Skipped

Today in class, Professor Sexson went around the room and told everyone in the class how much of a treat it was to have them here this semester - except for Jen Pursell and me. So I would like to take a moment to say Jen, it has been an honor to sit behind you each day in class and I thoroughly enjoyed your presentations as well as your blogs. I'm really sorry you did not make it into the graphic design program, but maybe this will just give you the opportunity to find something that you enjoy even more so than art.

That is all. Have a nice finals week, everyone.

The Last Blog

It's a wee bit late, but this will be my final blog. This class has proven to be the most exciting and rewarding class that I took all semester. In fact, I enjoyed it so much, I am taking Professor Sexson's Mythologies class in the fall. Coming to this class each day, I know I was going to look at whatever topic we were discussing from a different perspective by the end of the hour, or I was going to learn something new either about myself or about a work of literature. I was also impressed by how intelligent all of my peers were. Everyone seemed to know quite a bit about literature before coming to this Intro. To Lit class. This class was a breath of fresh air compared to all of my science classes and I hope that my Mythologies class this fall will be just as beneficial.

Just a little something

I don't expect this to count as an actual blog entry, but I thought it was humorous take on a not-so-humorous play. Enjoy!

South Park

In class, it was mentioned that the part of the episode of South Park we watched was similar to a plot in a Greek tragedy. While this may be true, when I watched South Park, I can't help but think back to Joyce Carol Oates. She wrote the story "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" after reading about the Pied Piper of Tuscon and all the horrific murders he Chalrles Schmid committed. Anyone who keeps up with the television show South Park knows that their episodes are very topical and up-to-date with what is happening in mass media (i.e. the Tiger Woods sex scandal, the Terri Schiavo case, Al Gore's advocacy for global warming, etc.). I've seen interviews with Trey Parker and Matt Stone (the creators) where they have been asked if after 14 seasons they ever feel like they're going to run out of ideas; and the answer is no. Every story is just a retelling of a previous story and when these news stories are broadcast to the public, it creates the perfect timing to portray that story in a different way.

I think Oates and the creators of South Park do exactly what Emily Dickinson once advised: Tell the truth, but tell it slant.

Jungian Psychology

A concept that I was introduced to that I found extremely interesting was Carl Jung's theory on psychology - or analytical psychology. In fact, I find his "shadow" theory to be more plausible than Freud's (not that I don't think Freud was an intelligent man). The idea that we all possess this unconscious complex of repressed feelings that represent our "darker" self is so fascinating and so undeniably true. At least for me anyway. According to Wikipedia's page on Carl Jung, each individual handles their shadow in four different ways: denial, projection, integration and/or transmutation. Overall, I would say that I perfectly fit the description of the "introvert" - I'm quiet in class, hate drawing attention to myself, and would much rather sit on the sidelines and watch that participate in all the hullabaloo.

The reason I thought Yevgenii's paper on the shadow archetype was so interesting is because I often feel like I possess the repressed, darker feelings in my subconscious. I feel like we all seem pretty nice on the outside and appear to have good intentions, but deep down I don't think there is any denying that we all have a Fyodor Karamazov hidden beneath the surface. Have you ever had an experience where someone was rude to you and you wanted to say something incredibly harsh and vile to them but choose not to because it is so beyond your persona and would break the social norms? I think that perfectly sums up the repressing of one's dark self. Any "acting out" I've ever done is completely passive-aggressive and typically goes unnoticed by everyone else. I'm more of a only-think-mean-thoughts-rather-than-say-them kind of person who represses her shadow, I guess.

Really?

This is a short and pointless blog, but it has to be said: the cattiness is unnecessary. I don't see why we all need to start calling each other "unintelligent" and bashing the presentations of our peers. Constructive criticism is wonderful, but throughout the past few days, I think it is pretty obvious that everyone worked hard on their presentations and don't deserve to be put down for what they said in class. And I apologize to any of my classmates if they were unhappy or bored with the fact that we had a "pre-planned speech" - having notecards was not intended to make us seem uninteresting.

Anxiety of Influence

Aw jeez. I really hate presentations. Not watching them, of course, but being in them. It makes my stomach turn, it makes my heart race, it increases my rate of respiration. For as long as I can remember, presenting in front of a group of people has been my biggest fear and college is really forcing me to get over this fear, but it's been a rough process.

All of the presentations in class have been so wonderful, it makes me anxious about our group's presentation. I think we've concocted a pretty creative idea and it's not that I don't have faith in the people in my group, it's just when it comes my turn to speak in front of the class, I'm sincerely hoping I don't flop.

I walked in late on the first group presenting on Monday (the one that was a debate) but I think both sides made some pretty interesting points. I would never write someone off as uninteresting because they've never or rarely read books. I think listening to people's experiences is very intriguing. But hearing someone's opinion's or thoughts on a book and how is relates to their own life almost makes for richer conversation. Analyzing themes of a novel forces you to think outside of your own experiences, outside of your own box. While going outside and living life is always a plus, there are some experiences that one can only get from reading a really profound book. But then again, I don't want to spend my entire life on the side lines, reading, while my life is passing me by. I think it's healthy to have large quantities of living and reading.

On Being Ignorant...

This literature class has given me the ability to comfortably admit that I am ignorant. I know some people in the class became highly offended when Sexson announced that we all are ignorant, but honestly, we are. We are not all-knowing beings, hence we are all ignorant to a certain extent. In fact, I would much rather have a conversation with someone who freely admits that they don't know everything, but are willing to explore and learn more about subjects that they aren't already stubbornly fixed on.

Yeah, okay, you like reading long novels. Congratulations. You're still just as ignorant as me and everyone else.

It might just be an opinion, but people who don't think they are ignorant probably aren't self-aware enough. Admitting that you know nothing is the first step to wisdom, in my opinion. Reading is a wonderful way to break from ignorance, and the Brothers K. is a novel that excels beyond most that I've read in that are. And you know what? It's not because it's a 700+ page book. If you start reading it, and really getting into the the content, you almost forget just how long the book really is. It covers every topic that makes for great literature and overs insight into issues that are still considered taboo today (I think it's safe to say that Dostoevsky was ahead of his time, no?).

I've read several books that are on-par with The Brothers K. that were half the length. I guess that I'm trying to say is that even though reading and finishing the Brothers Karamazov was a gratifying experience, I don't feel like I've suddenly become "un-ignorant" or whatever. Do I feel like I've made progress in understanding that there is so much about the human condition that can never be understood? Yes. Did I learn to look at life the way Dostoevsky does in his novel (that is, that we are all responsible for everyone else's actions)? Absolutely. Do I feel like I've been struck by an all-knowing bolt of lightning because I finished a long book? Of course not. Reading this book was an insightful experience, but it's only a small stepping stone towards abandoning ignorance. I feel like every book you read has that effect. Not just the long ones.

I simply feel like I know a little bit more about a world I will never fully understand.

Presentations + More on Thesis

After seeing the presentations on Friday, I was rather impressed. I really liked how the first group incorporated the theme of "retellings" (essentially the main theme of the class) with modern references in film. After taking this class, I too have noticed that I have an especially keen eye for reenactments in literature and film. I thought the first group definitely used their resources well (powerpoint, video, interactive game show with the class).

The second presentation was wonderful. I think they did a really good job at keeping the class entertained while still providing some informative instruction. I think that was the ultimate goal of the project is to do something that can be silly and fun but still benefits the class. I would say the bar has been set pretty high and hopefully my group's presentation doesn't fail to entertain and inform as well.

But on to my thesis statement for the class: I don't think I like mine anymore. After Professor asked everyone what their thesis statements were in class, he seemed to have a very positive reaction to everyone's ideas. However, when he came to mine, it seemed as though his reaction was fairly lukewarm. So for my new thesis I will be discussing the dynamic roles of women in the Brothers K. and how they are different and yet similar to the brothers of the story. And why they are attracted the the Karamazov men, and why they keeping going back and forth between them, trying to decide who they really love. I want to further investigate on what Dostoevsky is trying to say about the women in the story. So, ultimately, my paper should end up being an analysis of the main female characters in the Brother's K. I'm hoping this thesis will work better. Maybe.

God Loves Puns - BK Thesis

I loved when we were talking in class about how Shakespeare was quite fond of using puns in his plays. It's true, for some people, puns are often eye-roll inducing but it's the nerdiest and most fantastic form of humor I can think of. And trust me, not just anyone can come up with a really good pun. My friend told me a really good one the other day (in relation to Star Wars) : "Lookin' for love in Alderaan places." As lame as that may sound, you have to admit that it is pretty witty.

Now on the wonderful work of literature by Dostoevsky himself...

I really want to do a thesis relating to Ivan Karamazov. For me, he has been one of the most interesting characters in the story and throughout the book, I can often see apart of myself in this character. While I don't consider myself much of an intellectual, throughout most of high school, I struggled with the idea of God while all of my friends were devout Christians who lived and breathed for Christ. Personally, I never had an "eye-opening" experience and I've never been reborn as a believer in God. And I don't know if I ever will. But at the same time, I so badly want to believe in a higher-power that is responsible for all the complexities and unanswered questions in the universe. However, like Ivan, I refuse to accept a God that would allow the torturing of innocent people.

So for my thesis (and I don't know if this will work, but it's a start) I want to discuss the middle Karamozav brother and his beliefs. I think it will go something like this: "Whether or not Ivan chooses to believe in a God, he will constantly be in a state of despair due to theodicean views of God."

It's still kind of a work in progress, but I think I've got the ball rolling a little bit on this paper. Also, does anyone know if "theodicean" is the proper adjective form of theodicy? I just threw in what I though sounded correct.

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus

So I'm dropping a fair amount of eaves around campus, trying to spy in a an argument between a male and a female, when I remembered a little movie that perfectly describes conflict between male ad female. When Harry Met Sally perfectly sums up all of those arguments we've either had or seen with someone of the opposite sex. And the funny thing about it is that no matter how hard we argue our point, the person of the opposing gender is NEVER going to be able to understand because a female's perspective can't always be translated to a male's point of view (and vice versa) for obvious reasons. I now refer you to the "Why women and men can't be friends" scene in When Harry Met Sally.

My Sense of Tragedy

When we first received the assignment, I was completely and utterly stumped. All in all, I would say I've lead a fairly privileged life: two parents, four grandparents, two sisters, a roof over my head, an opportunity to receive a college education. "How can I write about tragedy when my life really isn't all that bad?"... Then I heard Amber's story about her pets passing away and suddenly the floodgates of my memory opened wide up. I completely relate to all the stories about a pet dying, especially dogs, and how it can be a tragedy. I mean, think about it... what is more tragic than life being taken away from something so innocent, almost as innocent as a small child (I know that's kind of a stretch, but still...).

Growing up, my family had two large, sloppy, loving Golden Retrievers that were essentially apart of the family. We got our first dog, Britta, when I was six and the second one, Hannah, when I was 8. They were the perfect family dogs, even tolerating when my sisters and I would dress them up in stupid costumes. When I was 16, we found out Britta had a tumor near her heart and the veterinarian told my family to start expecting the worse. Britta was becoming so weak that she couldn't manage to walk herself up and down the stairs. My dad had to carry this full grown dog down the stairs of our deck in the backyard every time she went outside.

I had a job at a clothing store in the mall and I had just begun doing all of the nightly closing tasks - mopping, vacuuming, cleaning mirrors, etc. when I went back to my locker to check my phone to see I had one new text message from my sister. I opened it. "Michelle, Britta died tonight." Is that not the worst way to hear about a death? Through a text message? I don't think my 12 year old sister understood that and all I kept thinking about was how I still had another half an hour before I could go home. I spent the rest of my shift mopping the wood floor, trying my hardest to keep from breaking down in sobs.

Then, not even a month later, our younger dog, Hannah (who until this moment appeared to be in good health) collapsed on the kitchen floor and peed herself. Her body was entirely limp and her lips were beginning to turn blue. She laid there completely helpless on the floor, but her eyes were still moving and she appeared to still be breathing. My dad picked up Hannah (who weighed a little less than I did) and carried her out to the car as my sisters and I followed. She died later that day from what appeared to be heart failure.

Whenever I told my friends this story, they all said the same thing - "She must have died from a broken heart." Being so emotionally attached to someone that losing him or her would literally break your heart. Like your body just gives up on you because you lost your other half and have no will to live. To me, that's one of the most tragic things about life - knowing that everyone you love will eventually pass away. Some day (hopefully not soon) your father will die, your mother will die, your siblings will die, your spouse will die. And how will you go on? Will you survive the rest of your life with a piece of your heart missing? We often talk about this with people, but in my experience, this is also true with my two sloppy, loving Golden Retrievers.

Spark Notes

Reading the spark notes of the Brothers K. is like drinking grape juice instead of fine wine.

Like watching the film "Smooth Talk" instead of reading "Where Are You Going Where Have You Been".

Like being paid in Monopoly money after a 40-hour work week instead of the real thing.

It's just not as rewarding, and is a water-down attempt to explain the message Dostoevsky was trying to convey.

Sonnet Therapy

Just to touch on last week's (or the week before..?) discussion on sonnet therapy or sonnet "radiation", I didn't really think much of it because I didn't need a therapeutic source to put any energy towards at the time. Sure, writing is a good way to express your feelings and get troubling thoughts off your chest and onto paper, but sonnets do something that just plain writing cannot. If I were to just write how I feel, what I wrote would appear just as jumbled as what I'm thinking. Needless to say, I'm not very good at explaining myself or anything else. At least not without some structure and organization. You follow the sonnet format (iambic pentameter, 3 quatrains, 1 couplet, etc.) and get frustrated because the word you want to use doesn't fit, or the perfect adjective doesn't fit the rhyme scheme and so and and so forth, but once you find something that fits, you're ten times more proud of what you wrote because you accomplished something you didn't think you could do (or at least something I didn't think I could do).

Over spring break, my grandmother was diagnosed with dementia. She had been having a few episodes over the course of a couple weeks and when my family made an appointment with a neurologist, it was confirmed. Some times everything is ok, and I can talk to my grandmother about school and life and everything else and it's as if nothing has changed - as if there is no reason for her to be in the hospital. And then other times she is a completely different person. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has a relative who has dementia or Alzheimer's, so it's understandable to those people when I say she's not even herself anymore sometimes. My way of coping is doing exactly what we had been discussing in class: sonnet therapy. I only wrote a few but they seem to be helping me. There mostly nostalgic, recalling the wonderful memories my sisters and I have practically growing up and my grandmother's house, but they also discuss that despite the changes, she is still our Grandma Rose and this new condition does not affect the love she has for her family. Writing about something like this is very difficult, but once I completed it in sonnet-form, it really did feel like the end of what I would imagine to be a very good therapy session. The pen and paper do not judge, do not charge a fee, and are readily available whenever your are ready (sounds like a pretty good therapist, no?). I initially wouldn't have guessed that I could find some much peace of mind in my own writing, but the framework of sonnets provided me with a tool that is probably the best coping mechanism I've ever experienced.

Found (more) Poetry

This is my second attempt to find poetry. This time, I used the back of a box of tea bags. Here was the original:

A splendid cup of Tazo tea
How to make one

1.Bring fresh, filtered water to a boil
2For hot tea, place one Tazo filter bag in your cup, mug or gourd
3.Pour 8 fluid ounces of water over the filter bag
4. Steep for 5 minutes while contemplating your favorite eternal mysteries.

If it's iced tea you desire, use two filter bags, steep normally, then pour over ice.

And I kid you not, that fourth step is what it actually says.

So here is my "poetic" version:

Fresh, splendid tea
8 ounces to contemplate eternal mysteries
In a mug, In a gourd
Pour 8 ounces to contemplate eternal desire

Boil, steep, pour
Two filter bags to contemplate eternal mysteries
In a cup, in a mug, then in a gourd
5 minutes to pour over eternal desire

Iced or hot
While normally contemplating filtered mysteries.
Pour, Pour, Pour.

Sonnet - Work in Progress

August

When we first met, your hair was gold as wheat
Your eyes grey-blue, squinting at the sun
At first I was not swept right off my feet
But in the end my affection you had won.

Often we laughed upon these summer days
Ice cream cones never tasted quite as sweet
Then to the lake is where we chose to play
As young love goes to hide from blood red heat.

Your smile left my heart pounding much too fast
As you first placed a hand upon my own
Our bare toes spreading in the fresh cut grass
This teenage romance was the best I'd known

Don't tell me that this fling we have is through
It would take a lifetime to forget you.

I wrote this sonnet about the first summer I started dating my boyfriend, Josiah. After reading it through a few times, I still think it sounds pretty rough, but I was trying really hard to make it fit the iambic pentameter format. I understand it's not poetic genius, but I definitely plan on making changes before Friday.

Found me some poetry

In.... my Intro to Organic and Biochemistry book (ooooh, ahhhh how interesting).

"Double Bonds"

Fatty acids

saturated, unsaturated

Naturally occurring

Double bond cis configuration
Naturally occurring

Palmitic, Stearic, Oleic

essential fatty acids
Synthesized, yet only by plants
Animals still need.

Naturally occurring.

Hahahaha, I read this and just laugh. In my mind, it sounds so cheesy. I don't really have a knack for poetry, so perhaps I will go through some other textbooks and try to come up with something a bit better. Let's just my poetry is still hiding for now....

Understanding Chekhov

I will be the first to admit to anyone that I was initially not the biggest fan of "The Lady with the Pet Dog". This is probably because I read the Oate's version first and it didn't strike my fancy after reading it so I was slightly turned off to the idea of reading another version of the same story. But after reading it and discussing this story in class today, I have a new appreciation for the Chekhov's style of writing; the way he intertwines everyday "small talk" with profound epiphanies makes the story very rich and intriguing. This hit me like a ton of bricks today. I mean, here I was, reading what is considered one of the greatest short stories of all time and all I can see is the big picture - the overall story of infidelity and promiscuity when I should have been paying attention to the smaller details that make this work of literature unfold so beautifully. In my mind, "The Lady with the Pet Dog" was being told from the perspective of an unknown person who was in the backdrop, eavesdropping on this affair and all of the couple's encounters. As if this unknown narrator could read into the minds of Dmitri and Anna. This "unknown" makes very matter-of-fact observations all the while tapping into their deeper emotions.

There was one part, however, that reminded me of a song as we were discussing it in class. It reminded me of the part where Gurov begins to feel haunted by the memory of the woman he surprisingly still longs for... and begins to follow her.

	Death Cab For Cutie - I Will Possess Your Heart .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

There are days when outside your window

I see my reflection as I slowly pass

And I long for this mirrored perspective

When we'll be lovers, lovers at last

Jungian Archetypes

According to Wikipedia (or shall I say, according to Carl Jung) archetypes are "innate universal psychic dispositions that form the substrate from which the basic themes of human life emerge". I also found on the interweb that Jung found that his experiences had the tendency to form themselves into persons, such as the wise old man and his companion, a little girl. Over the course of a number of dreams, the wise old man evolved into a spiritual guru and the little girl became "anima", the feminine soul who served as his main form of communication with the deeper aspects of his unconscious.

"A leathery brown dwarf would show up guarding the entrance to the unconscious. He was "the shadow," a primitive companion for Jung's ego. Jung dreamt that he and the dwarf killed a beautiful blond youth, whom he called Siegfried. For Jung, this represented a warning about the dangers of the worship of glory and heroism which would soon cause so much sorrow all over Europe -- and a warning about the dangers of some of his own tendencies towards hero-worship, of Sigmund Freud!"

Jung dreamt of the dead quite a bit as well, and felt it was a way to represent the unconscious itself- not Freud's version of the unconscious, but a new collective unconscious of humanity that could contain all the dead and not just our personal ghosts.

Archetype

"An Archetype is a model of behaviour or pattern of energy that is easily recognisable and resonant to human beings. We can identify with and relate to archetypes as they are primary characters or personalities of the human condition.

Archetypes are everywhere. They are played out in fairy tales, movies, books, TV shows, in our families, our work environments and amongst our friends.

Snow white (Princess) is an archetype, Homer Simpson (Fool) is an archetype... so is Mother, Father, Son and Daughter. We instantly recognize what these roles are and how they are supposed to behave "

I found this article on Google about female archetype and whenever I think "archetype" regarding male and female, I instantly think of a man or woman maintaining his or her gender role. What is acceptable in society - the woman is nearly always the nurturing one, the mother, the emotional one, the weaker one, the temptress, etc. The man is supposed to represent strength, power, wealth, stability, the hero, etc.

One of my favorite archetypes is "the Mentor". I mean, doesn't it seem like Morgan Freeman is always the mentor or "life coach" in all of his movies? Like the wise older voice who is guiding along the young, and still reckless hero. Or perhaps the "wise old man" archetype - Galdalf, Dumbeldore, Merlin,.... Yoda?! Once I start to PAY ATTENTION I notice that there really isn't one piece of literature, film, television show, etc. where I haven't seen some sort of archetype. I think that's a good thing though - I like the feeling of being familiarized with at least one character before I know anything about him or her.

"The Lady with the Pet Dog" - Oates

I have to say, this has been the hardest story for me to read so far. It is a really disheartening thing to constantly have infidelity portrayed in movies, books, television, magazine articles, etc. Is marriage overrated? Is commitment overrated? One thing that bothered me about this version in particular was that Anna did not really consider the feelings of her significant other. She talked about how he was aging, and how he was getting heavier, but never touched on how her spouse would react if he were to find out she had been sleeping with another man. I don't think she cared about his feelings as much as she did about getting caught. I'm not saying I hated the story because I really am starting to enjoy the work of Joyce Carol Oates and her effortless way of describing human emotion, especially fear; I just did not care for Anna one bit. I did not sympathize with her at all. Period. I mean... I'm sure she would have been a good woman... if there was someone there to shoot her every minute of her life, maybe.

But I really don't have any time for self-pity. If you're unhappy, then change something. If you're unsatisfied with your husband, than leave. Obviously in our society that seems to be the answer to everything. If something goes wrong, then bail. She was drowning in her own misery and was just looking for someone to blame. I hate that. Maybe the problem isn't your husband, maybe the problem is you. If this woman were to leave her husband for the man she was having an affair with, then it would have started all over again with another man, in another hotel room, with the same sickening feeling in the car ride home all over again. Seeking self-fulfillment in other people is just going to make you feel emptier than before, and it's a real damn shame some people never realize this.

Araby

To anyone that says James Joyce's story Araby is pointless, I wholeheartedly disagree. Sometimes you don't always need shocking ending to get good literature. I know that in this story no one was shot, stoned to death, or taken away in a "golden chariot", but does that mean this story has less value than the previous stories we discussed in class? Of course not. For me, the best part of this story was the language. I had never read anything by James Joyce and I was enamored by his ability to so accurately describe the feelings of a school-age crush. I think one of the reasons Araby works so well is that it is being told from the perspective of, I would say, a 12 or 13 year old boy. Obviously these feelings are fairly new and when you fall for someone that age, you often fall pretty hard. To the point where this person is crossing your mind more than once during your everyday routine. Is it any wonder that Romeo and Juliet were young teenagers when they tombee amoureux (sorry, my French is horrible). One of my favorite lines from Araby is "But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires." Personally, the stories that stay with me the longest are the ones that eloquently describe these universal human emotions in a way that I never could. The context may be different, but the emotional experience is always the same.

Vonnegut on Lot's Wife

I never read the Bible growing up, never really went to church, and never went to any form of youth group. I'm not saying it's right or wrong, but my parents aren't religious at all. So all of these biblical references are brand new to me. I read Slaughterhouse Five about a year ago and I didn't know the story of Sodom and Gomorrah and Lot's wife. So after reading this story in class and finally made the connection to what Vonnegut's character, Billy, was talking about and what we learned about in class. Also, something else I picked up on.... The character Mr. Rosewater says that The Brothers Karamazov contains everything there is to know about life. I certainly hope Mr. Rosewater is correct because this book is definitely going to take me some time to get through.

Dreaming & the Moral of the Story

I can never quite remember my dreams when I wake up in the morning, but a few nights ago I did have a pretty horrifying dream... or nightmare, I guess. In the dream, I was living in Bozeman, going to MSU and taking all the same classes. I knew all the same people, had all the same professors and all the same friends. But there was one minor detail. Everyone was a zombie. It was similar to the movie Zombieland only it was not humorous in the least. And I'm not sure why but Dwight from the Office was in my dream (as a zombie, of course) and there was not escaping the fleshing-eating monsters that were wreaking havoc on the Montana State University campus. I'm not sure why I had such a vivid dream on a Thursday night, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that I had spicy food right before bed (does that usually induce nightmares....?). One of the scarier moments from my dream is when my (zombie) roommate came home and threw my French Press against the wall, where is shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces... and I shed a single, solitary tear that glistened from my cheek.

Now onto the literature side of things...
I read A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings a couple weeks ago (just for kicks) and spent what seemed like forever trying to analyze and dissect what the story really "meant" with my boyfriend. And to be honest, I was a little stumped. I guess the supposed moral of the story I came up with is that this old man/angel represents earthly imperfections and how we tend to disbelieve anything that doesn't fit the description of how we had originally perceived it to be. I mean, think about what comes to mind when you think of the word "angel" or "angelic". I'm sure whatever comes into anyone's mind isn't an elderly, haggard man with large wings living in a chicken coop. But in reality, I think if an interviewer were to ask Gabriel Garcia Marquez what the moral of this story is, he would say something close to what Professor Sexson said in class: "The moral of the story is the story". If the reader picks out one lesson from the story and assumes that is why it was written, then the reader is almost insulting the author by oversimplifying the story. Just like how Arnold Friend doesn't fit one description. Oates' even said in an interview that Friend is an array of characters all wrapped into one... and how if you answer "Arnold Friend is the Devil" on a test, you know you're going to get it wrong.

Early Memories, Groundhog Day, & James Joyce

All of my earliest childhood memories are pretty silly. For example, one time when I was roughly 4 years old, I stuck a Polly Pocket swan up my nose (it was smaller than the size of your pinkie nail) and my parents nearly had a heart attach because it was so far up there it would be come out. I remember getting in big trouble for that little mistake. I also recall going to Toys 'R' Us with my father around the same age. We were walking up and down the aisles, looking at all the dolls and toys cars when I wandered off by myself. I came around the corner to type tap my dad on the back and when he turned around... I realized it was not my father. GASP! Horrified, my four-year-old self ran off crying to my actual dad who was only a few feet behind me. These memories aren't very interesting to most people, but they have definitely been burned into my brain.

On another note...

Here is my half-assed documentation of February 2nd, 2010:

6:00am: Alarm goes off. I don't have class 'til noon so I sleep another 4.5 hours.
10:00am: Roll out of bed. Shower, brush teeth, hair, make-up, etc. The usual.
11:15am: Eat a granola bar. Try not to fall back asleep. Check Facebook.
11:45am: Print worksheet and head to my first class -- and it's a two-hour lab. Hooray?
12:00-2:00pm: Anatomy & Physiology Lab. It was fairly dull. We set up a concentration lab using pieces of potato and sugar water (and calculated molarity).
2:00pm-2:45pm: Ate cereal (corn pops?) and finished Human Nutrition Quiz.
2:45-3:35pm: Walked to SUB, got a coffee, chit-chatted with my boyfriend, and walked to my last class of the day -- Human Nutrition.
3:35-4:45pm: Turned in quiz, discussed the next project with the professor, fairly briefly did a review of vitamins, etc.
4:45-6:30pm: This is when I started packing up all of the belongings in my room and moved them into another room across the hall with a new roommate. The process took my forever, and as I am typing these words, I still have more items to move.
6:30-7:00pm: Ate dinner.
7:00-8:00pm: American Idol was on. Normally, I don't watch this show, but there was a rumor that a guy I went to high school with was going to be on this episode (and he was! or at least he was on the commercial) so I decided to tune in.
8:00pm-10:00pm: Continued to move my stuff, did a bit of cleaning, exchanged keys, made my med, put clothes away, set up desk, etc.
10:00pm-1:00am: Finally started to settle down. I did some reading for Literature, finished my assignment for Organic Chemistry, and did a little bit more reading for Anatomy. Then went to bed and slept like a baby.

In the back of my mind, I was hoping today would be a wondrous, beautiful day which I would want to relive over and over and over. But in actuality, I knew it was just going to be another Tuesday. And if I knew I would have to relive this day for the rest of my life (or even thirty-days) it would be a huge disappointment and a waste of a perfectly good life. I did a little investigating and dug up some background information on Ulysses by James Joyce -- Apparently, the book is a stream of consciousness that takes the reader on a detailed journey into the lives of its characters. And isn't that what the class is essentially doing in our blogs this week? Documenting all the details of a seemingly boring day that resembles just any other Tuesday? Even though there may be many similarities in everyone's blogs, I think it's fascinating there are so many different human experiences and emotions crammed into one. For some of us, February 2nd, 2010 could have been a day of triumph and victory (getting an A+ on your most recent exam, finally asking out the cute guy or girl you've had your eye on), whereas for others it could have been a day of defeat (getting a flat tire on the way to class, etc.). The way Joyce eloquently describes the over-lapping of these everyday human experiences and emotions is one of the reasons (in my opinion) that it became a classic.

Dropping Eaves & "Smooth Talk"

Everyone is the class was assigned to listen in on a conversation that he or she had no part of, just to get a feel of what people are really talking about. And honestly, it's annoying to hear people say, "everyone only talks about boring, mundane topics." Yeah... that may be true but I don't expect all of my conversations with people to be about heavy, life-altering topics. Now don't get me wrong, I do love to discuss thought-provoking literature with people, or ponder world issues and whatnot, but at the same time I also find pleasure in just talking about simple things. Maybe it's just me, but hearing little tidbits about people's days often cheers me up. It makes me realize that there are people who make the same mistakes I do, and find humor in the same silly things, and listen to the same music or whatever. Maybe I'm just kind of a people-person, but if someone has a story to tell, I will always be interested in listening. I used to work in a little bakery/cafe and I always loved hearing people's stories as they passed in and out of the shop. And who knows, maybe you can find insight from people's "meaningless" conversations. So if you're passing judgement on someone based on the thirty seconds of conversations you eavesdropped on, then (in my opinion) you're being to hard on people. There's a quote I really like that I think could be relevant here:

"The world is smaller than you think, and the people on it are more beautiful than you think."
-Bertram van Munster (director/producer)

Now on to the movie "Smooth Talk"...
My reaction to the ending of this film: "What the WHAT??" I did not care for it at all. Why the heck did Connie survive? I really thought at the end of the story symbolized her departure from innocence and therefore she would never return home again. I so very badly wanted the movie to end with the line "What if my eyes are brown". When a book or a movie ends ambiguously, it is typically a better piece of work (not always though...). I mean, think about it, when a story ends with a cliffhanger, there is always room for interpretation. Whenever I have conversations about books I've read or movies I've seen, it is usually over the ending; what could have happened, what we think happened to the character, etc. The authors of these stories know what they are doing and when they leave the story with a cliffhanger, they want to leave it up to the reader's imagination. Plus, I always think you can pull more symbolism from stories that don't have a "set-in-stone" conclusion. For me, hearing other people's interpretations of these stories is one of the great things about reading an interesting story.
But I have to say, I did like how when Connie was telling her sister what happened, she said something like "It didn't even happen. I wasn't even there". I think this shows how she had a momentary out-of-body experience because she was so stricken with fear. In reality, when we are paralyzed with fear, we don't always use our right mind.

January 25th

So I'm sitting in class, as usual, listening to Professor Sexson talk about the difference between taking to people who are interesting and people who are boring (obviously listening to boring people makes time seem infinite) and it suddenly hit me like a bolt of lightning: I'm one of those boring people! I can't tell a good story, I really can't. In fact, whenever I try to tell my friends stories about occurrences in my life, they tend to give me the eye roll and the sarcastic "wow, great story, Michelle". It's quite frustrating, but I would like to think I'm slowly improving on my "non-interesting qualities" and I'm hoping this class will help. Being exposed to good literature in this class is forcing me to ask deeper questions about the stories I read: who are the characters, really? Like I said in my previous post, characters in stories are very similar to everyday people. Not everyone is who they appear on the surface and there are many layers to every individual (ya know, like onions... or parfaits). It's just a matter of taking a closer look, and dissecting every aspect of the character's personality; that is when you can see the character for what he or she really is.

The topic of "pick-up" lines was also discussed today in class. Personally, I think they're pretty cheesy but I know several girls who would be completely smitten if a teenage boy recited Shakespeare's "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" It really makes you think back to Connie and Arnold Friend. Arnold consistently "kept his cool" while he was speaking to Connie even when he was saying very crude things. However, the novel Lolita is written about a pedophile yet the language is so eloquent, we almost forget that he is talking about a very young girl. It's very easy to see why young, naive girls would fall for the sort of smooth talk that Arnold Friend demonstrates.

January 22nd, 2010

Flipping through the section called "Monsters and Heroes", I came across a story by an author I really enjoy: Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The story is called "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" and it is basically about a angel who has come to earth to take the very sick child from his parents. This "angel" is a withered old man with, obviously, enormous wings coming out of his back. The parents hear from their neighbor that she suspects he has come to take their child and the parents lock the old man in their chicken coop.

I'm not trying to give a complete retelling of the story, but there is a part that struck me as odd. The priest, Father Gonzaga, visits the old man with enormous wings and states that there is no way this man could possibly be an angel. "He reminded them that the devil had the bad habit of making use of carnival tricks in order to confuse the unwary" was stated and it sort of had me thinking: we really do have a pretty set-in-stone idea in our heads about how "godly" things should appear. There's the stereotypical version of an angel that we are all familiar with (the wings, white gown, halo, probably has the appearance of a younger individual, whatever, etc. etc.) but it is refreshing to see an author portray an angel as an old man that represents something that is flawed and all too human. I think it also represents how we tend to disbelieve anything that doesn't fit the description of how we would originally perceive it to be.

I'm really enjoying this section called Monsters and Heroes. While reading the stories, it is sometimes unclear who represents the supposed monster or hero, which gives me something to take a closer look at. It sorts of skews my perception of the classic fairytale heroes and monsters and makes me realize that characters rarely fit just one description. Just like Arnold Friend; he is not necessarily just a "monster" or the "devil" but rather a bunch of personality types meshed together which makes him even more real. In real life, people are not one-dimensional and the same goes for characters in stories. If you look a little closer, you can see that the best characters in literature are so memorable because they are so dynamic.

All for now
-Michelle

Day Three

"How do I know what I think until I see what I say?"

I think the above quotation accurately sums up the reason why we are required to put our thoughts about the class into a blog. For me, it is much easier to express my thoughts and opinions on a piece of literature if I'm able to write/type the words out myself. But anyway...

On the third day of class, Professor Sexson read through the poem "The Demon Lover" by an anonymous author. This poem had striking similarities to Oates' "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" which only reinforced the claim that every story is just another retelling of a different story. Joyce Carol Oates found inspiration to write her story from the true crimes committed by Charles Schmid (which she read in an Arizona newspaper). She always pulled inpiration from "The Demon Lover" in that the devil in the poem had a cloven foot, which is what gave away who he really was; Arnold Friend was similar in that he stuffed his boots with tin cans in order to make himself appear taller. It makes the reader think that Arnold Friend could really has a "cloven foot" and represents evil. By taking this class, I hope to pick up on more of these connections in poems, stories, limericks, etc. I think it is very interesting that nearly every story you read exists solely based on the fact that a previous story was written that gave the author inspiration to write his or her interpretation.

This class is very quickly turning out to be one of my favorites. I have to say, it really beats sitting through an Organic Chemistry lecture.

Au Revoir!
Michelle S.

Second Day

The second day of class was more focused on literature rather than just taking attendance. ;) After hearing Professor Sexson recite the first few lines from Joyce Carol Oates' "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?", I was really intrigued and wanted to find out what happened next with Connie and the mysterious Arnold Friend. Later that day I read the story and was horrified. This story was very unsettling and gave me a strong reaction. What was even more upsetting about this story is that is was inspired by true events (I googled the "Pied Piper of Tuscon"). I thought it was interesting how this story fell in the section called "Monsters and Heroes" because Arnold Friend is definitely not the stereotypical "monster" but fits the description of a modern-day monster so perfectly; he has a dark, alluring presence, talks smoothly, and knows a haunting amount of information about Connie and her family. Listening to his calm voice say threatening things to this fifteen year-old girl is even more disturbing than if he were yelling them. The end of the story also left me with chills because it was so ambiguous; we don't know what will ever happen to Connie or her family. I think this author did exactly what good literature is intended to do: stir up a strong reaction from the reader.

Something else that caught my attention was how the story was for Bob Dylan. Flip a few pages from the story and the reader notices the lyrics to Dylans's "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue". I thought that music played an important role in this story, and almost offered Connie a sort of escape from her family as well as the rest of the world. The lyrics "Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you/Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you/The vagabond who's rapping at your door/ Is standing in the clothes that you once wore/Strike another match, go start anew/And it's all over now, baby blue" left me picturing Arnold Friend moving closer and closer to Connie's screen door as he is coaxing her to take a ride in his gold jalopy. I really like seeing strong parallels between between music and literature (especially when it involves the wonderful Bob Dylan).

Today marked the first day of class and I can tell it is going to be very interesting. We went over the syllabus in class and briefly touched on how to create a blog of our own. Over the course of the semester, we will be required to read The Brother Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky. I'm looking forward to this book (mainly because Professor Sexson has said wonderful things about it) and because I haven't read a book this long since the most recent Harry Potter.

So far, so good!
-Michelle