A Measure of Hope

(I put Mr. Morrison in my synthesis conversation with Raymo)

The piece we read recently by Chet Raymo, called “A Measure of Restraint,” centered on a worry that has plagued me for years: the worry that science may be used for ill, either intentionally or accidentally.  I have a lot of ideas that could eventually be made into reality, but some of them I’ve never even tried to produce, for fear of how they might be used.  I identify with a character of a series I read last summer, the first book of which was titled Above World, within which said character is instructed to build a weapon and refuses.  There is so much potential for wrongdoing when one constructs something powerful – or simply very different from anything existing – that it can seem it is best for the world to keep some ideas hidden.  Legend has it an ancient Greek inventor – was it Daedulus, perhaps? – had invented a death ray that focused sunlight to burn ships on the water, but realized the terror his invention would wreak upon the world, and destroyed or modified the blueprints to prevent such a weapon of mass destruction from ever being correctly constructed.  In the aforementioned series I read, however, the character who refuses to build a weapon for moral reasons later regrets his decision, realizing that whatever weapon he could have made would have been available for use for the greater good.  These two decisions – to create an idea and to withhold an idea – reflect the conundrum presented in “A Measure of Restraint”: the fact that an instrument of life can be also an “instrument of death” (Raymo, page 212 in The Bedford Reader).  How can one know what one’s idea will do?  Mr. Morrison, my awesome physics teacher (with whom I have discussed my uncertainty regarding morality of allowing ideas into the world), qualifies Raymo’s assertion by counseling a measure of hope, as he believes “There will always be more good people in the world than bad people.”  While this doesn’t address the complications that result from good people doing bad things on accident, it seems Raymo and Morrison would agree that we should advance with science, but with caution.

 

Belief is a powerful thing; we often fail to realize how important it is to focus on the positive in ourselves to overcome adverse external factors.  The first panel of page 28, Volume II of Maus is a wide view, focusing a lot on the surroundings of the mice, including the chimney out the window that inspires such terror.  Overwhelmed by his seemingly dire situation, Vladek begins to cry in the second panel; all he metaphorically sees (and all we literally see through the window above him) is darkness.  In the third, a priest arrives, notably blocking out the window through which the terrifying chimneys might otherwise have been seen; his concern temporarily distracts Vladek from his misery.  In the fourth, however, when Vladek responds angrily, trying to refocus on the cause of his misery (likely not to risk the psychological pain of gaining hope only to lose it), the darkness is once again visible through the window.  The priest persists, however, and in the fifth panel, the darkness is again shut out as Vladek begins to have hope again.  The priest inspects Vladek's number and provides him with several reasons the numbers mean Vladek will survive.  The priest could, I'm sure, have come up with positive ways to interpret the six digits on Vladek's arm no matter what each digit actually was, because this priest is determined to view things in a positive way.  The belief he spreads to Vladek allows Vladek to focus not on his surroundings, but on himself, which is paralleled by the fact that Vladek's arm enlarges in each of the three panels in which the priest proclaims the numbers' significance.  As Vladek focuses on what he views as positive, and doesn't allow his surroundings to defeat him, the window stays out of view: focusing in on something hopeful allows Vladek to escape the "panes" the window represents.

What?

            In class, we discussed the unusual word order of the father mouse, Vladek’s, speech in the present-day time stream in Maus, as Vladek remembers the Holocaust.  We suggested that the broken patterns of normal speech represent how Vladek is broken by the Holocaust, as his speech is only awkward in the present (after the horrific events he went through), not in the past events he speaks of (before he was “broken”).  I stretched things a little (or a lot, knowing that Art Spiegelman probably never considered this as he wrote) when I pointed out that the inversion of words is reminiscent of the word order used in communications of the deaf, perhaps symbolizing how people are often deaf to what Vladek and Spiegelman are trying to say.

            One key wording motif, the significance of which escaped me until recently, is Vladek’s persistent use of the word “what” in situations where normal English speakers would never think to place it.  For example, on page 62 of My Father Bleeds History, Vladek narrates “And thought all night different things what could happen to us” (Spiegelman 62).  I suggest that the continuous appearance of “what” in surprising places is meant to stand out to the reader as representing, on a very simplified level, Vladek’s reaction to all he’s lived through: “What?”

            I remember at the start of Toni Morrison’s book The Bluest Eye, which we read last semester, she explains how since Claudia finds the “why” too difficult to contemplate, “one must take refuge in how” (Morrison).  Toni Morrison is, to use a favorite word from our class dialect, “deep” – she makes the “how” seem deeper than many of the “whys” I’ve previously considered.  While Spiegelman doesn’t explicitly issue a statement about the levels of what, how, and why, he makes a point similar to Morrison’s about how living during a terrible event can leave a person struggling to grasp the more basic levels.  Spiegelman leaves the how and why up to his readers, and focuses on presenting the what, forming a basis of fundamental understanding that he hopes will lead to greater understanding.

            One other symbolic topic – while I was packing up after class to leave for sixth hour, one of my friends (obsessed with combat, wars, and weaponry) came in and saw the comic book Maus still on my desk.  He told me that Maus is the name of a German supertank – a fact that I doubt someone writing about the Holocaust and World War II wouldn’t know.  I think Art Spiegelman may have named his book as he did to represent how he wanted it to be a metaphoric super-weapon: to protect his people, to break through the walls of ignorance in peoples’ minds, and to be something that people must notice (I don’t have a supertank on hand, but I assume they’re hard to miss).

The Nacirema Effect

            The piece we read about the Nacirema and their bizarre ideas about their mouths blew my mind.  The whole time, even though I was noticing the clues as to the identity of the Nacirema, I’d just think “huh, that’s similar to (whatever aspect of our culture was in question).”  I didn’t realize the subject of the piece was our own culture until Richard mentioned something about the invention of the toothbrush.

            Why is it that my brain was able to find a multitude of similarities between our culture and that of the Nacirema, but still maintain an attitude of separation and surprise at the weird beliefs described?  At the mention of the mouth-related rite of ablution in children to improve “moral fiber,” the soap incident from the movie A Christmas Story came to my mind (Miner 318).  When the Miner’s piece discussed how the people of the mysterious tribe believed all sorts of miseries would befall them if they ceased obsessive dental hygiene – “their teeth would fall out, their gums bleed … their friends desert them” – I thought of how similar this was to our own societal beliefs about the mouth, but I still didn’t consciously make the full connection (318).  Am I unusually clueless?  Yes.  I don’t know how quickly the rest of the class realized the true identity of the Nacirema, but I’m fascinated by the fact that it took at least me so long to clue in.

            I think the root cause (unplanned tooth pun) of my feelings of distance from the people described is that we are raised to view other cultures as slightly weird.  The good thing is, we’re also trained to look for commonalities between ourselves and any other group of people, which is probably why I noticed all the connections between the Nacirema and my own culture.  The disturbing revelation is that even as we tell ourselves we accept all others, that differences are good, there’s still a part of us that says “That’s weird!”, and finds the weirdness distancing.  Weird is good, I think – we want to celebrate differences.  The trick I’m seeking is the one that would allow me to say “Weird Nacirema people!” without feeling so separate from them.  The point of the piece, I think is thus: We shouldn't distance ourselves from others just because we think the others are strange, because from an outsider’s view, we’re pretty weird ourselves.

Consider the Other (and look for fishy puns)

Humans are, in almost all cases, capable of empathy.  We have needed this ability to feel ourselves what others feel – it keeps us alive, helping one another, not only other humans but other animals.  Sometime millennia ago, a human felt empathy for the hunger of a wild canine, and tossed it a piece of meat.  This happened several times, each time canine and human learning to trust each other a little more, until eventually a bond^A was formed – each creature, that might (if empathy had not been present to turn the tide) have fallen prey to the other, now trusted the other.  The two relied upon each other, helping one another to stay afloat in a dangerous world.

This is why empathy is helpful – it’s purpose, boiled down, (as I sea it) is to unite two or more creatures to aid mutual survival.

Sometimes, however, humans decide to wave off empathy.  This can also be necessary for survival – if you feel empathy for your food, it’s more difficult to eat it.¹  Soldiers are trained, often, to shut off their empathy – it’s a lot easier to assail and destroy an evil “enemy” than another human.  I intended to write more on the topic, but I choose right now to feel empathy for whomever may read this blog post – you have things to do, I’m shore, so I’ll dock a few lengthy paragraphs and clam up (am I punishing you with puns? Does it make you crabby?  Am I flippant?  Does it affect the net worth of this post?  Should I seal this up?  Do you want to lob me, or stir things up? (I am still impressed you used the last two as etymology on the quiz, Lena)).  Okay, I’m almost dophinately done now – I’m verboaten.

Oh, weight – don’t be shellfish, support better treatment of animals, because your empathy should make doing otherwise unbearable.

^A Sea how many water-related puns you can find that seam to connect to our Lobster piece from this week.  I hope to Foster more puns, so come up with your own literary pearls, because I’m running out – I may have hit a Wall(ace). 

¹For waterver reason, I struggle to eat meat for breakfast, but am a happy omnivore the rest of the day – maybe I feel more empathy in the morning, before the world around me demands that I drown my empathy “for practical purposes” (Wallace 665).

 

Imperfection, Humans, Nature, Glow in the Dark Cats … Life and Death

            We all feel a need to be perfect; however, we often mistakenly pursue ideas of perfection warped by the perception of human society.  Nature provides a myriad of examples of human attempts to make perfect that which they see as imperfect.  Take the recent idea of glow-in-the-dark cats: humans thought something natural was imperfect, and so they decided to change it. 

I remember being struck years ago by a quote in a book called The Roar, when a character notes how “whenever humans tried to imitate nature,” they got it wrong.  Specifically, the character was contemplating a plate with a leaf shape repeating around the edge; the same leaf every time, perfectly symmetrical, without blemishes – the leaf represented not nature in its natural state, but nature influenced intentionally by humans.

While glowing cats seem strange to us for now, some attempts at human “perfection” have been accepted for so long that we don’t even consider them to be altering nature anymore.  For example, drugs allowing us to live longer lives past when we would otherwise die – not fully natural.  Eyeglasses, hearing aids, sleeping pills; none of these common objects were around before modern civilization started on a dangerous quest to eliminate imperfections.  Keeping everyone alive and well, doing our best to fight natural selection – thus interfering with adaptation and long-term evolution - we have been, by some theories, weakening our gene pool by allowing the weak to survive past what would have been their times to die. 

Why do we do this – fight death, alter life?

We humans often see death as imperfect, so we seek to correct it.  Septimus, however, when he jumps out the window in Mrs. Dalloway, thinks “It was their idea of tragedy, not his or Rezia’s” (Woolf 149).  Death is a tragedy in that it takes a loved one from us, ending that specific bit of beauty on earth – but, as Septimus sees when he achieves mental clarity, death is also natural.  As Richard tells Clarissa before his suicide in the movie The Hours, there is a time to “let go,” “so [we] can be free.”  When Virginia’s husband asks in The Hours why someone must die in the book, Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia is writing, she replies “So that the rest of us can value life more.”  It is life’s ephemeral (Ms. Valentino’s high-diction word for “passing”) nature that makes it so worth living.

                                                                                Time

            We all (hopefully) remembered to adjust our clocks for the recent time change.   Speaking on the phone with my Grandmother yesterday, we casually contemplated the meaning of time.  With all her clocks adjusted except for the clock in one room that self-adjusts, but had yet to do so, my grandmother said she felt like she changed time zones whenever she entered or left the room.  This seemed funny to me; what the clock says doesn’t actually affect what time it actually is.  I shall go eat cheese-filled meatballs for dinner – yum!  Now I’m here again.  And yet, if I hadn’t mentioned my leave for meatballs, would you have ever known?  What to me was a lengthy, delicious pause in writing might not have even existed to you. 

While I initially thought that what time my grandmother’s clock showed shouldn’t have had any effect on what time was to her, I realized today that I was wrong.  What we perceive the time of day to be, or that of the week, of the year, et cetera, has a large psychological impact on us, and thus what we think and do.  If you think you’re short on time, you hurry more.  If you find out it is Friday when you’ve been thinking it was Tuesday, you might be filled with hope for the weekend, and act much more energetic.  Knowing that it is Christmas season has been proven to make workers more efficient. 

We do not control the flow of time; we simply live as “the leaden circles dissolve.”  Since we cannot stop the circles, why do they matter to us?  I think it is because we control how we spend the time we have.  I think perhaps we give time meaning, just as we give things in literature meaning that the author maybe never tried to create.  I’d suggest that you contemplate the meaning of time, but who has the time?

NO ONE IS PERFECT AT GRAMMAR
MIT has this on the University's admissions page.  When speaking of English proficiency, MIT displays a very ironic lack thereof:
"For non-native English speakers:
You have two options: 1) take the tests required for native English speakers (see above), or 2) you may take the TOEFL and two SAT Subject Tests, one in math (level 1 or 2) and one in science (physics, chemistry, or biology e/m).
If you have been using English for less than 5 years or do not speak English at home and school, we strongly suggest that you take the TOEFL.  We do not accept IELTS in place of TOEFL".

Fewer than 5 years, MIT.:)

Stream of Weirdness

Ms. Valentino said stream of consciousness was an option, my mom just exclaimed "fish," if I stop or go back and edit, is it still stream of consciousness?  My sister just got a song stuck in my head and called me a liar, how rude of her, the cat pooped on the floor this morning, oops that is not a good thing to write probably Big Ben (cause I just thought of the text) but that makes me think of Ben because he's kind of big, or tall, that sounds more polite,

Mr. Morrison shouted woohoo very loudly at the buildOn thing last night his food was good all food is good no liver is not good; that awful cauliflower think my mom made once was so not good; ghost peppers are not good for me, I don't even like regular peppers; I just started thinking about the whole colored dress thing I saw gold and blue, combined the two options, I'm weird, apparently my night vision (according to Mr. Morrison after class) has two components, how quickly I can switch from cones to rods in my eyes and how good the rods are that is cool;

Also I learned from Michelle (spelling is questionable in English; sorry back to the point -> English had more conjugations in the past, the "thou" form was for informal "you", like "tú" en español.  Si escribo en Español, se lo enojará a Val?  Es Buena grammatica o not?  I speeled gramática incorrectly, and mispelled spelled, that's ironic.  Oh yeah, my sister has a book of Shakespearean insults, like "(hold on she's looking at her Shakespearean mug for an example): "O dolt! As ignorant as dirt!; foot-licker; not so much brain as earwax; veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth; anointed sovereign of sighs and groans" that's probably too many

I need to incorporate a textual quote I think I'll use one from Septimus's ruminations on beauty (hah cows ruminate so do deer) ooh good Segway no why did it auto-capitalize Segway ahh again darn that anyway (wait is the mall-cop think a Segway, that thingymabob with wheels?) sorry I got distracted, which is part of the fun of this style of writing, I guess, anyway, I saw a deer that was my Segway I saw a deer at the nature center today volunteering as a Maple Syrup tree-doer (me volunteering, not the deer) anyway this dear ran back and forth, and one of the old people scoffed about how people at the nature center get so excited about the dear, since it's common to him, since he sees them often.  This is like the this is water speech from first semester; the old fart failed to note the beauty in it (actually, he's a nice old dude, I shouldn't have called him a fart, but I'm trying not to censor my thoughts as I write this shoot thinking of that made me think of swear words, then sex, why people like either is beyond me, anyway the old guy thinks that because he's seen deer many times he shouldn't appreciate the joy and surprise of a deer running by anymore, but he's forgetting to see the water, silly old fish, actually that makes him the opposite of the old fish in the story.  The "favorite quote", one anyway, that I chose when we shared them in class was when Septimus, even as he contemplates his own doom, sees beauty in the everyday things around him.  "We welcome, the world seemed to say; we accept; we create"(Woolf 69): Septimus sees beauty in ordinary things, like flies and grass stalks, finding all the ordinary stuff about him "the truth" (Woolf 69)  As he says, beauty, that [is] the truth now: Beauty is everywhere (Woolf 69).

Picture credit to whoever took it so it was on http://m4.i.pbase.com/o6/22/137422/1/120649404.HWoaYlYe.IMGP8168copy6.jpg



Identity

            A person’s identity is strongly influenced by her or his culture, as we might assume.  What we often fail to take into account is that we all live in distinct cultures far more plethoric than those that can be put on a map or on a timeline.  Chinese, Egyptian, American, Mongolian – these are what most people think of as cultures.  I suggest, however, that a culture is any group that has characteristics that unite it.

            If you participate in clubs, sports, or really any activity as part of a group, you are a member of – and thus shaped by – that culture.  Religions, languages, and ethnicities influence individuals as well.  Geographic location, social class, government type; the list of realms of interpersonal representation and communication is endless.  Consequently, each individual belongs to innumerable cultures that struggle for dominance in the fight to control the individual’s identity; this chaotic battle is what makes attempts to follow the “be yourself” adage so convoluted.

            Meena Alexander contemplates the amalgam of cultures she finds within herself when she asks, “What might in mean to look at myself straight, see myself?  How many different gazes would that need?” (Alexander, in her autobiography Fault Lines)  Alexander feels the pull of so many disparate societal influences that she feels her identity is fractured, split into a piece for each culture she has been a part of.  It is arduous, if not theoretically impossible, to determine a singular and specific “gaze” that sees all that there is to see about a person.  Keep this in mind … the side of a person that you see is but one part of his or her identity.

Right in Wrong; Wrong in Right

We all have different definitions of the difference between right and wrong.  Family, friends, teachers, coaches, religious figures, and society as a whole constantly shape our perception.  From the time we are old enough to comprehend language, we are dragooned by a ceaseless barrage of stories meant to teach us lessons about how to live life.  Share, be humble, work hard; the moral teachings are relentless.  However, as we grow older, we learn that right and wrong are not two disparate lands separated by a barrier of unyielding steel.  Rather, the boundary appears quite malleable, and concrete definitions for right and wrong seem elusive.

            What’s the difference between cheating and using resources cleverly?  What’s the difference between lying and keeping a different perspective on the truth?  What’s the difference between stealing and taking something rightfully earned through skill and effort?  What’s the difference between murder and fighting for a cause?   Period. Exclamation mark!  (Parentheses)  Colon: There, now I don’t feel like I used a disproportionate amount of question marks.

            To relate to the piece we wrote our essays on this week in class (and to keep my post a length people are willing to read), I’ll focus on the concept of stealing.  The author defined sin as “what you took and didn’t give back.”  Interestingly enough, stealing is one moral issue that our society teaches is acceptable in some circumstances, glorifying it with the many tales of Robin Hood and his merry men.  They steal money and goods from those who have plenty and give to those who need it more, a lifestyle that is considered heroic and good.  But wait … isn’t stealing “wrong”?  If a hacker today takes money from billionaire bank accounts and gives it to those dying of starvation and thirst, or uses it to end fighting, or spends it to protect endangered animals – is the hacker sinning?  The hacker takes – but the hacker gives back. 

I suppose my view on morals in general, put succinctly, is thus: If you do good, that’s good.  Means and methods may be considered bad, but I believe that a person can do bad things, for a good reason, and be a good person.  I would imagine morals not as right and wrong, but right in wrong.  If there is right in something called “wrong,” it can be justified.  The problem is that this view means anything at all can be justified.  If I remove an incompetent leader to save a political state, that could be right.  If I cheat on test to get good grades to get a good job where I can do stuff to help the world, that could be right.  If I steal to give to a cause that helps people, that could be right.  If I give back, then that is the right in the wrongs I might do.

But … I don’t kidnap the idiots to put new people in charge.  I don’t cheat on tests.  I don’t illegally redistribute wealth to benefit other people.  Why?  Because I’ve been trained to do what is fairy-tale good, not real-world good; Justice System good, not God’s good.  As much as I know that in the long run, a choice in question may lead to greater good than another choice, I often choose the choice parents, teachers, and laws say is right, even if in my heart I suspect an alternative is truly best.  My hope is that God forgives my “right” decisions, and I pray for the strength to make the right decision in God’s view, however “wrong” it may be, when God wills it.

It’s probably right to stop editing now; have a fantastic day.

[Deleted by author]

Hope, Dreams, and Pride

(Walter’s point of view)

                As my father says, “Seem like God didn’t see fit to give the black man nothing but dreams – but He did give us children to make them dreams seem worth while” (Hansberry 46).  A man can swallow his pride – but he don’t got no right to swallow someone else’s.  Today, I was ’bout ready to swallow mine, though it was gonna darn near kill me, ’cause we needed that money, man, we needed it bad.  But Travis … he’s my boy.  And I just couldn’t take from him that feeling that we are equal people, and have got the right to walk the earth just as much as any white man does.  Me and my family – we’re simple people.  And my wife, Ruth, is gonna bring us another baby.  Who am I to tell that baby he or she don’t count as much as the white folks do?  Who am I, man, Who – am – I?  I got me some dreams.  I’m gonna make a great life for my family yet.  My last dream done “Dr[ied] up like a raisin in the sun,” (Hughes) but I’ve learned my lesson.  A man don’t need no millions of dollars to be happy.  I’ve got a dream where all men, woman, and children, black and white, can respect each other as equals.  I’ve got a dream of a world where no man has to be any other man’s servant, just his own.  I’ve got a dream where a man can earn his place, “brick by brick” (Hansberry 148).  I’ve got a dream that my sister is going to be a doctor, that our Mother is going to retire in peace, that my wife will be a lovely mother of two beautiful children.  A man can get down on his luck, down on himself.  He can think about giving up his dreams.  But, for the sake of his family, not just those who are family by blood but family by brotherhood, he’s got to pick himself up and keep dreaming.  I’ve got myself a dream – and it’s going to “explode” (Hughes).

 

"Montage of a Dream Deferred"

 

What happens to a dream deferred?

 

Does it dry up / Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore - /And then run?

 

Does it stink like rotten meat?

 

Or crust and sugar over - /Like a syrupy sweet? 

Maybe it just sags / Like a heavy load. 

Or does it explode? 

- Langston Hughes

Puzzle Paragraph 1 I did it in three sentences - can I get bonus points? :)

Today, everyone hears about celebrities with more money than they could ever need going crazy; no one would be overly surprised if a billionaire decided to search the Savannah for pink elephants or imagined he or she was the modern-day Moses.  When Fitzgerald writes of the ridiculously rich in his story “The Diamond as Big as the Ritz,” it isn’t just another story meant to teach a lesson with talking animals and the classic “Once upon a time…” beginning traditionally vital for a story to teach morals.  Fitzgerald uses a different approach: extreme exaggeration of what occurs in our time, his famous rhetoric making the impossible seem possible and the reality of greed and materialism terrifying enough to make anyone feel "a little tired of diamonds"  (Fitzgerald XI).

Prompt from V-blog: Is it true that we spend too much of our lives convincing others that we are someone we are not?

Be yourself – eat the potatoes!

To be blunt, yes – we each expend disproportionate amounts of effort and time on attempting to convince others that we are something or someone we are not.  The most obvious example I can think of from The Great Gatsby is the fact that four people are kept from living their lives with the one each truly loves, because three of them are pretending to love someone else – namely, each maintains the façade of loving his or her present spouse.  Myrtle is married to George Wilson, but Myrtle loves Tom (who reciprocates her affections), though Tom is married to Daisy, who is in love with Gatsby, who loves her as well.  As Catherine confides to Nick, speaking of Tom and Myrtle, “Neither of them can stand the person they’re married to.” (Fitzgerald 37).  She follows this with a suggestion heaping with beautiful common sense like delectable potatoes on a Thanksgiving platter, asking “Why go on living with them if they can’t stand them?  If I was them I’d get a divorce and get married to each other right away.” (Fitzgerald 37).  This really would seem to make the most sense – if two divorces were attained in short order, four people would be much happier: Myrtle, Tom, Daisy, and Gatsby would each be free to marry the person he or she loves (sucks to be George).  Sadly, at least as far into the book as I have read, each involved sustains the pretense of being someone he or she is not.  The lesson would seem to be stated more plainly, in actuality, in Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter: “Above all else, to thine own self be true.” (I don't recall the page number).

I’ll be true to myself by going to devour some of the aforementioned potatoes now, since I truly love good food J

“What’s in a name?” – Juliet, balcony scene

                In the first two chapters of The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald caused me initial confusion by using multiple names for the same character.  In class, though, Ms. Valentino explained that Fitz changes how he refers to his characters depending on whom else the characters are with.  For example, the woman whom Tom loves is referred to by her first name, “Myrtle,” (Fitz 40) when she discusses how she met Tom, to represent how in that situation she felt a free person and an individual.  However, when Tom is arguing with her about her right to say the name "Daisy" (Fitz 41), she becomes “Mrs. Wilson” (Fitz 41), to show the separation between Tom and herself created by others who have influence over their lives (Tom is married to Daisy, and Myrtle to George Wilson).  Others around us constantly influence who we are, and Fitz chooses multiple names for a person to show this.

                In Romeo and Juliet, Juliet contemplates the significance of name.  Specifically, she notes that Romeo’s last name, Montague, can only keep him her enemy if he and she allow the feud between their families to control the individual choices Juliet and Romeo make.  She remarks “’Tis but thy name that is my enemy.” (Juliet, balcony scene)  Our names control us in that they may affect how others perceive us.  However, we ultimately choose for ourselves who we want to be.  Romeo and Juliet perceive each other not as a Montague and a Capulet, mortal enemies, but as Romeo and Juliet, who love one another. 

I WROTE A POST UNDER 200 WORDS!!!!! (It matches my point).

Claim:  There should not be a static set of punctuation rules enforced, as flexible punctuation maintains freedom of expression, enables efficient communication, and allows for adaptation of the written word as society morphs continuously.

Paragraph: Enables efficient communication

            Punctuation’s purpose is to aid communication.  Out-dated, misunderstood, and occasionally contradictory rules for punctuation can get in the way of those trying to communicate their meanings with speed and accuracy in the modern world.  Far from “contributing to the downfall of literacy in the modern world” (Associated Press), changing ways of expressing ideas with the written word are helping to create a new type of literacy that prioritizes, valuing speed more than formality.  When the barriers of the old rules are broken down, “a trail of possibilities” (Austen) opens up.  As Ben Dolnick, a writer for The New York Times, states, “simplicity, in all things, is a virtue” (Dolnick).  Why should one bother to use – or omit – punctuation in a manner that follows a rule, but isn’t the most easily written or understood?  In times where speed is often of vital importance, “less is more.” (Cosco)

 

 

 

Understanding is the way

(Um, I kind of wrote an essay … don’t read this post if you’re looking for something short and sweet.)         

Confusion is one of the most terrifying difficulties to face.  With enough clarity, a solution can be found to any problem; without understanding, hope is scarce.  Throughout The Bluest Eye, Morrison encourages the realization that comprehension is already present, and that a solution can therefore be found if initiative is taken.

When Soaphead Church writes a letter to God, Morrison shows a surprising depth of understanding in the man of an otherwise twisted mind.  Reflecting on his past attempts to be something he was not, Church writes, “We were not royal but snobbish, not aristocratic but class-conscious” (Morrison 177).  Morrison juxtaposes these similar words of differing connotation to demonstrate the clarity Church has found.   He realizes as he reminisces on the errors he committed in his attempts to be white as he perceived white to be, and avoid being black as he perceived black to be, the truth: he needed to accept his black heritage to truly be the best he could be.  If only he had realized it sooner, things could be different, as he writes, “Now.” (Morrison 177)

Cholly knows subconsciously what does not occur consciously to him – the reason he hates his own people, the black, instead of the white.  Morrison describes with a simile how his hatred “would have burned him up like a piece of soft coal” (Morrison 151) if directed toward the white men who were truly to blame for his shame.  Cholly feels internally the truth: he does not risk the peril of hating those who have power over him because hating those who do not command such power is easier.  His misdirected animosity towards the members of his own race is destructive both to himself and to others.  If only he had listened to what he heard from within.

When Pecola is tricked into poisoning a dog, the dog looks at her with “soft triangle eyes.” (Morrison 176).  Morrison chooses these two adjectives to indicate two related aspects of the dog’s gaze that are central to Morrison’s message: soft represents forgiveness, and triangle is an ancient symbol for change.  As poison destroys his body, the dog communicates this hopeful message to Pecola: forgiveness for actions past can lead to change for the future. 

For all of Morrison’s characters, it is too late to save themselves.  However, there is an extant chance that those for whom there is still time can save themselves and all those around them.  Understanding is present in all, but action present in few.  If only people can find it within themselves to accept their instinctual understanding and put the past behind them, change will be at hand, so that all might proclaim, “Thank God Almighty, we’re free at last.”

[Does anyone remember whom that quote is from?:)]

Grammar’s relevance in today’s society

We took are lovely Grammar Test on Thursday – how exciting!  We now (hopefully) have an excellent grasp of English grammar.  Yes, that knowledge may have got us (again, hopefully) good grades on our test, but how much does that matter?  Do we even need the goodest grammar anymore?

In that paragraph above I make three grammatical errors – one ridiculously obvious, one semi-apparent, and one that I'll be impressed if you catch.  Can you find all three?  The kicker is this: regardless of whether you do or do not see all three errors, my meaning is still clear.  Why, then, does grammar matter?

Sometimes, a grammatical error does change the meaning.  For example: then vs than.  I was taught the importance of that difference when I was shown this humorously errant post on twitter: I’d rather be pissed of then pissed on.  Then refers to time; than refers to comparison.  This person should have used than then, rather than then.  Get it?

In addition, a lack of grammar savvy can totally destroy your credibility, as when a person campaigning to make English the mandatory language in the U.S. became infamous for holding up a protest sign that said: “Respect are country!  Speak English!”

Does proper grammar matter, as long as a meaning is communicated?  What’s your opinion?  Weird Al shares his: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Gv0H-vPoDc  Actually, I have his voice in my head every time I think of certain grammar rules, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget them. J

The Power of the Pun

                There seem to be two types of people in the world: those who appreciate the art of the pun, and those who do not.  I am of the former group, and as such often attempt to use puns.  Unfortunately, these attempts are met with the very polite “shut up” or with less polite, but more creative, descriptions of how I shall come to bodily harm if I do not stop making puns.

                Despite the disdain for puns many people I know express, many of the stories we read in English Class are created by skillful authors who use puns very strategically.  At the start of the Shakespearean play Julius Caesar, which we read last year in 10 Honors English, a common man, a cobbler, uses a lengthy string of puns in an argument against a high-and-mighty Senator.  The Senator has a plethora of Ethos, which might make those witnessing the argument support him; thus, the “mender of bad soles” (J.C., Act I, Scene I) decides to undermine such respect and gain support for himself by showing off his wit with a series of clever puns that get his point across without seeming blatantly disrespectful to the Senator.  In Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, mistress Hibbins refers to Dimmesdale as “The Prince of Air.” (Hawthorne p#)  Hawthorne chooses that exact wording to subtly remind readers of how Dimmesdale, despite his revered reputation, errs by committing adultery, and subsequently by hiding his sin.

                The question is, why do puns work?  Much of what we study in class is about meaning beneath the surface, but such meaning is discovered after in-depth discussion and deep thinking.  Authors, however, know that many members of the intended audience of a piece of literature will never do anything more than casually test the waters before moving on.  To communicate deep meaning, authors are thus forced to pander not to the audience’s conscious reasoning - which can yield a treasure of understanding only with focused effort on the audience’s part - but instead to the audience’s subconscious, which picks up hidden clues even without an audience member’s intent to do so.  When someone reads or hears a pun, that person might never actually say “Oh! The author is reminding me of ____!”  However, the subtlety of puns can work wonders on the psychological level, manipulating an audience member into forming the conclusions desired by the author.  Puns anchor the audience member naturally to the general area the author wants the audience member to end his or her voyage at, with a bit of leeway still remaining for the formation of unique hypotheses.

I have a sinking feeling that most people didn’t sea the common theme of my paragraph above, but I’m not shore.  However, I’m hoping you picked up on it subconsciously. J

Slightly Slipshod Synthesis, Somewhat Shortly Sorting Sources’ Symbolic Suggestions

Everyone has something unique to offer us.  What a person is on the surface should not prevent us from appreciating them for who and how they are.  Many of the pieces we have read, including The Scarlet Letter, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, and Black Men and Public Spaces, suggest that every person should be accepted – by both himself or herself and by others – because each person has individual abilities and natural gifts to offer, and discrimination based upon what a person is can jeopardize the well-being of both the one oppressed and any who oppress.

To provide QUICK examples (because I really need to work on using brevity):

·         In The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne repeatedly remarks on all the good Hester does to help others.  She has so little in terms of material wealth, and yet she gives any excess to the poor, who often refuse her charity or accept it with bad grace because Hester has been labeled a sinner.  However, once the townspeople learn to look past what Hester is – an adulterer, as her scarlet A originally stands for - and begin to look at Hester for who and how she is, they rebrand the Scarlet Letter and its wearer, saying that the A stands for Able.  The townspeople are then able to gladly accept the efforts that they had previously denied themselves the benefits of.

·         In The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, “Victor” tells of how he is hated by others for his Native American heritage.  He is a brilliant kid, far ahead of the rest of his classmates, but instead of valuing Victor’s intelligence and appreciating his heritage, his teacher attempts to punish him for it, and orders that he shorten his hair to be like normal white people.  Despite this, Victor remains proud of his heritage, and by the time he graduates, he describes his hair as “longer than ever” (Alexie), representing how he decides to accept what he is as part of how and who he is: someone who rises up and does his best despite adversity.

·         In Black Men and Public Spaces, Brent Staples reveals the ambiguity of the labels “oppressor” and “oppressed” when he explains how the “victims” of crimes aren’t only those directly harmed by them, but those who are discriminated against as a result of such crimes’ habitual perpetration by people of certain groups.  Staples is the kind of person who would try to help someone in danger, but says that he only has to walk into a dangerous situation to risk getting killed in the name of “self-defense”.  People see what he is – a black male – and it often prevents them from seeing who he is: a kind, gentle person who would much sooner help than harm.

Darn it – so much for brevity.

I think I’ll stop writing now, before I overdo this any further.

Have a splendid day, and remember to appreciate people for how they choose to be.  We cannot change what we are – that is out of our control.  However, we all make decisions daily about how we want to be, and who we aspire to be.  I am a person who tends to write way too much.  But now, I choose to be a person that knows when to stop speaking. (shut up now, me!)  Who do you choose to be?