Home. That place you can always return to, eat all their food, drink all their beer, and still be loved and accepted... at least until you finish university, and have your own home to go too, where you precede to sadly give your own beer and food over to your "loved" guests.
The holidays. That time spent, usually at home, drinking someones beer, and eating someones food. And still be loved in the process.
I, am home for the holidays. I've just completed and passed everything in my first semester of university. A pretty satisfying accomplishment, if I do say so myself. So I returned home for the holidays. And I returned to , as the definition of home and holidays explain, free food and beer. Who cares if you now have to sleep in the little room in the basement, because your Father decided to turn your room into a gym. Or your sister as taken your entire book, and game collection as her own. They're family, right? And it's the holidays. Good spirit and good will...right?
All jokes aside, it's good to be home after three months. Last Christmas, I was involved with a Katimavik Program, so I was away in Ontario, however the genius of the internet allowed me to Skype home to my Dad, and watch as everyone opened their gifts, and they watched as I hauled mine out of the brown paper and boxes.
I don't really know if I had a point for this piece, I think I may have just wanted to write about the holidays. I am happy to be home, and to be surrounded by smiling faces. It's a nice feeling to have. And I hope everybody can experience it over the the holidays.
Thursday, 22 December 2011
Donation.
I was filling out the form for my license back in the beginning of December, (19 years, I know...). and I came down to the "Organ Donor Consent Form". At first, I thought it was a great idea! You're not going to need your organs, six feet underground, why not save another life, and give them to someone who needs them.Yet I hesitated, automatically thinking about what my Dad would say, to me, giving my organs away. Because what if he is the one to have to deal with that... aspect in my life, or lack there of. Now neither of us are very religious, but we both share the ideology, there might be somewhere we go in the afterlife.
So, I gave my father a call to discuss with him what I should do, because although I am suppose to be young and heedless, I take into acknowledgment what my father has to say, and put his opinions in high esteem. We began to talk, about life in general, like two old friends would, but they happen to be father and son as well.
I explained the situation to him, that these organs would be saving someones life without harming mine. He simply replied:
" Well, what if there is something after this life, and you need your organs. I don't think you'll go very far with out a heart."
Well I can't argue with that. My father, believes that if there is something after this life that we might need are organs for it. It reminds me of the movie: "Wristcutters: A Love Story". The movies is about a young man, who commits suicide, and is placed into another world where everyone else, as committed suicide. The world is, very gray, and boring; more so than the actual world. AND (point of me talking about the movie) everyone who is there bears the effects of how they "offed" themselves. Whether it be a scar on their wrists, to a swollen, blueish tint to their skin from drowning. It really opens your brain to the thought of an afterlife. And an excellent movie as well. I would recommend it to anybody.
So, did I sign the consent form, to donate my organs after death? No. Because although I don't truly believe that there may be something else after this life, I would like to hope that there is. So I'll be keeping my organs.
So, I gave my father a call to discuss with him what I should do, because although I am suppose to be young and heedless, I take into acknowledgment what my father has to say, and put his opinions in high esteem. We began to talk, about life in general, like two old friends would, but they happen to be father and son as well.
I explained the situation to him, that these organs would be saving someones life without harming mine. He simply replied:
" Well, what if there is something after this life, and you need your organs. I don't think you'll go very far with out a heart."
Well I can't argue with that. My father, believes that if there is something after this life that we might need are organs for it. It reminds me of the movie: "Wristcutters: A Love Story". The movies is about a young man, who commits suicide, and is placed into another world where everyone else, as committed suicide. The world is, very gray, and boring; more so than the actual world. AND (point of me talking about the movie) everyone who is there bears the effects of how they "offed" themselves. Whether it be a scar on their wrists, to a swollen, blueish tint to their skin from drowning. It really opens your brain to the thought of an afterlife. And an excellent movie as well. I would recommend it to anybody.
So, did I sign the consent form, to donate my organs after death? No. Because although I don't truly believe that there may be something else after this life, I would like to hope that there is. So I'll be keeping my organs.
Thursday, 1 December 2011
"What's That Smell In The Kitchen?" - Marge Peircey
It's ironic that I am writing about that smell in the kitchen when I am attempting to cook a chicken at the same time. I just haven't gotten around to catching it yet. I'm kidding! I am keeping it in the cage till I build up enough courage to... do it. Kidding again. I bought it at the first mass consumer corporation grocery store I could find. I was lucky enough to obtain one of the several thousand chickens they had. Returning to the poem, which I didn't even start writing about yet...
WOMEN'S OPPRESSION. And where would women be today without the kitchen, and the supply of lethal weapons and reagents within their home in a home. Kidding once again... at least about the kitchen being the home in a home for women. A poem relating burning food to women fighting against being repressed. That's quality work'woman'ship (punny, I know) at its finest. Peircey turns a serious topic into something of a comedy, but one that still retains it seriousness about oppression of women. It lets people know what's going on, and what better way to enforce an idea that should be acknowledged then to include it in a humourous piece of literature.
Women, using what they were given and brought up using, or taught to use are fight back they only way they were taught how. Through the kitchen. Your man comes home expecting a lovely pork roast, and what do you show him. A black lump or carbon, which on closer inspection, looks like Ab Lincoln. Take that, repressing husband. If you want something decent to eat, you better let me vote! It can be argued that the women in the story are acting out passive aggressively, which can be understandable. How else are they able to act out when they are constantly repressed by 'the man'. Truly an amazing feat. Conquering women's oppression one meal at a time.
And this folks concludes my journal project about literature. It was certainly an adventure to say the least, and this is the first project, that was worth something in class that allowed me to be myself, without the barriers that normal essay writing brings about. It allowed me to release my creativeness through writing, which I would have done anyway, AND gain some excellent gradable material for my English class. All in all, a productive three months. At least for my writing ability and my imagination. An excellent project even if it wasn't worth anything in class.
WOMEN'S OPPRESSION. And where would women be today without the kitchen, and the supply of lethal weapons and reagents within their home in a home. Kidding once again... at least about the kitchen being the home in a home for women. A poem relating burning food to women fighting against being repressed. That's quality work'woman'ship (punny, I know) at its finest. Peircey turns a serious topic into something of a comedy, but one that still retains it seriousness about oppression of women. It lets people know what's going on, and what better way to enforce an idea that should be acknowledged then to include it in a humourous piece of literature.
Women, using what they were given and brought up using, or taught to use are fight back they only way they were taught how. Through the kitchen. Your man comes home expecting a lovely pork roast, and what do you show him. A black lump or carbon, which on closer inspection, looks like Ab Lincoln. Take that, repressing husband. If you want something decent to eat, you better let me vote! It can be argued that the women in the story are acting out passive aggressively, which can be understandable. How else are they able to act out when they are constantly repressed by 'the man'. Truly an amazing feat. Conquering women's oppression one meal at a time.
And this folks concludes my journal project about literature. It was certainly an adventure to say the least, and this is the first project, that was worth something in class that allowed me to be myself, without the barriers that normal essay writing brings about. It allowed me to release my creativeness through writing, which I would have done anyway, AND gain some excellent gradable material for my English class. All in all, a productive three months. At least for my writing ability and my imagination. An excellent project even if it wasn't worth anything in class.
"The Man He Killed" - Thomas Hardy
Another wonderfully interpreted poem about war. Thomas Hardy brings war down to it's most simplest form.
"But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place." (Click?)
This poem, is written very simply, and is similar (simply, similar) to that of Doc Suess. And in reality, war is pretty simple, at least from an infantry point of view. A soldier does what he is told, and does not deal with any of the politics that surround those of a higher ranking. He doesn't even know why he is fighting, why he shoots at the person opposite, other than he was his foe. "Just so: my foe of course he was;/ That's clear enough; although" It puts war into standards any normal person can agree on. Perhaps if there wasn't a war happening, they would have been the best of chums, heading out to the pub for a "nipperkin". BUT, because of the war they are enemies, and will never know if they could have been friends. They only know that they are the enemy and that they have to shoot at each other. It's pretty bizarre when you sit down and think of it. How illogical war really is.
That is what I enjoy about this poem. It simplifies war down to the point where even a child could understand it, and even the child would be able to see the lack of sense war has. Why shoot a man when you can split a jug of beer with him. Why shoot a man when you can sit down with him and talk about what changes need to be made by both parties. I always think about Canada being a peacekeeper, and this scenario comes to mind.
*Two parties are about to charge into battle*
Canada walk in the centre and says:
" Woah, woah, woah guys. I'm a peacekeeper from Canada, eh. Tomorrow, we're all gonna sit down and have a pancake breakfast with some maple syrup and figure this shit out."
*Both parties erupt in cheers at thought of maple syrup and pancakes.*
And here I am talking about war and how senseless it all is, and I'm applying to the Reserves. That being said I would rather buy a man a drink then shoot him, any day. Or have some pancakes with them.
"But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place." (Click?)
This poem, is written very simply, and is similar (simply, similar) to that of Doc Suess. And in reality, war is pretty simple, at least from an infantry point of view. A soldier does what he is told, and does not deal with any of the politics that surround those of a higher ranking. He doesn't even know why he is fighting, why he shoots at the person opposite, other than he was his foe. "Just so: my foe of course he was;/ That's clear enough; although" It puts war into standards any normal person can agree on. Perhaps if there wasn't a war happening, they would have been the best of chums, heading out to the pub for a "nipperkin". BUT, because of the war they are enemies, and will never know if they could have been friends. They only know that they are the enemy and that they have to shoot at each other. It's pretty bizarre when you sit down and think of it. How illogical war really is.
That is what I enjoy about this poem. It simplifies war down to the point where even a child could understand it, and even the child would be able to see the lack of sense war has. Why shoot a man when you can split a jug of beer with him. Why shoot a man when you can sit down with him and talk about what changes need to be made by both parties. I always think about Canada being a peacekeeper, and this scenario comes to mind.
*Two parties are about to charge into battle*
Canada walk in the centre and says:
" Woah, woah, woah guys. I'm a peacekeeper from Canada, eh. Tomorrow, we're all gonna sit down and have a pancake breakfast with some maple syrup and figure this shit out."
*Both parties erupt in cheers at thought of maple syrup and pancakes.*
And here I am talking about war and how senseless it all is, and I'm applying to the Reserves. That being said I would rather buy a man a drink then shoot him, any day. Or have some pancakes with them.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
"Holy Sonnet X (Death be not proud)" - John Donne
I never knew who John Donne was, and I had never read any of his poems up until this one. The words " Thou shalt never comprehendth thy words I speak... because I lived in the 1600's and speaking like that was a regular day thing for me." come to mind. All sarcasm aside, after picking the poem apart in class, I came to the conclusion that this John Donne guy is pretty cool; despite his use of of -th's and -st's. Defeating Death in a game of chess is quite the awesome feat ( Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey). However, completely reducing Death's power to the point where he is useless, is something that only the power of words can do.
Given my limited knowledge of being able to pick through the ancient script, I don't think I would have gotten very far in understanding the poem, without the opinions of my professor and the rest of the class. Once I did understand the poem, I could really appreciate what it really had to say. With all that said and done, I don't think I will attempt reading anymore of John Donnes poetry without an army of other poets behind me to read between the lines.
U no read poem? click here -> ___
Given my limited knowledge of being able to pick through the ancient script, I don't think I would have gotten very far in understanding the poem, without the opinions of my professor and the rest of the class. Once I did understand the poem, I could really appreciate what it really had to say. With all that said and done, I don't think I will attempt reading anymore of John Donnes poetry without an army of other poets behind me to read between the lines.
U no read poem? click here -> ___
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
"Dreamers" - Siegfried Sassoon
Poetry. I always considered poetry as like reading a book, but being half awake at the same time. You are reading everything, but in your stupor, you are only catching and understanding bits and pieces. "The...walked...road." Well who walked, and where did he walk. Man, dog, sea tortoise? up, down, left, across? Well, it was a sea tortoise, and he was swimming, because the road was under water, but for sea tortoises that is classified is walking; I should think everyone would know that. And he was crossing the road, because the super fast school of fish were feeling generous at the time and stopped to let him pass. Poetry can be pretty confusing sometimes, but other times it can be easily understood. Dreamers (second poem) is one such poem.
I've always had an interest in wartime novels. Being from Newfoundland, "No Man's Land" by Kevin Major, was nigh on burned into my brain in high school, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Dreamers was an interesting read, to say the least. When one usually thinks of war, they tend to dwell on the glorifying action, courageous soldiers charging into battle, and the like. However this poem focused more on what the soldiers were dreaming about rather than what the people at home are imagining. It talks of pretty regular days things a clean bed, maybe a home cooked meal, something you would take for granted if you weren't living in a trench, stepping in your own filth and crawling over bodies of other men day in and day out. War isn't always fighting for freedom, and running out in the blaze of gunfire taking out enemy soldiers, getting your leg blown off and then winning a medal. Soldiers are people too, and they have feelings and thoughts of home just like we do. However their thoughts might be a little more simple than ours.
A side note of sorts; War is sometimes an answer to the problem. I won't classify any actual events, because it's pretty subjective and one event that I may think that war is the answer to, others may see it in a different light. However war happens. If it wasn't for our soldiers back then, we would not be here today. So perhaps them thinking of home, and a nice warm bed gave them the motivation to go on and charge into battle without fear. Perhaps those homely thoughts, and the thought of losing them if they lost the war, was enough to push even the weakest of men to accomplish great feats of bravery. Or maybe not. Who knows.
I've always had an interest in wartime novels. Being from Newfoundland, "No Man's Land" by Kevin Major, was nigh on burned into my brain in high school, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Dreamers was an interesting read, to say the least. When one usually thinks of war, they tend to dwell on the glorifying action, courageous soldiers charging into battle, and the like. However this poem focused more on what the soldiers were dreaming about rather than what the people at home are imagining. It talks of pretty regular days things a clean bed, maybe a home cooked meal, something you would take for granted if you weren't living in a trench, stepping in your own filth and crawling over bodies of other men day in and day out. War isn't always fighting for freedom, and running out in the blaze of gunfire taking out enemy soldiers, getting your leg blown off and then winning a medal. Soldiers are people too, and they have feelings and thoughts of home just like we do. However their thoughts might be a little more simple than ours.
A side note of sorts; War is sometimes an answer to the problem. I won't classify any actual events, because it's pretty subjective and one event that I may think that war is the answer to, others may see it in a different light. However war happens. If it wasn't for our soldiers back then, we would not be here today. So perhaps them thinking of home, and a nice warm bed gave them the motivation to go on and charge into battle without fear. Perhaps those homely thoughts, and the thought of losing them if they lost the war, was enough to push even the weakest of men to accomplish great feats of bravery. Or maybe not. Who knows.
"The Story Of An Hour" - Kate Chopin
You can read the story, in much less than an hour, here.
Chop. In. That is all that comes to mind when I read the author's last name. Showpaan. That's the way her last name should be spelled. If that is how you pronounce it. If her name was Chop-in, it would be understandable, but it is not! I suppose though, I cannot complain, she did right a catchy little story, and even though it still had death in it, it's one of the nicer selections we have done in the unit.
Heart defect. Heart murmur. Heart. Problem. This is what Mrs. Mallard had, and this is what killed her. Ironic? No, not really, she had something wrong with her heart; I don't think we can live without one of those. At least that what the Doctors on television say. And television never lies! ( ... ) However the rest of the story is full of irony; irony is something I can't get enough of. Being the incredibly sarcastic person that I am, irony and satire run the main elements of my humour, so when reading a short story based around some sort of ironic event, it tends to catch my eye a little more, and I pay more attention. Usually I end up enjoying the story a little more, because of that act of irony, or humour from which the story is based.
Mrs. Mallard's husband dies, he was in a train accident. OH NO. What if her weak heart implodes on hearing this?! Wait... she is happy? She was really oppressed all this time and she did not know it? Now, she is free to be her own woman. That's pretty good I guess. But, her husband died. Oh, there is a knock on the door, who could THAT be at such a glorious time. It's her husband...He is not died. He did not even know about the accident. It is a miracle! It is too much for Mrs. Mallard's poor, weak heart, and she dies.
Irony.
Now, you could go into detail and argue about the sense of freedom she had felt when her husband was gone, and how that, instead of losing it again, upon seeing her husband, her heart (which in my argument can think for itself) stopped working so she would die a free woman. This is what happened! But, it was ironic, which is what I am discussing here in this entry. Irony, and how deviously clever it can be. Irony, is something that can be a bad thing sometimes, but most times thinking about it after, you can smile and sometimes laugh and the terrible occurrence of events, and consider it an experience to say the least. Life is full of irony.
Chop. In. That is all that comes to mind when I read the author's last name. Showpaan. That's the way her last name should be spelled. If that is how you pronounce it. If her name was Chop-in, it would be understandable, but it is not! I suppose though, I cannot complain, she did right a catchy little story, and even though it still had death in it, it's one of the nicer selections we have done in the unit.
Heart defect. Heart murmur. Heart. Problem. This is what Mrs. Mallard had, and this is what killed her. Ironic? No, not really, she had something wrong with her heart; I don't think we can live without one of those. At least that what the Doctors on television say. And television never lies! ( ... ) However the rest of the story is full of irony; irony is something I can't get enough of. Being the incredibly sarcastic person that I am, irony and satire run the main elements of my humour, so when reading a short story based around some sort of ironic event, it tends to catch my eye a little more, and I pay more attention. Usually I end up enjoying the story a little more, because of that act of irony, or humour from which the story is based.
Mrs. Mallard's husband dies, he was in a train accident. OH NO. What if her weak heart implodes on hearing this?! Wait... she is happy? She was really oppressed all this time and she did not know it? Now, she is free to be her own woman. That's pretty good I guess. But, her husband died. Oh, there is a knock on the door, who could THAT be at such a glorious time. It's her husband...He is not died. He did not even know about the accident. It is a miracle! It is too much for Mrs. Mallard's poor, weak heart, and she dies.
Irony.
Now, you could go into detail and argue about the sense of freedom she had felt when her husband was gone, and how that, instead of losing it again, upon seeing her husband, her heart (which in my argument can think for itself) stopped working so she would die a free woman. This is what happened! But, it was ironic, which is what I am discussing here in this entry. Irony, and how deviously clever it can be. Irony, is something that can be a bad thing sometimes, but most times thinking about it after, you can smile and sometimes laugh and the terrible occurrence of events, and consider it an experience to say the least. Life is full of irony.
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
"Young Goodman Brown" - Nathaniel Hawthorne
I first read this story sometime in high school, but remembering the thought that I had read it previously, got lost in that brick of grey matter we call a brain. But when I started to read it this time around, I thought: "Why does this sound so familiar, and I bet that guy is going to have a snake staff..." Then it returned to me. I remember hating this story so much in high school, but I can't recall why. After having finish "Young Goodman Brown" a few nights previous I think it's a great story, with a good theme, and great symbolism. So why did I hate it back then and not now? Honestly, I don't know; It could be that my level of understanding has change, or MAYBE, quite possibly, I might have grown up a little bit. Maybe... but I doubt it. It was most likely, due to me getting slightly better at seeing what's behind the words, instead of just words.
What to say about this story. WORSHIP THE DEVIL! No, but sort of. The main theme seems to be the loss of Faith in Young Goodman Brow, both physically, as well as spiritually. However, I think another theme could be argued. The corruption of man, ( or society; because where would we be without the woman? In the kitchen, making our own sandwiches, probably. Kidding!) is definite and even the most honest, and chivalrous can defeated and turned. Corruption is everywhere, one just needs the temptation. I'm not going to write a full blown essay on the topic, but evidence is there to be able to make one. Ultimately this man loses his faith, in himself, his wife, his religion, everything. He also goes insane. What traditional Gothic story would not have someone go insane.
What I liked a lot about the story was the lack of colour, if that makes sense. everything seems very gray, not only in the clothing, homes, and the area around them, but there personalities as well. Everything is bottled up; no kissing in public, etc. EXCEPT for the pink ribbon in Young Goodman Brown's wife's hair. Such a bolt of colour in this gray world is shocking, and must have some sort of important meaning. Innocence. But what happens when that pink ribbon is lost? Could be the loss of innocence, perhaps even loss of Faith? Why yes, yes it can! Something so small, and delicate and have such a huge meaning. That's what I really liked about the story.
What to say about this story. WORSHIP THE DEVIL! No, but sort of. The main theme seems to be the loss of Faith in Young Goodman Brow, both physically, as well as spiritually. However, I think another theme could be argued. The corruption of man, ( or society; because where would we be without the woman? In the kitchen, making our own sandwiches, probably. Kidding!) is definite and even the most honest, and chivalrous can defeated and turned. Corruption is everywhere, one just needs the temptation. I'm not going to write a full blown essay on the topic, but evidence is there to be able to make one. Ultimately this man loses his faith, in himself, his wife, his religion, everything. He also goes insane. What traditional Gothic story would not have someone go insane.
What I liked a lot about the story was the lack of colour, if that makes sense. everything seems very gray, not only in the clothing, homes, and the area around them, but there personalities as well. Everything is bottled up; no kissing in public, etc. EXCEPT for the pink ribbon in Young Goodman Brown's wife's hair. Such a bolt of colour in this gray world is shocking, and must have some sort of important meaning. Innocence. But what happens when that pink ribbon is lost? Could be the loss of innocence, perhaps even loss of Faith? Why yes, yes it can! Something so small, and delicate and have such a huge meaning. That's what I really liked about the story.
Sunday, 23 October 2011
"The Yellow Wallpaper" - Charlotte Perkins Gilman
It is interesting to listen to what people have to say about a story and then reading it. I feel you pick up on more than you would if you read it before hearing someones opinion on it beforehand. That being said, it is hard to have your own opinion on a piece of literature without part of it being based off what you have already heard about the story. However, that didn't stop my imagination from creating the most frightful images.
From what I can gather, (using the theory I heard in class) it was about a woman, who in the Gothic Tradition has been classified as insane, or has a "temporary nervous depression", as stated in the story. She spends most of her time in this room with a "sickly sulfur" coloured wallpaper surrounding her. As time wears on she begins to see things within the patterns of the paper, eventually seeing a woman, or many women at times trapped behind the bars the patterns make. She spends her time then ripping the paper off, attempting to free the woman from within. The perspective flips then, and she sees herself as the woman, free now from the bars that had trapped her and not wanting to return to them. This could be looked upon as a theme for Woman's Oppression, but as always arguments are open for debate. You can read the story here.
Frankly, this story frightened me, whether it be from the word choice or my own imagination I am not sure. The word 'creep' was used frequently, to describe how the visions of women she seen outside her windows crawled around in the grass, and later she used the word for herself to described how she 'crept' around her own room. The imagery that this gave me was of, 'The Exorcist' of course! We all know the scenes in which Regan (or the demon Pazuzu) 'creeps' along the walls in the now grotesque body it has possessed. "I see her on the long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines." I think of Pazuzu when she talks about creeping. What frightens me more though is the second part of the quote: " I don't blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught creeping by daylight." As if she thinks it is fine to creep along the road looking like Regan from the 'Exorcist', smiling and waving to the common passerby, BUT only at night, because no proper lady creeps by in the daylight...
Reading the story really put me into the mind of the woman who suffered from insanity. It's argued that she is not in a summer home, but in a institution for people like herself. There is fair bit of evidence to suggest this, such as her husband, who happens to be a doctor, (A doctor in an institution? Nah.) repeatedly tells her that this place will do her good, and she will come out much better. So they go to a place for three months, because she is sick, and they plan on leaving again and going back their original home. Interesting. Another example of this is how she fancies she sees people walking about the grounds and her husband has cautioned her not to take to such fancies. As if she is imagining them, or maybe she isn't, and this home is not a home and is more a Institution. I won't go any farther into the topic, but those are just a couple of facts to suggest it.
There is so much in this story that I could talk/write about, that it's rather hard to keep my thoughts in order. The imagery, the character development, the real meaning, the plot... The plot! Yes, the plot. Such an interesting plot line, I honestly don't know what to say about it, or even know if there is a real plot to it. Her insanity (in the gothic tradition) progresses as you move deeper into the story of course, and she seems so calm about most things up until the end, and that is where it gets me. I honestly have no idea what happens in the end. There are so many different interpretations of it. Who was Jane? Was is always her she saw behind the wallpaper? What did she actually do with the rope? Was she in a summer-home or Institution? I guess it really depends on the reader them selves, and ultimately it is them who has to decide what really happens in the story and not what everyone else says (Although it probably can help a bit). My concluding remarks are that one should read the story before it is discussed in class, so that you may have you own opinion and not get what you think your opinion might be, jumbled up with the 30 opinions you get in class.
A side note that has nothing to do with the story itself: When you listen to a discussion about a piece of literature in class and you go to read it afterwards. USE A HIGHLIGHTER! As I wrote this, I struggled through the eight pages of small text to find all the quotes and words that I thought would be good to use in this blog.
From what I can gather, (using the theory I heard in class) it was about a woman, who in the Gothic Tradition has been classified as insane, or has a "temporary nervous depression", as stated in the story. She spends most of her time in this room with a "sickly sulfur" coloured wallpaper surrounding her. As time wears on she begins to see things within the patterns of the paper, eventually seeing a woman, or many women at times trapped behind the bars the patterns make. She spends her time then ripping the paper off, attempting to free the woman from within. The perspective flips then, and she sees herself as the woman, free now from the bars that had trapped her and not wanting to return to them. This could be looked upon as a theme for Woman's Oppression, but as always arguments are open for debate. You can read the story here.
Frankly, this story frightened me, whether it be from the word choice or my own imagination I am not sure. The word 'creep' was used frequently, to describe how the visions of women she seen outside her windows crawled around in the grass, and later she used the word for herself to described how she 'crept' around her own room. The imagery that this gave me was of, 'The Exorcist' of course! We all know the scenes in which Regan (or the demon Pazuzu) 'creeps' along the walls in the now grotesque body it has possessed. "I see her on the long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines." I think of Pazuzu when she talks about creeping. What frightens me more though is the second part of the quote: " I don't blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught creeping by daylight." As if she thinks it is fine to creep along the road looking like Regan from the 'Exorcist', smiling and waving to the common passerby, BUT only at night, because no proper lady creeps by in the daylight...
Reading the story really put me into the mind of the woman who suffered from insanity. It's argued that she is not in a summer home, but in a institution for people like herself. There is fair bit of evidence to suggest this, such as her husband, who happens to be a doctor, (A doctor in an institution? Nah.) repeatedly tells her that this place will do her good, and she will come out much better. So they go to a place for three months, because she is sick, and they plan on leaving again and going back their original home. Interesting. Another example of this is how she fancies she sees people walking about the grounds and her husband has cautioned her not to take to such fancies. As if she is imagining them, or maybe she isn't, and this home is not a home and is more a Institution. I won't go any farther into the topic, but those are just a couple of facts to suggest it.
There is so much in this story that I could talk/write about, that it's rather hard to keep my thoughts in order. The imagery, the character development, the real meaning, the plot... The plot! Yes, the plot. Such an interesting plot line, I honestly don't know what to say about it, or even know if there is a real plot to it. Her insanity (in the gothic tradition) progresses as you move deeper into the story of course, and she seems so calm about most things up until the end, and that is where it gets me. I honestly have no idea what happens in the end. There are so many different interpretations of it. Who was Jane? Was is always her she saw behind the wallpaper? What did she actually do with the rope? Was she in a summer-home or Institution? I guess it really depends on the reader them selves, and ultimately it is them who has to decide what really happens in the story and not what everyone else says (Although it probably can help a bit). My concluding remarks are that one should read the story before it is discussed in class, so that you may have you own opinion and not get what you think your opinion might be, jumbled up with the 30 opinions you get in class.
A side note that has nothing to do with the story itself: When you listen to a discussion about a piece of literature in class and you go to read it afterwards. USE A HIGHLIGHTER! As I wrote this, I struggled through the eight pages of small text to find all the quotes and words that I thought would be good to use in this blog.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
"The Black Cat" - Edgar Allan Poe
Before I get into what my thoughts were of the Black Cat, I would like to explain why I am writing about the Black Cat. I am doing an English course in university, (No shit, right?). In this course, which is about Critical Thinking and Writing, I have a 'Journal' assignment in which I am to write what my thoughts were about 8 different pieces of poetry and prose we do in the course. There are no specifications as to what we write, as long as it is our own, not a plot summary, and it has a decent introduction and conclusion. Having just started a blog recently, I figured it would have been a cool idea to make my blog into my project (at least till I finish it) and write my 'journals' here. I can be creative as I want to be so it really opens it up and in my terms , deems it acceptable for my 'blog'. Now that that is out of the way I can move into what I thought of the Black Cat... which wasn't a whole lot.
I know very little about Edgar Allan Poe, except what I have heard class, the story 'Tell Tale Heart' (which I think most everyone knows about) and some sort of ghost story about a candle or something that was read to me by my friend Will, one time in Katimavik. (That one is a little hazy). Although from the very little knowledge that I have of this guy, I'm going to assume, that in most of his stories someone is murdered, they are then cased in a wall, or floor, and then later found again due to the own murderers guilt. Yet, each story there underlies a different theme, about something that would seem so abstract that only Mr. E.A Poe himself would be able to figure out, then under a pseudonym he would broadcast it out to everyone so the word gets around what the story is suggesting.
Story Discussion group:
"Man murders wife, hides her in a wall, then after the police are about to leave, concluding he is innocent, he taps wall where the corpse was located, it then breaks through, revealing it to everyone. What do you think the theme is? I think it is about the guilt of ones conscience making them do irrational things."
"No, not even close. This is obviously about a man suffering from alcohol abuse and this story is a social critique about the dangers of alcoholism."
Obviously, I am being a little bit sarcastic here and I have not told you the whole story. It is about a man, who loves animals, and has a lovely black cat; which if one was very perceptive they would have concluded the story had a black cat, but only if they were very perceptive. However, due to his alcoholism, his demeanor changes over time and he abuses this cat eventually killing it by hanging. This grows into something much greater when he brutally murders his wife, when she arrested his attempt to kill a second cat.
With that all said and done, I did enjoy this story, not so much for the story itself, but the power he used in his words. '...into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew my arm from her grasp, and buried the axe into her brain.' I think that gets the point across much better than: " He killed her by hitting her in the head with an axe.". His word choice in the entire story really gives it life, especially for the Gothic era in which it was wrote. He gives the story a darkness that, I guess, could only be created by the man himself.
'The Black Cat' was a well written story, with a good underlying theme about alcohol abuse and it's dangers. I would have thought that the theme was to do with the act of confession, seeming, in the story, he wrote this on death row, in hopes to 'unburden his soul'. But whose to say who is right, as long as you can support your argument, it could be about anything. I believe I would read other works by Edgar Allan Poe, but not for the story itself; it would be for how he writes the story. All his stories may be very similar but at least his word choice keeps things interesting.
If you wanted to read the story, go to:
http://www.online-literature.com/poe/24/
I don't think I am breaking the law by putting that there...
I know very little about Edgar Allan Poe, except what I have heard class, the story 'Tell Tale Heart' (which I think most everyone knows about) and some sort of ghost story about a candle or something that was read to me by my friend Will, one time in Katimavik. (That one is a little hazy). Although from the very little knowledge that I have of this guy, I'm going to assume, that in most of his stories someone is murdered, they are then cased in a wall, or floor, and then later found again due to the own murderers guilt. Yet, each story there underlies a different theme, about something that would seem so abstract that only Mr. E.A Poe himself would be able to figure out, then under a pseudonym he would broadcast it out to everyone so the word gets around what the story is suggesting.
Story Discussion group:
"Man murders wife, hides her in a wall, then after the police are about to leave, concluding he is innocent, he taps wall where the corpse was located, it then breaks through, revealing it to everyone. What do you think the theme is? I think it is about the guilt of ones conscience making them do irrational things."
"No, not even close. This is obviously about a man suffering from alcohol abuse and this story is a social critique about the dangers of alcoholism."
Obviously, I am being a little bit sarcastic here and I have not told you the whole story. It is about a man, who loves animals, and has a lovely black cat; which if one was very perceptive they would have concluded the story had a black cat, but only if they were very perceptive. However, due to his alcoholism, his demeanor changes over time and he abuses this cat eventually killing it by hanging. This grows into something much greater when he brutally murders his wife, when she arrested his attempt to kill a second cat.
With that all said and done, I did enjoy this story, not so much for the story itself, but the power he used in his words. '...into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew my arm from her grasp, and buried the axe into her brain.' I think that gets the point across much better than: " He killed her by hitting her in the head with an axe.". His word choice in the entire story really gives it life, especially for the Gothic era in which it was wrote. He gives the story a darkness that, I guess, could only be created by the man himself.
'The Black Cat' was a well written story, with a good underlying theme about alcohol abuse and it's dangers. I would have thought that the theme was to do with the act of confession, seeming, in the story, he wrote this on death row, in hopes to 'unburden his soul'. But whose to say who is right, as long as you can support your argument, it could be about anything. I believe I would read other works by Edgar Allan Poe, but not for the story itself; it would be for how he writes the story. All his stories may be very similar but at least his word choice keeps things interesting.
If you wanted to read the story, go to:
http://www.online-literature.com/poe/24/
I don't think I am breaking the law by putting that there...
Saturday, 8 October 2011
Brainwashed by Television.
I started reading the book series 'A Song of Ice and Fire' not to long ago. It has been recently made popular by the 'Hit HBO series Game of Thrones' which is quite similar to the title of the first book, 'A Game Of Thrones'. I haven't seen the series as of yet, but from what the people say it is really good. Each season is based on each book. There are currently five books available and I believe they are working on the second season now. So perhaps when I finish the books first I will sit down and watch the series, and gasp at how different they really are from the books. Like everyone used to do... not the other way around.
I was in my Chemistry class last week, waiting for class to begin so I figured I could catch a few pages before it started. As I was reading, a lady who was sitting beside me asked
"What do you think of it so far?"
I replied " I think it's fabulous, Lord of the Rings (probably my favorite epic fantasy) might have a hard time living up to this."
We continued talking for a little while and we began discussing the T.V. series. I said that I hadn't seen it before, but I may watch it after I finish all the books. Of course I had a long way to go seeming I just finished the first book yesterday. And this is where 'the funk hit the fan'. She said that she had watched the HBO series first, and was surprised at how poor a job the book does compared to the T.V. show. As if the television show was made BEFORE THE BOOK.
What kind of person could even think that a movie or a television show does better than the book itself. I can see someone saying they did a pretty darn good job keeping the show with the book; however the lack of detail in the show compared to book just does not cut it. Referring back to Lord of the Rings for a moment; the trilogy of movies that was directed by Peter Jackson was absolutely exceptional. The cast they had and the detail in each set was gorgeous, but as we all know J.R.R. Tolkien was a stickler about the detail. Right down to how long the grass was and what kind of soil was good for the flowers that sprinkled the field. (Use your sense of sarcasm there.) In my opinion watching a movie isn't the same as reading about everything and letting your imagination run wild. A movie or show based on a book is just one persons interpretation of the events and the world that they happened in. They are not your own; it is the imagination of someone else.
So I think people are being brainwashed by television. Everything that is on T.V. or 'Facebook' has to be real, and nothing else is right. It is dulling their brains and, imaginations, making them rely on a T.V. series to show them what a book is like, rather than picking it up their selves, sitting down, and reading it. It is like this for almost everything!
You're sitting on your couch watching the weather channel. "IMPORTANT WEATHER UPDATE: Huge cold front over the GTA tonight. Things are looking bad right now, there is a blizzard hitting so expect 60-75cm between now and later this evening. "
You think to yourself " Wow, this is crazy! I can't believe that's happening. Wait... I live in Toronto." You get up from your couch and look out the window. You can see the sky, and a few flurries dancing peacefully down to the ground below. What do you believe? The 'official' telling you on your oh so powerful and completely truthful television. Or your own eyes. I could talk about the topic of the media for day, but I will save that for another day.
Run free! don't let yourself be boxed in by the imaginary boundaries of the technological era! (Ironic, coming from a blogger, right?) Go out and make your own adventure. Delve into some dark ominous land where magic exists and dragons roam free! Explore the land of Middle-Earth or Wonderland or whatever world they may be in through their own eyes, instead of someone else's.
Go read a book.
I was in my Chemistry class last week, waiting for class to begin so I figured I could catch a few pages before it started. As I was reading, a lady who was sitting beside me asked
"What do you think of it so far?"
I replied " I think it's fabulous, Lord of the Rings (probably my favorite epic fantasy) might have a hard time living up to this."
We continued talking for a little while and we began discussing the T.V. series. I said that I hadn't seen it before, but I may watch it after I finish all the books. Of course I had a long way to go seeming I just finished the first book yesterday. And this is where 'the funk hit the fan'. She said that she had watched the HBO series first, and was surprised at how poor a job the book does compared to the T.V. show. As if the television show was made BEFORE THE BOOK.
What kind of person could even think that a movie or a television show does better than the book itself. I can see someone saying they did a pretty darn good job keeping the show with the book; however the lack of detail in the show compared to book just does not cut it. Referring back to Lord of the Rings for a moment; the trilogy of movies that was directed by Peter Jackson was absolutely exceptional. The cast they had and the detail in each set was gorgeous, but as we all know J.R.R. Tolkien was a stickler about the detail. Right down to how long the grass was and what kind of soil was good for the flowers that sprinkled the field. (Use your sense of sarcasm there.) In my opinion watching a movie isn't the same as reading about everything and letting your imagination run wild. A movie or show based on a book is just one persons interpretation of the events and the world that they happened in. They are not your own; it is the imagination of someone else.
So I think people are being brainwashed by television. Everything that is on T.V. or 'Facebook' has to be real, and nothing else is right. It is dulling their brains and, imaginations, making them rely on a T.V. series to show them what a book is like, rather than picking it up their selves, sitting down, and reading it. It is like this for almost everything!
You're sitting on your couch watching the weather channel. "IMPORTANT WEATHER UPDATE: Huge cold front over the GTA tonight. Things are looking bad right now, there is a blizzard hitting so expect 60-75cm between now and later this evening. "
You think to yourself " Wow, this is crazy! I can't believe that's happening. Wait... I live in Toronto." You get up from your couch and look out the window. You can see the sky, and a few flurries dancing peacefully down to the ground below. What do you believe? The 'official' telling you on your oh so powerful and completely truthful television. Or your own eyes. I could talk about the topic of the media for day, but I will save that for another day.
Run free! don't let yourself be boxed in by the imaginary boundaries of the technological era! (Ironic, coming from a blogger, right?) Go out and make your own adventure. Delve into some dark ominous land where magic exists and dragons roam free! Explore the land of Middle-Earth or Wonderland or whatever world they may be in through their own eyes, instead of someone else's.
Go read a book.
Sunday, 2 October 2011
A New Beginning.
A Beginning, the definition given by the lovely Ms. Miriam Webster is "The point at which something begins". Simple enough, and quite frankly, the perfect word for my life right now, which is just beginning. I suppose you could think of it as the beginning of a new adventure into sparsely traversed lands in some dark distant world; I at least would like to think of it as that... it doesn't seem as boring then.
"Remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to"
So today I am stepping out the door (a virtual one anyways) and beginning a blog.
Let the adventure begin.
"Remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to"
So today I am stepping out the door (a virtual one anyways) and beginning a blog.
Let the adventure begin.
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