For our "Lit X" paper, we are writing, essentially, a paper that allows us to dig into literature about a topic of our choice. Our first pre-write for that paper is due on friday. The pre-write isn't a first draft of the paper, thankfully, but just a collection of our ideas and progress. If you couldn't see it coming, here are some of my ideas and initial research. The links don't work right off, and I'm not sure if the database is accessable to other people outside of my school's network, but next to the link is the keyword that I searched, or the title of the article. I don't intend all of these to look like an annotated bibliography, but some of them need to be, others will be more of my ideas.
http://web.ebscohost.com/lrc/detail?vid=25&hid=115&sid=98f41691-b1df-46d4-963e-01782b7ef3c6%40sessionmgr104 Madness
I think that this is a good summary of the idea of Madness in literature, and I'm basically thinking of this as a good background knowledge/intro paragraph area.
http://web.ebscohost.com/lrc/detail?vid=8&hid=6&sid=400d3db9-baa8-4237-a371-e859d7129adb%40sessionmgr8 Linking Insanity and Creativity
This is an idea that I have thought of in terms of a thesis (that I am still looking for), but I think that this link between the two is too established for it to be a really unique idea. I am, however, keeping it in mind, because what I tend to do in papers like this and the Research Paper last year, is too get too excited, and too take on an idea that is too large for me to explore deeply enough to do the toic justice (another reason that I am excited for college, hopefully more time to explore more deeply). It seems to me that a lot of people who are truly artistic geniouses, whether it be in painting, writing or music, seem to be tortured, that their ideas and actions are often miscontsrued, only to be understood after the artist has passed away (sometimes through suicide). At the same time, it seems that the really tortured artists have declined in recent years, and whether this indicates a new ability to deal with depression and acceptance of differences, or, more frighteningly, that the quality of art and the geniouses of art have declined.
This is a list of some of the outlinish ideas of my paper.
Ken Kesey
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
http://web.ebscohost.com/lrc/detail?vid=36&hid=115&sid=98f41691-b1df-46d4-963e-01782b7ef3c6%40sessionmgr104 Mind Style
I loved this book, but, unfortunately, I'm not sure that this book and this author is going to fit into my thesis. It's actually probably my favorite book out of all of them that I read, and maybe that means that it is the least tortured, and least mad of all of them. The ideas in it seem a little predictable, that the mad aren't as mad as we make them out to be! GASP!
Sylvia Plat
The Bell Jar
Sylvia Plath: Method and Madness
http://web.ebscohost.com/lrc/pdf?vid=53&hid=115&sid=98f41691-b1df-46d4-963e-01782b7ef3c6%40sessionmgr104 Plath and Woolf and the Self
I read The Bell Jar, but haven't yet read the second book on the list, and even though I haven't read much Poe or Woolf, she may be the most tortured, making me think that it could be a really good resource.
Virginia Woolf
“Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams”
http://web.ebscohost.com/lrc/pdf?vid=53&hid=115&sid=98f41691-b1df-46d4-963e-01782b7ef3c6%40sessionmgr104 Plath and Woolf and the Self
Like I said, I haven't read her yet, but people have been telling me that she is a really good source, that not only is she a person who I could use, but that she is an amazing writer.
James Joyce
Ulysses: “Nighttown”
http://web.ebscohost.com/lrc/detail?vid=22&hid=115&sid=98f41691-b1df-46d4-963e-01782b7ef3c6%40sessionmgr104 Joyce and Madness
I saw on my sister's recent post that this book is considered #1 on the list of the best 100 books of all time. I didn't know what the book was about, but this chapter is supposed to be an ideal representation of all the different kinds of madness.
Edgar Allen Poe
Selected Poems
http://web.ebscohost.com/lrc/detail?vid=12&hid=115&sid=98f41691-b1df-46d4-963e-01782b7ef3c6%40sessionmgr104 Madness vs. Genius
Who better to study in a madness paper than Poe? He is kind of the king of all mad geniuses, writing lots of poems that are not only brilliant, but talk about madness in them. I think that what I also need to establish in this paper is whether I am analyzing the madness of the writers, or the madness of the characters, or something else entirely. That's another tendency I have, to get too broad of a focus, and write essentially two different papers.
Charles Brockton Brown
Edgar Huntly: Or Memoirs of a Sleepwalker
http://web.ebscohost.com/lrc/detail?vid=8&hid=6&sid=400d3db9-baa8-4237-a371-e859d7129adb%40sessionmgr8 “Insanity: A Fragment”
I wasn't going to inclue him until I found this article, because while Edgar Huntly is very "maddish" it is not a contemporary piece to most of these authors (except Poe, but his work is more timeless than Brown's). But this article is all about Brown and insanity, so its making me rethink my exclusion of his work.
I know that I have a lot of work ahead of me, and that my plan is probably too ambitious. If I could, I would love to read through all of these and pick out my favorite/best utilized parts. I don't really have time for that, however, so I will have to rely on a lot of other people's opinions and interpretations, something that I don't really like to do.
The biggest issue with this paper, as I kind of said earlier, is going to be settling on a thesis, rather than just rambling on about how madness exists in the these books. I think that the time of year has kind of gotten me re-interested in this topic, as Poe and Halloween kind of go hand in hand. Also, my sister's blog about ghosts has helped. I feel weird and too slightly too bloggerish, and I don't know how much more I need, but if anyone has any suggestions, someone such as Amanda or my mom or anyone else who has read more literature than I have, feel free to comment.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
tangent? why yes, i do go on tangents
One quarter of the way done. Only three more to go. Is that a good thing though? I'm not necessarily looking forward to the last three quarters, because with the speed that this one flew by, the next three will be over in a blink too. I don't really want my senior year to end. Not just because then I'll be going off to college and leaving the people that I know, but because this is the most fun I've ever had going to school.
I mean that in the best possible way. I love all of the classes that I'm taking, every one of them is either fun to go to, rewarding, or both. Without a doubt it is the best class load that I have taken in my four years. Even though I wake up each morning already tired, I'm excited to go to school, excited not only to learn, but to experience the jokes and laughs with my friends. A lot of people say that they don't like school, but without school, my daytime would be filled with sitting around at home. Yes, I would be free to go see my friends, or to sleep, or write, but there would a large amount of my time that I would not know how to utilize.
This is one of the reasons that I like the idea of teaching. Not only do I get to go to school and be with people that I like, presumably, but also because I would get to teach the things that I love, hopefully to a few students, if not a class, of like mind. Then, I would still have my own free time at home. Yes, I know that teaching is a lot of work, that there is grading and other things that go on, but I am used to the school schedule, and I love the idea of having summer off. My sister and I are similar in that way, we both love the idea of summer, which is somehting that being a teacher would give me. It is hard for me to imagine working through the summer just like my dad does, that I would need some time off.
I also think that teaching would give me a good oportunity to write. Instead of this blog being one of my only outlet (and because of the time continuum I don't get to spend as much time as I would like on this) to express my creative writing, I could sit down and actually write a short story or a book, developing characters in the way that I long to do. Maybe it is an ambitious dream, but someday, I wish that I could sit in on a class talking about my writing, dissecting why I put this word there and that phrase there. It would so fascinating, I think, to look deeper into my own physcosis and see why I write stuff the way I do.
When I think about teaching and writing and learning, I think that I just want to learn it all, have it all, to teach, to love it, to write and to love every second of it.
I mean that in the best possible way. I love all of the classes that I'm taking, every one of them is either fun to go to, rewarding, or both. Without a doubt it is the best class load that I have taken in my four years. Even though I wake up each morning already tired, I'm excited to go to school, excited not only to learn, but to experience the jokes and laughs with my friends. A lot of people say that they don't like school, but without school, my daytime would be filled with sitting around at home. Yes, I would be free to go see my friends, or to sleep, or write, but there would a large amount of my time that I would not know how to utilize.
This is one of the reasons that I like the idea of teaching. Not only do I get to go to school and be with people that I like, presumably, but also because I would get to teach the things that I love, hopefully to a few students, if not a class, of like mind. Then, I would still have my own free time at home. Yes, I know that teaching is a lot of work, that there is grading and other things that go on, but I am used to the school schedule, and I love the idea of having summer off. My sister and I are similar in that way, we both love the idea of summer, which is somehting that being a teacher would give me. It is hard for me to imagine working through the summer just like my dad does, that I would need some time off.
I also think that teaching would give me a good oportunity to write. Instead of this blog being one of my only outlet (and because of the time continuum I don't get to spend as much time as I would like on this) to express my creative writing, I could sit down and actually write a short story or a book, developing characters in the way that I long to do. Maybe it is an ambitious dream, but someday, I wish that I could sit in on a class talking about my writing, dissecting why I put this word there and that phrase there. It would so fascinating, I think, to look deeper into my own physcosis and see why I write stuff the way I do.
When I think about teaching and writing and learning, I think that I just want to learn it all, have it all, to teach, to love it, to write and to love every second of it.
Friday, October 19, 2007
winter morning, summer afternoon
This is my least favorite time of year. Maybe it's more this year than any other, but this part of the year really makes me mad. When I wake up in the morning, I'm freezing. I get out of the shower and I jump to put on anything and everything that will warm me up. I run outside to my car, and my wet hair gives me the chills.
It wouldn't bother me that I use the seat wamers on the way to school so much if I wasn't taking off layers on the way home. Yesterday, when I got out of school, it was 78 degrees. I was wearing a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt, with shorts under my sweatpants. Needless to say, I was a bit toasty.
I love when it's warm, nothing is better than the summer. I also don't mind it when it's cold outside, because I like to wrap up in layers. But I hate when I am freezing in the morning then sweating in the afternoon. I can't win.
Fall is pretty, sure, but I would like it a whole lot more about if the day dawned at 50 degrees, and stayed that way the entire time.
It wouldn't bother me that I use the seat wamers on the way to school so much if I wasn't taking off layers on the way home. Yesterday, when I got out of school, it was 78 degrees. I was wearing a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt, with shorts under my sweatpants. Needless to say, I was a bit toasty.
I love when it's warm, nothing is better than the summer. I also don't mind it when it's cold outside, because I like to wrap up in layers. But I hate when I am freezing in the morning then sweating in the afternoon. I can't win.
Fall is pretty, sure, but I would like it a whole lot more about if the day dawned at 50 degrees, and stayed that way the entire time.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
required evaluative questions
Chia said today that we should/had to post our answers to the editing evaluation sheet that he gave in class. It's for, as he said, the people who were worried that they had no posts on their blogs, but now they can say, "woo, one post!"
Anyway:
• What are the major content/critical thinking/writing issues that you were confronted with on this draft?
o I was confronted with the issue of making my ideas more focused. When I wrote the first draft, it was more stream of consciousness, so to go back and refine it to make sure that my points are focused was a big part of the second draft.
o Also, I wanted to make sure that specific words that I used were clarified. Some of the things that I used to analyze my thoughts were vague, so I concentrated on making the terms more specific and clear.
o Finally, I concentrated on making sure that the essay tied in to The Sound and the Fury enough, making sure that it wasn’t just personal examples.
• How well do you understand the content/substance of what you are writing about?
o Pretty well, it is something that I have thought about before, and that has helped me to make sure that I know what I am doing. The one thing that I did find, however, was that parts of certain ideas led me down a whole new path which I did not have time or space to explore in my essay. Also, sometimes the ideas were off topic, and frankly would have just made my essay confusing, so I didn’t explore them. I’m hoping that to somebody who hasn’t thought of these ideas, these gaps in exploration aren’t noticeable.
• What was your plan or strategy that you used to address these issues for this draft? Was this plan similar to the plans you have used in the past? How did you go from blank page to finished copy? How, and why, did you know those steps would work?
o First, when I am going over a draft, I make edits on my own, before I even look at a teacher’s comments. I check to see what I think needs work, what I messed up grammar-wise, etc. It’s pretty standard.
o Next, I look at the teacher’s comments and go through to see if I agree with them or not. Even if I don’t necessarily agree that something is wrong, or that a term is used incorrectly, I will try to clarify, because my opinions may be skewed by me being the one who thought of them. I may leave out jumps in logic that I have made that a reader may not have made.
o The most daunting part of a draft for me is a blank page. One I have thought of a hook, I usually get into the ideas, and let them flow. In general, instead of planning out my thoughts beforehand, I just write, putting all of my ideas down. After I’m done, I go back to see what works and what doesn’t, what’s relevant and what isn’t.
o I know this works because it helps me put all of my good ideas down. When I go through a detailed analysis of an idea, then it leads to more ideas, but when I just note it, I don’t get to go in depth, so little nuances are lost.
• What are your strengths and weaknesses as a writer and thinker? Are you a strong thinker but no so good at the follow-through? Are you best at the big picture or the details? Are you a last-minute writer or do you plan things out and stick to the plan? Do you start relatively early in the time frame given for completing a writing task, or relatively late? Do you go through several early drafts, or do you simply work on your text once and then turn it in?
o I think that I am a good thinker, but sometimes things get lost in the shuffle, because ideas come and go so fast that I can’t get them all down. I end up losing some of my better ideas because I am concerned about finishing up another one. Also, this leads to me unintentionally stopping an idea in the middle and picking up with another one, without even realizing it.
o I’m definitely better at the big picture. I tend to be able to make a statement about a theme or mood or some other piece of literary analysis, but it will be hard for me find specific evidence, quotes etc., because I worry more about the idea.
o I start relatively late, because oftentimes I wait, hoping that the mood to write will strike me. Sometimes it does, and I crack off papers and ideas in a few minutes, (this also tends to be when I write in my blog), but other times, I just have to force myself to do it, because the paper is due the next day.
o I usually only work on my text once, and it is usually all on the computer. My mom much prefers printing it out and seeing it in print, but I am so used to the computer, that it is easier for me to edit it on screen. Also, this helps me because the ideas are still fresh in my mind.
• How well do you understand the written and verbal comments that were provided to you? What do these comments tell you about yourself as a writer and thinker?
o I think that I understood them well, they tended to set off a light bulb, so that when I went through to edit, I would said, “Oh, yeah that makes sense.” It helped me a lot because not only did I realize where I had problems, I understood why.
o These comments only confirm my thoughts that I need to focus more on the specific, because I know that I do well with the big ideas, but finding quotes and specific evidence is daunting to me.
o One question I had was about the third comment. Chia said, “Hmmmm…you are getting really philosophical here.” I wasn’t sure if that meant that it was too philosophical and that I should change it, or if it was just a note of my philosophicality.
• What advice did you solicit for this draft? What was/were the source(s) of this advice? What advice were you given on this draft?
o I sometimes solicit my mom for advice before I write a paper. Usually I just talk to her about ideas, and oftentimes more because it is interesting to get into a discussion about a paper than just to get help.
o Either my mom or my sister are good sources, especially since my sister sometimes has some overlap in terms of authors that she is studying.
o Pretty much what I thought, that I needed to get specific examples, but that my general idea was good.
• What advice did you accept? Reject? Why?
o I accepted most of the advice that I received, because in some aspect or another, most of it can be accommodated into the paper. I rejected things that were about my ideas themselves, because, since this paper has no wrong answers, and I have my own opinions, that I should stay with my own ideas.
• Describe the major changes that you made on this draft. Provide a rationale for why you made these changes.
o One major change was removing an entire paragraph that I decided didn’t tie in and was also vague. I decided that it would be more practical to remove it than to completely remove it. Also, expanding on that idea would have made the essay convoluted.
• How has the revision process allowed you to see content, in general, in a more sophisticated way.
o Revising my work lets me look back on my work with a fresh eye, because I usually haven’t worked on it recently. What this allows me to do is to read my work more critically and more truthfully. This way, I am seeing my work in a more complete way.
o When I look at other work, sometimes I think about the editing process, whether they went back and forth on one word or another, whether they had a tangent to this point here…. Basically, it allows me to see each piece as a piece that a person wrote, instead of something that just sprung from the air.
• How has the writing and thinking that you have been asked to do in the past prepared you for the kinds of writing and thinking that you were asked to do for this assignment?
o The exploratory essay last year in English really helped me with this, because the thought process was similar. Also, my blog is basically a bunch of different essays a lot like this one, so that helped to prepare me for what I was supposed to do.
• What are your goals for your next piece? Where do those goals come from?
o My goals are always to make something that I am proud of. I don’t just want to write something that I turn in to get it out of the way, I want to write something that I want to post on my blog, or that I want to peer edit about. These goals come from a lot of self-pride, I want to write the best thing ever written every time I try because I am a bit selfish, and I want people to marvel at my work.
• What are your over-arching goals for yourself as a writer? Why are these your goals?
o I would love to write a book, especially the typical dream of writing “The Great American Novel.” I would love to know that there are teachers in English classes in America assigning my book to high school kids and having them analyze it. I would love to get emails and letters from people asking about themes, themes that I didn’t even know were there.
• What do you think your main goals should be as writer and thinker, given what you have experienced so far in AP English?
o I think that I need to work on specific details, as I mentioned earlier. Also, I need to work on being less dramatic, sometimes I write like a script to a documentary, and I need to work on that. I’m not saying that writing is bad, it’s pretty good, at least I think, but it’s just a bit over the top, because some times in writing all you need to say is, “He bought milk from the store.”
• What are your criteria for quality work?
o Work that I am proud of, because some times I am not proud of my work, just satisfied with it. Other times, however, I know that what I have written is really special. I strive for that every time that I write, and only when I have achieved that do I consider it quality work.
• What was the most important thing you learned while working on this piece?
o I learned a lot about my self as a writer. A lot of the things that I said from these questions I had kind of realized, but never actually said, “Wow, I need to do this differently.” It has really helped me be forthright an honest about my writing.
Anyway:
• What are the major content/critical thinking/writing issues that you were confronted with on this draft?
o I was confronted with the issue of making my ideas more focused. When I wrote the first draft, it was more stream of consciousness, so to go back and refine it to make sure that my points are focused was a big part of the second draft.
o Also, I wanted to make sure that specific words that I used were clarified. Some of the things that I used to analyze my thoughts were vague, so I concentrated on making the terms more specific and clear.
o Finally, I concentrated on making sure that the essay tied in to The Sound and the Fury enough, making sure that it wasn’t just personal examples.
• How well do you understand the content/substance of what you are writing about?
o Pretty well, it is something that I have thought about before, and that has helped me to make sure that I know what I am doing. The one thing that I did find, however, was that parts of certain ideas led me down a whole new path which I did not have time or space to explore in my essay. Also, sometimes the ideas were off topic, and frankly would have just made my essay confusing, so I didn’t explore them. I’m hoping that to somebody who hasn’t thought of these ideas, these gaps in exploration aren’t noticeable.
• What was your plan or strategy that you used to address these issues for this draft? Was this plan similar to the plans you have used in the past? How did you go from blank page to finished copy? How, and why, did you know those steps would work?
o First, when I am going over a draft, I make edits on my own, before I even look at a teacher’s comments. I check to see what I think needs work, what I messed up grammar-wise, etc. It’s pretty standard.
o Next, I look at the teacher’s comments and go through to see if I agree with them or not. Even if I don’t necessarily agree that something is wrong, or that a term is used incorrectly, I will try to clarify, because my opinions may be skewed by me being the one who thought of them. I may leave out jumps in logic that I have made that a reader may not have made.
o The most daunting part of a draft for me is a blank page. One I have thought of a hook, I usually get into the ideas, and let them flow. In general, instead of planning out my thoughts beforehand, I just write, putting all of my ideas down. After I’m done, I go back to see what works and what doesn’t, what’s relevant and what isn’t.
o I know this works because it helps me put all of my good ideas down. When I go through a detailed analysis of an idea, then it leads to more ideas, but when I just note it, I don’t get to go in depth, so little nuances are lost.
• What are your strengths and weaknesses as a writer and thinker? Are you a strong thinker but no so good at the follow-through? Are you best at the big picture or the details? Are you a last-minute writer or do you plan things out and stick to the plan? Do you start relatively early in the time frame given for completing a writing task, or relatively late? Do you go through several early drafts, or do you simply work on your text once and then turn it in?
o I think that I am a good thinker, but sometimes things get lost in the shuffle, because ideas come and go so fast that I can’t get them all down. I end up losing some of my better ideas because I am concerned about finishing up another one. Also, this leads to me unintentionally stopping an idea in the middle and picking up with another one, without even realizing it.
o I’m definitely better at the big picture. I tend to be able to make a statement about a theme or mood or some other piece of literary analysis, but it will be hard for me find specific evidence, quotes etc., because I worry more about the idea.
o I start relatively late, because oftentimes I wait, hoping that the mood to write will strike me. Sometimes it does, and I crack off papers and ideas in a few minutes, (this also tends to be when I write in my blog), but other times, I just have to force myself to do it, because the paper is due the next day.
o I usually only work on my text once, and it is usually all on the computer. My mom much prefers printing it out and seeing it in print, but I am so used to the computer, that it is easier for me to edit it on screen. Also, this helps me because the ideas are still fresh in my mind.
• How well do you understand the written and verbal comments that were provided to you? What do these comments tell you about yourself as a writer and thinker?
o I think that I understood them well, they tended to set off a light bulb, so that when I went through to edit, I would said, “Oh, yeah that makes sense.” It helped me a lot because not only did I realize where I had problems, I understood why.
o These comments only confirm my thoughts that I need to focus more on the specific, because I know that I do well with the big ideas, but finding quotes and specific evidence is daunting to me.
o One question I had was about the third comment. Chia said, “Hmmmm…you are getting really philosophical here.” I wasn’t sure if that meant that it was too philosophical and that I should change it, or if it was just a note of my philosophicality.
• What advice did you solicit for this draft? What was/were the source(s) of this advice? What advice were you given on this draft?
o I sometimes solicit my mom for advice before I write a paper. Usually I just talk to her about ideas, and oftentimes more because it is interesting to get into a discussion about a paper than just to get help.
o Either my mom or my sister are good sources, especially since my sister sometimes has some overlap in terms of authors that she is studying.
o Pretty much what I thought, that I needed to get specific examples, but that my general idea was good.
• What advice did you accept? Reject? Why?
o I accepted most of the advice that I received, because in some aspect or another, most of it can be accommodated into the paper. I rejected things that were about my ideas themselves, because, since this paper has no wrong answers, and I have my own opinions, that I should stay with my own ideas.
• Describe the major changes that you made on this draft. Provide a rationale for why you made these changes.
o One major change was removing an entire paragraph that I decided didn’t tie in and was also vague. I decided that it would be more practical to remove it than to completely remove it. Also, expanding on that idea would have made the essay convoluted.
• How has the revision process allowed you to see content, in general, in a more sophisticated way.
o Revising my work lets me look back on my work with a fresh eye, because I usually haven’t worked on it recently. What this allows me to do is to read my work more critically and more truthfully. This way, I am seeing my work in a more complete way.
o When I look at other work, sometimes I think about the editing process, whether they went back and forth on one word or another, whether they had a tangent to this point here…. Basically, it allows me to see each piece as a piece that a person wrote, instead of something that just sprung from the air.
• How has the writing and thinking that you have been asked to do in the past prepared you for the kinds of writing and thinking that you were asked to do for this assignment?
o The exploratory essay last year in English really helped me with this, because the thought process was similar. Also, my blog is basically a bunch of different essays a lot like this one, so that helped to prepare me for what I was supposed to do.
• What are your goals for your next piece? Where do those goals come from?
o My goals are always to make something that I am proud of. I don’t just want to write something that I turn in to get it out of the way, I want to write something that I want to post on my blog, or that I want to peer edit about. These goals come from a lot of self-pride, I want to write the best thing ever written every time I try because I am a bit selfish, and I want people to marvel at my work.
• What are your over-arching goals for yourself as a writer? Why are these your goals?
o I would love to write a book, especially the typical dream of writing “The Great American Novel.” I would love to know that there are teachers in English classes in America assigning my book to high school kids and having them analyze it. I would love to get emails and letters from people asking about themes, themes that I didn’t even know were there.
• What do you think your main goals should be as writer and thinker, given what you have experienced so far in AP English?
o I think that I need to work on specific details, as I mentioned earlier. Also, I need to work on being less dramatic, sometimes I write like a script to a documentary, and I need to work on that. I’m not saying that writing is bad, it’s pretty good, at least I think, but it’s just a bit over the top, because some times in writing all you need to say is, “He bought milk from the store.”
• What are your criteria for quality work?
o Work that I am proud of, because some times I am not proud of my work, just satisfied with it. Other times, however, I know that what I have written is really special. I strive for that every time that I write, and only when I have achieved that do I consider it quality work.
• What was the most important thing you learned while working on this piece?
o I learned a lot about my self as a writer. A lot of the things that I said from these questions I had kind of realized, but never actually said, “Wow, I need to do this differently.” It has really helped me be forthright an honest about my writing.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
leaving home
I realized that in less than a year from now, I won't be living in Westport. I was thinking about it today when I was driving home. It is not a comforting thought. I'm looking forward to college, the freedom, the classes that I want to take, etc, but at the same time, I've never lived anywhere else except for my house, in my room.
I realized driving home today that in less than a year, I won't ever live in this house again, that I'll always be a visitor, then in a few years, when I come home, it won't be to the house that I've known all of my life. Sure I've been away from home for weeks at a time, but never with the intention of not coming back, never knowing that I won't be able to come home in a few days.
I realized that in twenty years or so, when I take my wife and kids back to my home, that they won't know this house, that they won't ever have lived here, even though I know it so well. At the same time, I won't know it anymore, and it's depressing to think that I'll slowly forget my first, and to this point, only, home. While I forget my home, so this house will forget me, becoming something different, the moment that I drive away from my house on my first day of college, this house will begin changing, and it won't ever be the way that I know it now.
I guess this made me realize that when my parents took my past their first house, that while it meant nothing to me, it meant everything to them. They have laughed, cried, loved and hurt in that house. To me, it's just another building. I wish that there was some way that they could have imparted that knowledge to me, let me see into the window of their first home. But that is impossible.
As I prepare for life in college and beyond, I'm realizing that this is the only "first house I've ever lived in." I won't have the same intimate relationship with any other place that I live for the rest of my life. It makes leaving for school that much harder.
I realized driving home today that in less than a year, I won't ever live in this house again, that I'll always be a visitor, then in a few years, when I come home, it won't be to the house that I've known all of my life. Sure I've been away from home for weeks at a time, but never with the intention of not coming back, never knowing that I won't be able to come home in a few days.
I realized that in twenty years or so, when I take my wife and kids back to my home, that they won't know this house, that they won't ever have lived here, even though I know it so well. At the same time, I won't know it anymore, and it's depressing to think that I'll slowly forget my first, and to this point, only, home. While I forget my home, so this house will forget me, becoming something different, the moment that I drive away from my house on my first day of college, this house will begin changing, and it won't ever be the way that I know it now.
I guess this made me realize that when my parents took my past their first house, that while it meant nothing to me, it meant everything to them. They have laughed, cried, loved and hurt in that house. To me, it's just another building. I wish that there was some way that they could have imparted that knowledge to me, let me see into the window of their first home. But that is impossible.
As I prepare for life in college and beyond, I'm realizing that this is the only "first house I've ever lived in." I won't have the same intimate relationship with any other place that I live for the rest of my life. It makes leaving for school that much harder.
Monday, October 8, 2007
a million lights
This is a little story that I wrote on the flight back from Carleton last month. On the flight back last night, I remembered it and thought that I'd post it.
The light flashed, and faceless black flickered past. Whiteness shone, the dull shine of wet metal stared back at him through the window. is it raining, or are we in a cloud? is that the moon?
He landed, and the metal bird breathed heavily from the exertion of flying halfway across the dark country. home. almost.
It was late, but not late enough that he couldn’t be exited by a hot shower and warm coffee. He was tired, but not tired enough that he couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the strong asphalt, ceaselessly supporting and guiding the tired travelers, like him, home. home. i wish i weren’t so tired.
Finally, he was home. The familiar shapes rose out of the darkness, friendly from years of proximity, yet foreboding because of the shadows. The light shouted, scattering the shadows and dispelling any demons of his sleep-deprived head. He climbed the stairs, too tired even to change, and collapsed in the shower, letting the warm water on his face wash him to sleep. amazing how much better a shower feels when it’s yours.
The cold gasped him awake. The hot water heater had finished its race, and stood panting in his basement, covered in hours of sweat. The towel offered little comfort once he was already wet, and he had no choice but to shiver dry. The bed grabbed him, its already cool sheets taking the last vestiges of warmth from him. But he could stand it no longer, and exhaustion took him. amazing how much better a bed
He was aware of the light as it brightened. the sun is a much friendlier alarm. It slowly embraced him, gently carrying him down the stairs in the welcome haze of sleep. He was still in his clothes from the airplane. i think.
He was fresh now, warm coffee and clean clothes. The day stretched out ahead of him, three o’clock seemed to far away to comprehend, the harder he tried to draw her to him, the farther she seemed to be. Instead, it was time to work. It was not such bad work, but the work had forced itself upon him, unrelenting despite his hesitance. oh Edgar. at least he was short, only two hundred pages. that will make the wait longer. i would rather wait than work.
The light pulsed. finally.
The outside was happiness, the bushes, the trees, and the stones, even the mud. He stopped the car, barely letting it exhale before pulling its key from its brain. It reeled, silencing, falling back into the stillness. He did not notice. The sun was out. He did not notice. He had left the garage door open. He did not care.
The light grew, and so did the shadow. The light grew, and so did he. The light grew, and so did she, and he ceased to exist, and she ceased to exist and it all ceased to matter.
The light shone, and shone, and there was nothing to stop it.
The light flashed, and faceless black flickered past. Whiteness shone, the dull shine of wet metal stared back at him through the window. is it raining, or are we in a cloud? is that the moon?
He landed, and the metal bird breathed heavily from the exertion of flying halfway across the dark country. home. almost.
It was late, but not late enough that he couldn’t be exited by a hot shower and warm coffee. He was tired, but not tired enough that he couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the strong asphalt, ceaselessly supporting and guiding the tired travelers, like him, home. home. i wish i weren’t so tired.
Finally, he was home. The familiar shapes rose out of the darkness, friendly from years of proximity, yet foreboding because of the shadows. The light shouted, scattering the shadows and dispelling any demons of his sleep-deprived head. He climbed the stairs, too tired even to change, and collapsed in the shower, letting the warm water on his face wash him to sleep. amazing how much better a shower feels when it’s yours.
The cold gasped him awake. The hot water heater had finished its race, and stood panting in his basement, covered in hours of sweat. The towel offered little comfort once he was already wet, and he had no choice but to shiver dry. The bed grabbed him, its already cool sheets taking the last vestiges of warmth from him. But he could stand it no longer, and exhaustion took him. amazing how much better a bed
He was aware of the light as it brightened. the sun is a much friendlier alarm. It slowly embraced him, gently carrying him down the stairs in the welcome haze of sleep. He was still in his clothes from the airplane. i think.
He was fresh now, warm coffee and clean clothes. The day stretched out ahead of him, three o’clock seemed to far away to comprehend, the harder he tried to draw her to him, the farther she seemed to be. Instead, it was time to work. It was not such bad work, but the work had forced itself upon him, unrelenting despite his hesitance. oh Edgar. at least he was short, only two hundred pages. that will make the wait longer. i would rather wait than work.
The light pulsed. finally.
The outside was happiness, the bushes, the trees, and the stones, even the mud. He stopped the car, barely letting it exhale before pulling its key from its brain. It reeled, silencing, falling back into the stillness. He did not notice. The sun was out. He did not notice. He had left the garage door open. He did not care.
The light grew, and so did the shadow. The light grew, and so did he. The light grew, and so did she, and he ceased to exist, and she ceased to exist and it all ceased to matter.
The light shone, and shone, and there was nothing to stop it.
briony, cinnabons and conservative jews
Is Briony credible? Could she actually be a living, breathing human being? How does McEwan make the character seem so real?
Briony is definitely a credible character. Not only does she have thoughts and actions, but she has hopes, dreams and aspirations. The Trials of Arabella, for example, show her true desires, as does her stories later in the book. The scene where she sees Robbie and Cee at the fountain serves to make Briony real. She is made real because she is not just a passive viewer of the event, but as a result goes on to think about how she could write something wonderful about it. The way that McEwan gives her her ideas makes her seem real. I don't often think about whether a character is real or not, but now that I do, I realize that Briony seems real because she goes through a process to discover her true thoughts and desires. When a character is more two-dimensional, usually they come to an action relatively quickly, which makes the decision forced, or the decision is overly drawn out, making it obvious that it is a pivotal point. McEwan assumes that his readers are smart, and figures that they will know when something is significant and when it is not.
What, then, is McEwan's opinion of Briony?
I think that McEwan really likes Briony. At the beginning of the novel, before the plot starts to develop I thought that Briony would be the main character, that the whole book would be from her perspective. Instead, Robbie and Cee's sections are necessary for plot. Briony is more of the conduit to McEwan's thoughts, I think. He represents his ideas, maybe even his childhood actions and thoughts through Briony. One complaint that I had about Briony is that she is a bit too advanced intellectually for a ten year-old. Yeah, I get that she's smart, but most ten year-olds that I know don't go around thinking about writing a novel about a scene from three different people's perspective. I think that McEwan is very sympathetic towards Briony, and that he thinks that Robbie and Cee's treatment of her is unfair. Since McEwan (and, obviously, the reader) has insight into Briony's mind, McEwan knows her motivations, knowing that she is not as horrible as Robbie and Cee think that she is.
What is your reaction to Briony? Are you sensitive to her and to her situation? Do you feel empathy toward her? Does she deserve what she "gets" in the story, or is her fate undeserved?
I touched on this in the last question, because I hadn't read this question yet and I don't what to change it. I think that Briony's fate is undeserved, that she is treated extremely harshly, that a decision that she made when she was really young followed her the rest of her life. I know that we have all made decisions that we wouldn't make again, especially when we're ten. Also, I am sympathetic towards her because sometimes I harbor the private thoughts that Briony has, about writing, I mean. I think about how I would write a certain scene, make it in the mold of some of my favorite writers. I do think, however, that the reason that the reader is partial to Briony is because we don't get into the minds of Robbie and Cee until after the event. We don't learn very much about them until their own narrative sections. We hear from Briony both before and after, and the before is when we learn about her character.
Does Briony say anything to you personally? How do you relate/respond to her? Why do you respond the way that you do?
Again, I talked about this in the last question. Briony speaks/relates/whatever to me because of the way that I think about writing in my everyday life. While it may not be as constantly as Briony does, or as constantly as McEwan makes it seem, I still think in similar ways to Briony. Also, sometimes I feel like I am really naive in some areas of my life. A lot of times I do things that I have a feel for, or act the way that my instincts tell me to, later to hear someone talk about how my actions had a name or mean something about my thoughts. This happens a lot in terms of politics. I have no idea what I am, I just know what I think, but I don't know if it is liberal or conservative (because those are the only things that people can be nowadays). At the same time, however, people tell me that I would be a good politician or lawyer because of the way I deal with people/speak. I don't realize what I am doing however, or how it will turn out. This relates to Briony, finally, because she oftentimes doesn't understand her reactions, but she just acts in a certain way, not sure why. Sometimes, it turns out to be wrong, but oftentimes her instincts are correct, even if she doesn't know that's what told her to act.
This isn't the most reader friendly blog I know, and I commend anybody other than Chia who managed to get through it. Also, sitting in an airport waiting for "high winds" in NY to subside and listening to teenaged-conservative Jews talk about baseball can be distracting. Especially since they don't know what they're talking about.
Briony is definitely a credible character. Not only does she have thoughts and actions, but she has hopes, dreams and aspirations. The Trials of Arabella, for example, show her true desires, as does her stories later in the book. The scene where she sees Robbie and Cee at the fountain serves to make Briony real. She is made real because she is not just a passive viewer of the event, but as a result goes on to think about how she could write something wonderful about it. The way that McEwan gives her her ideas makes her seem real. I don't often think about whether a character is real or not, but now that I do, I realize that Briony seems real because she goes through a process to discover her true thoughts and desires. When a character is more two-dimensional, usually they come to an action relatively quickly, which makes the decision forced, or the decision is overly drawn out, making it obvious that it is a pivotal point. McEwan assumes that his readers are smart, and figures that they will know when something is significant and when it is not.
What, then, is McEwan's opinion of Briony?
I think that McEwan really likes Briony. At the beginning of the novel, before the plot starts to develop I thought that Briony would be the main character, that the whole book would be from her perspective. Instead, Robbie and Cee's sections are necessary for plot. Briony is more of the conduit to McEwan's thoughts, I think. He represents his ideas, maybe even his childhood actions and thoughts through Briony. One complaint that I had about Briony is that she is a bit too advanced intellectually for a ten year-old. Yeah, I get that she's smart, but most ten year-olds that I know don't go around thinking about writing a novel about a scene from three different people's perspective. I think that McEwan is very sympathetic towards Briony, and that he thinks that Robbie and Cee's treatment of her is unfair. Since McEwan (and, obviously, the reader) has insight into Briony's mind, McEwan knows her motivations, knowing that she is not as horrible as Robbie and Cee think that she is.
What is your reaction to Briony? Are you sensitive to her and to her situation? Do you feel empathy toward her? Does she deserve what she "gets" in the story, or is her fate undeserved?
I touched on this in the last question, because I hadn't read this question yet and I don't what to change it. I think that Briony's fate is undeserved, that she is treated extremely harshly, that a decision that she made when she was really young followed her the rest of her life. I know that we have all made decisions that we wouldn't make again, especially when we're ten. Also, I am sympathetic towards her because sometimes I harbor the private thoughts that Briony has, about writing, I mean. I think about how I would write a certain scene, make it in the mold of some of my favorite writers. I do think, however, that the reason that the reader is partial to Briony is because we don't get into the minds of Robbie and Cee until after the event. We don't learn very much about them until their own narrative sections. We hear from Briony both before and after, and the before is when we learn about her character.
Does Briony say anything to you personally? How do you relate/respond to her? Why do you respond the way that you do?
Again, I talked about this in the last question. Briony speaks/relates/whatever to me because of the way that I think about writing in my everyday life. While it may not be as constantly as Briony does, or as constantly as McEwan makes it seem, I still think in similar ways to Briony. Also, sometimes I feel like I am really naive in some areas of my life. A lot of times I do things that I have a feel for, or act the way that my instincts tell me to, later to hear someone talk about how my actions had a name or mean something about my thoughts. This happens a lot in terms of politics. I have no idea what I am, I just know what I think, but I don't know if it is liberal or conservative (because those are the only things that people can be nowadays). At the same time, however, people tell me that I would be a good politician or lawyer because of the way I deal with people/speak. I don't realize what I am doing however, or how it will turn out. This relates to Briony, finally, because she oftentimes doesn't understand her reactions, but she just acts in a certain way, not sure why. Sometimes, it turns out to be wrong, but oftentimes her instincts are correct, even if she doesn't know that's what told her to act.
This isn't the most reader friendly blog I know, and I commend anybody other than Chia who managed to get through it. Also, sitting in an airport waiting for "high winds" in NY to subside and listening to teenaged-conservative Jews talk about baseball can be distracting. Especially since they don't know what they're talking about.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
various pontifcations on the mental state of my cranial cavity
Chia has mentioned that, as we read, we should keep in mind that the characters in the books, novels, articles, short stories etc. that we read aren't real people. I've been trying to do this, but obviously, my mind had to carry me further.
I started to wonder, when I do think about a character, or at least in the way that I used to, where does that character go? I have two interesting theories/ideas. One is that for each topic/book/creation, I create a new, floating area on which all of their actions occur. It is actually a lot like the game The Sims. My characters act the way that the author tells me that they act, and I can see them going around carrying out these actions.
It is interesting to me, however, to think about the world that I have created for them. Obviously an author has a place in mind when he or she writes, and at the same, I create a place when I read. I have noticed, however, that in this world, everything is ambiguous, that nothing is clearly defined outside of a small bubble that the characters operate in. For example, in my "reader's eye," I might see a tree in the background when I hear one person talk, yet when I hear another person talk, and turn back again, there might be a bush and a tree, or three trees, or a mountain. I would assume that this is similar with everybody, that nobody is thinking out the descriptions to the point of being able to return to the same place after putting the book down for a week.
As an aside, it is also really interesting to think about how I know I am reading a good book. I know that I am reading a good book when, instead of reading what is happening, I see the events unfolding, if I read about a character riding the train to go to his castle-school in the mountains of England, I am either sitting in the car with him, listening to a conversation, or outside of the train, watching it puff its way uphill.
I mentioned that I have two theories about the viewing of my literary world. The other is that I have, instead of creating small, floating islands, created one massive world that encompasses all of my characters. They carry out their purpose in this world, and tell me the story, never seeing other people from other plots.
This, of course, raisies the question, what do my characters do in their free time? I'm not sure if I've come up with that yet. I suppose that they would do one of three things: act out the plotline over and over again, cease to exist when the plot is completed, or just live the life that character would create for him or herself. I think that the last is the most likely, but I have no way of knowing, I can't just check in on Holden, The Cat in the Hat and Othello without recalling the plot, meaning that all I see them doing is enacting the plot.
I know that some of this is a bit fairytale-ish, especially the one big world theory, but what fiction reading isn't just a little bit magical?
I started to wonder, when I do think about a character, or at least in the way that I used to, where does that character go? I have two interesting theories/ideas. One is that for each topic/book/creation, I create a new, floating area on which all of their actions occur. It is actually a lot like the game The Sims. My characters act the way that the author tells me that they act, and I can see them going around carrying out these actions.
It is interesting to me, however, to think about the world that I have created for them. Obviously an author has a place in mind when he or she writes, and at the same, I create a place when I read. I have noticed, however, that in this world, everything is ambiguous, that nothing is clearly defined outside of a small bubble that the characters operate in. For example, in my "reader's eye," I might see a tree in the background when I hear one person talk, yet when I hear another person talk, and turn back again, there might be a bush and a tree, or three trees, or a mountain. I would assume that this is similar with everybody, that nobody is thinking out the descriptions to the point of being able to return to the same place after putting the book down for a week.
As an aside, it is also really interesting to think about how I know I am reading a good book. I know that I am reading a good book when, instead of reading what is happening, I see the events unfolding, if I read about a character riding the train to go to his castle-school in the mountains of England, I am either sitting in the car with him, listening to a conversation, or outside of the train, watching it puff its way uphill.
I mentioned that I have two theories about the viewing of my literary world. The other is that I have, instead of creating small, floating islands, created one massive world that encompasses all of my characters. They carry out their purpose in this world, and tell me the story, never seeing other people from other plots.
This, of course, raisies the question, what do my characters do in their free time? I'm not sure if I've come up with that yet. I suppose that they would do one of three things: act out the plotline over and over again, cease to exist when the plot is completed, or just live the life that character would create for him or herself. I think that the last is the most likely, but I have no way of knowing, I can't just check in on Holden, The Cat in the Hat and Othello without recalling the plot, meaning that all I see them doing is enacting the plot.
I know that some of this is a bit fairytale-ish, especially the one big world theory, but what fiction reading isn't just a little bit magical?
Thursday, September 20, 2007
the unexpected scientist
Today in English we had a really interesting discussion about the science of writing. When we first walked in to class, Chia had two things on the board for us to work on. One was to find the molality of a glucose solution. The other was to find the derivative of x^2. In English class. I have often heard of strange things such as this in a class ending up changing people's perspective about a teacher, how they learn, life, the universe, etc. I was excited to see where Chia would go with this. Chia then asked us, if Meaning of The Great Gatsby=X, find X.
Unfortunately, I had to wait until after second lunch to find out why molality and derivates matter. Next we read the story of Goldilocks, complete with enlarged text about the great big bear, middle sized text about the middle sized bear, and small text about the teeny tiny bear. Finally, Chia explained himself, slowly getting us to work through the idea that we used a formula to find the math questions, so we could use formulas to find meanings in books. He started to tell us about the first of these formulas, deconstruction, before the period ended. Deconstruction is the idea of looking at what we accept as fact, such as Goldilocks being a white, young, pretty blonde, and asking, "What if this weren't true?"
I enjoyed the lesson, and even though I knew something strange was coming, I still never really figured out what Chia was going for until the last few minutes of class. It's weird, because I love writing, love English class, love words. On the other hand, math and science aren't my strongest suits or preferences. Because of my previous dissassociation between math and english, I find myself strangely hesitant to embrace the idea of finding out the meaning of a text through using formulas. I would much rather find it through thought and discussion. I guess that I am subconsciously using these formulas, but now that I know/am learning them, I will be conscious of them. It will be difficult for me to apply known science and math into, gasp, English class.
I know that I'll get used to it, but I wonder if it will change my perception of either English or Math class. I guess I'm more of a scientist that I realized.
Unfortunately, I had to wait until after second lunch to find out why molality and derivates matter. Next we read the story of Goldilocks, complete with enlarged text about the great big bear, middle sized text about the middle sized bear, and small text about the teeny tiny bear. Finally, Chia explained himself, slowly getting us to work through the idea that we used a formula to find the math questions, so we could use formulas to find meanings in books. He started to tell us about the first of these formulas, deconstruction, before the period ended. Deconstruction is the idea of looking at what we accept as fact, such as Goldilocks being a white, young, pretty blonde, and asking, "What if this weren't true?"
I enjoyed the lesson, and even though I knew something strange was coming, I still never really figured out what Chia was going for until the last few minutes of class. It's weird, because I love writing, love English class, love words. On the other hand, math and science aren't my strongest suits or preferences. Because of my previous dissassociation between math and english, I find myself strangely hesitant to embrace the idea of finding out the meaning of a text through using formulas. I would much rather find it through thought and discussion. I guess that I am subconsciously using these formulas, but now that I know/am learning them, I will be conscious of them. It will be difficult for me to apply known science and math into, gasp, English class.
I know that I'll get used to it, but I wonder if it will change my perception of either English or Math class. I guess I'm more of a scientist that I realized.
Monday, September 17, 2007
eye of the tiger
I've noticed that ever since I started posting here, I walk around and I notice things that i could write about. I think, "Oh, that would be interesting to write about, I would write '.........'" Unfortunately, I often forget these after about 10 minutes, because I have other things on my mind. I would write it down, but oftentimes I am not in the best place to write stuff down. For example, on my trip to Minnesota and Iowa this past week (the reason the masses had to languish in the agony of an old post), I saw plenty of stuff to write about, from in the airport to at the schools where I stayed.
It's frustrating to forget, but I guess that I can take heart that I'm thinking of all these things, and that hopefully I'll remember one day.
It's frustrating to forget, but I guess that I can take heart that I'm thinking of all these things, and that hopefully I'll remember one day.
Monday, September 10, 2007
giving credit where credit is due
Today I was sitting in class and I tried to articulate an idea that I have been stewing over ever since I finished The Sound and the Fury, the idea that Benjy is much smarter than most readers, let alone the Compson family, give him credit for. What stopped me is my inability to explain as well as I needed to without taking up 20 minutes and boring the entire class. So, instead, I will take 20 minutes here and bore everybody (just kidding, hopefully it won't be boring...or 20 minutes).
Most people in class identified Benjy's ability to notice things and attribute it to his mental problems, saying that Benjy's senses are heightened because of his problem. At the same time, however, people are still making the same stereotype that the Compson family is making, the same generalization that the class is quick to point out. If people are willing to say the Benjy is the only clear, objective voice in the entire novel (except for perhaps Dilsey), I don't see why it is so much of a reach to say that Benjy not only is noticing things, but that he is cognizant of some of the implications. It is not so strange that a figure in literature would know more than society would anticipate, take One Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest or The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. Phil made the interesting point that Benjy only notices the significant events in the book, that he is aware of things like his name change and Damuddy's death. Benjy also notices Caddy's change from smelling like trees to smelling like perfume, and her dirty underpants. I don't think that this is just a naive observation, as some people in class thinks, but rather Benjy's awareness of what has happened to Caddy.
Benjy is not unaware, he is just not able to convey his thoughts in the way that "normal" people would. Instead, Benjy conveys his emotions and thoughts through pure emotion and simple explanation of the situation. His screaming is not just sadness at being apart from Caddy or from being pushed down, but his only way of expressing his distaste for the situation and world that he is living in. Also remember that Benjy is 33, he has seen a lot, and his unique way of recollection keeps things that have happened years ago fresh in his mind, because it is difficult for him to discern a memory from the present. Maybe Benjy is supposed to be the idiot, but, in my mind at least, it is the other narrators who are idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Most people in class identified Benjy's ability to notice things and attribute it to his mental problems, saying that Benjy's senses are heightened because of his problem. At the same time, however, people are still making the same stereotype that the Compson family is making, the same generalization that the class is quick to point out. If people are willing to say the Benjy is the only clear, objective voice in the entire novel (except for perhaps Dilsey), I don't see why it is so much of a reach to say that Benjy not only is noticing things, but that he is cognizant of some of the implications. It is not so strange that a figure in literature would know more than society would anticipate, take One Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest or The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. Phil made the interesting point that Benjy only notices the significant events in the book, that he is aware of things like his name change and Damuddy's death. Benjy also notices Caddy's change from smelling like trees to smelling like perfume, and her dirty underpants. I don't think that this is just a naive observation, as some people in class thinks, but rather Benjy's awareness of what has happened to Caddy.
Benjy is not unaware, he is just not able to convey his thoughts in the way that "normal" people would. Instead, Benjy conveys his emotions and thoughts through pure emotion and simple explanation of the situation. His screaming is not just sadness at being apart from Caddy or from being pushed down, but his only way of expressing his distaste for the situation and world that he is living in. Also remember that Benjy is 33, he has seen a lot, and his unique way of recollection keeps things that have happened years ago fresh in his mind, because it is difficult for him to discern a memory from the present. Maybe Benjy is supposed to be the idiot, but, in my mind at least, it is the other narrators who are idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
freezer burn
So I was walking to my AP Mod and African classroom today, and Garrett comes up to me and goes, "a window just shattered in my classroom." It just so happened that it was my classroom. I need to explain.
This room, ever since the beginning of school, has been the coldest room in the entire school. Whenever we come back to school the school always has the air conditioning up too high, and this year was no exception. This year, however, the second floor of the new building is extra cold. My African teacher actually told us the first day of school to bring a sweatshirt for that class, because it is so amazingly cold.
When I walked into Mod, the temperature was actually a little bit better, up to around 45 degrees. The custodian was in the room putting a board up on the window. Apparently, and get this, the temperature difference between the outside and the inside of the room was so great, that the window completely shattered.
I literally walk out of that room shaking with my teeth chattering every single day. I don't understand why the school cannot just change the temperature of the automatic thing up a few degrees. I know that they want to keep it nice and regulated for us, but what is wrong with opening the windows and letting the amazing weather we have been having take care of it?
This room, ever since the beginning of school, has been the coldest room in the entire school. Whenever we come back to school the school always has the air conditioning up too high, and this year was no exception. This year, however, the second floor of the new building is extra cold. My African teacher actually told us the first day of school to bring a sweatshirt for that class, because it is so amazingly cold.
When I walked into Mod, the temperature was actually a little bit better, up to around 45 degrees. The custodian was in the room putting a board up on the window. Apparently, and get this, the temperature difference between the outside and the inside of the room was so great, that the window completely shattered.
I literally walk out of that room shaking with my teeth chattering every single day. I don't understand why the school cannot just change the temperature of the automatic thing up a few degrees. I know that they want to keep it nice and regulated for us, but what is wrong with opening the windows and letting the amazing weather we have been having take care of it?
what is writing, why do we do it, and what makes us good at it?
So I just started thinking about this. I don't really know how it came into my head, but I started thinking about what writing actually is (by the way, this isn't really an English class blog, despite the fact that it is about English). Writing, I decided, I think, is just a means of communicating thoughts and feelings that we want other people to share (for the most part, obviously journals and the such are not necessarily meant for others eyes). Writing, in its most basic form, is the communication of ideas, the process of making you see what I mean.
So, then, what makes some people better at writing than others? It is certainly not intelligence. Some of my friends are extraordinarily smart, could tell me things about math that I don't even know exist, yet I know that I could write something more coherent while I was asleep than they ever could. I don't even think that it is the way that certain people think. Some people say "Oh, well right brain v. left brain." I'm not sure if that argument holds water, if only for this question: what makes writing good?
Is Fitzgerald's Gatsby a better piece of writing than Darwin's Origin of the Species? Not necessarily (even though I think that Fitzgerald's is far better, I'm trying to be objective). Sometimes I think that what makes people better at writing than others is the ability to love what they are writing about. That sounds simple enough, but think about it. Sometimes, when one sits down to write a boring paper about the impact of the fourth line of the third scene of the fifth act of MacBeth, the paper turns out to be terrible. Or, when one sits down to write a narrative about the modern dancing, aka "grinding," it could also be terrible. Even when somebody sits down to write about how a certain flower was this color because of the color, height, and type of the flowers that came before it, it could be lousy.
At the same time, however, the phenomenal thing about writing is, that all three of those could be equally great. This goes back to loving what you write. Personally, anything that I think to write on my own, or anything that is of a creative nature is just going to be better than anything else that I write. It's because I know what I want to say, and I know that in general my reader will be of typical mind, and I know how to express my thoughts in words that will make my reader follow me. In the same way, Darwin knows what excites him about evolution, and, I'm sure, to somebody who loves science, Darwin's love and expertise comes across clearly.
I guess what I am trying to get across is that writing is a great thing, something that I love. I can also admit, however, that there have been times where I have snubbed other pieces because I disapproved. I realized today that just because a piece of writing was about something I didn't love, wasn't the one thing that I craved to learn more about, doesn't mean that to somebody who does crave the knowledge in that subject, that that particular piece of writing could be an amazing read.
So, then, what makes some people better at writing than others? It is certainly not intelligence. Some of my friends are extraordinarily smart, could tell me things about math that I don't even know exist, yet I know that I could write something more coherent while I was asleep than they ever could. I don't even think that it is the way that certain people think. Some people say "Oh, well right brain v. left brain." I'm not sure if that argument holds water, if only for this question: what makes writing good?
Is Fitzgerald's Gatsby a better piece of writing than Darwin's Origin of the Species? Not necessarily (even though I think that Fitzgerald's is far better, I'm trying to be objective). Sometimes I think that what makes people better at writing than others is the ability to love what they are writing about. That sounds simple enough, but think about it. Sometimes, when one sits down to write a boring paper about the impact of the fourth line of the third scene of the fifth act of MacBeth, the paper turns out to be terrible. Or, when one sits down to write a narrative about the modern dancing, aka "grinding," it could also be terrible. Even when somebody sits down to write about how a certain flower was this color because of the color, height, and type of the flowers that came before it, it could be lousy.
At the same time, however, the phenomenal thing about writing is, that all three of those could be equally great. This goes back to loving what you write. Personally, anything that I think to write on my own, or anything that is of a creative nature is just going to be better than anything else that I write. It's because I know what I want to say, and I know that in general my reader will be of typical mind, and I know how to express my thoughts in words that will make my reader follow me. In the same way, Darwin knows what excites him about evolution, and, I'm sure, to somebody who loves science, Darwin's love and expertise comes across clearly.
I guess what I am trying to get across is that writing is a great thing, something that I love. I can also admit, however, that there have been times where I have snubbed other pieces because I disapproved. I realized today that just because a piece of writing was about something I didn't love, wasn't the one thing that I craved to learn more about, doesn't mean that to somebody who does crave the knowledge in that subject, that that particular piece of writing could be an amazing read.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
putting them in their place, so to speak
In our class discussion to day about families, one of the themes that came up a few times was the idea of "putting our parents in their places," albeit, politely. This, I believe, goes hand in hand with another idea that we had, the idea of seeing our parents as parents vs. our parents as people. When we were young, I think for the most part my loyal readers and I can agree on the fact that our parents were special. They were an enigma, people for us to fear, love, respect and generally, be-in-awe-of.
I also think that my fanbase; my mom, Mr. Chiapetta and I, can agree that as we grew older, our perceptions of our parents changed. When I was young, everything my parents did was perfect. If they were angry it was because my sister and I had done something wrong, and we deserved to be reprimanded. If they were happy, then all the world was right, and, as children, my sister and I had nothing to worry about. I think that the inbetween times, the times where my parents had to cover up their sadness or their hurt, their worry, and their tiredness to put on a happy face are the times that I never noticed. They were still my parents, as implacable and immovable as ever.
I think that the perception has begun to change, and not necessarily in the way that the title of this post suggests. Now, instead of always seeing my parents as the people who run the well oiled machine that is my family, I have the opportunity to see my parents as not only people, not only adults, but as friends. I can see my mom on days where she is not herself, and I can talk to her about it, to make her feel better. Instead of always being cordial, my mom and I can get in a mildly heated debate about the school's new attendance policy (which is ridiculous by the way). Instead of seeing my parents as the people who have raised me, I can see them as the people who I will continue to grow with, people who make mistakes, say the wrong thing, get sick. I think that I have come to terms with this, and I love the depth with which I can now converse with them. In youth, it might have been limited to basic conversation, but now it can be so much more than that.
The hardest part of this realization for me to wrap my mind around is the part where I realize that they were the same way when I was younger, I just couldn't tell.
I also think that my fanbase; my mom, Mr. Chiapetta and I, can agree that as we grew older, our perceptions of our parents changed. When I was young, everything my parents did was perfect. If they were angry it was because my sister and I had done something wrong, and we deserved to be reprimanded. If they were happy, then all the world was right, and, as children, my sister and I had nothing to worry about. I think that the inbetween times, the times where my parents had to cover up their sadness or their hurt, their worry, and their tiredness to put on a happy face are the times that I never noticed. They were still my parents, as implacable and immovable as ever.
I think that the perception has begun to change, and not necessarily in the way that the title of this post suggests. Now, instead of always seeing my parents as the people who run the well oiled machine that is my family, I have the opportunity to see my parents as not only people, not only adults, but as friends. I can see my mom on days where she is not herself, and I can talk to her about it, to make her feel better. Instead of always being cordial, my mom and I can get in a mildly heated debate about the school's new attendance policy (which is ridiculous by the way). Instead of seeing my parents as the people who have raised me, I can see them as the people who I will continue to grow with, people who make mistakes, say the wrong thing, get sick. I think that I have come to terms with this, and I love the depth with which I can now converse with them. In youth, it might have been limited to basic conversation, but now it can be so much more than that.
The hardest part of this realization for me to wrap my mind around is the part where I realize that they were the same way when I was younger, I just couldn't tell.
a blog?
For me? It seems odd, but I have never minded the idea of a blog, the idea of getting people to think about things that I write because they either happened to stumble across it for the first time, or because they genuinley like it. My secret blogger has been bursting to escape, however, ever since Amanda put up her blog. Things like the things she writes are the kinds of things that I want to write.
The only difference, is that I won't only be posting only for my own good. I am also posting for my English teacher, Mr. Chiapetta, to read about the various hypothesizing that I have been doing in, about and around his class (don't worry, I didn't force him to read a teenager's random babbling, it's an assingment). This is not my first "entry," for a grade, but it is the first one explaining everything before I just jump into espousing my theories left and right.
Also, as a side note, the title of the blog is supposed to be "APe Talk" a clever reference that I cannot take credit for, (my mom, however, can) to the influence that my AP English class will have on the postings.
The only difference, is that I won't only be posting only for my own good. I am also posting for my English teacher, Mr. Chiapetta, to read about the various hypothesizing that I have been doing in, about and around his class (don't worry, I didn't force him to read a teenager's random babbling, it's an assingment). This is not my first "entry," for a grade, but it is the first one explaining everything before I just jump into espousing my theories left and right.
Also, as a side note, the title of the blog is supposed to be "APe Talk" a clever reference that I cannot take credit for, (my mom, however, can) to the influence that my AP English class will have on the postings.
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