The most interesting thing about this writing assignment was the group aspect. The process of writing something with other people is quite strange. I have my own style of writing and my own ideas for things, as does everyone else. So, when you have to create a piece of writing together, it's, actually, really hard. No matter what everyone feigns to believe, working with other people is difficult.
Now, that's not to say that working with my group members was not enjoyable at all, because we definitely had fun and did a lot of good thinking and collaborating. Sometimes, it's great having those other people to bounce ideas off of and grab thoughts from when you're totally dry. But, then, other times, it's annoying having to listen to other people's ideas when you really just want to put down what's in your head.
In terms of our group, we did really well together. There's obviously dominating and more submissive group members, there always is. Those are the things that make your group strong and able to work together. Without those leaders or followers everything would be chaos.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Metacognition: Jane Eyre
My mom told me that I would love Jane Eyre. I hate when my mom's right.
I loved the novel for precisely two reasons.
First, it was 19th century! Contrary to the opinions of some of my classmates, that concept drew me in. Whenever I see something historical, I feel this almost magnetic pull towards it. My mind craves that sense of the past, that portal to yesteryear. Why? I have no idea... But, when I would start reading, I would drift away, and find myself transplanted into the story: I could see the trees; I could hear the horses hooves, clopping along the brick road into Milton; Thornfield's sitting room was all around me; Jane was at my side. It was almost like heaven... (Yes, I know I'm a nerd...)
And second, the language. Oh, the language. It was lush; it was rich; it was quintessentially 19th century, and that was great. Modern novels (although some are masterful) are sometimes so painfully to the point and minimalist. I'm not saying that a candid, word saving style is not beautiful; it definitely can be. But, for me, personally, Brontes style is so much more alluring, so organic, so unknown. You get the feeling that she is just pouring out her heart threw her hand, and I could not rip myself away.
Although here, I am being somewhat modernly minimalist in my explanation, opposed to my sometimes garralous (notice the use of a vocab word) blogposts, those two things which I loved the most about Jane Eyre are things I would love to emulate. I'm not living in the 19th century, no. And that's what I think the novel taught me the most, that someday, probably in the far, far future, I'd like to write like Bronte, be like Bronte.
...but never stop being myself of course.
I loved the novel for precisely two reasons.
First, it was 19th century! Contrary to the opinions of some of my classmates, that concept drew me in. Whenever I see something historical, I feel this almost magnetic pull towards it. My mind craves that sense of the past, that portal to yesteryear. Why? I have no idea... But, when I would start reading, I would drift away, and find myself transplanted into the story: I could see the trees; I could hear the horses hooves, clopping along the brick road into Milton; Thornfield's sitting room was all around me; Jane was at my side. It was almost like heaven... (Yes, I know I'm a nerd...)
And second, the language. Oh, the language. It was lush; it was rich; it was quintessentially 19th century, and that was great. Modern novels (although some are masterful) are sometimes so painfully to the point and minimalist. I'm not saying that a candid, word saving style is not beautiful; it definitely can be. But, for me, personally, Brontes style is so much more alluring, so organic, so unknown. You get the feeling that she is just pouring out her heart threw her hand, and I could not rip myself away.
Although here, I am being somewhat modernly minimalist in my explanation, opposed to my sometimes garralous (notice the use of a vocab word) blogposts, those two things which I loved the most about Jane Eyre are things I would love to emulate. I'm not living in the 19th century, no. And that's what I think the novel taught me the most, that someday, probably in the far, far future, I'd like to write like Bronte, be like Bronte.
...but never stop being myself of course.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
360 Degrees: The Euro
"The euro will raise the citizens' awareness of their belonging to one Europe more than any other integration step to date.” ~ Gerhard Schroeder
For some strange, inexplicable reason, the Euro (yes, like the currency) popped into my head as a subject for this blog post. I've decided to run with it.
Alright, let's first establish that you either think a cross-continental currency is a good thing or a bad thing, or you could be indifferent, I suppose. I personally can't decide (like always). But, I actually have semi-intelligent reasons.
On the pro-Euro side, I think that it promotes a greater unity in Europe that never really existed before. Since the fall of the Roman Empire, the diverse peoples of Europe have been brutally slaughtering each other. Only recently, as of the 1990s, has that ceased. Maybe the Euro won't stop the onset of another world war that has roots in European conflict. But, then again, maybe that extra sense of togetherness that is being promoted right now across the continent, will be the straw that did not break the camels back (please excuse the horrendous cliche that I just shamefully utilized). There's also the argument of simple convenience. France and Italy are about as far apart as Illinois and Michigan; can you imagine having to change your money to go to Michigan? Not to mention, what if you stopped at a rest stop in Indiana (assuming that you're going to the lower peninsula) and had to change your money there too? It would just be a hassle...
As for the anti-Euro argument, the Euro destroys some of the last bits of cultural identity every European country has. Globalization has gone too far; way too far. If I am French, I want to see someone who was born in France, someone who speaks French, someone who legitimately loves cheese that smells (and sometimes tastes) like rotten arm-pits, on my money, not some graphically pleasant European symbol of "unity". Seriously, what's next? A cross-continental language to rob us of our tongues (oh wait, they already tried that...)?
I obviously took it a little too far in the last paragraph, but nevertheless, I think both sides have a point. Then, there is, the indifferent side. But I need not explain their stance, it's self-explanatory.
The one thing I'm really curious about is what the people in Europe actually feel about the Euro. I mean, I've been to Europe three times (one of them was in England, and they are too British to use the Euro) and I never heard anything from the people, either way. They were in no way cursing out the money when we gave it to them (in fact they happily accepted it). Are they suppressing some burning pit if bottomless hate and resentment? Maybe...??
For some strange, inexplicable reason, the Euro (yes, like the currency) popped into my head as a subject for this blog post. I've decided to run with it.
Alright, let's first establish that you either think a cross-continental currency is a good thing or a bad thing, or you could be indifferent, I suppose. I personally can't decide (like always). But, I actually have semi-intelligent reasons.
On the pro-Euro side, I think that it promotes a greater unity in Europe that never really existed before. Since the fall of the Roman Empire, the diverse peoples of Europe have been brutally slaughtering each other. Only recently, as of the 1990s, has that ceased. Maybe the Euro won't stop the onset of another world war that has roots in European conflict. But, then again, maybe that extra sense of togetherness that is being promoted right now across the continent, will be the straw that did not break the camels back (please excuse the horrendous cliche that I just shamefully utilized). There's also the argument of simple convenience. France and Italy are about as far apart as Illinois and Michigan; can you imagine having to change your money to go to Michigan? Not to mention, what if you stopped at a rest stop in Indiana (assuming that you're going to the lower peninsula) and had to change your money there too? It would just be a hassle...
As for the anti-Euro argument, the Euro destroys some of the last bits of cultural identity every European country has. Globalization has gone too far; way too far. If I am French, I want to see someone who was born in France, someone who speaks French, someone who legitimately loves cheese that smells (and sometimes tastes) like rotten arm-pits, on my money, not some graphically pleasant European symbol of "unity". Seriously, what's next? A cross-continental language to rob us of our tongues (oh wait, they already tried that...)?
I obviously took it a little too far in the last paragraph, but nevertheless, I think both sides have a point. Then, there is, the indifferent side. But I need not explain their stance, it's self-explanatory.
The one thing I'm really curious about is what the people in Europe actually feel about the Euro. I mean, I've been to Europe three times (one of them was in England, and they are too British to use the Euro) and I never heard anything from the people, either way. They were in no way cursing out the money when we gave it to them (in fact they happily accepted it). Are they suppressing some burning pit if bottomless hate and resentment? Maybe...??
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Inconvenient Truth: Band of Brothers
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother; be never so vile. This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now abed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.” ~ William Shakespeare in Henry V
This spring break I had nothing to do. My friends had all jet-setted off to Florida, Hawaii, or the Caribbean. I was stuck, in Northbrook, with my dog.
On Monday night, I started rummaging through our dvd collection and came across Band of Brothers, an HBO miniseries about a parachute infantry company during World War II. My dad always says that it's the best thing that has ever been on television...
I put it in.
Over the course of the week, I watched all ten episodes. They were filled with victory and loss, death and life, elation and devastation. It was captivating. It was real. My dad was right.
In the episode where the company is fighting at the Battle of the Bulge, one of the main characters says that in a different time, the men he is fighting against and putting all of his energy into destroying, might have been his friends. Maybe they like to hunt, and he likes to fish. He finally realizes that the men he is fighting are not the most terrible people on the face of the earth. They're not evil; they're not malicious. Just like him, they're trying to do their jobs and get home to their wives and children.
It's like there is some light bulb that clicks into everyone's head, even civilians, when there's a war. They are the enemy. They must die. Whoever they are, be it the Germans, the Soviets, the Vietnamese, or the Iraqis, we are against all of them. They're all the same. They are all bad.
But who is it really that we hate? Who's the bad guy? It's their government, their leaders, who, ironically enough, are quite often oppressing their own people to the point that they hate them too. So then why do we hate them all? Why do we channel all of our agression towards people who either have nothing to do with politics whatsoever, or hate their leaders as much as we do?
Furthermore, it's the leaders who are making all of this conflict. Why don't they fight themselves, instead of sending innocent people out to die for a cause they barely even understand or care about?
This spring break I had nothing to do. My friends had all jet-setted off to Florida, Hawaii, or the Caribbean. I was stuck, in Northbrook, with my dog.
On Monday night, I started rummaging through our dvd collection and came across Band of Brothers, an HBO miniseries about a parachute infantry company during World War II. My dad always says that it's the best thing that has ever been on television...
I put it in.
Over the course of the week, I watched all ten episodes. They were filled with victory and loss, death and life, elation and devastation. It was captivating. It was real. My dad was right.
In the episode where the company is fighting at the Battle of the Bulge, one of the main characters says that in a different time, the men he is fighting against and putting all of his energy into destroying, might have been his friends. Maybe they like to hunt, and he likes to fish. He finally realizes that the men he is fighting are not the most terrible people on the face of the earth. They're not evil; they're not malicious. Just like him, they're trying to do their jobs and get home to their wives and children.
It's like there is some light bulb that clicks into everyone's head, even civilians, when there's a war. They are the enemy. They must die. Whoever they are, be it the Germans, the Soviets, the Vietnamese, or the Iraqis, we are against all of them. They're all the same. They are all bad.
But who is it really that we hate? Who's the bad guy? It's their government, their leaders, who, ironically enough, are quite often oppressing their own people to the point that they hate them too. So then why do we hate them all? Why do we channel all of our agression towards people who either have nothing to do with politics whatsoever, or hate their leaders as much as we do?
Furthermore, it's the leaders who are making all of this conflict. Why don't they fight themselves, instead of sending innocent people out to die for a cause they barely even understand or care about?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Dialectics: Short Story and Poetry Writing
After reading so many short stories and poems over the course of the year, I have come to an inevitable, yet nonetheless illuminating, conclusion. The best poets and short story writers would never be as good as they are without each other. There is no stark, crisp line drawn between the two genres. Not at all.
From poets, short story writers (and novelists too I suppose) learn the art of precise language and the art of rhythmic writing. No one can say that short story writers do not have to read poetry because that's not what they do. It is just, plain false. When you read their writing, the words are put together like a masterpiece, the same way poetry flows with endless brilliance. Who do you think they learned that from?
From short story writers, poets learn the power of character development and story telling. Each poem is like a mini-story in and of itself. There's all of the emotion and conflict that a short story (or even full-blown novel) has. And their inspirations?
Seeing as I have written both this year (even though one is still in progress), realizing that both influence and inform each other will only make my writing that much better.
From poets, short story writers (and novelists too I suppose) learn the art of precise language and the art of rhythmic writing. No one can say that short story writers do not have to read poetry because that's not what they do. It is just, plain false. When you read their writing, the words are put together like a masterpiece, the same way poetry flows with endless brilliance. Who do you think they learned that from?
From short story writers, poets learn the power of character development and story telling. Each poem is like a mini-story in and of itself. There's all of the emotion and conflict that a short story (or even full-blown novel) has. And their inspirations?
Seeing as I have written both this year (even though one is still in progress), realizing that both influence and inform each other will only make my writing that much better.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Blogging Around: Take 3!
1. Rachel's blog on Heart of Darkness Discussions
I definitely agree with Rachel on this. HoD could have been extremely confusing. But, it was really brought to life through our discussions. Things that I didn't understand in the night's reading, my classmates clarified, and things that they didn't understand, I could sometimes make light of. I don't believe that any of us could have read this novel without each other. Or, at least, if we could, we couldn't have understood it with the great depth that we did, without each other. Therefore, reading HoD was truly a class project.
2. Jordyn's blog on Ke$ha
I also have to disagree. I don't think that American pop music has "fallen" per say. I think that it has changed along with the times. Of course, people aren't singing with one mic and an old guitar about the sunflowers anymore because our society isn't like that anymore. Our technology is way advanced and, like Meghana said, we are now open to more open sexuality. Ergo, our music is more about sexuality. And, on the subject of the sounds being "dubbed" and such. I quite like the beat of the song, it's modern. The music of the 18th century is totally different than that of the 17th century or 16th century, and so on. Same with the music of the 2000s and the 1960s. In fact, if it wasn't different, I would worry. Our music shows the changes in our world and how we are progressing. If our music was the same, we wouldn't be progressing...
I definitely agree with Rachel on this. HoD could have been extremely confusing. But, it was really brought to life through our discussions. Things that I didn't understand in the night's reading, my classmates clarified, and things that they didn't understand, I could sometimes make light of. I don't believe that any of us could have read this novel without each other. Or, at least, if we could, we couldn't have understood it with the great depth that we did, without each other. Therefore, reading HoD was truly a class project.
2. Jordyn's blog on Ke$ha
I also have to disagree. I don't think that American pop music has "fallen" per say. I think that it has changed along with the times. Of course, people aren't singing with one mic and an old guitar about the sunflowers anymore because our society isn't like that anymore. Our technology is way advanced and, like Meghana said, we are now open to more open sexuality. Ergo, our music is more about sexuality. And, on the subject of the sounds being "dubbed" and such. I quite like the beat of the song, it's modern. The music of the 18th century is totally different than that of the 17th century or 16th century, and so on. Same with the music of the 2000s and the 1960s. In fact, if it wasn't different, I would worry. Our music shows the changes in our world and how we are progressing. If our music was the same, we wouldn't be progressing...
Monday, March 1, 2010
Best of the Week: Short Stories
Finally, we have started short stories. Although I find poetry interesting and captivating to a certain degree, I am not enamored with it. Maybe I don't understand it enough? Maybe some people just aren't real "poetry people." I can appreciate poetry, and I put poets in very high esteem. But either way, I much prefer short stories.
It's interesting for me to read them, because, I could see myself writing them someday. For some reason, in my mind, they seem more manageable than writing long, sometimes monotonous novels. I know that there isn't that much money in short story writing, which, in reality, should probably bother me, and maybe it will someday, but it doesn't now. I'm genuinely excited to start reading short stories, and my mind is absolutely teeming with ideas about writing my own (which I've been told we do...). I'm obviously not going to confess them all here, because where would the fun be in that? But, I will say, that reading these short stories, like Cathedral, is already helping with the undeveloped ideas swimming inside my racking brain.
It's interesting for me to read them, because, I could see myself writing them someday. For some reason, in my mind, they seem more manageable than writing long, sometimes monotonous novels. I know that there isn't that much money in short story writing, which, in reality, should probably bother me, and maybe it will someday, but it doesn't now. I'm genuinely excited to start reading short stories, and my mind is absolutely teeming with ideas about writing my own (which I've been told we do...). I'm obviously not going to confess them all here, because where would the fun be in that? But, I will say, that reading these short stories, like Cathedral, is already helping with the undeveloped ideas swimming inside my racking brain.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Captured Thought: Storytelling
At the end of class today, I sort of, uneloquently, in broken English, attempted to articulate something I that popped into my head a few days ago and has been troubling me ever since. And here it is: we have been reading this whole novel, Heart of Darkness, and listening to Marlow tell this terrible yet incredible story, right? He has been telling us about Kurtz and the Manager, and how he felt, what effect these events had on him, no? But, what if, just, what if, Marlow is not exactly telling the truth? Not on purpose, but he is retelling this story, it has already happened, gone, done. What if he's remembering wrong? Or what if that which he's telling us he thought or felt at a certain time is really just what he came to believe he thought or felt after further reflection?
Isn't this whole story just a lie then?
That just begs me to ask the question, how accurate is storytelling? Can we really know that what is being told is what really happened? Especially when we're talking about how someone felt, because people's feelings fluctuate so much.
I think the scariest part, though, is that the person who's telling the story really thinks that they're telling the truth...
Isn't this whole story just a lie then?
That just begs me to ask the question, how accurate is storytelling? Can we really know that what is being told is what really happened? Especially when we're talking about how someone felt, because people's feelings fluctuate so much.
I think the scariest part, though, is that the person who's telling the story really thinks that they're telling the truth...
Monday, February 15, 2010
It Matters: Post-Modernism and the Olympics
“The six colours, including the white background, represent the colours of all the world's flags... this is a true international emblem.” ~ Pierre de Coubertin,French Educator primarily responsible for the revival of the Olympic Games in 1894
One of my best friends from hockey is Canadian (big surprise there, eh?). For the opening ceremonies on Friday, I went to her house for a little party. My whole team always picks on her for being Canadian, because with hockey there's that time-honored, traditional rivalry between the U.S. and Canada. But I think we're all secretly jealous of her. Her family was so dorky, with their maple leaf cake and red outfits, singing the national anthem at the top of their lungs; they have such pride in their country, and I just don't feel for the United States. But reflecting on the different points of view, the variety in levels of pride for your home, got me thinking about the plurality and multiplicity in our world, something we have been stressing as we chug along Heart of Darkness. The Olympics, themselves, illustrate perfectly the mind-boggling diversity we live in today.
Now, I am going to make a radical claim right now and say that without a global understanding of Post-Modernist thought, there would have been no March of Nations on Friday, the NHL would have an All-Star game this year, and the best athletes in the world would be sitting, unchallenged, at home right now.
Without understanding the vastness and mixture of people and views on this planet, a major tenant of Post-Modernism, why would anybody see the need of the Olympics? The elite athletes would be famous with their own, and wouldn't that be enough? Who cares about people in other countries on the other side of the world? They are the best we have, and that's all we should care about.
If you read list of Post-Modernist beliefs, and you go down the list, just about every, single, thing can describe the reasons why we have the Olympics, besides just the athletics: "The distinction between economic and cultural breaks down," "Multiple worlds and multiple points of view," which I just discussed, "What is distant can be close and what is close can be distant." And what are the affects of this one the world? I'd like to think that for two weeks, every two years, all political differences or cultural prejudices can break down. For those two, short, brief weeks, the world can watch together, as the best of the human race competes for honor, along the way, learning how different and the same we really are.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Metacognition: First Semester
"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self." ~Cyril Connolly
I was really having a hard time figuring out what to write for this blog. Did my thinking change? Obviously it must have, in some way it least. But how? I've decided to explore the one biggest change I can identify, rythm in writing.
At first, I thought that Beat by Beat was cool and interesting, but not very important. It seemed to be extrapolating a little too much. Who really thinks about this when they write?
I was forgeting about voice.
When I started to think about voice, I realized that this whole rythm thing was how writers developed their voice. The rythm of the words, the way they make you say them inside your head, it all created that thing that a lot of people can't explain when they say that they love someone's writing.
Their voice.
I've sort of prided myself since I was young, as I've said before, on my ability to put my thoughts down on paper, my ability to paint a picture of myself with letters and commas and periods. I'm not great at math, I can't eloquently explain electronegativity or moles like some of the kids in my chemistry class can, but I do have a voice.
So, I began to expiriment.
I began to use what I had learned about the rythm of writing more and more in my own writing. I began to see the beats. My writing began to effortlessly flow like never before. Finally, I liked writing! I had never disliked it before, but now it was almost magical. This probably all sounds corny, but it's true. It was almost like an apiphany.
Writing was music.
In my last Metacogntion blog about the Kite Runner I wrote the same sort of thing. But it's because it's that revolutionary; it has affected me that much. There's really nothing else to say.
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