And lastly....

Oh last English blog! The fun we've had! Below are some of my favorite moments:

Who could forget this blog post on Elizabeth's Bishop's "One Art"? Not me. This was one of my favorite poems all semester and in turn my favorite blog. I just had fun reading about it. Sometimes I felt like analyzing a poem was sort of burden like I would never get to the bottom of it, nor would I necessarily care once I got there, but not with "One Art", no way.

I really loved analyzing T.S Eliot's "The Wasteland" in this blog post. This poem was way beyond me but it was a lot of fun to dissect the tarot reading. I was so excited to find out that someone else had picked apart the tarot. At the end of the day, I didn't feel as scared of the poem. In class you said that the first key to understanding "The Wasteland" was to find in a way in. I feel like the tarot card reading was my way of getting inside...a little? Hopefully?

I picked this blog because I feel like it talks about a turning point I had this semester. I realized how intimidated I had been my literature. And in turn how close minded I had been.

I picked these blogs because they are the blogs I remember writing the most. I remember writing all of my blogs, except for one at the beginning, but these one I remember feeling the strongest about. The first two were picked because I loved those poems and loved writing about them. I feel like when I get excited about what I am reading it shows in my blog posts. I am not satisfied to accept the answers I have created in my mind. I want to look at other sources, I want to hear what people have to say. I want to be involved in the discussion. Even if that discussion is just me looking around on EBSCO. The third post I picked because half way through writing it I had an epiphany. I realized that I had learned a lot in this class. I didn't plan on talking about my feelings through literature in this blog but it just happened. I was excited to have such a breakthrough, which will be discussed more in the following paragraph.

So, how have my ideas about literature changed since the beginning of the semester and what can I say I have learned? I have learned a lot. Its is almost a little overwhelming to sit down and think about it and try to type it in a blog. So, at the beginning of the semester I was like, "Okay, okay. I don't really care about what these dudes have to say." And halfway through the semester when we had to write midterms essay I was having a major literature break down. I have never had to write an essay like that before and it was hard. It was hard to find sources that were saying what I was thinking. It was tricky, tricky, tricky. But as quarter of the way through the semester I realized that I enjoy knowing about literature. That it makes me really happy to try to understand what is being written. And I feel super smart when I can be like well don't you think that this means that means this. That's the main reason I go to school to feel smart. I think I have gained a nice overview of literature this semester. I feel like I could talk about literature at a bar with someone. And probably sound really passionate. I don't think I will ever be an English major or even seek out another literature class. But I really enjoyed this one. I think I have learned how to analyze literature this semester, which probably sounds really generic, like, duh, of course you learned how to analyze literature. But it was hard! And a lot of work! And I am proud of the kind of reader I have become!

Speaking of the kind of reader I have become, I have become way more appreciative of different types of authors. I am far more open to books. I probably never would have wanted to read The Crying Lot of 49 before this class. I guess I learned not to judge a book by its cover. Literally! Or the author. I am excited to read more classics. I think I might check out another Pynchon novel for my summer reading list. This summer all I want to do is read for fun. That's a new weird goal I never had before this class. I think that by reading things I wasn't so into, I remembered how much I like to read things I am into. As a thinker, I guess I have learned how to think like other people. I usually stick to reading books that are written by someone who shares my perspective on things, therefore it is really easy to think like them. But this semester I had to read things and think about things in a different way. I feel like this class pushed my brain out of its comfort zone by making me think about new things. As far as my writing skills, I think the essay was a really great experience. I know there will be other times in my college career where I have to write essays that aren't like completely fact based and have more opinions and ideas. I'm glad that experience is over and I have it under my belt. The next time an essay like that presents itself I won't be so scared! My weakness is mainly myself. Sometimes I think I am too unimpressed or something. Or I am not afraid to say when I don't like something. I don't know if it is that I genuinely don't like it or I just don't want to like it. This is a weird thing I do that spills over into all areas of my life, not just literature. My strengths and my weaknesses are sort of the same thing. A strong opinion.

I think I should get an A in this class, mainly because I have an A already in this class and I am pretty sure I will do okay on the final. Not to sound overly confident. I also think I deserve an A because I participated. I read the stories, I came to class, I learned, I contributed, I had a good time. I don't particularly like fighting for a grade, so to speak. I guess I deserve whatever letter grade I earned in the class, and I really hope I earned an A. I know I tried my hardest!

I had no idea I would enjoy this book so much! And to answer the question of is it important to know what Tristero is...No, not at all. I mean it is intersting to try to put together the pieces, but it doesn't mean anything. I think maybe Tristero is a metaphor for something else in our culture, but I am not a hundred percent sure. I think for the rest of my blog I am just going to post the the lines I underlined and explained why I liked them!

First of all I love the scene where she is in the gay bar. I think it is so funny that she just goes up to that dude with the muted horn and is like, "What if I told you, that I was an agent of Thirn and Taxis?" That cracks me up! She is just such a little investigative weirdo. I feel like if she was my friend telling me this story I would super love it. And I also enjoy the part where after the conversation with the man and she is alone and Pynchon writes, "Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you." Oh Oedipa.

I also feel like the line, "With coincidences blossoming these days wherever she looked, she had nothing but a sound, a word, Trystero, to hold them together." This along with many other lines seem to making a statement about the analysis of literature. Like we look for things, sounds, words, to tie some big allusive idea together that we are not even sure exist.

I like how throughout the book it seems as though Pynchon is giving you little clues, or something as to not feel so overwhelmed. Like last week with the "All Oedipa remembered was his his strong nose..."In the reading this week I found it comforting when after her nighttime journey of seeing all the signs in the different places Pynchon writes, "The repetition of the symbols was to be enough, without trauma as well as perhaps to attenuate it or even jar it altogether from her memory. She was meant to remember." It was sort of like Pynchon telling me, "Don't worry, you get the general idea, I have mentioned this horn so many times, you know what you need to know." I also really enjoyed this line, "She also wanted to know why the chance of its being real should menace her so." I was wondering that too. Like why do we care so much about it. Does it even matter. No.

And that's the thing. I have tons of questions, like little questions, but do they matter? I enjoyed the book, I had a lot of fun reading it. What now? 

I feel like in these parts he almost downplays the story. I get the feeling that he might downplay not the story so much, but what people tend to want to do to stories, as in figure them out. Like Pynchon is just telling the reader to lay back and enjoy the story, and you will get what you get, because at the end of the day Oedipa is still waiting for someone to bid on the stamp collection.

Oh and this line reminded me of what we were talking about in class last week about original version of stories and do they die when the author dies, " Though she could never again call back any image of the dead man to dress up, pose, talk to and make answer, neither would she lose a new compassion for the cul-de-sac he'd tried to find a way out of, for the enigma his efforts had created."
I feel like that is hardcore talking about what it is like to read a book and trying to make sense of it.

I'm pretty excited for class discussion on Friday! I like what I think Pynchon is getting at.... And I really don't want Oedipa to be on LSD or crazy! I just really like her, and I don't want it to be in her head, even if she does. And what else is so weird is how she is so scared that Tristero exists. So what if it does?

Okay The Crying Lot of 49 (hey, what do I do here underline?) it is just you and me now.
Anyways, I like this book. Stoked we are reading it. Here are some thoughts.
So, the girl who lent me this book told me that it was basically all about analyzing literature and I can see it, I can see it. Oedipus is looking for clues and trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle, she fears though that all she will be left with is, "compiled memories of clues, announcements, intimations, but never the central truth itself, which must somehow each be too bright for her memory to hold; which must always blaze out, destroying its own message irreversible, leaving an overexposed blank when the ordinary world came back." I think there are several other times in this book so far were you get the feeling that no matter how hard you search and search and think and think you may never come to an exact answer. Once you think you have one thing figured out, another clue pops up and your whole perspective is changed, or seemingly heightened. Everything is open to interpretation and exploration. While reading it seems as though revelations tremble "just past the threshold of understanding." Her conversation with Driblette when he is in the shower seems like one giant metaphor for literary analysis. Take for example the names in the this story. No matter how many scholars have tried to figure out what exactly Pynchon meant by these names, no clear answers have been found. I heard about that last fact in this lecture from Yale University.

Another thing that I learned from this lecture, I started watching it before I read the book, is about why Oedipus is the perfect character for the job. The professor in this lecture mentions that although critics at the time thought of Oedipus as a lightweight, Oedipus is sort of a trickster, people may underestimate her as just a women, and she plays into this role to find specific clues. Take for example when she runs into Koteks and the conversation runs into trouble she bats her eyelashes, "figuring to coquette her way off this conversational hook." Later when she goes to Vesperhaven House she approaches Mr. Toth in a granddaughterly manor. She seems so innocent, perhaps people will give her details, thinking she is just a simple old housewife who won't be able to connect any dots, really. Also Oedipus takes on another role as motherly when she goes to see Cohen and finds him a mess. I'm also intrigued by the line "changeless salt hatchings of her identity."Also Oedipus is a smart lady. She is constantly looking for patterns from the battery on the radio to the houses of the Southern California landscape. She trusts her intuition in when clues may be important. Copying the bathroom message at The Scope and then at the play she senses something "peculiar, and a gentle chill, an ambiguity" beginning "to creep in among the words."

So, the clues we have so far: their is something going on with the postal service. We know that Thurn und Taxis is a underground mail carrying system who used the post horn as their "coat of arms." This single looped horn is found on stamps used by Thurn und Taxis. However, Oedipus has stumbled upon a double looped horn, the second loop suggesting the mute, trumpeters use to play quietly. This muted horn was on the ring that Mr. Toth had from his grandfather, who got it when he cut off someones finger, it was also the symbol Koteks was drawing and it was also in the ladies room at The Scope. We also know at this point in the story that we do not WASTE, we say W.A.S.T.E and bones are also a reoccurring thing. They were in the play, a cemetery has just been ripped up, also the false Indians, and bones is the whole reason that Di Presso is being followed. And we also know that perhaps the characters in the play know something about Trystero, because as Oedipus put it, "all those people, are so obviously onto something."

Things I would like to discuss, Trystero, I do not know what this means exactly? This also plays into the play which I would like to discuss more because it was hard for me to follow while reading? There has also been two references to kissing of feet. Does this mean anything.

Welp. Small group discussions are over. Thank goodness. One more grade in the old grade book. I was not very nervous about small group discussions until I sat down in class that day. I prepared more for small group discussion than I normally do for class. I went to the library, got some books, read 'um, marked 'um up, thought about each question, and then completely forgot everything intelligent I had wanted to say the moment we started talking. I always overestimate my memory.

I didn't particularly care for small group discussion. I really like discussing things in class and always walk away understanding what we read a lot better. I feel like with small group discussion we stayed pretty top-level. I think it is nice to have he instructor be part of the conversation because then he can kind of guide it. I feel like a lot of the questions got off topic and we kept going back to main ideas that had already been covered. It was kind of frustrating to have a time limit because when the discussion did get off base or someone was rambling I got really anxious feeling. Like I just wanted to move on to the next question. I feel like we didn't get to discuss some really interesting things. There was no time to compare and contrast Washington and Baldwin, which I think would have been a very interesting conversation. All in all I found the experience nerve racking. Maybe because I felt extra out of control. At least when the teacher is leading the class I can relax because we are in good hands, but left to our own student devices I don't think the experience was particularly rewarding. Okay, so here are my three things I learned from this discussion/experience:

1) My memory has and will probably fail me again. I need to take down more organized notes, for presenting my thoughts.
2) I learned that student lead discussion do need leaders, I feel like no one wants to take on this role because they are not sure if they will be stepping on anybody else's toes.
3) I leaned about the race riots and how perfectly they seemed to embody everything that was going on Baldwin's mind.

My Note on "Notes of a Native Son"

I am just going to use this blog post as an opportunity to get my answers to the question in class tomorrow sorted out. I read "Notes of a Native Son" last night and then read several different essays on it. I as hoping I would have crazy dreams that like connected dots and opened doors and I would be all like, oh, I get it. But my dreams weren't about "Notes of a Native Son"....

The thoughts below are just the beginning. I just want to make sure I have my basic footing under me for all the questions, so I can stop worrying about it...

1. Well the way the essay is structured in three parts also goes for the argument I plan to make for five as well. Baldwin structered this essay in three parts that could almost take on the title of the three parts from Wright's "Native Son," which are, "Fear," "Flight," and "Fate." Also Baldwin sets up this essay to mirror the story of the prodigal son. In the first section we read about the bitterness and fear that Baldwin's Father puts in him. His Father warns him of the dangers of white society, but Baldwin does not listen and moves to New Jersey where he experience extreme prejudice for the first time. In the second section Baldwin comes home, although he may be too stubborn to realize it at the time, he has realized the importance of what his Father has said. He realizes more and more about his father in the third section. Something interesting happens in the third section which, I plan to read more about later today, but he uses cinematic effects to draw the reader in.

I think the way it is written is to bring you on his journey. You learn the lesson as he learns the lesson. I also think the voice of wisdom that Baldwin brings to this piece, he was around thirty when he wrote this, gives it a nice feeling. Although the story is dealing with anger, it does not feel hostile to read. I think if he had structured the essay differently or maybe didn't tell it in first person it would have been more aggressive or had more tension. Even though bad things are happening, like the race riots, the extreme prejudice he faces in New Jersey, and his Fathers death you still feel safe because you are with Baldwin and its sort of like he is telling you it is going to be okay and were going to come out of this alive, and better people for it.

2. The biggest thing that the race riots and his Father's death that I see is that the race riots happened because of fear and bitterness and anger and Baldwin felt that his Father's own heart was filled with these things towards whites, and is actually the reason for his death. The riots are "Harlem's collective black rage monstrously personified" and in a way Baldwin's Father's death was his Father's own rage personified. Also the shambles that the riots leave Harlem in could also be signifying how Baldwin feels after his Father dies. Although one may argue that he is indeed free, just because you are free doesn't mean that there aren't shambles left behind that you have to pick up and make sense off. I think the race riots stand for his Father in a way, and the desperate things people can do when they are oppressed and how hateful the act of trying to free yourself can be. I wonder how the Father would have reacted to the riots. Like, I said before these are just baseline thoughts. I am excited to discuss these topics in class tomorrow.

3. Well right off the vat the three men have something in common because they are all men who project themselves onto their children. They are all men who seem to be driven from some kind of fear. They all come from underprivileged conditions. There was a passage in "Notes on a Native Son" that described the Father and sort of reminded me of the dad in "Barn Burning" it was, "He could be chilling in the pulpit and indescribably cruel in his personal life and he was certainly the most bitter man I have ever met; yet it must be said that there something else in him, buried in him, which lent him his tremendous power and, even, crushing charm." I just think that the Dad in "Barn Burning" would have been described by his son in the exact same way. I think that the Dad in "Barn Burning" is more similar. The Grandpa in " Invisible Man" didn't seem to have a sort of power that was asserted over many people, just his grandson and also the way the boys and sons reacted so differently. I feel like the kid in "Invisible Man" let his Grandpa words haunt him and they drove him in a more productive way, like he really wanted the acceptance of his Grandpa, where as the other boys, not that they didn't want the acceptance of their fathers but they had more anger towards them. I think all three men were driven by bitterness and anger and fear. I think all of these men left a sort of inheritance upon their children or grandchildren that can "cripple and destroy, particularly if that inheritance is defined by bitterness and rage." They left each one of these boys with a burden they are going to have to figure out on their own.

4. Yes. I think this is a modernist piece of literature. I wasn't sure if it was but then I looked up the definition of modernist literature and this just fit in so well. I really liked these words used to describe modernism on a blog,"Exile, loss of innocence, greed, violence, movement." The author of this blog then precedes to say something to the extent of these things are the ingredients in modernist writing. This essay has all of them, literally all of them.

5. Considering that "Notes of a Native Son" is pretty much a whole play on "Native Son" I am going to have to go with Richard Wright. There are a couple essays in this book I have to read that deal with this comparison, so I should know a lot more before the discussion tomorrow. Although earlier today I thought the comparison to Richard Wright was going to be an easy one to make because they write stories that are so seemingly similar. Just in the subject matter being about being black and oppression and the struggle and the rage. However, Baldwin was not that into Wright. I mean he was really into him, he sort of looked at Wright as a version of his father, Wright greatly influenced Baldwin, much as a dad would. Baldwin who was obviously really into his own father and being very open about all aspects of his being, was also very critical of Wright. Baldwin didn't want to be "just a black author" and he felt like Wright had put himself in that corner. I feel like much with his father Baldwin spent a lot of time trying not to be Wright, which is impossible because he loved Wright and admired him, so he would have some of his qualities.

6. I think this question goes hand in hand with question 9, considering what Baldwin writes after that sentence, "I imagine that one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once the hate is gone, that they will be forced to deal with the pain." With the hatred for his Father masking any sort of love or compassion or sadness he feel upon his death it is easier to shrug it off with a , "I hate that dude." I think everyone does this. All the time. Everything I hate is because I at some point loved it, and the loosing of it is something I would just rather not morn. I think hate is an easy emotion to have because it requires no accountability or understanding. Hate is black and dense. It is an empty void. Baldwin's views towards his father changed in the way that he almost felt sorry for the man for carrying around this hatred. He remembered a time when his Father wasn't cold or mean. He becomes much more empathetic towards his father. He understands how his Father must have felt so sad and frustrated because his own fear and hatred and bitterness got in the way of him loving his own children.

7. So, I read about this in one of the essays but I just didn't get what they were talking about. So what I can figure if that all the text and all the things his father taught him and left him, they were empty and completely up to Baldwin to do what he was going to do with him.

8. I think when he says no one is interested in the detail, he is almost talking about his own disinterest in realizing where his father is coming from. His father is mean, case and point. He does not care, I mean he does eventually care, to go back and explore, but at first he is hesitant. I think the narrative can leave things out when it chooses. It can also bring these things back into the light when the writer finds it appropriate. I think this essay almost beckons you to look deeper. The facts are not what they seem and facts are rarely so black and white. It is sort of like the hate thing though, if you dare challenge the facts what are you going to learn. Sticking to the facts of what you believed happened is very easy to do.

9.And I scratched all my notes for this on a piece of paper, and I'm kind of tired of typing. So I'm going to go ahead and end this long winded, poorly edited blog.

The villanelle.

And I've been working so hard on not having obsessive thoughts...
But right now, there is only one thing I care about and that is ending the semester and starting my summer! Writing a villanelle was pretty hard. All those rhyming words. Okay, so here's is my first attempt to write a villanelle knowingly.

Exciting things are close at hand
My very best friend lives overseas
Her skin glowingly tanned

I'm so ready to go to Thailand
Not one feeling of unease
Exciting things are close at hand

Horizons will surely expand
In thick sweet equator breeze
And my skin glowingly tanned

The language I won't understand
Air full of spicy food's potpourri
Exciting things are close at hand

We will go the beach, sit in the sand
Eat so many lemon icees
My skin all glowingly tanned

Negative thoughts surely banned
Spend lazy days as I please
Exciting things are close at hand
With my skin glowingly tanned

There. It's surely no "Mad Girl's Love Song" but it will do.

But it's not really a disaster...

So, I automatically liked Elizabeth Bishop's "One Art." For two reason, first it reminded me of my favorite Sleater-Kinney song "Good Things". Second I can relate to this poem. I feel like a lot of the poems and stories we have read this semester were important to read because they are historical or historically important. However, nothing beats reading poem and getting it, because it expresses feelings you have felt. And I'm really into feelings.

After reading Bishop's poem and deciding that I wanted to blog about it I logged onto Ebsco to see what other people were saying about "One Art." The first article I read titled, "Bishop's ONE ART" by Jonathan Sircy shed some light on how Bishop uses irony in this poem. So post-modernist, right?

In the fist stanza of the poem Bishop writes, "The art of loosing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster." This alone isn't ironic but when taken into account with the rest of the poem, this beginning thought that loosing things is easy, so many things just seem intent on being lost, it isn't earth shattering. Things leave, things go, and when they do you just pick yourself up by the boot straps and move on. After all it is no disaster.

The next two verses of the poem as Sircy suggest almost seem like a manual on how to loose things. Bishop writes, "Loose something everyday" (Step one), "Accept the fluster" (Step two), "Practice loosing farther, loosing faster" (Step three). See! It's easy to loose things, surely no disaster.

In these two verses as well, the tone of the poem shifted for me. The first two verses are almost cute. You just sort of read along thinking yeah loosing stuff isn't a disaster, especially when it is just some keys or an hour of your time. Those seem more like small inconveniences as opposed to disasters. Then in the third verse and with the introduction of "step three" the poem takes on a serious tone. That line, "Practice loosing farther, loosing faster" kind of breaks my heart in a good way. Especially when she adds, "places, and names and where it was you meant to travel." That's heavy. And sure loosing those things isn't a disaster like a tornado or an earthquake, but it still hurts. After listing off those things she once again states that "None of these will bring disaster."

At this point in the poem she switches over to first person. She begins to recount the things she has lost grouping her "mother's watch" and "three loved houses" as things that went. Of course the houses are not lost but like the "cities," "rivers," and "continent" of lines 13-15, she no longer owns claim over them. I have lived in a couple different cities, and I do feel like I have lost them. The street where you old work is, is no longer your street. Your old houses, are not your any more. New people have moved in, been hired, taken your spot and you lost it. You can go back and visit, you could even move to the same city again, but you can never have that time back. It is intact lost, and all that remains is memory.

Although she misses these places, loosing them was not a disaster.

In the last verse, Bishop is no longer addressing places and things, she talks about a person's memory. She seems to try to make light of the loss she feels towards this person by remembering a "joking voice" or beloved "gesture." In this verse she also admits that the "art of losing's not too hard to master thought it may look like (Write it!) like disaster." I think the use of the "(Write it!) makes this poem take on an even heavier feeling. People are the hardest thing to loose, and if she has been trying to associate small loss with big loss to downplay the importance of the big loss, perhaps realizing that a big loss is a disaster somehow makes all those smaller things disasters too.

I can't help but feel like the irony in this poem is sort of like forcing yourself to believe something as true. Like you so desperately don't want to care, don't want to hurt, don't want to miss and by just shrugging it off as something that happens, just like loosing your favorite t-shirt or hat, you can minimize just how disastrous it is. By lumping big loss with little loss it all becomes interchangeable.

Perhaps Bishop is being a little bit of a trickster as well. Trying to pretend like loss doesn't hurt, it is all small and easy to master. At the end of poem I think her true feelings are reveled, as it seems like it gets harder to write as she realizes intense feelings created by the collectiveness of everything every loss.

Disastrous is a big word, with lots of negative connotation, but it could just simply be when everything falls apart or ends. When you move, your previous life is gone. That is sort of scary. That could technically be disastrous, but I think the art of loosing is easy to master. The art of dealing with the loss is a whole nother story.

Really fast, is nother even a word? I say it all the time, but don't think I have ever typed it. Weird.

Now this poem kind of reminds me of this Vivian Girls song. I'm going to go head and make this comparison, because I feel like in this Vivian Girls song they are trying to convince themselves that they feel a certain way through loss. "I Believe in Nothing" and "One Art" both seem to take semi-casual approaches to the very heart breaking reality of loss.