door number one or number two?

This week we finished reading Mrs. Dalloway. One of our discussion questions was about the choice Clarissa makes between Richard and Peter. Whether we thought she made the right choice or not.

Are all choices right or wrong? Is it really that black and white?

I think back at the many many choices I have made in my journey to where I am now - what college, what major, even what computer to type on. Those are big. There are smaller ones too - white or red wine? sneakers or sandals? air-conditioning or fan? The small ones aren't exactly going to impact my life in any great way (although having flip-flops on when it rains could be argued to be a good decision). Then there are the bigger ones, the ones that I possibly feel regret about - letting love walk out of my life, cutting people off because they were slowly making me a terrible person, not having the gas immediately turned on when I moved into my first apartment.

But years later, who's to say if I wouldn't regret chasing that love and ending up miserable, or continuing an unhealthy relationship just to have a person to talk to, or paying the gas bill for those days that I would have otherwise frozen through (but lived to type about)?

You can't beat yourself up about the choices you make. You just learn from them, good or bad.

...can you read my mind?

Even if you could, I doubt that you would want to. If it's anything like what Virginia Woolf presents in Mrs. Dalloway, you definitely want to stay clear.

I know that I do ramble and ... my way to death, but at least I don't do huge paragraphs that start with "For Bob Lablaw..." and go on for an eternity without a break and jump from here to there on a whim.

Or word associate everything to death.

Death...it's a part of the circle of life.

The Lion King, a Disney animated film, features songs by Alan Rice and Elton John.

Elton John sang about a rocketman.

I am watching Firefly.

Okay, so I don't do it often. But it would get annoying. At least I double-spaced.

Are You Wanting to be America's Next Top Survivor Without a Fear Factor?

Social class. Class. Morals.

Dickens.

Ah, Great Expectations. Dickens has some great things to say about social class. and morals.

So do I. I think.

Let's start with reality. Television, that is.

I really think it is the most modern example of what Dickens was trying to say. Every day, hundreds (not an officially statistic, and probably off by thousands) of people audition for shows like Deal or No Deal, Survivor, and my personal favorite: Are You Smarter Than A Fifth-Grader? Seriously Fox, you took off Firefly for Foxworthy!?!?!?!?!? And American Idol, a million nights a week. What has the world come to?

The only people sadder than those who audition for these shows are the people who keep them on the air-the people that actually watch them. Why!?! Is there really anything to be taken away from these shows? There, I ranted and now I can get back to the point.

The point being, of course, that people will do ANYTHING for their 15 minutes. My absolute favorite example is Fear Factor, a show where people would have to do anything from eating bugs to intestines to clotted blood. Yum. I always found it fascinating that this show aired during what most consider the dinner hour. It was surprising that the commercials didn't feature Chianti and fava beans.

These people would partake in these challenges to prove that 'fear is not a factor' to them. But all they really proved is that they were IDIOTS. You weren't guaranteed any money for leaping across buses in fractions of seconds; and the money that you might get (a nice sum of $50,000) probably wouldn't cover your hospital bills a month later (well after you signed a waiver releasing your "likeness" and every other right you had to the network).

Of course there are a million other shows that don't require you to eat the placenta from a cat. Instead, you can degrade and humiliate yourself in a social science experiement where you lie a million times and tell yourself (and audiences) that it's okay. Such nice things for our children to learn.

If reality TV is not your bag (or you are just too ugly to be cast) you can always go the lottery route.

But you won't be happy. Sometime, somewhere, the money will run out. The friends you thought you had will be your friends no more. See Steve Martin in The Jerk. All you will have is a chair (or was it a lamp?) Your Bernadette Peters won't love you anymore either.

Now, if you plan on giving millions to Darfur or buying a factory to create robotic soldiers to replace the troops so we can bring them home, that's okay. But if you buy the house right next to Bill Gates and eat a truffle salad everyday for breakfast, don't ask where everyone who cared went. They went when your morals did.

Sidenote: if you want to send a little money to a charitable cause aka my student loan fund, feel free

And if anti-reality tv is a cause you feel is worth fighting for (it is!) tune into CBS Mondays at 7 PM for a wonderful show called How I Met Your Mother. Trust me, you will get more out of it than guessing money in a briefcase, and you will be furthering the cause.

California Dreamin'

We all have expectations.

We go to college to earn degrees with the expectation that we will get a good job, settle down, and have a family.

We dream of owning the six-figure car, paid for by the six-figure job, and living in the six-figure house.

Why do we aspire to accomplish such a vast range of things? And why can't everyone succeed?

In Dicken's Great Expectations, Pip tries to break the mold he was born into-a sister who rejects and loathes Pip for being born and a lifestyle that most would find retched. One reason this story has maintained it's popularity is it has the ability to relate to just about anyone.

So read the book and dream a little.

Frankenstein...Goblins....What's Next?

Goblins get a bad rap. They are short and ugly and have spawned ideas for other creatures (house-elves, Golem). So perhaps they were the perfect, yet odd, choice for Rossetti's poem "Goblin Market." Over the course of the poem, one girl named Lizzie, gobbles up fruit sold by the goblins. She could not help herself, they kept crying out to her! Her sister, Laura, shelters herself from the advertising in order to not cave herself.

Sounds like marketing today. Can you even watch an hour of television (via actual TV) without seeing the same (usually terrible) ad over and over and over? With technology this has gotten even worse. Billboards, pop-ups, flash banners, special sponsorships, promotions, infomercials--even foreheads-- have become a place for sellers to make their mark. We cannot, no matter how much we may desire, flee the scene as Laura does. And we cannot give into to every advertising ploy or we would be broke (and dead). We must find a happy medium within our own desires.

Of Cupid, Valentines, and Lovefools...

So this week we had the pleasure of reading Elizabeth Browning's "Say over agin, and yet once over again..." I surely hope Browning wasn't as ignorant as the speaker of the poem.

The poem embodies everything I hate about Valentine's Day (except that whole massacre thing). It sounds like a Hallmark card. It probably is one.

Sure, hearing "I love you" is nice. But this phrase is so overused it has lost all meaning. Think walking down the hall and saying "how are you?" to someone. You don't actually expect their response. Or watching a Tarantino film-the language (albeit not "I love you"-except for the Honey Bunny/Pumpkin scene in Pulp Fiction) eventually fades into the background.

The poem ends with the speaker saying that saying "I love you" is not enough. You also have to love them with your soul. Awesome. If only this were possible to express. The last line is the major flaw of the poem. It implies an extreme trust between the two individuals. Except that one of them needs to hear that they are loved all the freakin' time!

The speaker should have focused on the expression of love. How one can prove that they love someone else. Words mean nothing, but a candlelit dinner in France could mean more.

And now I have undermined my entire point. You can't buy love(thanks Lennon/McCartney), but it is an action that somehow shows how much you care. See also: candy hearts.

Everything is ironic when you are exhausted

I am identifying with Shelley's Victor alot today. I am also very tired, so bear with me.

My Frankenstein is a short story. I have devoted alot more time to writing it (an actual rough draft, not the entire thing the night before) and woke up this morning to see just how horrid this creature is. We are talking plot digressions, extranious characters, crappy dialogue, and over the page limit. I really just want to chuck it and do a gut-shot story (and another all-nighter).

But reading about Victor's plight kind of scared me.

Will this story haunt my dreams? Will it result in the death of my loved ones?

Probably not.

I will just spend one more torturous night trying to get it right. My family should thank me.

We've Got Class

What is class? Is it a certain position of wealth? Is is a sense of morality?

It's not something we really consciously think about today. Yes, we have our divisions in society. Some are geological, and some have to do with a certain status of importance. And we all remember sitting at a certain table at lunch. But do we purposely segregate ourselves from those of a certain monetary background? Some do. But with public schools and workplaces blending a variety of backgrounds, this is not really a trend.

Still, there is a percievable amount of tension within our country. We fight everyday on immigration issues. Is this an issue of class (pick a definition) or protecting our homeland?

Intellectual Implosion

My head hurts. I blame poetry. Three word sentences. Describe philosophic poems. What is purpose? What is beauty? The point is?

Ok, I will stop. Pardon me if I feel the least bit frustrated after analyzing "Ode to a Nightingale" (Keats) and "Hymn to Intellectual Beauty" (Shelley). Either these guys were geniuses or they were smoking something that probably wasn't so illegal back in their day. Probably the former. Anyway. Both of these poems posed serious questions that no one should have to think about at 10 pm. Which poses another question altogether: why did I wait until 10 pm to read them? Ugh. Too much to think about.

Keats addresses the meaning of life, death -and quite possibly taxes- as he ponders his own purpose and why anything really matters at all. After reading it, I could not help but reflect on my own purpose (currently to get an important piece of paper called a degree) which made me want to find my secret stash of hemlock and put myself out of misery (and doing the taxes).

Shelley brings up beauty. And, as I somehow understand? it, beauty is subjective. As is poetry. As is life. As is humor. I find lots of things beautiful that could be considered ugly. I also find (usually the same "ugly" things) lots to be humorous that are typically depressing. Life is funny that way. Of course, that is my own subjective view.

Speaking of subjective beauty (and speaking to my love of the cinema), go see Children of Men. Not only does it star Clive Owen (yum), but it is probably the most beautiful thing you will see all year. And if you disagree, I want to know why.

Make Up Your Own Mind!: Reader Bias, Interpretation and Expectations

I think it is important to address the argument of authorial intent. Being an English major, I am ashamed to admit that at one time I thought that some of the "classics" we read today were simply written to put bread on the table. I was that close-minded. I refused to believe that there was anything truly existential about Camus or that Beowulf was anything more than some warped historical record.

Of course, this was before I had a professor who could actually teach literature the right way. Once I did, I saw EVERYTHING in a new light. I had to re-evaluate all forms of text. Movies I once hated (Citizen Kane and Garden State to name two drastic examples) became some of my most cherished. Books I once loved started to collect dust because they weren't really trying to say anything. And the more I began to submerge myself in the art of text, the more I began to understand that it is just that-art. There is an artist (or artists) who has/have the ability to craft every angle of the story.

I now enjoy poetry, short stories and alot of other texts that I used to find pointless. This begs the question, how much do our expectations affect our overall interpretation of a certain work?

To use this week's assignments as an example: I was able to more fully comprehend Lord Byron's "When We Two Parted" opposed to Coleridge's "Rime," simply because my mind saw how many words were in each. Going into Coleridge's poem, I was looking for Christian symbolism and elements of the supernatural simply because Dr. Hochenauer told us to. Whereas, in Lord Byron's work, my interpretation was based on what I knew of heartache.

And now for a broader example: Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn recently starred in the film "The Break Up." This movie did not do well, but is actually a very good film (I think). It didn't do well because Jennifer Aniston is associated with chick flicks (or romantic comedies to be PC) and Vince Vaughn does (with the exception of the Psycho remake) screwball comedy. The film was marketed as a chick flick, thereby setting the audience up with the expectation that in the end the guy would get the girl and life would be beautiful. Instead, the film is a closer look at a dying relationship-which can also be beautiful. Audience expection was built up by the trailer ads and was not fulfilled with the actual film.

Of course, I didn't know that at the time I saw the film and I (originally) hated it as much as anyone else.

Back to the literature aspect of things. I believe for every ten authors who try to make a grand statement on life or morals or religion, there is one that is not. But even if that is not their intent, they somehow will address something of importance. It is up to our interpretation to determine what.

English Lit Since 1800

So this is my blog for EngLit. I have no idea what we are going to do with them, only that they are required (or so I have deduced). Because my previous track record with blogs shows a tremendous gap in between postings, I am somewhat excited to have an excuse to post stuff with content.