Fantastic Mr. Fox

Last wednesday, I finally took my friend Robato-san to see Fantastic Mr. Fox. I get free tickets, and it had been a while since I had seen a movie in theaters. I'm so busy all the time that I rarely get to see movies, event though I work at a theater.

Fantastic Mr. Fox was, as I'm sure every movie critic has described, fantastic. Based off the Roald Dahl book, Wes Anderson took the story of a fox who moves into a house next door to some very mean men who do not want him there and transformed it into its film formatt. Filled with dry humor, both polite and modern humor, Fantastic Mr. Fox does what most children films had been lacking, substance. Pixar had been picking up the slack for a while with movies like UP and Ratatouille focusing on characters and their flaws and how the overcome them. Mr. Fox does it with class. In the film, they touh on existentialism, what it means to be a human or a fox, what it means to sacrifice and give a part of one's self, and what community means, what growing up means.

I appreciate this film for it's rounded, sanded nature, and I also appreciated it because it effing fantastic.

Novel

I have an interesting idea for a novel and it came to me through a song. I'm not sure if I should go through with it though, because it requires some research and perhaps some real involvement. It's also a subject that may not appeal to some. Yet, I really like the idea of taking a typically bad character and turning that character good. Not like, "oh he's so bad, but wait, oh he's good now" more like, "wow, so not all of them are bad," but not necessarily. You know how you can take a rat, give him a name, change a quality about it, and suddenly the rat isn't evil anymore? I wanna do that, with character development, a plot, and romance(although not with a rat).

Working at Concessions

I hate working at the concession stand. I like doing work and I like being paid to do it, but i cannot stand some customers. As Chris Pine would say, "The customer is not always right. Sometimes the customer is an A-hole." I concur with this statement as I seem to get a lot of them. I never know what to say when a customer has been rude to me. I'm not sure if I should react like an employee or clock out and then act appropriately as I would as just a person.

People complain about our prices, yet at the end of the conversation they still give me their money, all the while giving me this sneer like some kind of taxman. I know the American mind is wrapped around the idea of a tradtional movie-going experience: you should buy popcorn, a soda, and candy to go with your feature. However, you really don't have to. I never make anyone buy anything and yet one man even accused my job of robbery saying the uniform should also require masks. I wanted to say "but sir, we already wear a mask. It's called a smile." But I refrained from backtalking. After all, customers just want to have fun here and a memory of me disagreeing with them or giving them a hard time would hold still in their minds, and that's not what I want to do. That's not really how I want to be remembered, but I also don't want to be treated like I am just the operator. I am not a personality-less robot on the other end of the telephone telling you someones isn't available. I go to school 15 hours, plus work 15 hours a week. I take care of myself, and only myself because that's all I can handle. I also have a family and friends and a whole career planned beyond this theater.

Sometimes I think people forget that they don't know who I am, and therefore should not assume anything beyond my nametag and uniform.

Hamlet

I've read Hamlet before, for an English class, and I very much enjoyed it. I like Shakespeare. I like the plot, the syntax, the words he invented, and the actions that went along with the words. Every actor that does Shakespeare acts like William Shatner. They speak slowly, then move quickly, their movements are like that of a swan sometimes then like a mountain lion the next. It's not accurate, but really, really amusing. Oh and they always say the lines as if they were poetry. The words are poetry, but they are still dialogue. Dialogue first, poetry second. Possibly why actors says their lines this way is because to us it sounds like poetry, but more than likely in the right time period, it was just banal conversation. This is my observation.

On another note, I'd like to mention how awesome Hamlet is. The character, Hamlet, is amazing in actions and in words. He is a son, a killer, a lord, and a man. He is a child in the most where all he wants is to get revenge fore his father and protect his mother. He is a killer when he stabs Polonius and now blood taints his soul. He is a lord to his subjects who follow his will. He is man when he is conflicted whether or not to show affection toward Ophelia when he knows his mission must com first. He's also a bloody genius. I love the fact he uses madness to make suspicions of him useless. "There is method to his madness," is possibly my favorite phrase in this entire play.

Thanksgiving

Suddenly it all makes sense again. After a 12 hour drive(done in 10 hrs actually), I fell into place at my parent's apartment. It was strange at first, they had made dinner and gotten ice cream and mom was working on 4 different dishes for dinner tomorrow, and I was just sitting around not doing anything. It felt really weird. I'm unacustomed to not having something dued in the next couple of hours and my cramming everything in that small amount of time.

Eventually that feeling came back to me when I made plans to hang out with my cousins. They wanted to do this, I wanted to do that, and eventually we did it ALL. But I would have preferred more time to do my things. It was okay. But yes, we did time and people into small vehicle(and short weekend). In the end, I hope I did my best at being a neice, a cousin, a sister, a granddaughter, and a daughter this thanksgiving break. I tried my best.

It's 2 AM I Must Be LONELY

It's 2 am, I must be crazy. I have to leave for Houston in a couple of hours, what am I doing still awake? I have to drive 12 hours out to Houston to see my family. 12 hours on the road, by myself. Ugh. I'm so nervous, but at the same time, i know it will be good for me. I have been so busy lately, I need some time to just relax on the road, not worry about anything but staying under the speed limit and alive.

The good thing about this trip is I'll be able to listen to all my horribly music without someone whining. That means terrible crappy music along with awesome, hilarious comedians. And hiphop and good music and Stephen Colbert. Oh yes. I am excited.

Real, A Hallucination, or Sarcasm

I think the memory chip in my brain is slowly dying because I can't remember if blogs are due this week. I know we discussed in class about not having any blogs due this week, but i'm not sure if that was real, a hallucination, or sarcasm.

I'm incrediably ill, but still moving at the speed of light it seems. I really appreciate my body because it keeps together for me when i'm falling apart on the inside. That's not meant to mean I'm emotionally unstable, just doubting a lot of previous beliefs. It's not a fantastic body, definately not, but it does have its advantageous such as when the wind blows particularly hard, I don't fly away. Which sounds like a silly reason to like a body but when your friend is 90 lbs and you have to hold her hand to walk to the mall, it's something to appreciate.

Today I appreciate my body, even though it's enduring some allergic symptons, it's holding up pretty good.

Oh my Lady Gaga.

I didn't like Lady Gaga before a friend of mine drew this picture. All of it hurts my brain, but all of it makes me laugh. Afterwords, I had to go buy the album the song was on.

Now I'm enamored by her fashion, not really so much her music. Some of it is good, a lot of it is funny, and all of it is just fun to dance to. But mostly her style, although I would never dress like that. I really enjoy looking at clothes and looking at how people compose an outfit. I know it is not important to character, but it is fascinating to see how people can create a composition out of just their choices in color, texture, and form. It's somewhat self-expressive, mostly a chance to be different, even if really it is a collection of similiar human tastes.

That being said, I don't really have a style myself. It varies from day to day. Somedays girly, other days rustic, others gloomy, but mostly, "tired style." One of the key points in my ex boyfriend's critique of me was "has no sense of style." Which I suppose is true, so I couldn't blame her for that(but i did for the other forty things she held against me). Style is so liquid, so moving and changing. There's really no way to really make it substantial. It will always be the ghost of feeling.

Jerry Springer Oedipus Rex Style.

The Jerry Springer Episode 346 - Whoops! I Married my Mom!

Staring

Jerry Springer(JS)

Oedipus (O)

Jacosta(J)

Tesieras(T)

Chorus or the Audience (CH)

JS: Welcome to the show. As you know, I'm Jerry Springer, and todays topic? I Married my Mom. Now last week we talked to several people, one of them being a man named Oedpius who claimed he was trying to disprove his destiny that his friend Tesieras told him. Tell us, Tesieras, what was the original prophecy?

T: *stands up in the audience* Uh, I told him, well, actually, his mom told me which I told him that he was gonna marry his mom and kill his dad.

JS: Ooo, well, that sucks. Tell us, does he know his true parents?

T: Um, not that I know.....no?? *sits down*

JS: Excellant, now bring on Oedipus.

*enter Oedipus*

CH: *applause*

O: This isn't Oprah.

JS: No, that's on at 4. Welcome to the Jerry Springer Show! Take a seat! Now Oedipus, you have a long history! Grew up in another town, ran away from home, and changed your name to Oedipus Rex, married a beautiful woman, had several kids, and now King of Thebes, right?

O: That's correct.

JS: Now, how well do you know your wife.

O: Um... Pretty damn well.

JS: Is that right? Now, we have gotten word that recently you found out your parents weren't your biological parents.

O: What?

JS: That's right. Now we took the liberty of running your DNA sample by CSI, and found your last living relative, your real mom.

O: *excited* Oh god! Really?

JS: Yes, now Oedie, meet your real momma.

*enter Jocasta*

O: *cranes to look behind Jacosta* ....Is she behind my wife?

T: *stands up abruptly* Oh God, check please.

JS: No, Oedie.

O:....Oh God.

J: *runs away crying* I told you it wasn't the Oprah Show!

O: My EYES!

CH: Ooooh!

JS: Next episode, we'll bring Sigmund Freud on the show and interview our Momma's Boy couples. Will these guys ever move out of the basement? Find out tomorrow on the Jerry Springer Show. Real Life Real Drama.

Final Frontier!

Science fiction is amazing. It applies characters and plot to a fantasy realm that is based on some scientific rules. My Dad introduced me to science fiction when I was eight or so. We caught Star Wars: A New Hope on tv, and that's when he realized he had yet to introduced his kids to a culture favorite. From then off, I've made friends with a common the interest, who introduced me to Stargate, Battlestar Galactica, and Babylon 5. And now the one series my Dad loved but was never inspired to show me has gotten me hooked.

Star Trek is good for lots of reasons, but the greatest reason is its characters. It's full of characters who are diverse in backgrounds and personalities. There are also races which have distinctive habits and cultures that represent different sides to humanity. There's just so much to explore in the shape of characters and their roles in the story, possibly more than the characters really have to explore in space.

Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek, explained that Star Trek was simply morality plays set in the future. He couldn't have been more right. Possibly the whole backbone for science fiction is the application of normal problems in a high-tech, fantasy setting. A lot of Star Trek episodes have a moral theme or a moral ending, attempting to push the limits and views of people in the 1960's America. Clashes with aliens who commit genocide, aliens who barter women undergoing drugs that make them beautiful, alien prejudice in the work room. Gene Roddenberry couldn't have made it anymore obvious unless Captain Kirk's direct line was "racism is wrong!"

Science fiction is both entertaining and a tool for a message. War of Worlds, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and Fareinheight 411 are all great examples of great science fiction with an underlying message. Reading it or watching is a journey to understand the universal concepts of acceptance, understanding ourselves, and what it means to be human.

Trevor has a printmaking powers and I do not.

Today I did my first silk screen print. And oh crap, I forgot to put my screen away. Which means in the next hour I'll be driving down to the print lab in the cold wet rain. My mood has just gone frm delighted to aggravated in 2.6 seconds.

Anyway, my first silk screen print was a block of color, and although the application looked easy, I had difficulty. It came to my attention that it looked easy because Trevor was a professional and probably had ten times more arm strength than me. I pulled 7 out of 8 good prints! Pretty good for a newbie. I want to shoot for the stars with this project, because I really enjoy Andy Warhol's silk-screens prints. Andy Warhol took celebrity images and printed this in bright colors with different layers, and although it can seem kind of frivilous, it reflected alot about the values and popculture of his world at the time. I don't really want to get into that(I feel like I'm walking through honey whenever I think about fame), but I do really like the art of print-making. It's such an old artform, full of tradition, history, and hardwork. I think I appreciate that the most really, the sweat that goes into it.

Okay, off to save my print frame. Don't get kidnapped frame!

A Reflection on Point of View

Probably the most important factor in the telling of a story if the origin of the telling, the point of view. The point of view of Eudora Welty's story "The Worn Path" is third person but mostly centered for or behind Phoenix Jackson, the main character, as she travels from her home in the country to the city.

The first time I read the story, I clearly saw it from the Eudora Welty's perspective as a writer, telling the story of an old woman moving. Watching the movie, it was a lot easier to see it from Phoenix's perspective as she moved at a slow pace, with all of joints aching, and her crackled voice through old age. As we followed her specifically, whether stopped by a hunter or stopping a wealthy, kind woman, it was clear the center of attention was her, even more so when she got up all the way up there only to forget her reason for coming. Eudora Welty's interview, and her small readings of the story, didn't really change the perspective of the story. It only made me believe that as much brain power we put into figuring out the symbolism and similes of a story, the writer didn't intend half ot it. Welty confessed that a lof othe strange things Phoneix does are not signs of anything but tradition and old age. The point of the story, as Welty stated, is the repetition and cycle of Phoneix traveling the long "Worn Path."

Men Who Stare At Goats

Friday, I went to see Men Who Stare At Goats with two friends of mine. One who seemed to be in a constant state of text message argument with her boyfriend and got up several times to argue to his face, but that's beside the point.

The Men who Stare at Goats was no a solid film. To say it was, would go against the real meaning of the film, and the references to walking through walls bit. It was about the U. S. Military experimenting with psychic powers and making super soldiers. Whether or not it's true, which I have suspicion to believe, it is based on a book, a book I'm now really interested in reading. Ewan McGreggor played the relunctant hero in this story, a journalist who drafts himself into writing a story in right when the U.S. invades because his wife is leaving him for his wounded veteran boss. The main character runs into Len Cassidy, a man who is supposedly a construction representative, but really an ex-solider of the New Earth Army, a discontinued division of the army dedicated to creating super, psychic powered soldiers.

Even though, the move ended on a crazy beat, and the climax was a little strange, I really, throughly, enjoyed this movie, and because of all the characters, the actors, the performances, and the thoughtprovoking content of this movie, I would give it five stars.

One of the profound things that struck me about this film was how believable it was. Hardly anything George Clooney said was really based on science or fact. Most of it sounded like hoopla. But just like the main character, you were willing to believe it, which is what made it believable. Like an instinct, something you knew to do, although know one taught you how. When George Clooney was trying to prove to Ewan that they were destined to meet, it felt like he was talking to me. Sometimes things throw us off where were supposed to go, and it's like we're fighting the current. Then comes a sign, and the river flows freely again. I'm always looking for signs and messages written in the things i do or see that I'm going the right way. Sometimes I meet someone or find something and I feel like time stops and slows down. I feel like it did that for a whole year when I met my ex. I felt like I had slowed down and at the same discovered adulthood. Like life was handing my portions now: "Okay, here's a boyfriend, soon to be husband, here's a house, four kids, he'll be professor, you'll be an artist, living in Austin where you'll grow old and die together."

But maybe that's just growing paranoia. Hard to tell.

I think George Clooney's character may have been right, though, about signs and destiny. It's just a feeling.

MI FAMILIA

Sometimes the hardest parts of your life are the best times of your life. When I was away from my family for five weeks, it felt like the longest five weeks of my life. I'm close to brother, my father, and my mother. We're not close like The Patrtridge Family, or like The Cosby's, but we're pretty close. It's been almost three months, the longest I've ever been from them, and I miss my family a lot. Not only that, but I miss my culture. My mom is Mexican-American, and my dad is Caucasian-American. Both are pretty large families, but I spend more time with Mom's side. And until this summer, I never realized how much I missed my extended family and how much I miss my culture. Houston is heavily populated by Mexican Americans, so there's a strong presence of the culture there. Lots of tacos, Fiesta superstores, and spanish bakeries. I like it a lot, and the hispanic presence here is not as huge.

So I miss that, I miss hanging out with my Mom, knitting with my Grandma, reading comics with my little brother, watching Murder She Wrote with my Dad(or Charlie Chan), and, I can hardly believe it, walking my three-legged incredibly strong and impulsive Newfoundland dog. I also incredibly miss cheap fajitas and accessible kolache.

In a month, though, I'll be back home! I'm looking so forward to christmas. :)

I Sell Crack for the CIA

I'm a visual person. I have a strong photographic memory which probably why I can find things real easily. All i have to do is go back to a visual memory and zoom into the background and find the item, assuming that I took the time to examine my surroundings. This is probably why I'm an art student, probably why I work at a Movie Theatre(where I can watch as many movies as I want), and probably why I like putting up pictures on this blog.

My friend knits like crazy. She made this teddy bear named Presley for somebody called The Nostaliga Critic. This is his webpage.
http://www.thatguywiththeglasses.com/
I'm not really sure, though. I think that was her intention at first, but I fear she may love the bear too much to give him away. She knitted the entire shirt in one day. She was also knitting at work, in the stand. We took orders then as soon as the lobby was empty, she and I began knitting again. Being it so close to christmas, I don' know if I will be able to knit everything in time for presents and the time I leave for Houston. When I get to Houston, I'll be sure to spend all my time knitting like crazy.

Two Stories with answers.

Sonny’s Blues
1. Sonny Blues is told from the perspective of Sonny’s brother. His views on life, from living better as an educator in Harlem makes him view Sonny as a familiar delinquent.
2. The Older brother teaches Algrebra. It suggests that he is hopeful, he is kind, perhaps wants children, and it suggests that he cares about his community.
3. Sonny would probably show his life being made that way without his help and that his fate was not just his fault.
4. He reads about how he is arrested in the Newspaper for heroin possession.
5. His mother asks him to look out for Sonny. The narrator hasn’t really until now and feels a deep sense of guilt for not being watchful of his younger brother.
6. Mama, Daddy, and Sonny are just first names and titles because the narrator is familiar with who he’s narrating to. There is no need for last names or for further detail for who he is. The point is the character, not their names.
7. Sonny has made music his story or his tale. He uses it as both vocal chords and a tapestry for painting what he knows and cares about, then who he is inside. Sonny describes it as inspirational and changes his perspective about it being foolish to pursue a career in something that is surrounded by drugs, trickery, and failure.

Welty Story.
1. What is the point of view used in this story? Explain.Third person point of view, because not an “I” or “We” is mentioned in the story. The third person point of view mostly watches Phoenix
2. What is the significance of the old woman being named phoenix?Phoenix is a mythical bird that is firey red. They are well known for being born over and over again. Phoenix is named this because she practices the same thing over and over again either because she has a sort of memory loss that causes her to repeat the same thing.
3. Welty presents Phoenix’s dreams and hallucinations as if they were as real as everything else she encounters. What does this technique contribute to the story’s effect?This technique allows us small glimpses into her past and why she does the things she does. It also allows her to speak and show us some of her character.
4.How would you characterize the way phoenix is viewed and treated by the white people? Does it give indication of setting or place?She viewed as being hopeless, foolish, and withered. It gives us an idea that perhaps she lives in the south or midsouth, possibly after reconstruction. Also the fact she has to walk through woods and barb wire indicates she lives somewhere in the country.
5. In paragraph 52, Phoenix laughs t the black dog “as if in admiration.” What does she admire about him, and what does this attitude tell us about her?She admires that he approaches her. This attitude tells us that’s she’s crazy. I’m not very sure what this black dog represents. Perhaps her race?
6. “With her hands on her knees, the old woman waited, silent, erect, and moitionless, just as if she were in armor”(paragraph 85). Is this comparision at the end of this sentence just a striking visual image, or does it have a larger relevance?It’s both a striking visual image, and the relevance is that she is unmoving in her thoughts in daily practices to continue going into town to buy medicine. Also her posture and her hands on her knees represent her bracing against the changing times.

We're Destined for Little White Shoeboxes.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT.

I really like Postsecret. Its an anonymous, creative way for people to reveal their secrets without sounding stupid or whiney. Some are funny; some are sad, but all of them are interesting. This one particularly spoke to me. It's hard to like someone, to have been with them, and still like them. Especially when you're aware they're really dumb. It's also terribly funny and reminds me of my friends who are in turbalent relationships.

Sometimes I wonder if my life is secretly a sitcom. I'm sure everyone thinks their life is humorous in almost a scripted way. Relationships are clear indication of scripted drama, although some seem too outrageous to have been predicted. Accidents seem scripted even though they are defined to be unintentional and unscripted. Advice seems scripted. Weather never seems scripted. Grades never seem scripted even though they are. Jokes seem scripted to me, but the smiles and laughter than comes along with them never do.

I Despise Titles

I hate titles, in almost all it's forms. I think the only reason it offends me is because of the illusion of power that is dedicated to it. It is a form of pride, which leads to a form of opression if not used properly. In some ways, it is a new form of creating classes. There are those on the principal's list, and those simply on the honor roll. There are the graduates, and there are the PHDs. There are those with name brand, and those with generic brand. There are those in first class, and those in economic coach. I know titles are merely short descriptions which inable efficiency and communicatio, but they sometimes bring me down. Also, I find the titles of stories very hard to come up, but not as categorical.

I hate sitting in the kitchen at the hostel between 5pm and 9pm and I think I know why. It's because everytime I hear the door open, I half-expect my ex to come walkng in like some kind of sitcom.

"Hey guys! What's up?!" As if our favorite character of the show just arrived. We used to have a show it was called something like "Domestic Life" when my boyfriend at the time and I would try to juggle jobs, school, living together, and love. It was eventually too hard to bear, but I mostly got over it. Now i'm just struggling with the nostalgia of it all.

I hate it, because I have moments of weakness several times within a sitting period, so I'd much rather hide out in the staff room where the sound of the door opening and closing can't reach me. The unforunate occurrance is that the staffers come in and I'm curled up every single with with something to read, homework, or to watch. Like some kind of spider in the corner of the room, tucked away in it's web. I always feel so awkward, but I figure if they're find with it, then I should shoo these feelings away.

The trouble with walking backwards is that eventually you'll fall down. By moving back to the hostel, in some ways I've fallen in down in my progress to get over someone. This place reminds me of all the good times and bad times I went through with during a whole year. I can't even begin to express how it feels to be going back in time, I only know that when I start walking forward again, the feeling will be new and irreplacable.

Like an Idiot

bruises bruise bruises
temporary testaments
ghost of my handiwork
ghost of my clumsiness
ghost of my hardwork
ghost of my endurance
ghost of my strength
bruise bruises bruises
tell the story back to me
stop being so goddamn proud
grinning and laughing

Parker's Back

Parker's Back was an interesting story. It was funny at times, interesting, and sad. Flannery O'Connor's vivid description of "tree of fire" and eyes that said "GO BACK" really hit me. She painted a beautiful story of a man's search for a medium between pleasing his wife, being himself, and finding meaning. It was interesting to see what happened, although it was a little foreshadowed in the beginning that she would not be pleased by his tattoo of christ on his back.

There is a lot of symbolism in the story, to the point where O'Connor was just slabbing it on, like lunchmeat at a quiznos. Well, maybe not as rapidly and generously, but certainly enough that to look in every direction and see possibly some symbol. My interpretation is that his wife possibly represents the dramatic demands and harsh reality of the south. Parker's tattooes probably represent some of the confusing times of when the story was written. The tree of fire probably represents some kind of religious communication possible between God and Parker. Also, references "the burning bush" in the Old Testament which was used to communicate between God and Moses. The tatoo of Christ on his back, especially the Byzantine era, possibly represents what it actually is, the eyes of God boring through Parker's back. He can get as many tatoos as he wants to be individual, cool, or a hard man, but he will die and be emasculated by his wife.

I love O'Connor's style and her characters. It's easy to be both disturbed and sympathetic to the characters.

Flanner O' Connor

Flannery O’Connor’s religion and her regional ancestry had an impact on her work. I too am a southerner and a Catholic, so I can see where they both come in. There is a strong sense of right and wrong in the Catholic faith. Strict standards, sometimes high, are pressed upon those who follow faith and even on those who don’t. Rules like those who commit suicide are destined for hell. We consider it a sin, while other religions may not. It is the belief that to take even your own life is a decision you are not allowed to make. These are high standards of morality that our religion sometimes focuses on. Flannery O’Connor shows that especially in her work like “A Good Man is Hard to Find” when Judgement comes in the form of a serial killer who has these high standards of good people.
Born in Georgia, Flanner O’Connor’s environment has an effect on her work. She shows it in dialogue, in vocabulary, and also in character development. Religion is a strong influence in the south, and O’Connor shows that in her work with the mention of Jesus and the hypocrisy of believing in good and doing the right thing. She also shows it in her settings such as using Tennesee and Florida in “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” She also uses race in her stories which is constant issue in the south, and she uses racial slurs in dialogue to reveal the southern ancestry and racist ethics of the south. The south is also sometimes depicted as a contrasting blend of grotesque violence and ignorance with rich ancestry and history. Flannery O’Connor usually shows these characters that think themselves “old southern belles” being rude and repulsive.

Curse you, Beatles! For Encouraging Obnoxious Hand-holding!

I don't really hate The Beatles for wanting to hold hands. I, too, enjoy holding hands. But because of all the hand-holding wheverever I go, I have become increasingly aware of my availability.

My knitting friend calls Valentine's Day, "Single Awareness" Day. She calls it that assumming that couples are aware they are not single and single people become aware that they suddenly are. It's a clever name. Why I bring it up is because I feel like it has spread to a whole week for me. I find myself watching couples walk hand in hand down the street and wondering if they're happy. Sometimes I count them, and sometimes I make up stories about them as you would of a rorsach. It's become partly amusing, partly annoying.

Working at the movie theater is tough. Nearly everyone coming in is on a date, and I have become a part of their lives, servicing them in a way to make their date more enjoyable. Sometimes they show me a little of their warped relationship, of their complex love, or of their budding affections. Other times I don't know what I'm seeing two people on a date or two people just going through the motions.

Most of my friends were hand-holders once. It made me uncomfortable to hand out with them since everyone was walking around like some kind of bridal aisle, hand in hand. Now most of them have lost or dumped their respective partners in exchange for empty hands. Mine are buried deep in my pockets, and if someone were to rip them out of their caskets, they'd probably find broken fingers.

I'm not lonely, but I am feeling quite singular. I thought I found someone willing to put up with my sweaty palms, but it turns out it was a false alarm. If the world is going to start a classic chain of hand holding then I should probably get started on my finger pushups. But until the chainstarts, I'll probably be watching Across the Universe for the ten thousandth time with my hands buried in my pockets, typing with these ridiculous elbows.

Cakes

Ever since I bought this cupcake book from a garage sale, I have been baking and cooking a ton. It made me get lots more cooking books, using recipes and eating things I never thought i would try. It also has helped me realize that maybe I don't need a lot to be happy. Maybe I could just cook and cook for the rest of my life and be content with people enjoying my cooking. In fact, I don't know when the idea was born, but I have a plan to one day open a bake shop in Austin, Tx. I have been heavily influenced by places like Muddy's and just general coffee shops to sell my creations and supply a venue for musicians and artists.

My latest projects were pumpkin muffins with chocolate chips and bannana pudding cupcakes. It's mostly so I can research my own combination. Some ideas are maybe best left in the dark, but one them I can share which is The Cake Tumor. In my brain, it's a massive, chocolately cupcake, mishaped, and not aesthetically pleasing, but extremely delicious. I'm thinking maybe a ganache cupcake. With something horribly thick and delicious iced on top.

The pumpkin muffins failed due to a miscalculation between chocolate-chocolate chip muffin mix and just regular chocolate chip muffin mix. Too much chocolate, not enough pumpkin.

The bannana pudding cupcakes however were a complete success. :) I even made homemade whip cream to go on top. However, because I made so many, they're going away very slowly. I still have like five left or so, and I usually don't eat my creations. I have like one, but never really more than that.

I have thought about starting my own commission-bakery here in memphis, where people call me to comission a special kind of cake. :) I am not sure how that would work out. D:

Please Take a step back

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hibyAJOSW8U

If you're familiar with Art and it's methods, you know that you're less likely to see the flaws of your work when you view it from a distance. Up close, you notice all the little mistakes you made during the artistic process. The same theory is applied to nearly everything, that things at a greater distance are more pleasing than things at a closer distance. Almost every study or practice wraps around the idea. That things look great to us because we are not paying attention, and that if we got closer, we would notice the flaws.

Little girls have this problem a lot. Because they can't view themselves from the outside(metaphorically), all they see are the flaws. They get too close to the mirror and see their clogged pores, their veiny celluloid, their splitting ends, their long toes(a girl actually once complained to me that her toes were too long). What little girls fail to see is that there is no designated standard for normalcy or beauty, and that's the beauty of it.

I like that there are no standards even though we think there are standards. Is life like a wikipedia where we put our brains together and build a standard(with refutable evidence)? I know we all say that the constant stream of images and media puts an image in front of us of what we are supposed to be, but isn't that just us putting the tv and the media to the task of doing it?

I was just thinking to myself today. I know everyone talks about the perception of normalcy and standard, but hardly anyone is making that change against a made-up image. I guess change comes slowly.

I Love How Blogger Desregards My Links

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sc1zhHeyIY

The actual video Link.

Indie Memphis

Indie Memphis is never boring. This year proved it. So many different independent films, some good, some bad, but all definately unique.

I saw something called 45365. It was incredibly interesting, and although not gripping, it was not boring. Imagine you sat on a bench all day, listening in on conversations and looking closely at faces. It was basically that, but a constant stream of it. It was all about small town life, which automatically bores the crap out of me, but this movie didn't. It made me feel like I was actually there, sitting with these old biddies, watching this jock get pranked at his locker, listening to this cop tell an old man to call his cable company. Again, sounds boring, really wasn't.

I'm not sure what other meaning it could've had, made to look for the subtleties in happiness, stability, in hopefullness. It wasn't viewing the society of a small town from a political standpoint, but by, I suppose, a human standpoint, which is what I enjoyed the most.

I really desperately wanted to see. On The Edge Of Happiness directed by Mark Jones. He's the same director of Eli Parker is Getting Married, a movie I caught one late night when I was incredibly bored on WKNO(which is what I watch when I have a tv, when i get bored). The movie was hilarious, about a man who get's pranked on his bachelor night. He is cuffed to his bestfriend, naked in a canoe, in the middle of the lake in the middle of middle Tennessee. At that moment, his bestfriend comes out to him as being gay. Yeah, so it was hilarious, nonetheless, watching everything get more and more tangled as it became unraveled. I wanted to see his latest film because I knew he'd done good work. Because I was pelted with work, however, I could not attend the showing. I suppose I'll have to either purchase it or check it out of Black Lodge which tends to have these films.

In the end, I wish I had seen more movies but it's tough when you normall get free tickets, and now you have to pay. I wish Malco would give me free tickets to Indie Fest.

Finally Finished Video

Even though I was unsure of whether or not this assignment would be accepted late, I did it anyway, because I really liked my story. I like manatees, I like watercolor, and I like Reading Rainbow.

So here is where you can find my completed video.



Hooraaaaaay.

My Video inspired by the Glass Menagerie

I wrote a story inspired by the Glass Menagerie. I am making watercolor illustrations to go along with the story, plus narration, then turn those ingrediants into a video product. Unfortunately, however, a good video takes a while to make, therefore i will not have it completed by 9:20 AM this morning. I hope viewers and my teacher wil forgive me for my lateness. I will be able to complete this project over the break, and have the URL ready by the next time we meet.

I have the story ready here.


The story of Mana.

Once upon a time, there was a marsh, and living in the marsh was a manatee called Mana. Mana grew up in the shallow waters of the marsh with his older brother, Ani. Together, they lived an ordinary life, a constant agenda of sleeping, eating, swimming, and eating. Occasionally, a roaring engine would come by, and the sound would scrape and injure his older brother who was always trying to protect Mana. Mana was tired of the marsh and was tired of being protected.

Sometimes Ani would tell stories. He would talk of where their parents came from and how they disappeared. Ani described they had gone to the ocean, and it was vast and beautiful, but Mana highly doubted Ani’s observations for as long as he had known his brother, he had never been to the ocean. Mana would always ask, “How do you know what the ocean looks like if you’ve never seen it?” and Ani stated that he would know it when he saw it. There was one story, Mana was always curious about, and it was how they came to be. Ani told Mana that a long, long time ago, they were once human. They were once a people who fell in love with water. They made love to the ocean, and the manatees became their children. Mana wondered what it’d like to be human, to see the ocean, to love it so much to be a part of it.

One day, when Ani was sleeping, Mana decided he wanted to see the ocean. He moved toward the shore, until it became shallower and shallower. At first he was scared, scared he would not be able to come back, but before he knew it he was wiggling along the sandy floor. His flippers became hands, his body became longer, and his tail became two long legs.

Mana had become a human. Ashamed of what he had done, he could not go home. He could not face his brother this way, and Mana abandoned the marsh and left for the ocean.

Mana traveled as far as his human legs could take him. He went to many places, New York where he made friends, Chicago, where he developed a taste for pizza, Memphis where he learned how to dance, and finally, New Orleans, where he picked up the trumpet. Now the trumpet was an unusual talent, especially for a manatee, but it’s long sounds, round and deep reminded him of his older brother. When Mana finally met the ocean where the levies broke, he was surprised by how his brother‘s words rang in his ears. It was vast and beautiful, and it spoke to Mana. The Ocean spoke one word and that was “Small.” With this tiny message, Mana realized he would have to go back for his brother.

When Mana returned to the marsh, his brother was gone. He searched and searched, but could not find him. He asked his brother’s friends who were now old and crinkly with wives and children, where he could have gone. They stated that a long time ago he was taken by a group of men. He went west, in search and came across a man from Africa in a place filled with books. His name was Seif, and he was man who had a knack for finding answers. Mana told Seif his story of how he was once a manatee and had become a man. Seif said he had heard stories from his tribe of men living in rivers, but had never thought it could happen. According to their tales, manatees were sacred and that to kill a manatee would bring about bad luck. Mana asked Seif to help him, and Seif agreed. Together, they went in search of Mana’s brother.

After many restless nights and days, Mana and Seif reached a place where the land was flat and golden. There, they met a Native American man named Enapay. Enapay was a healer and he could feel Mana’s pain. Enapay heard his story, fed them both, and let them stay with him in his humble cabin. That night, he awoke Mana and told him he knew where his brother was. By the light of the fire, he showed him a pot. Inside the pot were fish bones and spices. He asked him. “Why did you leave the marsh?” Mana replied. “I was bored. I was trapped by water, and wanted more than an ordinary life.” Enapay asked him. “But what did you lose?” Mana looked at him, and Enapay placed the thin bone in his hand. Instantly, Mana knew. His brother was dead. In the silence, Enapay spoke, “We are all trapped, whether by fishtails or by legs. We cannot free ourselves, and to free ourselves is to lose a part of who we are. Here is your brother. I did what you could not. I have freed him.”

Mana took his brother’s remains from the old man, and but could not return to sleep. In the morning, he revealed to Seif what had occurred that night. Seif lashed out at Enapay, but Mana stated he did not feel any ill will toward him. Mana asked Seif if he would take the bad luck from Enapay and give it to him. Seif reluctantly agreed. With Badluck in one hand, and his brother in the other, he departed from Seif with warm gratitude and heart, bid his farewell to the healer, and set out for the western shore.

At the Pacific coast, Mana released the bones into the ocean and burned the Badluck into his eyes. Now Mana’s eyes would always and forever be marked with sadness. Mana stood on the cold rock and kicked off his shoes. With his trumpet hanging over his shoulder, he swam and swam until his legs could not work anymore, until they became a tail, until his arms became flippers and he was once again a manatee.

My Video inspired by the Glass Menagerie

1. Tentative project title

"Mana"

2. Type of artistic activity. Write a short paragraph that (1) describes your artistic creation, and (2) explains why or how you became interested in this particular type of artistic expression. Be specific (e.g., “I will write a one-act play about . . .(relative to the Williams plays). “My interest in doing this grew out of . . . ”).

My artistic creation will be watercolor illustrations with narrative background. Think Reading Rainbow. I may do the narration myself but to save face, I might actually get a friend with a talent for speaking. I became interested in watercolor after reading "The Little Vulcan" story that was based off the story "The Little Prince."

3. Artistic objectives. Briefly state the artistic objectives you hope to achieve, both for yourself and for your audience. Is there a message you want to convey? In addition, there may be underlying artistic questions you hope to explore; if so, identify them. Take the time to think this through clearly and deeply before articulating your artistic objectives.

I want to convey the message of being trapped, freeing yourself from the trap, and then losing a part of yourself while doing so. How both success and abandonment sometimes go hand in hand. I want to juxtapose a mature, lonely message with the child-like and visually pleasing medium of watercolor.

4. Significance. Briefly state why your artistic objectives are important. Why should others be interested?

My artistic objectives are important because it follows a similiar theme in Tennessee Williams's The Glass Menagerie, juxtaposing the feeling of trapment with the idle, beautiful collection of glass figurines. Something beautiful and fragile but is not free.

5. Intellectual/artistic context. Briefly indicate the ideas, constructs, principles, style, or approach that you expect will guide the development and interpretation of your artistic creation.

I would like to use the story of a manatee to convey the message. Mana, a manatee, is compelled to follow the life of a manatee, living in the confines of the watery river it lives in. Its family compells is it stay, even though day after day they are in constant danger and pain from speedboats and poachers. They dream of a life in the ocean though, having heard it is vast and beautiful where no one hunts or skims over you with their speedboat. Mana tells them they'll never reach the ocean, but they could become men and join people on the land. They dream of the ocean until Mana brings humans to take them to the ocean. Instead they take them into captivity, and Mana's family is annoyed with him. Because Mana believes that although he has tricked them, he only tried to save them. Mana becomes a man, and leave his family in captivity to travel the world.

This is just a rough idea, i might change where the family goes, but it will always be about Mana.

6. Methodology. Briefly describe how you will proceed with your artistic project, including resources you expect to use. Provide a timeline for completion.

I expect to use watercolor artists such as Mangotrillis and others used to convey Neil Gaiman's story. I also expect to look up a lot of illustrators.

1. Write story
2. Complete Illustrations
3. Rehearsal with Narration; Complete Narration
4. Edit
5. Produce and present.

A Little Story Using Star Trek Characters

I found this story someone wrote using Star Trek Characters.

It's like reading a story book written by Neil Gaiman. It has watercolor pictures, beautiful words, and interesting symbolism.

I really appreciate this.

http://ayalesca.livejournal.com/83279.html?style=mine

Late Night Tea and Knitting

Okay so we're supposed to write about ideas, so I'm writing about my knitting progress so far.

My Knitting Ideas

1. Spock hat: -the hair, the ears, the eyebrows.
2. Klingon hat: the ridges and dreds.
3. Racoon hat: brown/black
4. Bob Ross hat: crazy hair and mustache
5. Shark hat: a shark biting your head hat
6. Mohawk hat: with faux mohawk yarn
7. Lion hat: a lion eating your head
8. Bear hat: a bear eating your head
9. Cat hat: a cat sitting on your head
10. Mexican wrestling masks
11. Cool sweaters

Most of these are because I would like to knit people their totem pole animal. Cliff, a friend of mine stated his totem animal would be Bob Ross, from that painting tv-show. The man was known for his dedication to Alaskan wildlife preservation.

Yarp.

My friend, Lauren Teixiera is a huge stichin' bitch, and she has her own site to sell all of her stuff. She knitted me this awesome mohawk hat you might see me wearing around in the next couple of weeks, weather permitting.

http://www.etsy.com/profile.php?user_id=6692001

She is preparing for the winter.

Weird Dream

I had a weird dream. I was watching a video where Valerie, my friend/housemate's girlfriend, was trying to thank me for understanding that love is strange and difficult no matter how hard you try. She was choking back tears, and eventually they won, and she started crying, but soon the tape ended by way of interruption. It went to static.

The next thing I see is that I'm in a rainforest or the woods, but it's different. Like a nightmare, fantasy rainforest/woods type area, and Tom, my other housemate, and Christiaan, the one whos girlfriend is Valerie, are chained up together by the wrist. They're hiding from something and discussing a tactic. The Tree(yes, the tree) between them has a mouth and it warns them that if they don't move soon they're going to die but also warns them that they are doomed anyway just by being here(in the woods).

The next thing I see is Valerie, but she's not Valerie anymore. She is alive and walking around but there are bugs and sentipedes and various crazy insects are crawling all over her face and shoulders. She puts her hand tentatively to her mouth as if she's thinking of something.... then a cockroach crawls over her cheek into her mouth, and she eats it.

O_________O

So yeah, my weird dream. I'm sorry if it scares people. Oddly enough it didn't scare me it just made me extremely curious.

Valerie, btw, is a wonderful woman from Germany who Christiaan has been dating for quite some time. She is an art-history major at Chicago Art Institute.

Cigarette Girl Review

I wrote this review a long time ago on a different web page.

Cigarette girl leaved something to be desired. actually, let me rip it to shreds. First and foremost, let me remind all that it's easier to criticize something than it is to create.

The Acting. One helpful hint about acting, is you've got to pretend you're not acting. Peope often say wearing another character's skin and what not. That is true. People often say pretending is acting. That is not true. Anyone can pretend to be someone else, but you gotta pretend you're not pretending. it's complicated, but watching it was like watching people on stage. people on stage can preten because they're on stage. The audience knows they're actors and the actors know they're not really these characters. what actors have to do with movies and television though is lose that part where the audience knows. We don't know. We need to believe we're not watching a movie. We need to be shown what we are seeing is a peek into someone else's life. that's not what i got out of this.
Originiality - Probably the most important thing of an independent film. That's the beauty of it! It's not about money or who and who isn't staring in it. The formula or cliche does not have to apply. You risk losing the attention of the audience but you gain a beautiful artform and style. I didn't see that here. The plot was a good idea but what could've been amazing turned out being overcooked.

Writing/Dialogue: It could've been awesome. He was aiming for minimalistic, dystopian, but really it came off as emulating tarantino poorly. actually, the attempt was ridiculous. I felt like i was reading fanfiction where someone didn't know what kind of world they were in. Like a secretary dictating gun ammo. Saying the words as if she hadn't used them before in her life. I wanted to shoot someone because no one had a clue what they were talking about. research and a little life experience may have greatly improved this. actors may also be partly to blame here.

so in other words, dissappointed. there is a such thing as a good independent film. Makeout with violence was pretty good. One I saw over at Watkins Art School was pretty well put together.

Where have been? Where are you going?

In Sharold Oates' story, "Where have you been, where are you going?," Connie is the story’s main character in which the third person intimately looks into her thoughts and feelings.

The house, as Connie’s identity, is kind of like both her child hood and her secret identity. She puts on make up and nice clothes and accentuate her older features to pretend she is something she is not. When she goes home, she comes back to slip off her costume and retain this childlike identity for her family and herself. Essentially she is still 16, so when Arnold Friend comes a knocking, her first instinct is stranger-danger cause he is meeting her at her secret identity.

I think Arnold probably takes her somewhere remote, probably where he can have his way with her. Or maybe even where he can show her off. Shortly after she got in his car, she was probably abused.

The setting functions as a reflection of the characters and their actions. A barren, country setting not far from the city reflects how her family is close and yet far from making real connections, all path blocked by selfishness or sarcasm. It also reflects the differences in Connie and her alter ego, the woman she wants to be seen as and the little girl she still very much is. The complications of her night ego slip into the day world of her child identity when Arnold comes knocking.

Ghana Food

Nothing is better than taking a long shower and have someone cook you a hot meal.

After a fruitless search today, I was aching coming home to the hostel. The moment Ientered the stairwell, I found it filled with this amazing smell, like homecooking. I discovered that visitors from Africa were cooking! I told them it smelled so good. For some reason, it remind me of mom who just recently visited this weekend before heading back to Houston, Tx.

I took a long shower after all the walking and sweating today. When I walked in, they were all still gathered around, and they invited me to eat with them. Someone served me a plate of some really hot rice and chicken, and it was the healthest, spicest, most delicious meal all day.

Oh god, was it spicy. But it was delicious and from Ghana, and it tasted like love, man.

Voodoo, whether you think of it as a religion or not, has some science to it. The energy you put into something, creates it. When you cook something and you put love into it, it tastes lke the love and energy it was made with and can sometimes make you stronger and live longer. It also tastes better.

Anyway, so it tasted like the best meal i'd had since saturday morning with mom. I asked a man of the group why and where they were from. They were from ghana and came to Memphis because they were muscians and were touring. I was hoping they'd stay til thursday, to play at open mic night at Java Cabana. I would try to see them then.

Afterwords, I tried to clean my plate, but they wouldn't let me! He said because the women cooked, the men would clean. I protested, because I certainly didn't cook, but they wouldn't hear it. So I thanked both the men and the women of the group of Africans from Ghana and went to here to work on homework and stuff.

One of the best things about Pilgrim House Hostel is that people from all over the world are generally nice, and they want to feed you whether you're hungry or not. I especially loved that about this place, and missed it when i left, because it has introduced me to so much good food and good people.

Judith Slaying Holofernes

This is a painting done by one of the earliest recognized female painter known as Artemisia Gentileschi. The painting is a tribute to the folklore, or perhaps, biblical story behind her home town. It is about how a young woman saved the town from an evil general by seducing him with the promise of a good time and alcohol. After he drank all the alcohol, she chopped off his head with a sword, decapitating the army that held her town captive. The story is somewhat reflective of Gentileschi herself, who was raped by her own apprentice. Her father sued the young man and won. She started the painting before the trial and finished when the trial was over. There is some of herself in the painting and some of the story.

I though some explaining was due.

Halloween is almost religious and Tom will find me in the star trek movie

I hate the rain. Well I don't hate the rain, but certainly is an uninvited guest who comes into my house, eats all my junkfood, then leaves all her trash, and me in a terrible mood to clean up. I know she's just cleansing and making everything greener, but after three days of no sun, I begin to dawdle away from real tasks.

Alyssa Blair, my beloved red head friend, is away in Italy when I really want to talk to her. Facebook is my stalker use to find out how she's doing. Apparently, she feels awfully different, but she is enjoying the privacy in some ways. I should probably tell her she's gonna feel pretty different around anyone but us. I miss our late night turkey bacon.

Shannon and I have apparently reached a new level of nerd. She is making plans for star trek costumes. I said "yeah, okay, i can see Tom just walking into the staff room, and I'm dressed in a star fleet uniform watching star trek, oh is he going to freak out." Tom is my old friend and ex-manager. I used to work at Pilgrim House Hostel as an R.A. I moved out about half a year ago, and now I'm back as a just a resident for the time being. I often go to the staffroom to do all my homework and me-time.

Pilgrim House Hostel, if you're interested >>> http://www.pilgrimhouse.org/Pilgrim_House/Home.html

Again she's planning, but who really knows if we'll do this. Meanwhile, I'm stuck on my crazy art history halloween costume planning. Last year I was Frida Kahlo and I was thrilled to see how many people knew who I was. This year it's Judith Slaying Holofernes. The picture is up there.
Basically, I'm going to be going around campus with a big yellow dress holding a man's maniquin head and a sword. Thinking about roping a friend into following me around, dressed as maid with a basket. But that's probably oh wait, Dana would do it. YES.

I'm going to count how many people get it this year. This is why Halloween is almost a religious holiday to me.

Two poems and a Story

Growing and Growing

"A&P" by John Updike has vivid ingrediants. It uses personal simple vocabulary in metaphorical ways. Sammy paints a perfect vision of the supermarket pinball machine with the people weaving in and out of the aisles. He uses strange graphic descriptions of freckles and lips all bunched up together. These descriptions are painfully accurate, like watching something under a magnifying glass.

The process is first person, absolutely commited to Sammy, who is growing from childhood to adulthood. Usin the ingrediants in story formatt along with an introductory setting, a climatic paragraph and a conclusive ending.

This story's product is a story, of course, and a meaning that it doesn't matter what people think, only what Sammy thinks of himself. If Sammy thinks he's a hero, he's a hero. It doesn't matter what the small town he live in thinks or what the girls didn't notice, it's that Sammy thinks he did right.

"Rites of Passage," written by Sharon Olds, is comprised of different ingrediants, processed in a different way, and with a different end product. The ingrediants are comprised of words like "jostling, jockeying," "Generals," "turret," and a repetition of "men" when referring to characters that are actually young children. The words are agressive at first with phrases like "eye each other, seeing themselves small," then change to gentle descriptions like "freckles like specks of nutmeg" implying something else entirely. The author juxtaposes a happy event with the serious and grave manner of make-believe war in children's minds.

Processing this poem is first person as well, through the eyes of the mother. The conflict is certainly man against an idea, that men will fall in the line of other men, like sheep, and already the main boy in the story proves he will think differently. Part of the process is also conversation in italics, so that we may know why he will be different. The contrast between men and boys is how the poem ferments into being both humorous and interesting.

The Product of the poem is the meaning and the poem itself. It is the message from the writer to the reader that she hopes her child will be different and think differently whether it is pretending at a young age or making real decisions as an adult.

"The One Girl at the Boy's Party", also created by Sharon Olds, is a poem about girls but contains similiar elements, however the words she uses that are eye-grabbing is composed of mathematical terms. Unlike most poets who use superfluous words like chandierlers or unnecessary vases, she use them like gears and tools that keep the meaning and the textured imagery flowing. Words like "smooth," "sleek," "indivisible," pencil lead," "sealed," and "plunge." Phrases like "molecules of chlorine" and "to the power of thousand" only increase the drama and awe the poem entails.

The poem is composed of woman versus image. We as readers are expected to be well aware of the myth that women aren't good at math, and that the poem is used to defy that mythical information. Using first person of perhaps a mother or father, it depicts the scene of the only girl at an all boy's party who is joining in with swimming. At first, the main girl character has seemed to enter the scene as a child, but by the end of it, she has become something powerful to admire. This theme from child to adult is common place.

The end product is a poem and a meaning that when women become older, the point of views of the children will change along with age, but will not change who they are. The energy and smarts grow with a person and will defy expectations.

A common theme between all three of these literary examples is the change from child to adult, from the helpless position and age to the decisive and powerful age whether through the loss of a job, the change a subject, or entering a new area of expertise.

John Updike + two poems

The John Updike interview over the A&P story was interesting. He drew some of the story from personal experience and some from his own observations. He connected villians from his life when his mother was a salsewoman to villians in the story. He also refers to people in the market aisles as balls in a pinball machine was vivid imagery and a humourous idea. Mr. Updike believes or refers to Sammy as a hero, which is contrary to what I and most of my Literary Heritage Class believe. He states he is a hero, even if he is looking for reocgnition or praise.

I think what Mr. Updike means is that even though Sammy is looking for praise or recognition, it doesn't make him any less of a hero. He isn't a modest hero or the relunctant hero, but he is a hero nonetheless. I can somewhat agree with that statement since there are some people we regard as heroes although they have many undesirable qualities such as Ulysses S. Grant and his drinking problem, Barrack Obama and his smoking habit, or John McCain and his anger issues.

_+_+_+_

Poems.

Rites of Passage.
Interesting! I thought it was adorable how she referred to the boys as "short men." I can relate to that since i come from two families, one large hispanic family and one large white texan family. On my father's side, the white Texan family, there is a strong sense of "manliness" even at a young age. My cousin has three children, and since the day they're born, they learn to act like stoic, serious men, mostly cause the grown men in the family act like they've walked out of an old western.

The One Girl at the Boy's Party
Really fun to read. I like mathematical vocabulary even though I neither speak it or understand it. I very much enjoyed reading this poem because at times I could relate to it(as in the title). However, i did not understand that sense of awe she was implying that the boys felt for the only girl. Wouldn't most children that age not notice? I haven't spent a lot of time with children in a while and I couldn't see the perspective. The imagery and the metaphors were like a painting.

Oh Procrastination should be an art form.

Sometimes I'll sit down with every intention to joyfully complete my homework only to realise that I'd much rather be doing something else.

I went to Knoxville this weekend. It was awesome. Hilarious. Terribly fun and dramatic. I went with my friend, Shannon Leonard, who i've known since Middle School. It was good to go with only one person and not have to deal with the urine systems of two other people in the car. I think me and my brother have synchronized are urine systems since we went to Houston together to pick up mom.

Okay, besides that, we went to an awesome used cd/book/movie stoor known as McKay's.

http://www.mckaybooks.com/

this place had everything. It had every star trek novel that Shannon had been looking for(well one wasn't there). I bought season one of star trek and season one of True Blood, because everyone kept badgering me about seeing it and it was only $30.00. We wanted to spend hours there, but we had to cut our time short. Eliot, my little brother who was the whole reason we came to Knoxville, needed to be somewhere at a certain time, and we had made plans to feed him before that engagement.

Sushi was delicious. A cheap place called Tomo is where we went. They had soup, salad, and two kinds of delicious rolls for $10.00. I paid for Eliot's meal since I knew he wasn't working and needed the cash. Unfortunately, I didn't realize until we went to the imax that night I really should have paid for the movie ticket which was $15.00 instead. >:

I know, i'm an idiot, but at least i did some good in his world, right? Sushi is good.

The ride home was hard. I was so tired, but everytime I wanted to sleep, I kept thinking "only one more hour!" Shannon kept me up with classics like Rush and Journey and then some silly disney songs gone punk. Did I mention that there's a reason we've been friends for this long? It's because of awesome stuff like that. :D

I took the longest shower in the history of showers when i got back and proceded to write uselessness until about 3 am in which i passed out and missed my first class the next day.

Rejuvination comes with a price. What I would give for a phoenix down.

Because I think I'm supposed to put something here?

I write poetry sometimes when i can't express something coherently.

-Nology
by me.

Your name is void of meaning
Its place is forgotten in my parkinglot of a heart
I'll eat the flesh of my peachy summer
I'll lick the insides of my lips for the leftover tastes of my life
While I careen out of chaos into order
Plaid shirts
Toiling sleeves
Paint and sweat
I am wanted
See my smile
Laughter escapes like bubbles
Underwater
Catch me if you can.

Harriet Tubman

Harriet Tubman is a heroine. For one thing, the woman has never backed down. She was a humanitatian, an abolitionist, and a conductor of the Underground Railroad. She helped free over seventy slaves by helping them cross the border into the north. She risked her life and freedom to help many people improve their lives. She is known as a heroine, not only for her great deeds or intent, but also because of her conquest over the obstacles against her at that time.
Being a woman was hard at that time she lived. Her rights were already limited as an African-American. Imagine that you glass is full. You are a human. Now you’re a black human, you’re glass is half full. Now you’re a black woman, and half of that is gone. You have a glass, one fourth full of rights. That is what Harriet Tubman had, and she went beyond it. She broke the laws of the time to achieve something greater, which is that all human life is real and should be respected.
I have a soft spot for females in history. I took a Women’s History class last semester, and it opened my eyes to how very few times women are mentioned in history. It also opened my eyes to the world from a woman’s perspective. I should’ve known the perspective, but suddenly I found myself questioning these laws, questioning from what people say is wrong and what is actually right. When I was young, I knew that Harriet Tubman was important and why, but I never understood what it meant for her to be mentioned in history. She was, in fact, a heroine known for her courage and great deeds.
Sammy pales in comparison to Harriet Tubman. Why, to even suggest that the two profiles be placed next to each other is an insult to Harriet Tubman. Yet it is good apply the word to numerous levels of good deeds and sizes of courage. However, I don’t perceive as Sammy to be a hero. I perceive him to be a fool. Sammy quits his job in the defense that the manager treated the girls unfairly. It sounds like a good reason at first, but a second thought makes it sound like a silly reason. The argument and the humiliation was over bathing suits and lewdness, not over lives. No one was hurt by the crime they were reprimanded for, but no one but a girl’s feelings were hurt by the reprimand. I’m sure there have been numerous times where Sammy has felt differently than the manager. Only now, does Sammy actually do something about it and only because there are pretty faces involved.
If Sammy possesses heroism, it is biased and unhealthy. He tells himself and others he does it for “little people” but really he is doing it to gain recognition and praise because he has led a mundane existences in a supermarket. Did Harriet Tubman free seventy people and more because she lack praise and attention? I don’t think so.