A Re-Examination

   I will admit that the first time reading this through there was not much interaction with the text and I was deeply discouraged at my lack of the ability to focus and “hone in” on what the text was really trying to say.  But after my genius friend Chelsea gave me her brilliant insight on the text, I came to the conclusion that it really did not make any kind of sense at all.

                

   I think that the thing that confuses me the most is how every stanza is completely irrelevant to the previous one. With the way that I think things through and process things makes it difficult for me to read things like this poem. I can deal with the Psalms and with the Bible in its entirety but when it keeps jumping around from topic to topic and is never on a seemingly constant thought, it’s hard to put together what exactly the author, Robert Hass in this case, is trying so intelligently to get across. First, I think we’re talking about a little school girl, who I think might actually be a terrorist, and then we jump to everything natural, and then jellyfish and dogs. I just don’t understand.

              

  It could be the author is transitioning from a metaphorical way of thinking and writing to a more literal and natural form. This is what I don’t understand. Is it considered poetic or artistic? Am I the only one who is having trouble with this? Please trust me when I say that nothing is more frustrating than sitting at Starbucks trying to figure out for the second time what someone is trying to say in a poem they wrote a long time ago. 

   Nature, terrorists, and jellyfish dogs are not exactly my idea of cohesive writing, but maybe I’m just stubborn. I do admire the author’s vocabulary and the texture that seems to jump out of each individual story, or poem. I just wish that they were more relevant to each other. 

State of the Planet

I am sorry to say that I was unable to engage with the text today. Maybe it's because I'm too busy, or stressed out. Maybe it's because of this or that. No, it can't be anything other then me. Myself. I did this to myself. Failure to engage means failure to understand. And isn't that the purpose of blogging? To understand? Maybe it's not all it's cracked up to be. Maybe these readings are mind-numbing, brain-washing, dirty water mop buckets that aren't really doing much but just spreading everything around so that it looks different. Maybe it's not really supposed to be understood, and that by claiming an "understanding" you are incoherently lying to the professor, the class, and ultimately to yourself.

I am also ashamed to say that I have fallen prey to this form of illusion, as I have sworn I would never. But alas, it is true. so lets just get on with it...


"Lucretius, we have grown so clever that mechanics on our art of natural philosophy can take the property of luminescence from a jellyfish and put it in mice. In the dark the creatures give off greenish light. Their bodies must be very strange to them. An artist in Chicago- think os a great city in Dacia or Thacia- has asked to learn the method so he can sell people dogs that glow in the dark."


This is our world today. Everybody always wants something new. If it's been out for two weeks it's too old, outdated. Pressure has been put on us since we were kids to create the next big thing. To start the next big movement. I hear people say all the time that they have failed our generation by not doing that for us, and that it's our "opportunity" to do it for the next generation. But it's literally impossible; With two week being the out of date time period our society has given us, it's impossible to be the change. It's impossible to make a difference. It's impossible to create something that is lasting. Something that will be around. Only time, if there's much left, will tell.

Does this mean that people will never be satisfied? I hope not. Goodness if people were never happy with what they had, or will have, I don't think this world would be have as nice of a lace to live. I'm glad there are a few people who are able to find the strength of contentment. What would a person need with a glow in the dark dog anyway? So that when they get up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water they don't trip over Scruffy? That's pitiful. And the only logical reason I can find for owning a glow in the dark pup. Can we do ourselves a favor and just get over ourselves? Please? Thank you.

James Baldwin

Earlier this semester I was talking about it. The luxury some authors have to illicitly describe what the characters feel like in the story, the characters themselves, the scene, and what is going on. James Baldwin, uses incredible language while setting up the story and its characters,

“I read about it in the paper, in the subway, on my way to work. … I stared at it in the swinging lights of the subway car, and in the faces and bodies of the people, and in my own face, trapped in the darkness which roared outside.

It was not to be believed … I was scared, scared for Sonny…. A block of ice got settled on my belly and kept melting there slowly all day long, while I taught my class algebra. It was a special kind of ice. It kept melting, sending trickles of ice water all up and down my veins, but it never got less. …

When he was… his face had been wonderfully bright and open, there was a lot of copper in it; he’d had wonderfully direct brown eyes, and great gentleness and privacy.”

There’s just a level of intensity in his writing that makes it stand out, even in the first two or three paragraphs. There is just something to be said about an author that can accurately describe the entire set up and premise of the story in the first several paragraphs.

Now maybe I’m crazy but can see and have experienced the difficulty of this task. I like to look at myself as an admirer of the arts; someone who can fully appreciate the passion that an artist puts in to his work. And that probably comes from my parents raising me with the mind set of, “If it doesn’t make you work hard, then it’s not good work.” Just because you can’t do something as well as someone else, doesn’t make it any less of an accomplishment. I love it. Literature is a whole other subject, and it needs to be appreciated. 

Midterm

                So the midterm we took last class was to my relief was extremely rewarding. Although I was fully confident in my skills and sure of the knowledge I had gained in (and out of) class. I was al little worried as I went to bed the Wednesday night. So I woke the next morning to study, hard. I looked over every note taken, which wasn’t much, and read, more like skimmed through, every handout we had received in class. I will be honest and say that I did not read the two chapters on theme and character so naturally I didn’t even think about looking over them. How you can you remember something you never did?

The problem lies in timing. For on this fateful Thursday morning I had not one but two midterms that were of equal importance. So I found myself splitting my study time, about 2-3 hours, between two very important classes; Introduction to Literature, and World Religions.  The world seemed so small until this particular Thursday morning; breakfast never seemed so irrelevant. So I studied, with everything I had I scrolled through notes upon notes of things I didn’t even remember writing down. My hear t is racing; my time is coming to an end.

The moment of truth, class; Introduction to Literature, the World Religions test seemed to have gone well.  Now it’s time for the last one of the day.  Feeling completely unprepared for what I believe is in store, I take my pencil out and ready, at least the best that I can, my mind. Then comes’ the news. Good news and bad news. Bad news first, Professor Corrigan wasn’t able to make the test a 100 questions long. The Good news, we had more time in class to learn. Now I’m all for learning but when it comes to getting things taken care of, I’m all about getting in and then getting out. Sometimes The good news is the bad news. I love Intro. to Lit. 

Fireworks

       I had never seen anything like it. The sky lit up like a Christmas tree in the summer sky with brilliant displays of blue and green. So many years, I was amazed that I had never experienced such a majestic array of colors. I took a deep breath, and tried my best to take in the moment. Looking down just for a moment to relax my trapezius, I saw her. As if the fireworks weren’t enough, she was illuminating the sky as if she was giving off her own radiant glow. She soon too looked down and gave me a lasting stare. The five seconds our eyes met seemed like five minutes. Her bright smile, with her dark complexion only complemented what I was already thinking. It was only a matter of time.

            I saw that she was still looking at me; probably because I was still looking at her. Those five seconds had become five minutes, but for a different reason. Quickly looking away, I tied to think of an excuse as to why I was looking at her for so long. I wasn’t going to tell her that I was enthralled with her seemingly matchless beauty, with her dark eyes and pretentious stature. She was impeccably designed; and she knew it. Her smile, though gorgeous, said more than the lips that formed it ever could. She began to walk over.

            My heart is racing, she’s twenty yards away. Think. Think… What’s a good excuse? The fireworks are still singing their song in the evening firmament; red, and blue now. As she approached her hair glistened in the shine of the nocturnal display. She had a grace about her that seemed to capture the very heart of what it meant to be free.

            I found myself staring again, only with my mouth open this time. What was it that was so hypnotizing about her? Was it the way she dressed, with her Carhart overalls and flannel button up work shirt that drew me into her gaze? Was it the half smile, half don’t mess with me look that she was now giving me? Or perhaps the way her hair blew in the wind as she approached my place of standing? Whatever it is I don’t care. She’s ten yards away and I don’t have an excuse yet.

            I look hurriedly back up at the sky whose space is being invaded with life and light; still nothing like it in the world. Sparklers and fountains, yellows and gold’s; the pyromaniac genius that organized this was truly a visionary. If only this kind of thing happened more often; maybe the world would be a better place.

            She had disappeared; nowhere to be found. As I frantically searched for her florescent like presence. It was as if she was part of the show. This beautiful presentation of glory, and then in a moment is gone. Why do the best things in life have to be so temporary? The flowers of the field will wither and die. The snowcapped mountains swiftly melt away. The rising sun soon sets. Is nothing good to stay with us? Are we only ever left with our memories?

            The evening is now approaching its’ climax. This wondrous depiction of splendor in the sky is being taken to another level as tear drops fall, and sparklers fall to their end. Messages in the sky; “I love you”, “Will you marry me?”, “Happy 4^th of July”. So far it was an unforgettable experience.

            Looking down to rest my neck once more, there she is. Standing ten yards to the opposite of where she was when I last her. No longer looking at me but gazing up at the heavens and their magic show. She was everything vibrant, everything perfect. Her rosy cheeks matched her rosy personality. Never once did that smile come all the way off her face. Maybe once or twice for and “Ohh!”, or an “Ahh!”. She once again looked over to catch me staring at her perfections.

            Still no excuse, now walking towards me for the second time, I can feel my heart sink like a treasure chest to the bottom of the deep blue. Blue was the color of her flannel shirt that she wore from experience. The rolled up sleeves showed her aggression, and the top button left undone revealed a sense of unfinished business. Neither of which scare me very easily, at least not tonight for some reason.

            I noticed that she is walking faster than the last time I saw her b-lining towards me. There was a taste of urgency in the air, and it was rich. The only problem was the five yard distance that was being infringed upon while I still did not have an excuse for my repulsive glares. How un-gentlemen of me to stare at someone who is clearly so far above my division or weight class? There have been many a time when I have found myself in awkward situations that I have fancied my way out of, but this. This was another ball game. Before I had a wingman, a friend, someone to back me up and give my fabrications credentials. Tonight there is no one, just me; just her, the two of us.

            The pyrotechnics had flawless timing. The very moment she stretches her hand out in introduction. The finale has arrived. Every color known to man is now in the sky: red, blue, green, yellow, orange, pink (which I often mistook for red throughout the night), and white (or silver as it appeared). Fountains, sparklers, tear drops, mortars, and umbrellas; indisputably one of the best firework shows of all time. Too bad the 4^th of July only comes once a year.

            We were holding hands. Her name was Allison Jackowski. We had grown up together and even gone through grade school together. Her parents were deceased, meaning that she was adopted, by a family who didn’t even care to know her name. She was my first girlfriend.  

This Blessed House

   Sanjeev. Twinkle. I don't think that there could be a more annoying and disturbing marriage then this one. He, Sanjeev, seems almost annoyed with everything Twinkle does. Every time she finds something that interests her it's never okay, or acceptable if it doesn't interest him also. I understand his whole "we're not Christians" arguement, but it sets his whole attitude for the rest of the story. I'm not very sure that this is what I would want my marriage or any of my friends marriages' to look like. There was a time when he said, "I had never seen her cry before, I had never seen such pain in her eyes'" Then there came a moment of compromise. To move the statue to the side of the house as opposed to having it in the front yard, or taking it to the dump.

   I would like to think of life as a series of compromises. Everyday is another day that things don't exactly go your way. Sometimes the compromises are so big that their life changing. Others are to small to give any recognition to. Marriage, however, should be the opposite. I think that there needs to be a sense of "said-ness" when it comes to certain things. Something that is said and never spoken against. Certain absolutes. For example, I would not want my wife to put up Hindu or Muslim paraphernalia in our home if we are not Hindu of Muslim. First of all, it misrepresents us as a single unit, as a husband and wife. Secondly it, brings doubt and uncertainty into our home. Joshua 24:15b "... as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." 


   Sanjeev, though I understand his discontent, I feel that there were moments where he was literally about to "go off" on Twinkle. Things that she said that almost begged a response from Sanjeev, now I give him credit for not actually "going off", but his OCD personality almost seemed like that's where it was leading to. What I do admire is Twinkles submissive spirit, and being willing to end controversy with a solution.