It takes place in a coast village, somewhere. The time is the past. The story begins with the Old Man and it ends with him flying off until Elisenda can no longer see him in the distance. It takes place over about 5-7 years span of time. Part of the "Angel's" stay can be signified as how amazed the people of the village are by the oddity of his appearance and mannerisms. The other half of the story the village treats him like a circus freak and he is no longer an amazing creature, but rather a developing pebble in their shoes. All of these things take place until the "Angel" is practically forgotten about.
In the beginning Pelayo, one of the men living in the village, is the first to discover the "old man" in his backyard. When he finally steps closer to the man he sees, "an old man, a very old man, lying face down in the mud, who, in spite of his tremendous efforts, couldn’t get up, impeded by his enormous wings.” Pelayo's wife, Elisenda, also sees the angel and they decide to lock him up in their chicken coop for the night only to see neighbors from all over the village looking at the mysterious creature. At that point everyone knew that Pelayo had found something profound and mysterious. When people visited the "Old Man" they treated him like an animal. They would throw him food every now and then. More and more people from far away came to see the man. With the way Marquez writes it almost sounds like people were living in a warped reality, especially with how they were treating the "Old Man". Even with some treating him like he should be “five-star general in order to win all wars," and some treating him like the scum of the earth he still took "no part in his own act." Even with all of the abuses, harsh words and seemingly other inhumane travesties he still was virtuous. The seemingly sad part of all of this is when the Spider Lady speaks up about her past and how because she didn't listen to her parents that she had been turned into a spider. The good thing about telling her story is that there is no speculation and people in the village were more inclined in their understanding of how she came to be that way. With the "Old Man" because he refused to speak, he was ridiculed and misunderstood. Even still, he remained silent. After the Spider Lady speaks of her story, people leave the "Old Man" alone. They no longer want to hear his story, if there even is one. He is seemingly forgotten. Later on in the story, we find that Pelayo and Elisenda become wealthy off of the "Old Man's" oddity. They build a mansion and forget about their chicken coop. The "Old Man" was basically left to die, but despite him being neglected he still lived. When the village doctor went to inspect him he found the "Old Man" was alive. The doctor also wondered why he only had wings and why the rest of humanity didn't have them. In the end the "Angel" regains is strength and as Elisenda looks out onto the horizon he “no longer [is] an annoyance in her life but an imaginary dot on the horizon of the sea.”
Where are the specifics? I suppose as the reader we are the ones that must create them. But much like Waiting for Godot, do we take it for what it is or find some kind of parallel with the rest of the world? Obviously this story is very complex. If one does not take the time to entirely read the text and digest it, they will get lost in it's meaning and words. For example, the sentence that reads, "...that his passivity was not that of a hero taking his ease but that of a cataclysm response." First off, that is very well written. I admire this write greatly and I sense his passion for writing in every word that is printed in the page of our Literature book. For me the sentence seem to stick out over some of the others in this text. When I look at this sentence in comparison to the rest of the text I look toward myself. Do I act passive like a hero taking ease, or do I stay silent and wait to explode?
This story in general is amazingly written. When people seemingly come into our lives out of nowhere we are quick to judge. I've been a person that has tried to never do that. We all judge in someways, but I really try to refrain. When I let myself open to the possibilities that people may bring to my life, that's when God uses me and them the most. If the people in this story would've just treated this "Old Man" with some dignity, maybe he would've had something so amazingly brilliant to give to society. Said part is, we'll never know. The Angel or Old Man just flies off into the sun, what if? Just what if? What is Elisenda would've allowed him to speak? What if they would've cared for him rather than leave him to die in the public's eye?
What ifs are a major part of what makes this story so interesting, yet tragic at the same time. The second part of the title is labeled "A Tale for Children"; Professor Corrigan asked us in class why we think this is even apart of the title. I thought about it and I really think that it's a good tale for children because it teaches them to not leave out anyone and to look at all the possibilities that life has yet to bring them.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Symbolism: A stop sign or a green light?
In some ways symbolism can be viewed as both stop signs and/or green lights. I know when I read something symbols tend to lead me into rabbit holes because I am a deep thinker, but symbols are also why I want to be an English teacher one day. Symbols create passion in a story. For example, Sonny's blues was a deep story for me, why? Because the music invoked a long ago passion that was restored within only reading a few words about the effects music had on the people in that story.
Symbols can help a story develop sometimes more than the characters/plot can. Another example is in Waiting for Godot. The symbols of the hats, shoes, tree and other props make it seem like the set itself is useless, but in reality...without it, we wouldn't understand the outside surroundings and how they effect the inward emotions. What would the story in Waiting for Godot be like if the characters didn't look inside their hats? What would the story be like if it didn't start off with one of the main characters trying to take of his boot?
Symbols can also hinder some stories. When watching a movie like The Labyrinth the title itself seems like a symbol. We all know what a labyrinth is, but in that movie it becomes too literal until the end, when you realize why the labyrinth was there in the first place and why the people (or symbols) were strategically placed throughout the storyline. The main character's journey is filled with props that she must use to her advantage, while also interacting with the symbols around her.
I wondered about symbols that surround me everyday. Something as simple as a handicap sign, I can understand. But then I thought, what if I were blind? What new form would such a simple sign like a handicapped symbol change into? While walking down El Prado I see many people holding books and book bags; because of that I assume that they are going to class or teaching one, but I'm probably wrong 45% of the time. Symbols can also be misleading. I know when I say something it can mean something else. Symbols are also like that. When most see a green light it means go, but in other countries it could mean something completely different.
Symbols can help a story develop sometimes more than the characters/plot can. Another example is in Waiting for Godot. The symbols of the hats, shoes, tree and other props make it seem like the set itself is useless, but in reality...without it, we wouldn't understand the outside surroundings and how they effect the inward emotions. What would the story in Waiting for Godot be like if the characters didn't look inside their hats? What would the story be like if it didn't start off with one of the main characters trying to take of his boot?
Symbols can also hinder some stories. When watching a movie like The Labyrinth the title itself seems like a symbol. We all know what a labyrinth is, but in that movie it becomes too literal until the end, when you realize why the labyrinth was there in the first place and why the people (or symbols) were strategically placed throughout the storyline. The main character's journey is filled with props that she must use to her advantage, while also interacting with the symbols around her.
I wondered about symbols that surround me everyday. Something as simple as a handicap sign, I can understand. But then I thought, what if I were blind? What new form would such a simple sign like a handicapped symbol change into? While walking down El Prado I see many people holding books and book bags; because of that I assume that they are going to class or teaching one, but I'm probably wrong 45% of the time. Symbols can also be misleading. I know when I say something it can mean something else. Symbols are also like that. When most see a green light it means go, but in other countries it could mean something completely different.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Book made into Film
Watching Godot in class was somewhat eye opening. If you don't go into the play with an open mind you automatically shut off from the humor that occurs within the first few seconds of the play. In the movie, it seems like it goes faster on the screen as opposed to reading the story in Beckett's book. The two men in the beginning during the film seem even more in depth than I could've possibly imagined when simply reading the play in a book.
Usually I am one of those people that likes to read a story before hitting the theaters, but in this case I think the film adaptation really strikes a literary cord. I found all the characters to be astounding. It kept you wondering why the characters asked what they asked, or did what they did. At one point I felt incredibly sorry for Lucky who has to carry all of Pozzo's things. In the book for some odd reason I did not feel as sorry for him. Also, I thought it ironic that his name is Lucky...
Because we did not get to finish the film in class, I was somewhat disappointed. I really was getting into understanding the characters. The fact that the play is very "short" answered and a question is usually answered with another question leads to the assumption that this play is obviously talking somewhat about God. The title itself has the word God in it!
In my opinion the film was good. I thought it would be boring. I thought it would be like watching an old 1920s silent film. The actors did a great job at portraying the characters and they did great with what little plot was given.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
A theme picked out from Godot
Godot. G-O-D-O-T. GO-DOT. All different ways to spell Godot. Funny how one name seems to shape an entire play. A name of a man that NEVER shows up, nonetheless.
I'm going with the concept that "We are not supposed to understand what is going on." When reading the pages of this play I realize that there are meanings weaved in and out of the words on the pages, but it is left up to interpretation. But what if the interpretation is that there is no interpretation? I'm sure the author had it in his mind that after looking over all of his work he probably thought that this was an interesting piece of work. How did it become well known literature? Why are we reading it right now?
Literature is more than a beginning and an ending, it's about a journey. This play is about the journey these two men, DiDi and GoGo go through. Have you ever gone on a joy ride? Have you ever just wanted to go for a drive because you wanted to get away from it all? When doing that, there is no set destination. We just feel our way through the twists and turns of the road. Sometimes there are traffic lights to make us aware of the intersections we are facing, at other times there are absolutely no lights stopping anyone from going anywhere.
Is that what it is like for the men in this play? Is there destination chosen? Sure they know who they are waiting to see, but are they truly looking for a definite person or are they just sitting there for the mere enjoyment of each others company? I think it is a bit of both really.
I used to say to my best friend, "Oh, we'll one day be two old bitties out on our front porches playing chess and sipping on ice tea. Just the two of us." The truth is, we have no idea if that day will ever come. We don't know if we will live that long to have that "dream" come true. What we do have is a vision of what we see for ourselves in the future.
Waiting for Godot is a piece that keeps on creating. Like I said in class, God is still creating and I think this is a simple example of that in our very own hands. This book allows us to fill in the gaps that aren't concrete with ideas. It allows us to mold and shape the characters even further than what the text states.
When reading this I will remember that it's like living a journey, not about seeking a destination.
I'm going with the concept that "We are not supposed to understand what is going on." When reading the pages of this play I realize that there are meanings weaved in and out of the words on the pages, but it is left up to interpretation. But what if the interpretation is that there is no interpretation? I'm sure the author had it in his mind that after looking over all of his work he probably thought that this was an interesting piece of work. How did it become well known literature? Why are we reading it right now?
Literature is more than a beginning and an ending, it's about a journey. This play is about the journey these two men, DiDi and GoGo go through. Have you ever gone on a joy ride? Have you ever just wanted to go for a drive because you wanted to get away from it all? When doing that, there is no set destination. We just feel our way through the twists and turns of the road. Sometimes there are traffic lights to make us aware of the intersections we are facing, at other times there are absolutely no lights stopping anyone from going anywhere.
Is that what it is like for the men in this play? Is there destination chosen? Sure they know who they are waiting to see, but are they truly looking for a definite person or are they just sitting there for the mere enjoyment of each others company? I think it is a bit of both really.
I used to say to my best friend, "Oh, we'll one day be two old bitties out on our front porches playing chess and sipping on ice tea. Just the two of us." The truth is, we have no idea if that day will ever come. We don't know if we will live that long to have that "dream" come true. What we do have is a vision of what we see for ourselves in the future.
Waiting for Godot is a piece that keeps on creating. Like I said in class, God is still creating and I think this is a simple example of that in our very own hands. This book allows us to fill in the gaps that aren't concrete with ideas. It allows us to mold and shape the characters even further than what the text states.
When reading this I will remember that it's like living a journey, not about seeking a destination.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Waiting for Godot
Strange. Peculiar. Odd.
All three describe the way I feel about the Godot story. Seemingly waiting for a man that may never come is hardly interesting, but what becomes interesting is what they do while waiting for Godot. GoGo and DiDi's characters come out. I am baffled by a story such as this that begins with one of them trying to get a boot off. How does one make a story line out of a beginning like that!?
The strange part about this story so far is that the scene is simple, yet they have a way of making things complex and misshapen. They talk about the Bible and other things that in someways have nothing to do with each other, yet have EVERYTHING to do with each other.
I wonder if these two men even know Godot or if they are waiting for him like a child waits for a mailman to give him the package he's been waiting for. When Estragon states, "There is nothing to be done." Does that imply that nothing IS to literally be done throughout the entire play? Because to an outsider reading this play for the first time, it sure feels that way intentionally.
Vladimir takes on a whole new ball of wax for me. He talks, a lot. His mind seems to never stop racing with things to talk about. When Estragon doesn't feel like having a conversation the whole time , Vladimir gets frustrated and says things like "GoGo why can't you return the ball every once and awhile?" I think that's a play on words and conversation. At first when I read that, I thought he was talking to a dog. The way the conversation usually plays out, it seems more of a cat and mouse kind of dialog.
So far, from what I have read, it seems like the two men are close and support each others dreams and ambition. I think they also support each others ideas on topics, but also challenge each other to understand their surroundings deeper and more meaningfully.
Waiting for a person that may never come seems odd to me, but I also see the deeper element into why this play was a success. As I read on further and come to what will probably be an open-ended conclusion, I will be able to state more about Godot. As of right now, the play is rattling my brain and the characters are hilarious!
All three describe the way I feel about the Godot story. Seemingly waiting for a man that may never come is hardly interesting, but what becomes interesting is what they do while waiting for Godot. GoGo and DiDi's characters come out. I am baffled by a story such as this that begins with one of them trying to get a boot off. How does one make a story line out of a beginning like that!?
The strange part about this story so far is that the scene is simple, yet they have a way of making things complex and misshapen. They talk about the Bible and other things that in someways have nothing to do with each other, yet have EVERYTHING to do with each other.
I wonder if these two men even know Godot or if they are waiting for him like a child waits for a mailman to give him the package he's been waiting for. When Estragon states, "There is nothing to be done." Does that imply that nothing IS to literally be done throughout the entire play? Because to an outsider reading this play for the first time, it sure feels that way intentionally.
Vladimir takes on a whole new ball of wax for me. He talks, a lot. His mind seems to never stop racing with things to talk about. When Estragon doesn't feel like having a conversation the whole time , Vladimir gets frustrated and says things like "GoGo why can't you return the ball every once and awhile?" I think that's a play on words and conversation. At first when I read that, I thought he was talking to a dog. The way the conversation usually plays out, it seems more of a cat and mouse kind of dialog.
So far, from what I have read, it seems like the two men are close and support each others dreams and ambition. I think they also support each others ideas on topics, but also challenge each other to understand their surroundings deeper and more meaningfully.
Waiting for a person that may never come seems odd to me, but I also see the deeper element into why this play was a success. As I read on further and come to what will probably be an open-ended conclusion, I will be able to state more about Godot. As of right now, the play is rattling my brain and the characters are hilarious!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Dr. Horrible's Blog
There are so many elements I could pick and choose out of this "sing-a-long blog", but some of the main ones were: love, comedy, hate, jealousy, and death. Love: defined in this story as the love triangle between Dr. Horrible, Penny and Captain Hammer. Comedy: How we view Dr. Horrible in the beginning, but we eventually see that his sarcasm hides something much deeper than simple jokes. Hate: Dr. Horrible and Captain Hammer hate each other. (They appear to be villains.) Jealousy: Again, the love triangle and the jealousy that Dr. Horrible has for Captain Hammer's popularity, even though he's self-absorbed. And Death: This occurs in the story at the very end when Penny is killed because part of Dr. Horrible's gun breaks off and lodges itself in Penny's torso, leaving her to die. All of these elements are what make it a tragicomedy!
I had heard of this "blog show" before we were introduced to it in class. I had no interest in watching it, but I'm really glad I saw it. At first, the class seemed to get a kick out of the whole idea of an "evil genius" being in love with a chick at a laundry mat. This tragicomedy had me thinking about Beauty and the Beast for some reason. As I watched it I thought of Dr. Horrible as the "Beast" and Penny as "Belle" the Beauty. Here is a man who is a true "beast" on the inside, but on the outside he is just a simple young man falling in love. The tragedy in this, besides Captain Hammer acting like a self-absorbed idiot trying to take Penny from Billy's love grip, is the fact that from the beginning it seems as though Dr. Horrible sets himself up for failure. There are several lines that suggest that he "already is living a nightmare" and at the end of the first act he says a word at the end that suggests that he is unhappy with the result of his heist and that Penny is now further out of love with him than before.
It seems that Dr. Horrible just wants to be taken seriously. He doesn't want to kill anyone to become apart of the evil league, but he doesn't have another way to become part of a group. He says to Penny in the second act, "I want to be an achiever". His idea of achieving is just being recognized and taken seriously in life. He is overlooked too often and just wants everyone to see that he really can be "horrible".
I tried to apply this singing blog to my own life. Penny's song I feel relates to how I feel right now:
Here’s a story of a girl
Who grew up lost and lonely
Thinking love was fairytale
And trouble was made only for me
Even in the darkness
Every color can be found
And every day of rain
Brings water flowing
To things growing in the ground
Grief replaced with pity
For a city barely coping
Dreams are easy to achieve
If hope is all I’m hoping to be
Anytime you’re hurt there’s one
Who has it worse around
And every drop of rain
Will keep you growing
Seeds you’re sowing in the ground
This song gives a person hope, while at the same time realizing that there are definite needs in the world that need to be taken care of, which is Penny's case it was the homeless in that city.
The struggles between Captain Hammer and Dr Horrible really meant little to me. They seemed more like two brothers fighting back and forth over a toy. Neither of them were a threat to the other. Neither Captain Hammer, nor Dr. Horrible were "good" guys. The main issue was that Captain Hammer would get recognition for his actions that never had a good meaning behind them in the first place while "evil" Dr Horrible wouldn't get recognized at all. Simply put, this is not a story of good versus evil, it's about how our own thoughts/actions can cloud the judgment of many and how we can shape others around us whether it be good or bad.
I had heard of this "blog show" before we were introduced to it in class. I had no interest in watching it, but I'm really glad I saw it. At first, the class seemed to get a kick out of the whole idea of an "evil genius" being in love with a chick at a laundry mat. This tragicomedy had me thinking about Beauty and the Beast for some reason. As I watched it I thought of Dr. Horrible as the "Beast" and Penny as "Belle" the Beauty. Here is a man who is a true "beast" on the inside, but on the outside he is just a simple young man falling in love. The tragedy in this, besides Captain Hammer acting like a self-absorbed idiot trying to take Penny from Billy's love grip, is the fact that from the beginning it seems as though Dr. Horrible sets himself up for failure. There are several lines that suggest that he "already is living a nightmare" and at the end of the first act he says a word at the end that suggests that he is unhappy with the result of his heist and that Penny is now further out of love with him than before.
It seems that Dr. Horrible just wants to be taken seriously. He doesn't want to kill anyone to become apart of the evil league, but he doesn't have another way to become part of a group. He says to Penny in the second act, "I want to be an achiever". His idea of achieving is just being recognized and taken seriously in life. He is overlooked too often and just wants everyone to see that he really can be "horrible".
I tried to apply this singing blog to my own life. Penny's song I feel relates to how I feel right now:
Here’s a story of a girl
Who grew up lost and lonely
Thinking love was fairytale
And trouble was made only for me
Even in the darkness
Every color can be found
And every day of rain
Brings water flowing
To things growing in the ground
Grief replaced with pity
For a city barely coping
Dreams are easy to achieve
If hope is all I’m hoping to be
Anytime you’re hurt there’s one
Who has it worse around
And every drop of rain
Will keep you growing
Seeds you’re sowing in the ground
This song gives a person hope, while at the same time realizing that there are definite needs in the world that need to be taken care of, which is Penny's case it was the homeless in that city.
The struggles between Captain Hammer and Dr Horrible really meant little to me. They seemed more like two brothers fighting back and forth over a toy. Neither of them were a threat to the other. Neither Captain Hammer, nor Dr. Horrible were "good" guys. The main issue was that Captain Hammer would get recognition for his actions that never had a good meaning behind them in the first place while "evil" Dr Horrible wouldn't get recognized at all. Simply put, this is not a story of good versus evil, it's about how our own thoughts/actions can cloud the judgment of many and how we can shape others around us whether it be good or bad.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Lake Bonny Trip
I went to Lake Bonny Park for this assignment, and I stayed there for at least 50 minutes.
The trip was interesting in itself. I had some crazy self-realizations while standing next to nature. I basked in the silence and just sat there with God. After the crazy hectic life I've been leading for the past couple of months, it felt amazing to just leave school/friends behind and just go away for awhile. I walked around for a bit alone and felt something near me the whole time. I kept walking and I couldn't shake this feeling that I wanted to be alone, but something was by my side (spiritually) and wouldn't leave me be. As I write this right now, I still have no idea what it was. I found that reading the State of the Planet by Robert Haas helped throw me right into the emotions that I needed for this assignment. I felt angry, sad, alone, depressed, and oddly happy. My anger stems from the fact that I'm not perfect. I want to be perfect in all that I do and then I just falter. I took a look at all the nature around me and it wasn't fair! I saw the perfection in all of God's creation, but I was not perfect...how does that happen? But then I took solace in the fact that God loved me just as I was in that moment. No more, no less. My sadness goes hand in hand with my loneliness. I become sad because I fear that I will never get better in what I am doing in life. Then I took another look around me and realized, if God could make a tiny flower grow from such a tiny seed, if I allow Him--He will help me grow as well. My happiness came from realizing how all of these things come together. My poem underneath explains how I felt in the moment and the ending is left to interpretation.
Calm and peacefulness surrounds me,
Yet, I'm reckless.
I enter into a world I take for granted,
Spiritual eyes open, I’m enchanted.
Steps of trepidation lead me into vegetation,
To memorize, I take pictures with my mind.
Holding the leaf in my hand, oh chlorophyll!
The wind in my hair has no comparison to the fear I feel.
It's tragic how the world has so many borders,
Yet the colors in the flowers seem to spill over into my imagination.
I wish I could break free and be wild like the flowers of God's creation.
The wind provokes my hair to dance, I hesitate.
The stick snaps beneath my foot.
I pick it up and look at its texture,
And realize that it is unique, yes a stick unique.
A small girl walks to me, she pulls on my shirt,
Not a word is spoken between us.
She leads me to the dock where it stretches out past the lake's border,
It was our Neverland.
She, my mirror, stood next to me,
She looked up at me and pointed outward.
“Just look,” she spoke.
I saw the beauty that had been robbed from me,
Oh! How the drones of everyday life deprive us of God’s love!
I look down only to see her gone, never to be there,
My imagination ran with me.
I look up again and God’s canvas is before me,
Wish I could recklessly love.
Lake Bonny Trip by Brittney TM Perez is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
The State of the Planet
State of the Planet, by Robert Haas, in my opinion deserves to the Pulitzer Prize winning. It bring together very two crucial elements: simplicity and complexity. Some how he is able to mixed the two together and still have the reader come out with a clear understanding of what he was trying to get across to us in the first place.
My favorite line was:
"There is no silence in the world
Like the silence of rock from before life was."
How true is that? While reading more in depth on that particular verse I was mesmerized. It's hard to really see what life was like before we, animals or plants even existed on this earth. Rock and soil were here long before we came and I also find it interesting that we, according to Genesis, were brought up from the "dust of the earth." Maybe those two statements have something to do with each other. The fact that the entire poem starts out so simple, with a young girl and how rain is falling on her, then getting into thinking about life and our ecosystem...that blew my mind.
The line that reads:
"Poetry should be able to comprehend the earth,...
Something of the earth beyond our human dramas."
The first line starts out the beginning of stanza "2" and the last line ends stanza "2". That's the entire flow of the poem. What starts, must end, but it ends in the same way with the same idea being presented; much how a thesis is the beginning of a paper and the conclusion is the end.
Stanza six really brought out the biology side of things. Most of the poem deals with the beauty of what we see and how we may or may not interpret it, but this stanza tries to define the "state of the planet" as far as how we see it under a microscopic point of view. This is one of my favorite stanzas because it stands out from the rest of the poem, but still has a place in the ciaos of it all.
Overall, I see that our disconnection with nature is very much apparent. I think that with technology booming, cars running faster and people becoming less and less spiritual that we are going to continue to let ourselves disconnect from the very world around us. Eventually, we as human beings will totally disconnect from the world and ultimately God if we aren't careful. On the opposite side, those of us that love nature, that's awesome, but we should also try to look at who created all of this around us and understand that he holds a much higher understanding than we can even possibly imagine.
"It must be a gift of evolution that humans
Can't sustain wonder. We'd never have gotten up
From our knees if we could."
My favorite line was:
"There is no silence in the world
Like the silence of rock from before life was."
How true is that? While reading more in depth on that particular verse I was mesmerized. It's hard to really see what life was like before we, animals or plants even existed on this earth. Rock and soil were here long before we came and I also find it interesting that we, according to Genesis, were brought up from the "dust of the earth." Maybe those two statements have something to do with each other. The fact that the entire poem starts out so simple, with a young girl and how rain is falling on her, then getting into thinking about life and our ecosystem...that blew my mind.
The line that reads:
"Poetry should be able to comprehend the earth,...
Something of the earth beyond our human dramas."
The first line starts out the beginning of stanza "2" and the last line ends stanza "2". That's the entire flow of the poem. What starts, must end, but it ends in the same way with the same idea being presented; much how a thesis is the beginning of a paper and the conclusion is the end.
Stanza six really brought out the biology side of things. Most of the poem deals with the beauty of what we see and how we may or may not interpret it, but this stanza tries to define the "state of the planet" as far as how we see it under a microscopic point of view. This is one of my favorite stanzas because it stands out from the rest of the poem, but still has a place in the ciaos of it all.
Overall, I see that our disconnection with nature is very much apparent. I think that with technology booming, cars running faster and people becoming less and less spiritual that we are going to continue to let ourselves disconnect from the very world around us. Eventually, we as human beings will totally disconnect from the world and ultimately God if we aren't careful. On the opposite side, those of us that love nature, that's awesome, but we should also try to look at who created all of this around us and understand that he holds a much higher understanding than we can even possibly imagine.
"It must be a gift of evolution that humans
Can't sustain wonder. We'd never have gotten up
From our knees if we could."
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Lucretius
In the upcoming assignment for tomorrow I saw that there is a figure that we are supposed to know named: Lucretius. I found it very interesting that there were little known facts about Lucretius as a person. I suppose in those times, better records where not kept of people. There are six books accredited to him that have to deal with Epicurean philosophy/physics. He wanted to bring those two topics to the Roman public, seeing as he was a Roman of the Hellenistic Period.
In Lucretius' works he says that we have a role in the universe, but without any interference from "the gods". And basically that everyone feeds off of their own humanistic hungers/wants/tendencies in life. That we are somewhat left to our own demise. I really don't agree with his ideas. However I'm sure that his writings gave light to many new aspects of nature and how it is God's creation and not our creation. I firmly believe that we should look toward the Creator and not the creation for total inspiration.
I'm really interested to see where this story of "State of the Planet" takes us. I read a bit up on the fact that it is Pulitzer Prize winning and the author is Robert Haas. I'm really interested to see what the poem is all about and how Lucretius, and Venus interact with this particular text. I look forward to reading this tonight and getting a feel for what may be asked of us in class tomorrow.
In Lucretius' works he says that we have a role in the universe, but without any interference from "the gods". And basically that everyone feeds off of their own humanistic hungers/wants/tendencies in life. That we are somewhat left to our own demise. I really don't agree with his ideas. However I'm sure that his writings gave light to many new aspects of nature and how it is God's creation and not our creation. I firmly believe that we should look toward the Creator and not the creation for total inspiration.
I'm really interested to see where this story of "State of the Planet" takes us. I read a bit up on the fact that it is Pulitzer Prize winning and the author is Robert Haas. I'm really interested to see what the poem is all about and how Lucretius, and Venus interact with this particular text. I look forward to reading this tonight and getting a feel for what may be asked of us in class tomorrow.
Monday, October 26, 2009
An Enemy of the People
The play was sensational! I truthfully went in there not knowing anything about the characters or the play. The people playing the part pulled off the characters very well. I had several friends involved in the production and I couldn't be more proud of them!
I have to speak about one character that I found completely fascinating and that was Peter Stockmann, played by Micah Buckley. Peter Stockmann is the older brother of Dr. Stockmann. In the story Peter is the mayor and is somewhat corrupted by society's views on right and wrong. His morality comes from himself and therefore has no real basis for a truth in life. He happens to tower his brother in most decisions and when his brother Dr. Stockmann rises up with a discovery that the town's springs are poisoned, Peter works fast to hush the problem. That creates a stir among friends, family, media and the whole town. Eventually Peter turns the entire town/friends against Dr. Stockmann and Peter seems to be the victor. Except Peter towards the end realizes that he's totally ruined his brother and tries to ratify the situation just a tad, but offering him his job back only if he retracts everything and says it was a big misunderstanding. Well, Dr. Stockmann doesn't retract anything, he goes against the majority and is ruined by the public. No one ever truly knows the ending.
I most closely relate to Petra. Not because she's a young woman, but because she is stuck between a rock and a hard place, but yet finds herself on solid ground as far as her beliefs are concerned. She still is kind-hearted and meaningful in all that she does, but she also is very stern and gives an "evil eye" when necessary. I do all of those things. Just not within a 2 hour spand of time, ha! I don't see my life as that dramatic, but I certainly am in for the ride of a lifetime with some of the hardships I face.
I would never want to be in the position that the Stockmanns made on that fateful day in Norway. I also wouldn't want to walk away from the truth either. I would probably do what they did and stick together in the midst of trouble and trust God. What else can you do when the majority is against you, and you know you are doing right--You turn the other cheek and speak softly. Give others grace in their misunderstanding and forgive them when they finally come to the realization that the truth has been there all along.
I have to speak about one character that I found completely fascinating and that was Peter Stockmann, played by Micah Buckley. Peter Stockmann is the older brother of Dr. Stockmann. In the story Peter is the mayor and is somewhat corrupted by society's views on right and wrong. His morality comes from himself and therefore has no real basis for a truth in life. He happens to tower his brother in most decisions and when his brother Dr. Stockmann rises up with a discovery that the town's springs are poisoned, Peter works fast to hush the problem. That creates a stir among friends, family, media and the whole town. Eventually Peter turns the entire town/friends against Dr. Stockmann and Peter seems to be the victor. Except Peter towards the end realizes that he's totally ruined his brother and tries to ratify the situation just a tad, but offering him his job back only if he retracts everything and says it was a big misunderstanding. Well, Dr. Stockmann doesn't retract anything, he goes against the majority and is ruined by the public. No one ever truly knows the ending.
I most closely relate to Petra. Not because she's a young woman, but because she is stuck between a rock and a hard place, but yet finds herself on solid ground as far as her beliefs are concerned. She still is kind-hearted and meaningful in all that she does, but she also is very stern and gives an "evil eye" when necessary. I do all of those things. Just not within a 2 hour spand of time, ha! I don't see my life as that dramatic, but I certainly am in for the ride of a lifetime with some of the hardships I face.
I would never want to be in the position that the Stockmanns made on that fateful day in Norway. I also wouldn't want to walk away from the truth either. I would probably do what they did and stick together in the midst of trouble and trust God. What else can you do when the majority is against you, and you know you are doing right--You turn the other cheek and speak softly. Give others grace in their misunderstanding and forgive them when they finally come to the realization that the truth has been there all along.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Becky--Lectio Divina
The story presented in class on Thursday was quite different. It was emotional and somewhat hard to hear. It was real and sad. Doing the Lectio Divina with the reading today was okay. Maybe it was just hard for me to get into the reading, or maybe I just felt in the moment that I couldn't relate to it.
Becky was a woman. We have no idea, from reading, what she looked like, sounded like or even thought. We know she had two children, both of color, while Becky was caucasion. She had no husband, and no one knew who had "given" her "colored" children. You can tell Becky was the "black sheep" of the town. The one that people helped, but only in secret so they themselves would not be persecuted by the majority.
I thought of so many things while listening to this while Jen was reading it. I wondered if this was something I did in my own life. If I shunned people, or cast them out because they are too hard to be around. I was wondering if I was just as selfish as the people in that story were being when they wouldn't help Becky out and literally left her to die a sad and LONELY death.
This story was an eye-opener. It wasn't about people not coming together as one, but rather the chance to see the mistakes others make and correct them before we make them as well in our own lives.
Becky was a woman. We have no idea, from reading, what she looked like, sounded like or even thought. We know she had two children, both of color, while Becky was caucasion. She had no husband, and no one knew who had "given" her "colored" children. You can tell Becky was the "black sheep" of the town. The one that people helped, but only in secret so they themselves would not be persecuted by the majority.
I thought of so many things while listening to this while Jen was reading it. I wondered if this was something I did in my own life. If I shunned people, or cast them out because they are too hard to be around. I was wondering if I was just as selfish as the people in that story were being when they wouldn't help Becky out and literally left her to die a sad and LONELY death.
This story was an eye-opener. It wasn't about people not coming together as one, but rather the chance to see the mistakes others make and correct them before we make them as well in our own lives.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Finding God in Ohio
It was an incomplete love and then before I knew it, I lost him. I can’t fathom the loss of a relative, let alone the one that I’ve most trusted since my birth. My grandfather was a soldier; a soldier of life and love. His happiness seemed to be in the slightest cracks in the sidewalks or in the smallest drop of rain. His measurement of love in life was very different from mine. His walk was unique. He walked with the stride of a thousand men. In his younger age he could drive a car faster than his eyes could see and in his golden years he could hold onto a cane with authority. His eyes were like emeralds outshining even the brightest of stars. Out of all of that uniqueness, he was no different from anyone else when he died. He said encouraging words from his death bed and sent his love to us before his passing, but in the end it’s all the same, we die. There’s nothing glorious about dying. Sure we get to meet our Maker, but in human nature, dying is not pleasant. Knowing that my grandfather’s body was now converted into a basic lifeless shell, my heart became cold.
My soul is wondering. Each rhythm that life brings I don’t want to be a spectator of it, nor do I want to participate. I’m hardened and no one can bring me out of the wondering willow that is me. I miss the breeze. It’s been so long since I’ve actually stopped to feel the breeze on my face or in my hair. I stepped outside right after my grandfather went into never-ending coma, and I felt nothing. The clouds no longer brought me joy. The rattling of the leaves on trees no longer sang a naturalistic song to me. I couldn’t see the creativeness that God presented to me in His infinite painting that is this world. Death has brought no closure to my grandfather’s ending, yet from his death I should try to find a peace about life. Where is the flaw? Why can’t I be happy knowing he is in a better place? Perhaps because I wish I could enjoy it with him, how selfish am I?
I’m still wondering. I walked farther and farther out in the miles of fields in front of my grandfather’s home and just kept walking. I saw a big maple tree with a massive trunk and I sat underneath it. I didn’t care about its branches or how it probably held thousands of gallons of water within it, I just wanted to sit beneath it and cry. Life as I knew it was shifting. Forever was I changed by this man and now, what to do? His story is done, but never forgotten by me.
Complete darkness. I found myself running in complete darkness, and then I woke up. Birds might have been chirping outside, but that didn’t matter. What day it was, didn’t matter. As far as I understood, I was in a different reality. I took my legs and threw them to the side of my bed and my feet touched the chilled wooden floor of my bedroom. Then as I felt a chill run through my body for the first time in days, a sensation of sadness overcame me and I froze. I realized that today was the day that a measurement of six feet meant the difference between surface and a hole in the ground.
I looked in the vertical mirror in my room and stared at myself in black velvet. My mom came into the room and suggested that I wear pearls to the funeral, but I refused. I figured what was the use in looking dolled up when I feel like the world has tumbled around me. I walked down the stairs and out the door into our Oldsmobile. I slammed the door shut and we left to the burial site.
Everyone at the funeral hugged and loved on one another, but I didn’t care much. I approached the hole that they were carrying the casket to and I looked deeply into what seemed like an abyss. I was angry. I did not think that my grandfather should be shifted into a chasm that was never ending. I began to sob uncontrollably. My mother came and consoled me. She grabbed me and we gradually walked away from the site. We walked all the way back down the hill towards the car. I sat back into the mothball, smelling seat of our Oldsmobile. I wept. I looked out the window. At the top of the hill, I saw them lower my grandfather into a place I would never be able to physically reach him ever again.
---
I sit on my porch now, alone but happy. I sit here daily, motionless and without a care in the world. In Ohio, there’s a town that holds only 110 people, and I live in it. Children here, come passed my porch and say horrible slurs and I have no expression for them. They would call me “Lonely Old Bat” and “Mean Witch”, and the truth was I didn't care. When I was a youth, I pushed everyone away and as an adult, I changed. Reason being was because one year after another I began outliving people I cherished. My mother died from cancer of the brain, and then two years after that, my father died of many said was a broken heart. My dear sister Lilli was killed instantly in a car crash when she was just twenty and never bore children of her own. Elijah, my husband, was killed in action during WWII. We never had the chance to have children. In a short amount of time I was alone and it shocked my body a bit.
As I write what will probably be one of my last entries, it is beginning to rain. I feel different today. I cannot explain it. My bones are brittle. My body is heavy. I cannot walk as fast as I once did. The clothes that were in fashion during my youth were more form fitting, oh how I wish I could go back to that time when I did not feel so ancient. I remember the job I once had. I was a nurse. It made me feel peppy. I had such energy while working.
---
I was thiry-six years old when I was at my peek in nursing. To me it wasn’t even a job. It was my life’s duty. I worked in the cancer center for children. Some of the kids were healed through Kemo, while others went home to what many people felt was back to God. I found my love for God in those children that I cared for at the hospital for over forty years. When I cared for each child I felt pieces of my brokenness chip away.
There was one child that I cared for so much more than anyone one that I had ever known. Her name was Delilah. She was my definition of happiness. Although she was drained physically she showed so much love in her spirit. After my shifts I would sit and talk to her until she fell asleep. I never wanted to leave. I came back the next day and her bed was empty. I had thought to myself that God took yet another person I came to love in life. But a fellow nurse came up behind me and told me not to cry and that Delilah was doing well enough to go back home. God had healed her. I was convinced.
I went to visit Delilah at her home in Cleveland, Ohio. Her mother answered the door and she let me in after finding out that I was the nurse that cared for her. Delilah and I sat and just played with toys and enjoyed each other’s company. When it came time for me to leave, I looked back at her and knew there was a God.
Through all my losses, Delilah was that one person that I needed to finally find God. Little did I know, God had been waiting there the whole time with His hands opened wide just waiting for me to run to Him. Delilah helped me find God in Ohio.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
What if we were invisible?
What if we were invisible? What would we do? Would being invisible help or hinder our lives? I've asked all of these questions while reading "The Invisible Man," by H. G. Wells. I saw what the man, who I eventually found out his name was Griffin in the story, went through while he was invisible. He was virtually a "nothingness" among humanity. No one could see him. He got hurt on several occasions because of his lack of human flesh, which also harmed his ego at the same time. He would have to hide out in places while it rained or snowed because people would begin to see the outline of his body and not understand why they were seeing that. He had to hide from everyone, until they eventually found him out. When they found out who he was and how angry he was at people for "making" him become this, they sought to bring him down. They killed Griffin in the end, but perhaps that was only the beginning to many of our own stories.
I know in my life I've felt times of invisiblity. A time were I could slip off into a corner and no one would be the wiser. Now, I wasn't virtually invisible, but I was invisible to everyone around me. Isn't funny how we can sometimes "make" people invisible without even knowing it. I know sometimes when I'm left out or "invisible" I become bitter. Because much like how Erwin McManus recently said at fire fall, "we were meant to be in a relationship with one another. we are meant to be together." Does being invisible fit into that logical statement?
While reading about Griffin and how he felt during this whole invisible experiment gone a rye, I began to wonder if our own thoughts on the ending of the story. Sure, Griffin dies a horrible death by being murdered by people that were in fear for their own lives, but how does that fit in with my life? I began to wonder, in the beginning he was invisible, in the end he wasn't...in the beginning I was invisible, at the end of school, life, etc...will I not be?
The Invisible Man really had me thinking about my spirituallity as of late. It is a science fiction book and it's meant to scare the reader quite a bit, but for some unknown reason I received a religious experience from it. It was a decent read and I recommend it to my fellow peers.
I know in my life I've felt times of invisiblity. A time were I could slip off into a corner and no one would be the wiser. Now, I wasn't virtually invisible, but I was invisible to everyone around me. Isn't funny how we can sometimes "make" people invisible without even knowing it. I know sometimes when I'm left out or "invisible" I become bitter. Because much like how Erwin McManus recently said at fire fall, "we were meant to be in a relationship with one another. we are meant to be together." Does being invisible fit into that logical statement?
While reading about Griffin and how he felt during this whole invisible experiment gone a rye, I began to wonder if our own thoughts on the ending of the story. Sure, Griffin dies a horrible death by being murdered by people that were in fear for their own lives, but how does that fit in with my life? I began to wonder, in the beginning he was invisible, in the end he wasn't...in the beginning I was invisible, at the end of school, life, etc...will I not be?
The Invisible Man really had me thinking about my spirituallity as of late. It is a science fiction book and it's meant to scare the reader quite a bit, but for some unknown reason I received a religious experience from it. It was a decent read and I recommend it to my fellow peers.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Invisible Man
After having a brief discussion with Prof. Corrigan, if I should read this book or not, I'm glad that I am. It is a bit hard to understand at first, but it becomes somewhat of a thriller. I see the difference between today's literature in the science fiction world versus the kind in H.G. Wells' era. His book is somewhat to the point while keeping the main points somewhat elusive till the end. I am only partially done with this book, but so far it's grappling.
I found out that H.G. Wells is concidered the "father of Science Fiction". I found that kind of interesting. According to Barnes and Nobles' list of classics, the "Invisible Man" makes the cut. When I first picked it up I did not think of that. I just thought of a book that I needed and it had to be something I had never read before. Well, I'm glad I picked this up, even though I'm not into too many science fiction novels.
In the beginning it was somewhat dry. I'm not a fan of books that are dry so immediately I wanted to put it down and search for something else better in the library. I picked the book back up thinking that it had to have some significance--it is on the "classics" list. I read further into the pages and everything from how the invisible man looked at first glance to the how the candles where put in the candle holders in the bed & breakfast. The furthest I've gotten in the book is where the invisible man meets up with a doctor while on the run from people who have found out what he truly looks like under all the bandages he wears. I've also found out that his name is Griffin.
The book is quite grappling and I cannot put it down. I hope to find out more as I read through it. While reading it I'm making sure to focus more on the character rather than the plot and so far this book seems to be perfect for doing that.
I found out that H.G. Wells is concidered the "father of Science Fiction". I found that kind of interesting. According to Barnes and Nobles' list of classics, the "Invisible Man" makes the cut. When I first picked it up I did not think of that. I just thought of a book that I needed and it had to be something I had never read before. Well, I'm glad I picked this up, even though I'm not into too many science fiction novels.
In the beginning it was somewhat dry. I'm not a fan of books that are dry so immediately I wanted to put it down and search for something else better in the library. I picked the book back up thinking that it had to have some significance--it is on the "classics" list. I read further into the pages and everything from how the invisible man looked at first glance to the how the candles where put in the candle holders in the bed & breakfast. The furthest I've gotten in the book is where the invisible man meets up with a doctor while on the run from people who have found out what he truly looks like under all the bandages he wears. I've also found out that his name is Griffin.
The book is quite grappling and I cannot put it down. I hope to find out more as I read through it. While reading it I'm making sure to focus more on the character rather than the plot and so far this book seems to be perfect for doing that.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Polk Museum
The picture depicted above is one that is in the Polk museum. It is entitled "15 men". While walking around with a small group of people, I realized that his painting just spoke out above the others. It was one of the larger paintings, but still it wasn't it's size that drew me to it. When I first looked at the painting I noticed that it was in a sepia tone. It's very basic in color, but not basic in dimension. The 2D painting seems to pop out at us in a 3D manner. In the painting, notice that if you see the man's face, you wion't see "whole" parts of his hands, and visa versa...if you see his hands you will only see part of his face. I'm not quite sure what the concept behind that is, but I find it fascinating!Another hallway most of the class walked down was the hallway of "families". In the photos, they were all from different backgrounds, jobs and hobbies. Some of the facts behind the families upset, but still I think all of those families are somewhat happy. Are they satisfied? No. But they are happy. Is it a forced happiness? Maybe in some cases, but they are still happy nonetheless.
The museum was a great experience. I enjoyed it. It allowed us to better connect with the two poems "Ethics" and "Musee des Beaux Arts". I feel that "Ethics" was allowing us to feel more deeply about the art. Whereas "Musee des Beaux Arts" was more about what's inside the painting. Having both of those perspectives while looking at art is very important. It's about removing yourself and putting yourself in the place of the painting and the painter.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Simple Plate of Food
The heat from the food caused her to sweat. She served the platters with a fierce speed. She barely knew English. I heard her say a few semi-english words to the people in line words like: "Hi. How are you?" She was forced to wear the clothes of her job. The black smock and black shoes did not seem to match her personality. She was bubbly. Content with her surroundings yet bored. She was seemingly a one woman show with the costumers waiting on her every move. She controlled the speed of how fast the people received their food, or she could slow down and have them wait...it was her choice. A professor that knew spanish spoke to her in a friendly tone, and Martha, that was her name, spoke back sweetly. It was a converstation that I'd hoped would go on for the rest of the day. It's the tone that all people should try to use when approaching people.
The hidden saddness of the day was when Martha would sit alone during her lunch break. Among the students, whose food she served, no one would sit with her. Another sadness was that yes, she was spoken to very briefly in line, but after that, no one paid much attention. Nonetheless, Martha is genuine. She's authentic in her love for caring for others. Her admiration of her job and for people shines through when she hands us that simple plate of food.
The hidden saddness of the day was when Martha would sit alone during her lunch break. Among the students, whose food she served, no one would sit with her. Another sadness was that yes, she was spoken to very briefly in line, but after that, no one paid much attention. Nonetheless, Martha is genuine. She's authentic in her love for caring for others. Her admiration of her job and for people shines through when she hands us that simple plate of food.
***
This activity was somewhat tiresome. I wrote notes and took down everything I saw in Martha. Everything from her mannerisms, her hair, the way she dressed, even down to the tone in her voice. It makes me think of why people don't spend more time getting to know more and more people one on one...it's TIRESOME! Oh! But look on how much we miss out on when we fail to see the trueness of others outside of the boxes we created. This was a wonderful activity, to which I will keep my notes for sometime and never forget Martha.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Character
The chapter on character in our textbook covered so much information in few pages. I already know a bit of what character is about, but something I think that's important to understand is that a person can have all the good charisma in the world, but unless a person has the character to back that charisma up, ya got peanuts!
I read the story/poem inside of this chapter and found them a bit confusing. I did however grasp that when diving deeper into a character, for example, like Batman, you have to begin to ask the "why?" not the "what?". When we talk about characters in our everyday lives we think about their mannerisms. We think about what they say, but do we think about why they act that certain way or say those words? Pin pointing exactly what a character is supposed to be like is not the answer. I think that a story with a character that is "outside of the box" leaves more mystery, whereas a character that is "plain or dull" may just not have anything to provide to the overall picture that is the story. What I do think is important is to find out why they act that way and understand the composition of the person rather than the surface of what they are presenting.
I read the story/poem inside of this chapter and found them a bit confusing. I did however grasp that when diving deeper into a character, for example, like Batman, you have to begin to ask the "why?" not the "what?". When we talk about characters in our everyday lives we think about their mannerisms. We think about what they say, but do we think about why they act that certain way or say those words? Pin pointing exactly what a character is supposed to be like is not the answer. I think that a story with a character that is "outside of the box" leaves more mystery, whereas a character that is "plain or dull" may just not have anything to provide to the overall picture that is the story. What I do think is important is to find out why they act that way and understand the composition of the person rather than the surface of what they are presenting.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Lectio Divina
Today was a bad day. So far, this semester has not been extremely pleasant. I'm growing. I'm being stretched. I feel the exact same way about literature. Sometimes we don't want to read certain stories because they are boring, or we might find them to be too complex and over our heads, but the truth is...no words are ever wasted in literature--at least that's what I think. I feel that sometimes the things I don't want to read, or the things I don't want to participate in are the stories/activities that are going to help me grow the most.
So with that said, today before class I was outside just listening to some music and just taking in nature. I was silent. At times I wanted to cry, because of a certain family situation I'm going through, but then other times I was so thankful for what was around me. So, I get up off of the bench and head to class. I sat there for a good twenty minutes in the classroom before anyone else got there and just thought about what Professor Corrigan might have us do for that lesson.
I enjoy this class immensely. I thought the idea to do a Lectio Divina was a superb choice for today. I felt like God knew that I needed that, and maybe for some of my peers...they needed to do that today too. So I just would like to take the opportunity to thank Professor Corrigan for doing this activity today in class.
I really got into what we were reading. Sonny's Blues had been mentioned before in some of my lit classes in high school, but we never went this in depth with it. I feel a DEEP relationship with Sonny. When the story read somewhat to the effect of that the relationship between a musician's instrument and the musician must be torment, I completely understood. I was a musician for TEN years. I miss it everyday. I played flute/piccolo. The way things have lined up in my life, being a musician in college just...wasn't a thought. I was ridiculed in high school for knowing out to play too well, so I purposely started playing badly. Then I found myself behind because I just didn't care anymore. People ripped the passion that I had for music out of my heart. I figured that the passion I had for my music and playing would fade, but it hasn't it's just taken on a different form.
I suppose the new form of my passion is literature. I didn't initially chose to be an English major. Sometimes, I think it choose me. Doing the Lectio Divina today in class makes me even more sure of my major and what I want to pursue. Such emotion built up from me in this story because I could look at it as a mirror of myself rather than a window. Yes, I could see into the story...but I live it almost everyday. I lie in wait, to tell my story.
So with that said, today before class I was outside just listening to some music and just taking in nature. I was silent. At times I wanted to cry, because of a certain family situation I'm going through, but then other times I was so thankful for what was around me. So, I get up off of the bench and head to class. I sat there for a good twenty minutes in the classroom before anyone else got there and just thought about what Professor Corrigan might have us do for that lesson.
I enjoy this class immensely. I thought the idea to do a Lectio Divina was a superb choice for today. I felt like God knew that I needed that, and maybe for some of my peers...they needed to do that today too. So I just would like to take the opportunity to thank Professor Corrigan for doing this activity today in class.
I really got into what we were reading. Sonny's Blues had been mentioned before in some of my lit classes in high school, but we never went this in depth with it. I feel a DEEP relationship with Sonny. When the story read somewhat to the effect of that the relationship between a musician's instrument and the musician must be torment, I completely understood. I was a musician for TEN years. I miss it everyday. I played flute/piccolo. The way things have lined up in my life, being a musician in college just...wasn't a thought. I was ridiculed in high school for knowing out to play too well, so I purposely started playing badly. Then I found myself behind because I just didn't care anymore. People ripped the passion that I had for music out of my heart. I figured that the passion I had for my music and playing would fade, but it hasn't it's just taken on a different form.
I suppose the new form of my passion is literature. I didn't initially chose to be an English major. Sometimes, I think it choose me. Doing the Lectio Divina today in class makes me even more sure of my major and what I want to pursue. Such emotion built up from me in this story because I could look at it as a mirror of myself rather than a window. Yes, I could see into the story...but I live it almost everyday. I lie in wait, to tell my story.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Vine of Knowledge
Our lesson today involved painting a verse from the book of Joel. It was a literary experience that I probably will never forget. Getting the chance to experience things in different ways (in the classroom) is new to me. Some of the most foreign aspects of education aren't really foreign at all. I remember doing some of this stuff in elementry/middle school. Sometimes I feel like it's good to go back to the basics to relearn what we've lost in the complexities of life.The book of Joel was brought to life today, for me at least. My painting has to do with the last versus of Joel. I decided to focus on what God gave the people back after they started to follow what He had set for them all along. My vine of grapes comes from "above" as does the water, to symbolize that a "higher" power is giving the people what they need to sustain life.
I suppose my painting isn't that deep. I tried my best and even that can be hard to see sometimes. I feel that paintings should be left up for a individual expression, but it should still be able to speak to any type of person despite culture, religion, or age.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Book of Joel
(This blog post is for the "blog homework" due for Sept. 24th. The original Joel blog was not done in time. The "pass" for that assignment was accidentally posted after this blog.)
I felt like when I read this book that it didn't speak to me all that much. I didn't think it really related to my life at all right now. Sometimes it's hard to talk about not being sure where God is or being angry with God, but it is talked about in Joel. I wasn't too keen on the lake idea today. I did have to warm up to it. Once I realized why we were out there, I clicked into it and got something more from the context rather than just "reading through it".
I choose to stand out by the lake. I really didn't feel compelled to sit by the lake. I didn't want to be equal with the lake. I didn't really even want to look at it. Once I started reading some of Joel along with looking outward at nature, I saw openness. I realized that I could breathe. It was ok to not be stressed out. Once I opened up and accepted that I was able to read the text, full in its meaning. It wasn't until I got over my own feelings that I could actually listen to what God wanted to tell me through this text.
The part I choose to reflect on dealt with was:
Now return to the LORD your God,
For He is gracious and compassionate,
Slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness
And relenting of evil.
Weep between the porch and the altar,
And let them say, "Spare Your people, O LORD,
And do not make Your inheritance a reproach,
A byword among the peoples say,
'Where is their God'"?
The first verse speaks of how open God is. How apparent it is that He resides within us, yet the whole thing ends with "Where is their God?" That just amazes me. It's almost backwards. One minute we realize that God is amazing and loving, then the next thing we know we turn our backs and go, Where are you God? How can we do that?! This scenerio reminds me of when as kids when we'd play hide and seek and we'd turn out the lights and hide. How can you find anyone in the dark if you turn their back to you? It's impossible, unless you speak out. Joel is all about speaking things into action in order for things to get better.
I felt like when I read this book that it didn't speak to me all that much. I didn't think it really related to my life at all right now. Sometimes it's hard to talk about not being sure where God is or being angry with God, but it is talked about in Joel. I wasn't too keen on the lake idea today. I did have to warm up to it. Once I realized why we were out there, I clicked into it and got something more from the context rather than just "reading through it".
I choose to stand out by the lake. I really didn't feel compelled to sit by the lake. I didn't want to be equal with the lake. I didn't really even want to look at it. Once I started reading some of Joel along with looking outward at nature, I saw openness. I realized that I could breathe. It was ok to not be stressed out. Once I opened up and accepted that I was able to read the text, full in its meaning. It wasn't until I got over my own feelings that I could actually listen to what God wanted to tell me through this text.
The part I choose to reflect on dealt with was:
Now return to the LORD your God,
For He is gracious and compassionate,
Slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness
And relenting of evil.
Weep between the porch and the altar,
And let them say, "Spare Your people, O LORD,
And do not make Your inheritance a reproach,
A byword among the peoples say,
'Where is their God'"?
The first verse speaks of how open God is. How apparent it is that He resides within us, yet the whole thing ends with "Where is their God?" That just amazes me. It's almost backwards. One minute we realize that God is amazing and loving, then the next thing we know we turn our backs and go, Where are you God? How can we do that?! This scenerio reminds me of when as kids when we'd play hide and seek and we'd turn out the lights and hide. How can you find anyone in the dark if you turn their back to you? It's impossible, unless you speak out. Joel is all about speaking things into action in order for things to get better.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Simplistic: A Poem
Although I was really ill for the cemetery field trip, I still read the poem and following the prompt:
My first favorite line before I even began the reading the poem was the title "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd". Whitman's genius shows through simply through the title he chose to give his lengthy poem. I really liked in the second stanza when he writes, "O powerful western fallen star!..." I thought it was an amazing rendition towards the loss of a president such as Lincoln. In stanza six when he talks about "the coffin that pass[ed] through lanes...through day and night with the great cloud darkening the land," I felt like he was talking about how the whole nation felt as they saw President Lincoln's body being hoisted away from the country's capital where he was once standing as an able, ready man who helped our country stay together. You can tell in this line it was almost too much for Whitman to keep his eyes on such a site as Lincoln's coffin.
My personal relationship to this story I would have to say is through two different historic tragedies. The first one would be the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I've done so much research on him that he is almost like a living, breathing person in my own mind. Everytime I watch the Zapuder Film of that fateful day in Dallas, Texas, I sometimes hold the same emotions that this poem exemplifies in detail. The second would have to be Septemeber 11th. I feel like it was just all a bad movie, even 8 years after the fact. I remember where I was that day and how I felt. When I read Whitman's poem, it's clear he wrote it to leave an impact on the American people and not allow them to ever forget Lincoln's death.
Here is a song lyric that was written in the early 1980s nearly 20 years after JFK was killed:
dreamed I was the president of these united states
I dreamed I replaced ignorance, stupidity and hate
I dreamed the perfect union and a perfect law, undenied
And most of all I dreamed I forgot the day john kennedy died
I dreamed that I could do the job that others hadnt done
I dreamed that I was uncorrupt and fair to everyone
I dreamed I wasnt gross or base, a criminal on the take
And most of all I dreamed I forgot the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
I remember where I was that day, I was upstate in a bar
The team from the university was playing football on tv
Then the screen want dead and the announcer said,
Theres been a tragedy
Theres are unconfirmed reports the presidents been shot
And he may be dead or dying.
Talking stopped, someone shouted, what!?
I ran out to the street
People were gathered everywhere saying,
Did you hear what they said on tv
And then a guy in a porsche with his radio hit his born
And told us the news
He said, the presidents dead, he was shot twice in the head
In dallas, and they dont know by whom.
I dreamed I was the president of these united states
I dreamed I was young and smart and it was not a waste
I dreamed that there was a point to life and to the human race
I dreamed that I could somehow comprehend that someone
Shot him in the face
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
I'm a bit sad that I was not able to go the cemetery. I'm sure it would've deepened my experience about the poem. But to replace that I had to think hard on some of my own grief while reading the poem. It helped to understand the deeper meaning behind Whitman's words. Not only was he stating that he missed the president, he was stating that he literally felt like a part of him and his patriotism died along with Lincoln.
It's really difficult for me to read depressing poems. When I write poetry it's usually sad things about my own life. I have a really hard time writing happy poems. Part of me thinks that sometimes in our of depression or sadness in life, we find ourselves. After everything else is taken away we can focus on what God really wants for us. In this poem I could feel that Whitman was angry and unhappy. You could tell that he was struggling with what to feel as a famous poet, but also as a regular man that witnessed the tragedies of war and what it almost did to his country. Whitman was a brilliant mind when it came to poetry. I think that his love for President Lincoln certainly showed and this poem deserves so much honor and praise as not only an artistic work, but also as a fundamental piece in American Literature.
My first favorite line before I even began the reading the poem was the title "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd". Whitman's genius shows through simply through the title he chose to give his lengthy poem. I really liked in the second stanza when he writes, "O powerful western fallen star!..." I thought it was an amazing rendition towards the loss of a president such as Lincoln. In stanza six when he talks about "the coffin that pass[ed] through lanes...through day and night with the great cloud darkening the land," I felt like he was talking about how the whole nation felt as they saw President Lincoln's body being hoisted away from the country's capital where he was once standing as an able, ready man who helped our country stay together. You can tell in this line it was almost too much for Whitman to keep his eyes on such a site as Lincoln's coffin.
My personal relationship to this story I would have to say is through two different historic tragedies. The first one would be the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I've done so much research on him that he is almost like a living, breathing person in my own mind. Everytime I watch the Zapuder Film of that fateful day in Dallas, Texas, I sometimes hold the same emotions that this poem exemplifies in detail. The second would have to be Septemeber 11th. I feel like it was just all a bad movie, even 8 years after the fact. I remember where I was that day and how I felt. When I read Whitman's poem, it's clear he wrote it to leave an impact on the American people and not allow them to ever forget Lincoln's death.
Here is a song lyric that was written in the early 1980s nearly 20 years after JFK was killed:
dreamed I was the president of these united states
I dreamed I replaced ignorance, stupidity and hate
I dreamed the perfect union and a perfect law, undenied
And most of all I dreamed I forgot the day john kennedy died
I dreamed that I could do the job that others hadnt done
I dreamed that I was uncorrupt and fair to everyone
I dreamed I wasnt gross or base, a criminal on the take
And most of all I dreamed I forgot the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
I remember where I was that day, I was upstate in a bar
The team from the university was playing football on tv
Then the screen want dead and the announcer said,
Theres been a tragedy
Theres are unconfirmed reports the presidents been shot
And he may be dead or dying.
Talking stopped, someone shouted, what!?
I ran out to the street
People were gathered everywhere saying,
Did you hear what they said on tv
And then a guy in a porsche with his radio hit his born
And told us the news
He said, the presidents dead, he was shot twice in the head
In dallas, and they dont know by whom.
I dreamed I was the president of these united states
I dreamed I was young and smart and it was not a waste
I dreamed that there was a point to life and to the human race
I dreamed that I could somehow comprehend that someone
Shot him in the face
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
I'm a bit sad that I was not able to go the cemetery. I'm sure it would've deepened my experience about the poem. But to replace that I had to think hard on some of my own grief while reading the poem. It helped to understand the deeper meaning behind Whitman's words. Not only was he stating that he missed the president, he was stating that he literally felt like a part of him and his patriotism died along with Lincoln.
It's really difficult for me to read depressing poems. When I write poetry it's usually sad things about my own life. I have a really hard time writing happy poems. Part of me thinks that sometimes in our of depression or sadness in life, we find ourselves. After everything else is taken away we can focus on what God really wants for us. In this poem I could feel that Whitman was angry and unhappy. You could tell that he was struggling with what to feel as a famous poet, but also as a regular man that witnessed the tragedies of war and what it almost did to his country. Whitman was a brilliant mind when it came to poetry. I think that his love for President Lincoln certainly showed and this poem deserves so much honor and praise as not only an artistic work, but also as a fundamental piece in American Literature.
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