I’m not going to lie and say that this came easy to me. It wasn’t exactly difficult, either but talking about my future plans has always been one of my least favorite subjects. I’ve always known that college was right for me. I’m too smart to not go, but I’m not smart enough to think I could invent some genius, unexplored, idea that says “Dianne, drop out of college, invent me, and together we’ll make billions.” I’m no Bill Gates.
From about middle school on, the hardest question anyone could ask me is “what do you want to be when you grow up?” When I was in elementary school, no one really asked you, because let’s be honest—how many people do you know figure out exactly what they want to do by the time they’re ten? Exactly. It’s like asking a kid whom they will marry and spend the rest of their life with.
Nonetheless, the question was proposed and my answer was usually veterinarian, or (like I said in the Literacy Essay) a vampire hunter. I was too encouraged to follow the latter idea.
But in middle school, teachers and parents alike seem to think that that’s the time you need to know what you’re doing. My answers were always changing, just to placate the interviewer. With my parents and family, I always wanted to be something prestigious. For a long while it was a genetic councilor (which I gave up complete interest when I realized that would take two PhD’s). With my friends, it was always something that made a lot of money, like an anesthesiologist (I actually never wanted to do that, so I can’t tell you when I gave it up).
Sometimes I changed my future professions more often then I changed my clothes. No matter, by the time I got to college, I still had no idea what to do with the rest of my life. That was always too big a step for me to fully commit to. In the end, I settled on something that I’ve always had my eye on, a teacher. More specifically, an English teacher.
It seems that the deeper I get into the program of study, the more I start to think like a teacher. Instead of just reading a book and thoughtlessly enjoying it, it’s “now that’s something that my students could learn from, I should teach it.” Or “this theme is really common, but the premise relates to” book so-and-so. I love comparing books in my head. I should have started a list for my future students to read.
Being an English major for about a year now, it’s longest time I've held onto a major. It seems like it must be right.
It’s hard to say where my interest in reading and writing will take me. I’m not entirely sure it will even take me anywhere. I may yet become bored with this major and switch to something probably less fascinating but more appealing. With my insatiable appetite for change, I can’t convince myself that this is exactly what I want to do in my life, though it seems to fit.
Hopefully I’ll become a high school English teacher one day. So far that’s the plan. No matter, books and reading will always be a part of my life. I’ve always enjoyed the escape that a good book can provide. I may not know if literature will play a large role in my life and become part of my career, but it’s always comforting to know that the smaller, more simplistic role will be there.
I keep dabbling with the idea of becoming an editor. I think that would be the dream job, but it’s so time-consuming, and I wouldn’t want to work with newspapers. There goes that idea.
It’d definitely be nice to say that I will write a book someday. I would love to, really, but my mind just doesn’t think in a structured way. You should see me write papers. It’s completely backwards. And to do that for 300 pages wouldn’t be too great of an idea.
Either way, I’m still planning on becoming an English teacher, and hopefully that won’t change. That’s the true direction I would like my interests in reading to take me. I enjoy it too much to stay on the back burner.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Geography III
"What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet."
But in poetry and literature in general, a title is necessary. The power to pull someone into a work lies within the title. It's descriptive and explanatory, and the mere absence of a title makes a statement. So why is "Geography III" so important? I started thinking about this question, and I thought "okay, well there seems to be some sort of geographical reference in all of the poems compiled." Bishop wrote about physical demographics and locations often in the poetry we were assigned to read. So the "Geography" part I get, but why "III?" I even looked up her works online to make sure that I and II were missing. They are. There's not even three poems assembled. Maybe she favored the number III, or maybe she was just crazy. I'll never know for sure.
Her epigraph starts with lesson 6 and 10 in "Fist Lessons in Geography." It briefly describes the basics of geography and maps. I'm taking a total stab in the dark here by saying that she might have chosen this, because the very last paragraph, the one that sticks out to me the most, is just a series of questions. Direction is completely relative, and maybe she felt like a speck on the map in comparison to the volcano or the western side of the world.
In my opinion, the collection of poems made sense: how it was grouped together and the sequence of the writings. However, the content didn't leave me wanting more. If I never read another Elizabeth Bishop poem in my life, I would not lose an ounce of sleep over it. There were many times that I could stop in the middle of a poem and not be bothered by the questions "What happened?" or "what's next?" I actually felt that at points in the collection, Bishop dragged me into a drug inspired world. Because of this, I wasn't too keen on Bishop. I didn't really connect with her writings or the author herself. It's not that I don't like poetry in general, I just don't like this kind of poetry.
But in poetry and literature in general, a title is necessary. The power to pull someone into a work lies within the title. It's descriptive and explanatory, and the mere absence of a title makes a statement. So why is "Geography III" so important? I started thinking about this question, and I thought "okay, well there seems to be some sort of geographical reference in all of the poems compiled." Bishop wrote about physical demographics and locations often in the poetry we were assigned to read. So the "Geography" part I get, but why "III?" I even looked up her works online to make sure that I and II were missing. They are. There's not even three poems assembled. Maybe she favored the number III, or maybe she was just crazy. I'll never know for sure.
Her epigraph starts with lesson 6 and 10 in "Fist Lessons in Geography." It briefly describes the basics of geography and maps. I'm taking a total stab in the dark here by saying that she might have chosen this, because the very last paragraph, the one that sticks out to me the most, is just a series of questions. Direction is completely relative, and maybe she felt like a speck on the map in comparison to the volcano or the western side of the world.
In my opinion, the collection of poems made sense: how it was grouped together and the sequence of the writings. However, the content didn't leave me wanting more. If I never read another Elizabeth Bishop poem in my life, I would not lose an ounce of sleep over it. There were many times that I could stop in the middle of a poem and not be bothered by the questions "What happened?" or "what's next?" I actually felt that at points in the collection, Bishop dragged me into a drug inspired world. Because of this, I wasn't too keen on Bishop. I didn't really connect with her writings or the author herself. It's not that I don't like poetry in general, I just don't like this kind of poetry.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Glengarry Glen Ross
Though there is an obvious and prominent lack of women in the play, they are left to pull the strings of their marionette, male relations. In fact, it seems that women in Glengarry Glen Ross resemble either the weak or evil female characters of the Shakespeare variety. In that sense, the transition from King Lear to Glengarry was an easy one. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy reading Mamet’s play, because I did. I found the dog-eat-dog world of men’s real estate similar to my home state of New York. And, though there’s no arguing that a strong female presence is missing onstage, I strongly agree with Roma when he says “…it’s not a world of men…” (105).
Maybe it’s because I’ve never heard of Mamet until recently, or partly for the reason that I’ve only read this one play by him, but I disagree with feminist critics who labeled his misogynistic. Who knows? Maybe Mamet was abused or somehow degraded by girls in his past; maybe he was Catholic and hated all the nuns so much that he only viewed females as only a necessity only to be acknowledged for procreation. Or maybe, none of this happened, and in the 80s mainly men worked in real estate offices. There’s no exact time for the play set as far as I can recall.
Whether it’s Shelley Levene’s daughter, Jimmy Lingk’s wife, Harriet Nyborg, or the mysterious “ex,” the females of the play have great leverage over the males. Shelley Levene’s daughter is sick and he struggles for work and better leads so he can take better care of her. Unconsciously (literally, for her), she controls his actions and dictates how he lives his life. Jim Lingk’s wife went a little overboard when she learned of her husband’s investment. She called the attorney general and the consumer’s office and demanded that the check should be refunded immediately, or she would call the State’s attorney. She obviously has strong influence over her husband, because Lingk later admitted to Roman that he didn’t “have the power [to negotiate]” the deal (92).
ANext, there’s Harriett Nyborg. When Levene went to pitch an area of land to them, she served him store-bought coffee cake. In the grand scheme of things, I’m not exactly sure what this means, except that maybe she’s not a very good hostess or housewife. As Levene’s telling his story of his $82,000 sale, he mentions Harriett’s name quite frequently. Maybe he knows that it’s the woman that he has to sell before the man commits. Sure, they couldn’t afford the purchase, but that’s not the first time the couple did that. Williamson reminds Levene often that the sale won’t go through, and they like to talk to and mess with salesmen. Lastly there is the “ex” mentioned early in the play. She divorced her husband and had the judge invalidate the sale of the land. These instances don’t really “put women down” or demean or debase them.
Realistically, a critic could look at the same play and at the same lines or scenes and say the exact opposite – that the author is putting women on a pedestal. I could see where people could interpret Mamet’s portrayal of women as anti-feminism, but I don’t buy into the notion.
Maybe it’s because I’ve never heard of Mamet until recently, or partly for the reason that I’ve only read this one play by him, but I disagree with feminist critics who labeled his misogynistic. Who knows? Maybe Mamet was abused or somehow degraded by girls in his past; maybe he was Catholic and hated all the nuns so much that he only viewed females as only a necessity only to be acknowledged for procreation. Or maybe, none of this happened, and in the 80s mainly men worked in real estate offices. There’s no exact time for the play set as far as I can recall.
Whether it’s Shelley Levene’s daughter, Jimmy Lingk’s wife, Harriet Nyborg, or the mysterious “ex,” the females of the play have great leverage over the males. Shelley Levene’s daughter is sick and he struggles for work and better leads so he can take better care of her. Unconsciously (literally, for her), she controls his actions and dictates how he lives his life. Jim Lingk’s wife went a little overboard when she learned of her husband’s investment. She called the attorney general and the consumer’s office and demanded that the check should be refunded immediately, or she would call the State’s attorney. She obviously has strong influence over her husband, because Lingk later admitted to Roman that he didn’t “have the power [to negotiate]” the deal (92).
ANext, there’s Harriett Nyborg. When Levene went to pitch an area of land to them, she served him store-bought coffee cake. In the grand scheme of things, I’m not exactly sure what this means, except that maybe she’s not a very good hostess or housewife. As Levene’s telling his story of his $82,000 sale, he mentions Harriett’s name quite frequently. Maybe he knows that it’s the woman that he has to sell before the man commits. Sure, they couldn’t afford the purchase, but that’s not the first time the couple did that. Williamson reminds Levene often that the sale won’t go through, and they like to talk to and mess with salesmen. Lastly there is the “ex” mentioned early in the play. She divorced her husband and had the judge invalidate the sale of the land. These instances don’t really “put women down” or demean or debase them.
Realistically, a critic could look at the same play and at the same lines or scenes and say the exact opposite – that the author is putting women on a pedestal. I could see where people could interpret Mamet’s portrayal of women as anti-feminism, but I don’t buy into the notion.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
King Lear
Shakespeare’s plays always seem to be hit or miss. I haven’t met someone who has been on the fence about his works; you either love it or hate it. As someone who didn’t like Romeo and Juliet but appreciated Hamlet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream to name a few, I enjoyed reading King Lear.
Although I’m a female, I never put much stock in feminists or their arguments, so of course I went into this assignment with reservations. At first, I read Coppelia Kahn’s (whose name bears some semblance to an illustrious Mongol emperor) interpretation and immediately wrote half of my blog about how much I disagree with her standpoint and how she only sees the big picture and not the details. Then, I read the e-mail excerpt a second and third time and found myself agreeing with it more each passing.
In King Lear, there was a painfully obvious lack of maternal figures. Being older than 80, there’s no doubt that Lear’s own mother was dead, and his wife (or at least a baby-momma to put it modernly) is scarcely mentioned. Reflecting on the time, men were expected to act differently from women, suppressing ideals, views, or actions considered feminine. It wasn’t normal for men to act maternally, especially the king. Because Lear’s offspring were depraved of maternal figures, two out of his three children repressed their feminine emotions, as well. It was only Cordelia, feminine and nurturing character, that held the brunt of the maternal weight.
With most Shakespearian and even Greek tragedies, it’s the characters pride that brings the characters to their demise, and King Lear is no exception. It’s always easy to ask “what if?” in Shakespeare’s works. What if Lear actually listened to Cordelia in the first Act instead of casting her out before she’s heard? What if he thought before he acted impulsively on anger? But if things were different, and there was no “what if”, then it wouldn’t be a tragic at all. If Lear had accepted Cordelia’s answer and let her take care of him in his age, the remaining sisters wouldn’t rebel and there would be no drama, action, or interest in the play.
As the play carries on, Lear realizes his mistakes, and at the very end of King Lear, he asks for forgiveness for his rashness. However, Lear’s acceptance of his human limitations and his reverence for Cordelia don’t necessarily mean he’s stopped avoiding the tears referred to as “women’s weapons”. Lear has just acknowledged his wrongdoings and through his age, he learned to be vulnerable. Ultimately, being prideful did nothing but stick him in a rainstorm.
Although I’m a female, I never put much stock in feminists or their arguments, so of course I went into this assignment with reservations. At first, I read Coppelia Kahn’s (whose name bears some semblance to an illustrious Mongol emperor) interpretation and immediately wrote half of my blog about how much I disagree with her standpoint and how she only sees the big picture and not the details. Then, I read the e-mail excerpt a second and third time and found myself agreeing with it more each passing.
In King Lear, there was a painfully obvious lack of maternal figures. Being older than 80, there’s no doubt that Lear’s own mother was dead, and his wife (or at least a baby-momma to put it modernly) is scarcely mentioned. Reflecting on the time, men were expected to act differently from women, suppressing ideals, views, or actions considered feminine. It wasn’t normal for men to act maternally, especially the king. Because Lear’s offspring were depraved of maternal figures, two out of his three children repressed their feminine emotions, as well. It was only Cordelia, feminine and nurturing character, that held the brunt of the maternal weight.
With most Shakespearian and even Greek tragedies, it’s the characters pride that brings the characters to their demise, and King Lear is no exception. It’s always easy to ask “what if?” in Shakespeare’s works. What if Lear actually listened to Cordelia in the first Act instead of casting her out before she’s heard? What if he thought before he acted impulsively on anger? But if things were different, and there was no “what if”, then it wouldn’t be a tragic at all. If Lear had accepted Cordelia’s answer and let her take care of him in his age, the remaining sisters wouldn’t rebel and there would be no drama, action, or interest in the play.
As the play carries on, Lear realizes his mistakes, and at the very end of King Lear, he asks for forgiveness for his rashness. However, Lear’s acceptance of his human limitations and his reverence for Cordelia don’t necessarily mean he’s stopped avoiding the tears referred to as “women’s weapons”. Lear has just acknowledged his wrongdoings and through his age, he learned to be vulnerable. Ultimately, being prideful did nothing but stick him in a rainstorm.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Persepolis
I apologize to Ebi, Marjane’s father, but I strongly disagree with him. To say that politics and sentiment don't mix is like suggesting that humankind is completely devoid of emotion. It’s impossible to run a country without any kind of passion. Mostly (with exceptions, of course), humans make decisions based off of self-interest, and self-interest is motivated by emotions.
In this specific instance in Persepolis, the Shah of Iran stepped down from his throne and the King of Egypt accepted the former Shah into the country. Marji suggested that his acceptance was possibly because of the Shah’s first wife, who was Egyptian, in which her father says “surely not! Politics and Sentiment don’t mix.” However, many political marriages were arranged to strengthen ties or alliances in countries. If Ebi were to say that on September 20, 2001, the day the United States declared war on “terrorism,” I’m sure he would encounter a very different response.
Not only do I disagree with Ebi, but I believe that our little protagonist does as well. At the time, Satrapi seems to kind of brush her father’s words off of her shoulders. I don’t think she seriously dwells on his words right after they are said. Yet as the book (and her life) continue, Marji seems to find fault in Ebi’s statement. In fact, when the family returns from their trip to Madrid, Spain, they meet with Marjane’s grandmother. The old woman explains to the family that there was official announcement of the Iraq invasion just two days prior to their arrival. Marji writes, “My blood was boiling… I wanted to fight.” By this time, Marji may not audibly or narratively recognize it, but she realizes that her father was wrong and emotions may blend with politics.
Though I have a feeling that Marjane’s grandmother thought sentiment and government cannot be separated, she did her best to keep it divided in her own life. Grandma’s husband, who was the former prince of Iran, was tossed aside by his country when the Shah took the throne. Her grandmother and their children were immediately thrown into poverty, but while she was telling Marji the story, she had a peaceful demeanor. At the end of the novel, she told Marjane when she meets people that hurt her she should blame it on their stupidity to prevent responding to their unkindness, “Because there is nothing worse than bitterness and vengeance.”
Marjane's mother, Taji, is harder to pinpoint. Her whole character in the book just tries to do anything and everything that is right or will benefit her family.
Should politics and sentiment mix? I don’t think so. Does it happen regardless? Indefinitely.
In this specific instance in Persepolis, the Shah of Iran stepped down from his throne and the King of Egypt accepted the former Shah into the country. Marji suggested that his acceptance was possibly because of the Shah’s first wife, who was Egyptian, in which her father says “surely not! Politics and Sentiment don’t mix.” However, many political marriages were arranged to strengthen ties or alliances in countries. If Ebi were to say that on September 20, 2001, the day the United States declared war on “terrorism,” I’m sure he would encounter a very different response.
Not only do I disagree with Ebi, but I believe that our little protagonist does as well. At the time, Satrapi seems to kind of brush her father’s words off of her shoulders. I don’t think she seriously dwells on his words right after they are said. Yet as the book (and her life) continue, Marji seems to find fault in Ebi’s statement. In fact, when the family returns from their trip to Madrid, Spain, they meet with Marjane’s grandmother. The old woman explains to the family that there was official announcement of the Iraq invasion just two days prior to their arrival. Marji writes, “My blood was boiling… I wanted to fight.” By this time, Marji may not audibly or narratively recognize it, but she realizes that her father was wrong and emotions may blend with politics.
Though I have a feeling that Marjane’s grandmother thought sentiment and government cannot be separated, she did her best to keep it divided in her own life. Grandma’s husband, who was the former prince of Iran, was tossed aside by his country when the Shah took the throne. Her grandmother and their children were immediately thrown into poverty, but while she was telling Marji the story, she had a peaceful demeanor. At the end of the novel, she told Marjane when she meets people that hurt her she should blame it on their stupidity to prevent responding to their unkindness, “Because there is nothing worse than bitterness and vengeance.”
Marjane's mother, Taji, is harder to pinpoint. Her whole character in the book just tries to do anything and everything that is right or will benefit her family.
Should politics and sentiment mix? I don’t think so. Does it happen regardless? Indefinitely.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Moviegoer
If someone today were to ask me what I felt about The Moviegoer, I’m not sure if I could give him or her a straight answer. Part of me wants to like Binx and in turn, the book while another part wants to denounce everything about it. Binx’s desperate need to feel validated and important is a universal trait that everyone can relate to somehow. However any deeper that, I can’t connect with Binx in a way I would want to connect with the main character of a novel. In the beginning, I saw Binx as a womanizer, arrogant, and headstrong. The first time I remember saying “I don’t really like Binx” is when he is talking about his car and how he disliked driving it because he became invisible, and my dislike was deepened through his relationships with his secretaries.
Though he said he hated the war, it made him feel validated and animated. Through his combat experience, he learned a lot about himself and decided to start his search when he noticed the dung beetle crawling on the battlefield. After all, he says that people are most alive in times of catastrophe or chaos. Kate feels the same way Binx does about tragedy and connects to him much better than Sharon. Binx talks with both Sharon and Kate about the war and his feelings surrounding it. Where Kate thrives in the idea that she would do well in war, Sharon says she would hate to be involved. Kate, in-turn becomes Binx's alter-ego in the story.
The way he interacts with other characters tells the reader how multifaceted Binx is. He is addressed by many names (John "Jack" "Binx" Bolling), and with each name comes a different personality. As Binx, he is more true to himself (as he is with Kate). Binx is a dreamer and introspective. However, Jack (who he is with Sharon and others) is slightly more outgoing and superficial. Jack is the classic story of wanting what he cannot have, but when he gets what he wants, he loses interest quickly. Looking at it this way, I begin to dislike Jack much more than I dislike Binx.
“The search” Binx is on is never clearly defined. He isn’t on a quest looking for one specific thing. He desperately searches for certification in which he typically finds watching movies (because movies that take place in your neighborhood makes you someone, somewhere and not anyone, anywhere). Binx’s life is full of complete uncertainty from religion to politics to love interests.
Towards the end of the book, Binx starts to grow on me. I begin to understand where he is coming from as I get to know him through the pages. His interactions with Kate and Lonnie save him as a character and the first time I remember actually liking Binx was in first interactions with Lonnie. Yet, I am highly disappointed with the ending of the book. It seems as if Binx gives up his search and falls into an ordinary lifestyle. He has everything that he would have earlier described as malaise or dead. Nonetheless, the more I think about it, the more I question if he finds what he is searching for all along. Perhaps Binx’s search for validity and certification truly ends when he finds his niche in life that he saw in a negative light towards the beginning of the book.
Though he said he hated the war, it made him feel validated and animated. Through his combat experience, he learned a lot about himself and decided to start his search when he noticed the dung beetle crawling on the battlefield. After all, he says that people are most alive in times of catastrophe or chaos. Kate feels the same way Binx does about tragedy and connects to him much better than Sharon. Binx talks with both Sharon and Kate about the war and his feelings surrounding it. Where Kate thrives in the idea that she would do well in war, Sharon says she would hate to be involved. Kate, in-turn becomes Binx's alter-ego in the story.
The way he interacts with other characters tells the reader how multifaceted Binx is. He is addressed by many names (John "Jack" "Binx" Bolling), and with each name comes a different personality. As Binx, he is more true to himself (as he is with Kate). Binx is a dreamer and introspective. However, Jack (who he is with Sharon and others) is slightly more outgoing and superficial. Jack is the classic story of wanting what he cannot have, but when he gets what he wants, he loses interest quickly. Looking at it this way, I begin to dislike Jack much more than I dislike Binx.
“The search” Binx is on is never clearly defined. He isn’t on a quest looking for one specific thing. He desperately searches for certification in which he typically finds watching movies (because movies that take place in your neighborhood makes you someone, somewhere and not anyone, anywhere). Binx’s life is full of complete uncertainty from religion to politics to love interests.
Towards the end of the book, Binx starts to grow on me. I begin to understand where he is coming from as I get to know him through the pages. His interactions with Kate and Lonnie save him as a character and the first time I remember actually liking Binx was in first interactions with Lonnie. Yet, I am highly disappointed with the ending of the book. It seems as if Binx gives up his search and falls into an ordinary lifestyle. He has everything that he would have earlier described as malaise or dead. Nonetheless, the more I think about it, the more I question if he finds what he is searching for all along. Perhaps Binx’s search for validity and certification truly ends when he finds his niche in life that he saw in a negative light towards the beginning of the book.
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