head. Like a train track got too hot an’ grew into itself so much it broke.

They keep dragging me out, put me on the railroad. Then they drag me out to some other room, people I can hardly remember, all yelling and screaming about terrible things. Every day a big insult. They go walking around, got it so damn easy, don’t even know how hard it is to stand up.

Wanna say so much, but I only get out one word: tired. I tell ‘em every day but they just have people pat me till I stop.

Don’t wanna take it anymore, but can’t even step a foot out the line. Can hardly think enough to talk, but I’ been trying to remind ‘em, let the staff know. They never listen. Said it so many times but they don’t care.

It’s so loud. Can’t hear anything. More tired now, tired of everything. Maybe if I talk loud, they’ll listen. Maybe not. But I have to say something.

I’m tired, I tell ‘em loud. My head starts shaking, moving sideways..

Then it all stops. Their heads turn on me, train lights on my face. Or was it always like that? Hard to remember.

Then I realize I’m standing, no more chair cushion to empty me out.

I think I should feel strong. I think I should be brave. But I still feel dead.

Actually, a lotta deadness, but I look again and… something new. Feels hot and bright, like the lights on the ceiling.

Big lady turns around, looks at me. Can’t tell if her face is good or bad, looks like she’s fighting something. She says something, and more people go on top of me. Hands on my shoulders. Every hand keeps me here, on my feet and in my shaking head. I say it again: tired. Tired.

FIfty-five years. Feels different, for once.

I keep pushing till a guy walks over pulling me on the arm. He says I gotta go back to the room.

It hurts. Arm shakes. Not my control but it gets his fingers down. Good. I’m tired. Don’t wanna move. Don’t wanna go back.

Tired, I tell him again. Don’t like his hand on me.

He pulls harder, talks again. The lights in me get brighter, the world gets brighter. My eyes go big, bigger than they ever did.

Everyone watching.

Feels like I was getting bigger, like I was less dead. Then I feel it, really feel it.

I hate him. I hate big lady. I hate being tired. They got it so easy. They’re all alive. I’m dead, always been dead. Takes everything I got to stay stood up. Not fair. I feel mad, but I feel… real.

My hand’s moving, going up like a birdy, like a bug in the air. Keeps going, through the sky and up and up, to the clouds and the blue.

I was gonna keep going but I hit his face.

The guy’s arm got off me and he hit the wall.

Big lady sends two more but I got my hands ready, feels like they’re gonna start flying up again any time. So mad I could burn ‘em up with my eyes if I wanted.

Then I start thinking. My brain starts to move. I can see clearly. Gotta make them see, what it’s like. What I gotta deal with, every day. Not fair, it’s all crazy, like…

You see, I say. It’s a lotta baloney.

Baloney, that’s it.

Big lady is saying something, telling me to calm down. I remember her name. Ratched.

The lights start flickering, going dark and turning on me again. Don’t have much time, gonna lose it all…

That’s all it is, nothin’ but a lotta baloney, I tell ‘em. I can’t help it, I say. I was born dead.

They look up at me. They don’t get it. I look at ‘em, lights going down. I lost it, can’t say anything. Tears on my face, but I gotta try.

Can’t help it, I say. Born a miscarriage, so many insults I died. Life was hard, I’m tired out talking and standing up. It’s no point.

Then it’s on me. Legs, arms, needle grabbing me, dragging me back. Try to hold on to the lights. First time I’ve felt something other than dead.

I’m dying.

The floor in front of my face, my head swinging again, my eyes on fire, but I’m cold.

I say it one more time. Tired, awful tired. They don’t get it.

Someone goes up to me, then…

Then…

Gone.

I’m gone.

I let go, let ‘em sit me back down.

No point anymore. None of them got it. Gave everything I had for nothing.

I’m dead.

They killed me, the insults the tongs the ward.

I died fifty-five years ago.

Stylistic Explanation

My story was written from the perspective of old Pete who, during a moment of clarity, stood up and fought the nurse’s aides, speaking to everyone before collapsing down again, a return to being “dead.” I felt that the character and his sections stood out from the plot with McMurphy and Bromden due to the emotions that flew out of his unassuming exterior. THe majority of the narration is an extension of Pete’s own words from his rant, paired with Bromden’s descriptions. For example, Bromden mentions that Pete, due to malpractice during his birth, is “simple to where it took all his straining effort and concentration and will power just to do the tasks that came easy to a kid of six” (46). Due to this, I chose to limit the vocabulary from his perspective, using contractions and incorrect grammar to make him appear to have a younger mind. I also used Pete’s work with the railroad as a basis for some of his analogies and descriptions. Finally, the story is broken up into many small paragraphs because of his mental limitations—I didn’t feel he would have the capacity to easily go on detailed tangents in his mind—and because I felt that they more clearly articulated the ideas he wanted to convey with his speech.