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.