Out of Sheer Curiosity...

In One Hundred Years Of Solitude, the main family obviously shares the last name of Buendia. Does it seem to anyone else that the name could represent something? Buen in Spanish is a word meaning good, and dia is the word for day. To me it seems that with each passing generation the Buendias stray further from the "Golden Age" of the lawless utopia that Jose Arcadio Buendia had initially created. Jose Arcadio shames his family by marrying his adopted sister, Aureliano becomes tyrannical, Amaranta's callousness causes the death of Pietro Crespi, her sons ALL have children out of wedlock, and in the midst of it all the country is being terrorized by war. As the bloodline is carried on the novel strays further and further away from the "good days" in early Macondo. Thoughts? Comments?
-Murry-Uh

Filling Space

I haven't posted in an extremely long time, so I'll post my newly finished poem to make It look like I've been remotely productive in the past two months.


Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?

Let us go then, with reluctant haste,
When the morning is cinereal and chaste
Like a modest child clad in an ashen gown.
Let us go, through concourses that vilify
My war-paint banded eyes
That watch the girls in their boots of brown suede,
And the boys in masculine masquerade
Through the stark, white confines of cramped corridors,
Trampling the tile floors.
Their sounds reverberate and hang stagnantly.
Oh, do not ask, “ Why such angst?”
When I reject their social ranks

And they roll their eyes for I persist
To be the “unreasonable pessimist.”

The sympathetic adults will say
“There will be time, there will be time,
Everything will be fine, just fine
When you go to college, when you go away,
Foolish Maria, there will be time
To make friends in a four year institution
And you’ll be fine, you’ll be just fine”
But I need an immediate solution.
Time! Time! Yes, Time there will be!
The question is, “What will it solve?”
Will I heal? Flounder? Spiral? Devolve?
How uncertain my promised remedy!

And they roll their eyes for I persist
To be the “unreasonable pessimist.”

And indeed there will be time
To wonder , “Who cares?,” and “Who cares?”
As I sit in disrepair
Sobbing in a guidance chair
Indignantly pulling at my disheveled hair
(They will say “She’s clearly unstable”)
While eyeing me from across the table
As I flee to a makeshift Tower of Babel
(They will say “ Go without pills? She’s clearly unable!)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe
And take all of their
Preconceptions and throw them in reverse?

I’ve known it all too well, too well
I’ve known endless mornings, afternoons , and sunsets on hills
I have measured my life in milligrams and pills.
Psychiatrists said I too could excel
If I “Take one tablet by mouth every day”
But what do they know, anyway?

Shall I give in to their desires? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white jackets if I don’t heed what they preach!
But I’ve learned to dream while they screech

Because their solution is simply not for me.

With you, I see them from atop Salvador’s Elephants
With your chin on my shoulder, arms around my middle
Watching the model world from spindled legs brittle

Our digression doesn’t last,
for, when shaken, their silver trumpets call,
Spindled legs collapse, and we fall.


Murry-uh

my antonia

Surprisingly, I actually enjoyed this book. Enough so that I found a quiet place to sit and read it during lunch. It has all the things I love in a story-- romance, nature, and scandal-- but I didn't feel bad about reading it, as I do with most books containing those things, because it was assigned in an AP class. The first introduction to the book, not the one written by Willa Cather, admits that there really isn't much of a plot to it. The small moments, like descriptions of nature, that would be normally overlooked in a story were mostly all there was to it, so they became more important. There were some tragedies, like Antonia's father's death, but there was little focus on the death itself, more the impact it had on the characters. My Antonia seemed to be more about the setting and the characters than events, making it a welcome change from the surreal, fast-paced plot of Crime and Punishment.
Little Red

Macaroni and plath part II

So today was an amazing day because I realized that both Sylvia Plath and the school's macaroni aren't nearly as bad as they used to be, or as bad as I thought they were. Not only did the cafeteria serve up some macaroni today that did *not* stick in the bowl like glue when turned upside down, but we read a Plath poem in class that I loveloveloved. It was called "Mirror" and contained the line "I am silver and exact". One of my favorite bands *evar*, The Hush Sound, wrote a song called "You Are the Moon" that has the line, "I will bring a mirror, so silver, so exact". Maybe coincidence but I think more likely they're Plath fans. Fantastic stuff.
Little Red

Powerless and funeral blues

Not that this has anything to do with literature exactly but the recent multi-day power outage really made me think about technology. Although it's brought people closer together mentally (I can talk to people like my brother who live hours away through the magical interwebs as quickly as if he were here), it's also made people extremely isolated physically-- since we know we can just email one another, it's easy to never actually get together in person. I believe it was Skeletor who once asserted that one day we'll all just stay in our houses for days on end because everything we need will be there (sorry if that wasn't you, Skeletor). Not saying technology is a bad thing, I do love it, but it was an interesting thought that we can be so connected and so alone at the same time.
Too tired to think of a smooth transition so I'll jump right in... "Funeral Blues" was one of the few poems we've read for the poetry projects that's spoken to me in a meaningful way. Poem Ruiner for once was instead the Poem Preserver today in telling us to ignore the fact that this poem is meant ironically, which I'm choosing to do. Death of the author and all that. Having lost several important people recently, it was comforting to know that someone not related to me in any way has had the same thoughts on loss. The first line, "Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone" I found to be a very accurate representation of how it feels to lose someone. Loss sometimes makes it feel like the clocks have stopped and everything in life aside from grief has been put on hold. Other times the thought of having to go about ordinary life, doing things such as talking to people, is unbearable. Losing someone whose influence was felt in many areas of ones life is devastating and "Funeral Blues" expresses this better than I ever could, so I'll stop trying and leave it to Auden.
--Little Red

Love is hard...and plasticy

http://www.adbusters.org/abtv/guys_and_dolls.html

Some people can't find love. A company in California capitalized on this by making a series of custom made dolls for just those people-not surprising. What's interesting about this is documentary is that some of the men develop complex and non-sexual emotional attatchments . They take the time to name them-all the while fully realizing their partners are not alive. There is no possibility for interaction. There is no returning of affection. Their "relationships" are based on a profound fear of lonliness. These people desire personal contact imensely, but can't manage to handle the fact that human relationships are unpredictable. It's astounding that a natural human desire for companionship can be manifested so strongly in enamoration with an object that one knows is inanimate. The men even take the time to put oh their "partner's" make- up, dress them, and bathe them. It's tragic. The film and the people interviewed speak for themselves. It's about 46 minutes long, but you only really need to watch a few minutes to get the jist.
Be warned: Graphic language, plastic nudity, etc...

Just thought it's interesting for psychological reasons

Murry-uh

Point of view in Crime and Punishment

The narrative in Crime and Punishment is third person. Despite not being told directly by Raskolnikov, the novel allows an intricate look into the inner workings of his tumultuous psyche. The narrator in the story seems to be all-knowing. He/she understands exactly what each of the characters are thinking at any given point, as opposed to being narrated by someone who was simply there and would have only been able to observe the events in question. The type of narration used in the novel allows for the reader to understand the inner workings of each character as an individual along with their reaction to Raskolnikov's illness. If the story was told in first person by Raskolnikov, the author would be unable to incorporate the internal dialogue of other characters, unless he gave Raskolnikov the power to read minds. This would be silly. (Raskolnikov would OBVIOUSLY be given laser vision, if he were to be given a super power) If the story were to be told by a witness, the narration would be unable to give the reader a greater understanding of the thoughts of the secondary characters, but would also be unable to provide insight into Raskolnikov’s descent into madness. The all-knowing third person narrative is the best selection for the story.