The Last Blog

wow, this semester flew by. We had some really good times in literature in my opinion. I wish we could have had a slightly smaller class and more time to discuss a lot of the great literature which we read. In my opinion the knowledge gained from literature is best realized when we are able to articulate and communicate all the ideas formulated via reading articulately. It is like the icing on the cake if you will. That is the only thing i think the class was slightly slacking in this semester. But with a class that large and that much to cover its understandable why we didnt get to discuss things as throughoughyl as i would have liked. I think the second half of the semester was my favotire. I enjoyed the group presentations as well as the individual ones, and the paper was a great reflection of the course. I know Professor Sexton mentioned that he wished more of us had taken the challenge of writing about the Brothers Karamazov, but i highly enjoyed writing the final paper, it allowed me to organize my thoughts on the class and i felt as though it was an opportunity to discuss a few epiphanies i have had over the course of the semester. Anyways, i enjoyed this class a lot i have learned things which i know i will carry into the future with me and i obtained knowledge i will be able to use in classes coming up within the next four years...thanks Professor, good work!

Found Poem

I found this poem on my one a day women's vitamin....


More of what matters to women
Formulated to support
More of what matters to women
Along with a healthy lifestyle
Bonestregnth
Breast health
Heart Health
IMMUNITY
More of what matters to women

embrace life in all of its contradictions

"Embrace life in all of its contradictions"
This is a quote that definately will stick with me after the semester is done. It touches upon one of the main themes in the Brothers Karamazov as well; People are complex. In order to enjoy life on this planet we must embrace that which we cannot understand, that which makes no sense and that which contradicts itself. It is always better to live life than to spend time analyzing it. When you are analyzing soemthing as mysterious and unknown as the world we live in and the impulses which we cling to it is inevitable that one will run into many, many condradictions. Thats life, embrace it.

To all the people who think they arent ignorant...

Some people would argue that our class is not full of ignorant teenagers, and that our attention spans are longer than ten seconds, etc etc. I would say they are wrong. For the most part, myself included i would say we are all totally ignorant. People who say they are not are typically the ones who are most ignorant in fact. In many ways i wish i had never been introduced to TV or movies or all of that jazz. I feel like over the years i have become more and more distracted from real reality due to things such as tv and clothing and stuff along those lines. However, i dont think this is limited to teenagers, yes our generation is worse but it is as a result of the previous generation as well, and the generation before us, etc etc. People are becoming less and less useful. We rely entirely on technology. Im willing to bet that the majority of our class couldnt even run three miles...which is really really sad. If you add to that the fact that most people dont read, that makes it even more pathetic. What is the most annoying though is the people who do read and think they are something special because of it. I mean good for you you are literate, but shouldnt we all be?????? Thats just our generation for those who would argue, you are wrong and you are probably the worst of the bunch, go work out, pick up a book because you actually enjoy reading not because you want to brag about some book that is slightly impressive that you finished or shut the hell up and get off your high horse. I am not impressed and those who are are fools.

The Brothers Karamazov Overall

There is no doubt that Dostoyevsky is an amazing author, Crime and Punishment, The Brothers Karamazov etc, however i find it so difficult to get through his books! They are not boring in topic at all, in fact they have many great themes and present ideas which could be discussed and debated for hours. However, they are the type of books which i need encouragement to read. Blogging is not exactly my thing, there are so many themes in the book that i wish we could have had time to go over in class, some of my favorites were:

In Book II when Zossimov briefly discusses his opinions on love

in Book II when Zossimov returns from talking to Madam H and Ivan is discussing the seperation of church and state with the monks

In book III-- the contradictory impulses within each character are presented throughout the entire novel but i think they are more blatant within Madonna Sodom and all that, that fascinates me because as complex and contradictory as a character can be, real people can be so much more so

In Book III-- when Smerdakov is discussing his religious views

Within the novel there are many points i like to talk about within the realm of reality. I like to speculate and look at things philisophically so looking at them solely within the plot of the novel is dificult for me....The Brothers Karamazov is a good book, but i definately dont think I would read it again. I still have a good hundred pages left and I plan to finish it over the weekend, but its not something im joyously looking forward to. I respect the book more than revel in its literary eloquence

Individual Presentations

I am so glad to have my individual presentation over with. Initially i was very nervous about it but it turned out to be a pretty laid back endeavour. everyone has had a lot of interesting things to say about this class. I personally think i took a lot away from it considering what a short course it was and how much material we had to cover. Someone mentioned that they would have liked to have been able to delve deeper into the topics and such. I feel like that would be very dificult when we have such a large course load to cover and such a large class. In college i feel as though a lot of the time it is more dificult to generate organized discussions because so much of that is up to us and everyone in the class is on different levels and has different interests. It was nice getting to hear a little bit from everyone though, i just wish the presentations could have been a little bit longer buttt it is what it is, we did well with the time we were given i think!

Alyosha

My favorite character in the Brothers Karamazov is Alyosha I think. Alyosha is potrayed in a way that makes him look like somewhat of a pushover and somewhat of a generally good guy. He seems to have the ability to read people (somewhat) and counsel them in their times of need. A great example of this is when he talks to Koyla in a manner that is neither condescending nor lofty. In all of the scenarios throughout the novel in which Alyosha is providing counseling he appears to be genuine in his concern, however in some ways I feel as though he almost gets taken advantage of.

Back to Job...

This is just a paper i wrote that i think deals with some of the stuff we have talked about in class. Especially after yesterday discussing Jesus and such....

Throughout history God has been viewed by human beings as benevolent, omnipotent, and immanent. However, the perceptions of God in the Old Testament, and the perceptions of God in the New Testament are viewed as two separate entities. The God of the Old Testament is a God who possesses qualities similar to man; he is wrathful, vindictive, and even vulnerable. The God of the New Testament is mainly seen through Jesus, an incessant symbol of love and forgiveness. As man begins to grasp and comprehend God he develops into a God less comparable to the human condition. Man attributes human qualities to entities beyond their comprehension in order to bridge the gap between what they can verify, and concepts beyond their range of experience.
The God of the Old Testament was a God of judgment and vindictiveness, both on Israel , as well as all the nations. However, he was a God formed in the human condition. The book of Job is evidence of God’s humanity. Job is the first of five books commonly referred to as "The Books of Poetry" in the Old Testament. In chapter one, Job is described as a man of great probity, virtue, and piety. He has seven sons and three daughters, possesses much livestock and many servants and is respected by society. Job is right in the eyes of God and is a servant of the Lord. God permits Satan to put the virtue of Job to the test. Satan and God place a bet on Job’s faith in God. “And the Lord said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, from going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.” (Job, 1. 7) God essentially puts his creation in Satan’s hand. If God was to lose the wager between them Satan would fundamentally prove that the essence of Gods existence, faith, does not exist. This is the only scripture in the bible where God’s vulnerability, a quality associated only with man, is evident. Satan begins by taking away all of Job's riches, his livestock, his house, his servants, and his children. “Let me alone, that I may take comfort a little, before I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death.” (Job, 10. 20) Satan strips Job of all of his possessions and loved ones; all that Job has worked for in life is taken from him in a matter of days. However, Job refuses to revoke his faith in God, as well as in his righteousness, and repent for forgiveness. Though Job has been robbed of the physical possessions which set him above other members of society, he still exists in his own flesh and health. Satan recognizes that in order to debilitate Job’s faith he must strip him of his own flesh and physical self. However, even when he was exiled to a dung heap to live out the rest of his days and decay in the flesh he refuses to repent and profess his faith for sins which he did not commit. “I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.” (Job, 19. 25) After Job’s refusal to renounce his faith and curse God, God wins the wager.
The scripture of Job tells certain self evident truths about the human condition in relation to God. Similarly to the scripture of Job, Archibald McLeish's J.B., a modern verse retelling book of Job, pits God and the Devil against one another for the ultimate prize, the faith of a good man. The play opens with Nickles and Mr Zuss, actors who are reduced by time to selling concessions. However, they play the roles of God and Satan- ironically the most recognized and defining dichotomy of all time. As in the book of Job, Satan challenges God to take his most faithful man, strip him of everything he holds dear, including his own flesh, and watch him curse god. J.B., a wealthy banker assumes the role of Job. He describes his prosperity as a reward for his faithfulness and belief of God.

Although antithetical with the message in the book of Job, the tower of Babel is analogous with the scripture of Job in the sense that they both demonstrate man’s attempt to attribute human qualities with God. The scripture of the tower of Babel occurs in the Old Testament. The society of Babel forms a rebellion against God and eventually depicts the overreach of human aspirations. As a united group, the people of Babel initiated an enormous project to build a turret that would reach heaven. They said to each other, "Let us make bricks and bake them thoroughly." So they had bricks for building blocks and tar for mortar. Then they said, "Let us build a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens. Let us make a name for ourselves so we will not be scattered around the earth." (11:1-4) this scripture claims that humanity itself was once a single community, they shared the same language, customs, and society. However, the people of Babel were intent on creating their own city and culture. “God came down to see the city and the tower which the men had built. God said, "If as one people with one language this is the beginning of what they can do, then nothing they plan will be impossible for them. Let us go down and confuse their language there so no one can understand the other's language." (11:5-7) God confounded their ability to communicate with one another, essentially making it impossible to build a tower that reached the heavens. God was not threatened by the building of the tower itself, however he was threatened by their attempt to disobey his commands and show a lack of faith in him.

Group Presentations

I thought the group presentations were great overall. My favorite one was the debate. I thought it was a very creative and interesting format, however i think some of the ideas could have been articulated much better. Each group had valid points but they didnt necessarily follow through with them in an effective manner. I also think at times certain individuals were missing the point. But anywho, i applaud the creativity and it was more interesting than just listening to people talk and talk and talk. I liked how all of the groups essentially were able to incorporate different elements from each of the retellings into their presentations. The presentation which drew comparisons from Pocahontas to Avatar was very interesting because I have been saying that since i saw Avatar in theatres!! I also thought it was interesting how Avatar was brought up because it is a retelling which we see so often. There, unfortunately, are so many times in history in which one culture or society has completely destoryed or exploited another. We have lost so much knowledge as a result of that, its horribly depressing. But yeah, good work everyone.

Antigone

Antigone
What I found most interesting after reading Antigone is the title of the story itself. The actual character of Antigone plays such a small role. She is simply the oldest daughter of Oedipus, she doesn't have many lines and she isn’t a very exciting character. I speculate that it has something to do with the main message Sophocles was trying to send when he wrote the play. In some ways he is attempting to show cost of being callow opposed to moral. I also think it is very apparent that he is using the female archetype to expose Creons weaknesses throughout the play.

Job

We have talked a lot about Job in our class this year, though we have never gone over his story specifically it has come up via comparisons and is applicable to many of the themes and storys.

These are just a few quotes which i thought illustrated certain truths about the human condition.

"Let darkness and the shadow of death stain it; let a cloud dwell upon it;let blood be upon their skins;let the blackness of the day terrify it." The Book Of Job--3:5

I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. Job, 19. 25

Though wickedness be sweet in his mouth, though he hide it under his tongue. Job, 20. 12

just a couple thoughts on those....


The characters of God and Satan are vulnerable in the book of Job in order to apply human rationale to concepts beyond their intellectual hold.

Human beings apply rationale to that which they can not grasp



Man applies human qualities to entities beyond their comprehension in order to bridge the gap between what they can verify and concepts beyond their range of their experience.

dropping eaves

Today I was eavesdropping on a group of girls behind me. They were talking about the show Greek. For starters I was amused because i am eavesdropping for a literature class and of course they are talking about TV. Anyways, they talked about how one of the main love interests of Casey is more attractive than the other and were debating which one she was going to end up with on the last season. Though i have partaken in such conversations, listening to one makes it very amusing. They were so intense and passionate about this show and these people who arent even real. I found myself wondering how the show applies to their lives. Why were some of them rooting for one character while others liked the other love interest. Do these characters remind them of their own personal lives, or are they discussing it because they find the show to be more interesting than their personal lives? Then i began to wonder what my motivations were when i had similar conversations about silly TV shows or whatever the case may be. The same can be applied to literature in some ways, why is it that we read books? is it because they remind us of ourselves, is it because we can insert ourselves in the characters shoes for a moment? or is it because our lives are mundane and it serves as a vacation from that? Or is the reasoning for such things relative? hmmmm i wonder....

my poem

Everything i wish to do before i die

Many people would love to see the world

and i am no exception

I want to see tha lands, the seas and most of all,

everyside possible of the complicated people

both love and deception

i wish to walk along the greatest wall, and be swallowed up as i run through jungles, the trees

growing tall

i want to swim with the turtles, the dolphin and the fish

and dont forget food! i want one of every dish

i want to bunny hop accross the face of the moon

but be back in time to soak up some sun in june

i want to rock climb all over- in thailand and spain

and run joyously through a monsoons thick veils of rain

but most of all when im done exploring the globe

there is nowhere i would rather be than home

and there i will join my love one and true

and together we will be until time is through

we will start a family with children and friends

and when were ready we'll go to worlds end

and there we will stand on the edge of it all

and when were ready at last

together we'll fall

Cathedral- Raymond Carver

Cathedral was a very touching story; it has been told and retold many times to say the least. I think it really gets at the message that one cannot truly understand another man’s existence. We can never insert ourselves into someone else’s life or truly understand their emotions, or what inspires them. We can only begin to grasp others thoughts and desires by comparing them to our own. It also highlights the fact that what we do not understand scares us. The husband almost fears the blind man throughout the story; he is somehow threatened by him. Up until the end he does not understand what the world holds for the blind man. I think that often times when we see people who don’t have the things which we do it scares us. That is why our parents tell us not to talk to homeless people on the side of the road, or why addictions and like things are frowned upon. We do not understand them, but deep down we see elements of ourselves in them, we could be so unfortunate as to have the same weaknesses or disadvantages such as lack of sight, this idea cuts down to the core of our mortality. And accepting mortality is somewhat of a taboo in our society. At the end of the story the narrator experiences an epiphany, life is not set in stone, our experiences are our own but they are not any worse or any better than those around us. Everything in life is relative, our pain our suffering, our experiences define us. The narrator gets to glimpse into the experiences of another human being.

The Lottery- Jackson

The Lottery

The Lottery was an interesting and surprising story. In the discussion questions the final one is:

4. Because The Lottery was written shortly after the end of World War II, some readers have seen it as a warning of the danger of simply “following orders.” Whether given by leaders or ones neighbors. Does this seem a legitimate reading of the story? Do the townspeople simply succumb to natural aggressions or to cultural imperatives?

Reading this story within the context of this question makes it much more interesting. To what degree are we simply following orders in this life? Since most of us are law abiding citizens how do we know that us following orders isn’t having consequences on our happiness in this lifetime already? Though the consequences are less grave how do we know we aren’t missing out on important elements of life? Do we follow blindly? Do we believe things too easily? Was that the author’s message? It also presents the question is what our society promotes the right thing? How do we know we aren’t just conditioned to the point of not being able to recognize our own free will? This story reminded me a lot of 1984. A lot of being human is allowing perception to guide us, if we perceive something to be right or to be the norm we often times blindly follow others.

A Very Old Man with Enourmous Wings- Garcia Marquez

A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings

I enjoyed this story very much, and for some reason it reminded me of the Hunger Artist by Franz Kafka. But anyways, the first discussion question listed after the story is:

1. The central figure of the story apparently really is an angel, despite the villager’s reactions to him and his less than clean appearance. Why it is that everyone in the story, including the priest, finds it so difficult to believe that this is really an angel? Is theirs a failure of imagination? Of faith? Does it tell us something about the modern world? Finally how do the stories style, descriptions and title contribute to our sense that this is or isn’t a real angel?

I think that part of the message of the story is that we don’t want to understand the world around us. We want to rely on this image of a perfect higher power and anything less than perfect would disappoint us, that is part of the human condition. We thrive on the chance that there may be something, glorious and “perfect” which we cannot understand. However, I think that the author is urging us to see that perfection lies within the imperfections around us. Our faith is conditional, we have faith when it suits us, and when we need it, however when we feel secure without it we denounce our faith. I don’t know if the story is as much a message about the modern world as it is about the human condition. Satisfaction does not exist for more than a moment in time. We NEED to set goals which we may not be able to reach, and we NEED to believe in a place which we cannot even imagine. If the things we desire were presented to us we would no longer desire them. The knowledge which we now take for granted was once the foundation for questions which serve as the groundwork for religion, humanity, society etc.

As far as the title, descriptions etc I think that it goes back to us needing something which we cannot understand, the quest for knowledge is what defines us. For all we know we encounter “angels” on a daily basis, many would argue that miracles surround us all the time. Yet we continue to take them for granted.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening- Shout out to my boy Robert Frost from NH

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Since I am from New Hampshire, I absolutely love Robert Frost. It is amazing to read his poetry and know I have camped, hiked or walked around in the areas which he describes. I have visited his house which is now a museum multiple times since it is on the way to the campground which I visit every year. Robert Frost’s use of imagery has always more than impressed me, I can always envision exactly what he depicts, perhaps because I have seen the landscape which he was likely depicting, or perhaps because he is an amazing poet. Either way this poem reminds me of New England winters. There is something so timeless about the landscape in New England, especially in the winter. It is a calm and quiet winter much more peaceful and mild than those here in Montana. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep.” Is such a great description.

The Second Coming- William Butler Yeats

The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand; A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again but now I know that twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

I remember reading The Second Coming during my junior year of high school. We dissected the poem within the context of the book Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. For some reason I very much enjoy the poem. I remember it was written during the aftermath of WWI.

My favorite line I think is:
The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
^^ I find this to be true in many ways, I know many people who are either ignorantly, yet entirely devoted to one belief, or have no convictions whatsoever.

I think this poem highlights a lot about human nature.

Once we as humans have experienced something extreme or dramatic it haunts us, we become wild in some ways i.e. the falcon cannot hear the falconer: This somewhat reminds me of how often times when soldiers are sent to war when they return they are haunted by the experiences which they had yet they long to return to it. The intensity cannot be matched by everyday life for them, they have had a taste of something which they cannot forget.
Once things are set into motion they cannot be stopped, i.e. the center cannot hold.

A Good Man is Hard to Find- Flannery O' Connor

A good man is hard to find has many interesting elements. It also begs many questions; the question which I found to be the most difficult it presents us with is what is a good man? Or person for that matter. Most would argue that good and evil are elements of nature which are mysterious, and lie in the grey area for us, but exist certainly within the world. Is there such a thing as a good human being? It is congenital within human nature to be petty, selfish and vain. We desire attention from others, material things for ourselves and the validation of those around us. What is Flannery O’Connor trying to say about human nature by having the grandmother reach out to someone who most would consider “evil,” someone who is responsible for the death of those she loves? And who is about to brutally murder her point blank for no apparent reason other than his belief that there is no joy in life other than meanness? Are we able to consider his point?

One of the discussion questions at the end of the story is:

4. By calling the murderer a “misfit” the story seems to suggest that he is not a monster…

I find this to be a very, very interesting point/ question. As a society we naturally shun characters like the misfit, for obvious reasons, but were we in their shoes can we say we would be any different? How come we pity people with diseases, but is it fair to say the misfit has a disease of sorts, or a point? Is it possible to separate ourselves from the brutality of his actions and objectively look at some of the points he made.
"She would have been a good woman . . . if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life." The misfit says at one point. Does that mean he believes he would be a good man if someone were to shoot him every moment of his life? What does the misfit think of himself?

The lady with the Pet Dog (Chekhov)

After reading The Lady with the Pet Dog the first thing that came to my mind was mid-life crisis. It also reminds me of how many believe that romance, in the true sense of the word, is dead. Many people marry into loveless engagements in the modern world, and many are simply infatuated with people because they see things in them which they do not see in the world. I feel as though Dmitri sees in Anna elements of the world which he has either ignored, or believed did not exist. However at the same time, Chekhov portrays Yalta as this wild chance. Sometimes things all come together at the perfect time, momentary Utopia and peace. Though they are rare and chance happenings they can reorganize someone’s thoughts, provide new clarity in the moment; and when they are gone the memory of them is like a plague, a shadow cast over a life of understanding. I believe there is a moment in time in everyone’s life, where just for a moment everything makes sense. For Dmitri this moment is Anna. Though Dmitri appears to be a completely mundane character hardly worth analysis, the fact that he clings to this memory makes him interesting. Many of us desire things and are too afraid to allow that desire to consume us, Dmitri is not. The average person has this passing with fate and forgets about, or buries it in order to continue their lives they way they think they are supposed to be living them the fact that he does not makes him a very intriguing character to me.

Araby

Araby was a very interesting story to me. It highlights many points that we don’t necessarily have the time to reflect on. Araby basically sums up modern day life. As children we are constantly seeing the wonder and beauty in everything. A small story can inspire romance and an impregnation of emotion which becomes harder and harder to find as we grow older. Many would argue that our imagination is lost as we age. However, I believe that it is the mundane details of everyday life that distract us from these emotions and imaginings which are still possible. The story Araby captures and condenses the average life perfectly. We have all of these plans for the future, we see ourselves as astronauts, firefighters or adventurers as children and as time passes reality sets in. we have to work and go to school, get jobs, our daydreams are trumped by obligations and eventually we forget how. This is somewhat of a negative outlook, but I don’t think most people start out their lives intending to work desk jobs or simply get married and settle down. That is not to say there isn’t beauty in every life or in every choice we make, however our dreams rarely come true, just as the case in Araby with the narrator, Mangan’s sister and the Bazaar. Life and forces out of his control get in the way.

just a couple things...

I do not believe that every book is interesting. But most certainly everyone should be interested by books. Our minds are such a deep unattainable place. We have no idea how they work or what goes on inside of them, but I truly believe that books can entirely enhance someone’s life. The four years in which I quite literally, lived, breathed, slept and ate books were some of the best of my life. I look back on them with more than sentimentality. I still get hassled by my friends and called weird but I could care less, I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I was being one hundred percent myself. At the same time however, it is not possible to live that way anymore and be entirely happy. The world is moving at a different pace, people appreciate different things, have different likes and dislikes. I wish that everyone could appreciate a good book, or for that matter even a good conversation. I feel as though I am constantly dumbing myself down even to talk to my best of friends. My interests include philosophy, literature and general speculation about the world around us. However people simply don’t have the attention span for conversations like that. I have not met someone who has satisfied me conversationally in years, if ever. The world is changing and unfortunately it is veering away from deep conversation, nature and literature. It is still possible to live as a purist, loving the earth and the stories generated and regenerated, passed down from culture to culture, person to person, but living that way means living alone, or not being entirely accepted by the world around you. It takes a strong person to do that, and I don’t think there are many out there. Those who are considered crazy or old fashioned. Even the course load for this class involves blogging. I enjoy putting a pen to paper and putting my thoughts on the page, seeing my own hand writing attached to my own thoughts. I know that you would argue that when the pen came out it was a new form of technology, but with every new form of technology we are putting less and less of ourselves into our convictions. When I look at what I just wrote it is only my words, it is not my writing, or the fullest expression of myself. I find it much less rewarding. It is only one element of me instead of multiple. I am a college freshman and I can’t even write the ABC’s in cursive. It surprises me that you promote the use of toys such as the Ipad or the use of blogs instead of journals. Sure, you can look up words you don’t know with one touch. But whatever happened to turning the pages of a donated library book, the smell that only accumulates after years of use, the creak of the pages as the seam weakens. Whatever happened to looking up the words you don’t know in a dictionary, or for that matter asking a friend or mentor what they mean. Instead of having conversations with people about their thoughts on novels, themes or characters we Google the book for generic answers. Literature is becoming less and less intriguing because it is becoming less and less of a social Endeavour. We don’t get together to drink tea and discuss books, or anything for that matter, we go out to a movie or to a bar. The obvious rebuttal would be that we still can get together and drink tea and read books. But that becomes a lifelong quest that requires complete devotion, there are not many people who enjoy those things anymore and doing them alone simply doesn’t cut it. Books have become boring because they are not the same as they used to be, reading a book does not enhance social situations with the general population. In fact in many ways it makes you socially awkward it puts you above the general population; the conversations which we have in class, as interesting or as entertaining as they are, are half of what they could be. Books are addicting, “original” thought is addicting, but in this day and age they won’t take you far I feel like. I would appreciate to hear your thoughts on this because it is something that troubles me on a regular basis. I don’t voice my opinions in class often and I am rather quiet because I feel like people often times don’t have a genuine interest in the conversations and I don’t want to waste my breath. This class has been great and I have learned a lot from it, it also brought me back to one of the best, most free times in my life. However at the end of the day I find it slightly depressing as well. Supposedly fifty percent of the American population is depressed, and there is a fifty percent divorce rate. I believe that that is because we rely on all of these false means of communication and the media and all of these silly gadgets. We allow them to could our judgment and deter from who we really, truly are at the core. I am not saying I am not guilty of this. I own a TV and a laptop and watch stupid TV shows and buy movie tickets and DVD’s instead of books, but I feel as though that is the only way to integrate myself into this society, and once you start all of that it is addicting.

My Final Paper: What I know Now

What I Know Now
I have always looked at the world with an imaginative flair. As a child I could turn the average middle school day into an adventure, recapitulating the mundane into something much more. Historically, literature was the footpath on which I traveled to melodramatic and sensational places.
As a child it was not a stretch to say I was eccentric. I loved the nature, and the sublime feel of the New England Hemlock forests which surrounded my home. I longed to be the beautiful heroine in a saga which involved perilous adventures, dangerous landscapes, wizards and of course a handsome prince.
My first encounter with the fantastical was actually a twist of fate. I specifically remember one day I was waiting for my mother to pick me up afterschool (she was always late) and I found a completely battered, torn, barley readable copy of The Hobbit on the pavement in the parking lot. I had no idea that this would be the start of a four year long infatuation with the fantastical and transcendent. In the fifth grade alone I read The Lord of the Rings three times; that entire year, I would fashion my days around it. I would dress myself in bed sheets and wear necklaces as crowns which I imagined were fashioned by elves, with a technique that could not be created outside of middle earth. I bought a recreation the ring (one ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them). I imagined its weight around my neck, the desire which I would have to resist. How easy it would be to slip it onto my finger and disappear. I bought the entirety of The Lord of the Rings collector edition Barbie dolls and I would play with them for hours on end, interpreting virtually every scene I had memorized.
The next year I read Robin Hood and King Arthur. I pictured myself as Guinevere or the Maid Marian, fair skinned, with long golden hair braided down my back. I would make garlands out of wildflowers and lemongrass from our gardens and weave them into my fine hair. I lived in my play house, pretending that I was Maid Marian, waiting for Robin Hood to come back from one of his adventures and passionately embrace me. I even picked up archery because I read one version of King Arthur in which Guinevere was praised for her use of the bow and arrow. I would spend hours in our forests with mine, using trees as my target but pretending as though I was rebelling against the times as a female and defending Camelot.
The year in which I turned eleven I read Harry Potter for the first time. I remember my friends eleventh birthday was on December 4th, I called her the second I woke up after her birthday to see if she had received a letter of acceptance to the school of Hogwarts, she hadn’t. Secretly, I reveled in the fact that she had not received one; it would only impress her that much more when I relieved mine on July 7th. I waited up well past midnight( the time at which they are supposed to be received) wondering if the owl meant to deliver mine had perhaps been injured, or for that matter intercepted by Voldemort since obviously I would play a part in his demise if I was accepted into the wizarding community. It never came but I continued to listen to all the books on tape every night before I went to bed. I still do to this day.
In seventh grade I read a book called The Song of the Wanderer. It was about a young girl who was unsatisfied with her life in modern times and who was whisked away into a land of fantastical creatures, mainly unicorns. My life from thereon out was to be a unicorn inquisitor. I became obsessed with unicorns. I bought Coffee table books filled with images of beautiful unicorns; I read every book I could get my hands on. I looked up markings they would leave with their horns and hooves online and in reference books and I would trek miles into our acreage looking for unicorn feces, scrapings, mating grounds and marks they would leave on the trees. I devised a theory that when the earth had flooded and the animals were sheparded onto Noah’s Ark the unicorns had simply turned into Narwhals I started a nature club at my school, though I was the only member, sometimes my sister would tag along on my adventures. I had a test for anyone who wanted to join the club in which they had to prick every finger with a thorn and if it didn’t come out in the shape of a crescent, which I believed to be a mystical symbol worn by Morgan Le Fay, a pagan goddess like figure in King Arthur, then they could not join. I also required them to stand in the coldest puddle I could find after a rain storm for ten minutes, and then they would have to duel me in a sword (stick) fighting contest, if they lost they were not worthy. The purpose of my club was to be one with nature, literally. I believed that I could communicate with trees as well as all of the other plants. The two friends that I had would have me help their mothers with the gardening; I would tell them whether or not their plants had maggots which needed to be dealt with. Though they humored me, I think I slightly annoyed even them. In retrospect I am not surprised no one else joined my club.
There was one point in which I became obsessed with Shakespearean literature, particularly, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I read the tale over and over again. I longed to live as a fairy, or at least outwit one. I built a new fairy house out of twigs, moss, pine cones and stone everyday for two months one summer, hoping fairies resided in them at the night; Holding grand balls and mystical parties. I calculated the exact night of “Midsummer” because I believed that the fairies had a grand festival on this night. I was convinced that every midsummer night the fairies would come together in a large field and drink fairy wine and dress in their finest clothes woven out of silk from spider webs and cocoons. On the night which I had calculated to be exactly in the middle of summer I snuck out of my house with a gas burning lantern and walked a mile and a half into my woods with my friend Maureen to a clearing in which I believed they would gather. The day before I had had my mother take me to a fabric store where I bought green and brown fabrics and fashioned myself a whimsical dress/ cloak which I pinned with Celtic symbols since my research had shown me that the fairy population had derived from Ireland, specifically Stonehenge. We danced in the wet grass and frolicked around well past midnight when I believed the festivities would start. Eventually, disappointed but not deterred from my belief of their existence we retreated.
By the time Eighth Grade had rolled around it was safe to say I was an outcast at our small school. I was known as the girl who wore garlands to class, leggings with unicorns and Pegasus’s on them, and capes pinned around my chest with Celtic symbols. I had two friends in my grade who were gradually losing interest in my crazy escapades and beginning to chase boys and paint their nails. I developed a very close relationship with the school librarians. I spent both lunch and recess in the library, researching anything and everything mystical. Though we were not allowed to eat in the library, they made an exception for me. They allowed me to hang posters which I had drawn of unicorns and fairies with messages promoting belief in the cryptic creatures I believed quietly inhabited this earth. One day the library was closed for recess without warning so I was forced to eat outside on the blacktop with all of the other kids. I remember all of the “popular” boys in our grade were playing a game of football on a field to the left of the basketball courts. There was a tree that they were trying to kick down because it kept getting in the way of their game. I went over kicked two of them in the shins and sat in front of the tree for the rest of recess so they could no longer kick it. I thought it deserved a peaceful death. After recess of course I was written up and sent to the principles, but no punishment came out of it, simply I think because he felt so bad for me.
Every other Friday there was a school dance for the seventh and eighth graders that went until ten. All of the cool girls in my school would talk about it all day long, and the guys would be just as excited. Little known to most of our school, on these weekends there was also the Book Club at the library. The Book Club was for fifth and sixth graders mainly, but I would work as a volunteer every other weekend, hoping to collect followers into my nature club. I never did.
Throughout the four years of middle school I had had a crush on the same guy. He lived on my street, two doors down and we had one class together. In elementary school we had been good friends and played together often, four wheeling and catching frogs at the pond. Though I liked him all throughout middle school I hadn’t had time to pursue him, but I always thought he liked me too. When we saw each other in the halls I thought he always smiled at me. I would stand at the water fountain near his locked and try to look pretty like the high school girls did in movies I was barely allowed to watch. I always imagined him asking me out, or to a dance or trying to kiss me, though I would have respectfully declined. I remember one day I was standing in line waiting to get my lunch and he got in line behind me. I was so excited; I turned around and said “Hello,” “Lindsay! He said, you still go to this school? I thought you moved like four years ago.” I was not only heartbroken, but I was confused. Was I really that much of an outcast that my own neighbor, who lived two doors down from me, who rode the bus with me on occasion, thought I had moved?
The prompt for this paper was “What do I know now, that I did not know then as a result of this class.” After this incident with the boy I liked, I didn’t exactly swear off books, but I relied on them much less. Books were quite literally my life for four years. I read at least four a week, advanced books at that. In the seventh grade I read “A Reflection on the French Revolution” By Edmund Burke, a book that I daresay many college students could not get through now. I don’t think I watched an hour of TV in those four years (with the exception of movies like Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, King Arthur and Robin Hood…the Kevin Costner version obviously) My vocabulary in sixth grade was estimated to be equivocal to that of most college freshman and I had a perfect GPA, though I never did homework I talked my way through every class. However, I had virtually no friends, with the exception of the librarians who I think were more interested in me as an individual than liked me as a person. I spent my days living in a world which did not exist outside of my head. I was literally living in a fantasy world, alone. Though I was happy I did not realize how disconnected from society I was, from the people around me. I swore I would never allow myself to get to that place again. So I essentially stopped reading.
I have never been an individual who is able to live a highly balanced lifestyle. I always completely and passionately throw myself into whatever it is that I perceive to be what I love most. So when high school rolled around I passionately invested myself in the social scene. I found a new group of friends (or a group of friend’s period) for that matter and spent most of my time chasing boys, partying or whatever. I had a great time, wasting a lot of time.
Though I didn’t mention this earlier I also had an obsession with The Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales, I had a few different collector edition collections of their stories, as well as illustrated edition versions and used worn ones (which were my favorite because I liked to imagine what the previous owner had been like.)I sold most of these books my freshman year of high school, and put the rest in storage. I dabbled in literature after that, but spent many more afternoons either out with friends or in front of the TV watching trash shows like the OC. For reasons which had lain dormant for a long, long time, picking up a copy of Retellings and reading the syllabus for this course excited me.
I found that I loved reading the retellings of fairy tales which were strewn across the pages of this anthology. I missed imagining myself as these beautiful and complex characters. I missed inserting my own qualities into their words and descriptions. It felt so good to once again imagine myself in the scenarios presented to me in the pages of the anthology. I missed looking at the world around me and imagining how it would sound on the pages of a worn book.
I also used to love to write, I wrote poetry, short stories, and lengthier stories. I invented characters in which I used myself as the foundation, sewing my weaknesses, fears and strengths into their seams. The knowledge which I have gained from this class is not knowledge in the traditional sense of the word, but knowledge of self. I have found a place in which I can live my life both within the realms of an excellent novel and also in the real world, a place where the two feed off of each other to make life more interesting, and that is what I know that I did not know before.

For anyone in my group...

For anyone in my group for projects I have been pretty sick all weekend long, I also dont have the sheet haha- i can be reached at 6037595953 or jessicalchester7@yahoo.com...I'll keep trying to contact you guys. sorry, being sick blows.