Special Post 2

1.       A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings: a Tale for Children Is A story about a couple, Pelayo and Elisenda who came across and old man with wings. They have a child who is sick and at first, according to their neighbor,  ‘”He’s an Angel,’ She told them. “He must have been coming for the child”. But the local Priest came and “logically” explained how this creature could not be an angel because it did not respond when the father said good morning in Latin, being that Latin is the language of God, and the creature did not know how to greet the minister. Therefore he was deemed not an angel. They  had locked the creature up in the chicken coop  and many people had noticed and began to interact with the creature. “They found the whole neighborhood in front of the chicken coop having fun with the angel, without the slightest reverence, tossing him things to eat through the openings in the wire as if he weren’t a supernatural creature but a circus animal.”  Many people from far away started coming to see the creature because the news was spreading. Elisenda got the grand idea to start charging five cents admission to see the creature. This made the couple gain much wealth.  This whole time the creature never really showed much arousal except for the time they burned him to try to get him to do something, he only seemed to react out of pain rather than anger. He was a prisoner for quite a while and “the owners of the house had no reason to lament. With the money they saved they built a two-story mansion with balconies and gardens…”  After more time passed it seems as though they were getting tired or annoyed with having the angel around. At one point Elisenda “shouted that is was awful living in that hell full of angels.” It wasn’t until one day when she was looking out her window she saw him begin to work on his flying until he finally gained in altitude. “Elisenda sighed out of relief, for herself and for him, when she saw him pass of the last houses…” He flew away and he was “no longer an annoyance in her life but an imaginary dot on the horizon of the sea.”

2.       In this story we never get a full understanding of why the family kept the angel around. Other than him making them rich, in all other instances they seem, especially Elisenda, to be annoyed and irritated with him being around.  She feels like it is a living hell with him around and she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees him fly off. But why do they keep him around? Why do they not do something else with him?

3.       I believe the underlying theme of this story is that things are not always what they seem. We never really get in the story what the angel was actually there for. I believe we never understand what he is there for because the couple never really looks into it. It makes you wonder what would have happened if they did not keep him as a prison but instead opened up their house to him, made him feel welcome, and nourished him since he was obviously run down and tired. It just seems like that if an angel has popped into your life, there might, and likely is, a reason for it. However, all they did was use and abuse him for their own personal gain.

4.       The angel was obviously not malicious and was of poor health. “He had to go very close to see that it was an old man, a very old man, laying face down in the mud, who, in spite of his tremendous efforts, couldn’t get up, impeded by his enormous wings”. “… his pitiful condition of a drenched great grandfather had taken away any sense of grandeur he might have had”. “His only supernatural virtue seemed to be patience. Especially during the first days, when the hens pecked at him…and even the most merciful threw stones at him, trying to get him to rise so they could see him standing. The only time they succeeded in arousing him was when they burned his side with an iron for branding steers, for he had been motionless for hours that they thought he was dead”. Where I believe they first went wrong was when they originally decided to put him on a raft and send him away with food for about three days, but then changed their minds when “they found the whole neighborhood in front of the chicken coop having fun with the angel, without the slightest reverence, tossing him things to eat through the openings in the wire as if he weren’t a supernatural creature but a circus animal”. For some reason. That made them decided to keep him as a prisoner, instead of sending him out on his own.

5.       Because of the way that they handled the situation, technically finding him was one of the “best things” that could have happened to them because of all the money that they made. However, on the flip side, Elisenda seemed to have played with massive amounts of annoyance and frustration, even to the point where on their new mansion, she put bars on the windows in order to keep angels out. The mind can only wonder if they would have done things differently and befriended the angel, maybe tried to learn his dialect, showed him kindness and hospitality, what could have come from that friendship. I like to believe that he had some great power, blessing, or gift that he could have given to them, that would have been worth more than the money they otherwise accumulated. I also believe that we should not judge so much based on the looks of someone. His old looks could have meant that he had great wisdom to share and that he had done so much, as an angel, within the span of his existence. Coming from a spiritual background, his state of being tired, worn down, broken, and shabby-looking, could have meant that he was returning from a great battle or war in which he fought honorably and with noble character, fighting and good fight for a good a righteous cause. I can understand not opening your home to a complete stranger that is a creature that you are not used to, but to go to the opposite extent, and throw him in a chicken coop, does not seem right. All in all, they could have handled the situation differently, even if they did not want him in their home, they  could have handled the situation with better grace and integrity.

Letters to the Phillippians

As I began to read through this and look for figurative language and metaphors I realized that I am still confused on what really falls under those criteria. I’m not too surprised because I have always struggled with this, even in middle school. But I did my best. I believe the first sentence started as figurative language with  “Paul and Timothy, bond-servants of Christ Jesus” (emphasis mine) They were not literally bond-servants but the same way a bond-servant acts to his master so also Paul and Timothy act towards Christ. “I have you in my heart” There is no way a person could actually be in his heart that is physically not possible.  I feel that him saying “for to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain” is figurative language but I’m not sure why. I’m fuzzy on that one. “Standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving together” how do you have one mind? With so many different minds in the literal sense it is impossible to all have one mind. I counted around 22 different times he used figurative language, or at least 22 times I think he did, there are several times I am not sure and underlined it anyways to see later if it is or not.

When it comes to how someone perceives this text with understanding signs and signals, the reading would change a lot to a person who understood them. If you take everything literally them this would be very confusing as from things stated above. Not only understanding, but I feel that being aware of even the possibility of figurative language changes everything in this passage. I believe it also changes our perspective of much of the bible. Jesus showed how powerful it can be to use figurative language and Paul does as well. It helps when the reader is aware of what to look for in this type of language.

Symbolism

A Sign, Very clear. We know what this Sign Means

A symbol is different. It points us in a direction but doesn't really give us the answer; is not as direct; leaves it open to questioning. “One of the most frustrating experiences many people have with complex literary works and films arises from the sense that one thing means something else, yet that “something else” can hardly be identified, captured, or named. To a person who wants things clear-cut, a discussion of symbols can seem like an impositions: a “reading into” a text rather than a “reading of” a text” (pg 1044 Literary Experience) this describes me! I don’t remember them coming and asking what I thought about the topic but they wrote about exactly how I feel!

So to those who are like me, here is a hint from the text. “To find symbols, don’t dig for what is covered. Start by paying close attention to the signals a text provides” (pg. 1045 Literary Experience) I think sometimes I overcomplicate the matter. If I do not understand something right away I automatically deem it way to deep to understand and annoying. This is say that I should not go that far and not get to dramatic. Look for signs within the text.

“Symbols ask us to move between the concrete and the abstract rather more flexibly than allegory does. Because a symbol is not conditioned by parallels sustained and consistently reinforced over the course of an entire narrative, we have more room to speculate.” According to this statement, I believe I would like allegories much more then symbols. It doesn’t leave as much open to speculation.

I still do not really understand these concepts that well but I am guessing that I will understand more after class tomorrow. That is normally how these things go. And something that I believe our professor try to implement: Just reading something once is not good enough. Read it again and maybe again and talk about  it with other people and you will be surprised at the information that appears to you the last time you read it.

afi; boys next door

I really enjoyed our trip to afi. It was kind of fun being there and reading The Boys Nest Door around the same time because there were some people that I was that I would imagine as being Norman or Arnold. Like when we toured the education room and they talk about how the client only works on things they want to. For example there was one man who wanted to send a facebook message, so the instructor said he should work on his sentence structures. This kind of reminded me of Barry and Golf. I think it is import for them to have something they enjoy and not force them to do something they do not want to do. Visiting there made me want to help out in some way. I have never really been around the disabled very much at all and being there really struck something inside me.

Something else I thought of today when I was reading Act 2 of Boys Next Door is when Barry’s dad comes and visits. How big of an ordeal was it in the play and it turned out not so well. It made me think of how hard it has to be on parents. I’m sure we would all love to think that each one of these disabled people have a great home life to go home to everyday, but the truth is I bet is about as even as anyone else having a good home life. Some do and others don’t. I am in Dr. Fettkes class, and he has talked about how tiring it can be as a parent and how import it has been for him and his family to lean on God and his body. What about those who do not know the Lord? Who do they lean on when they have no more strength or patience?

November 4th

These two texts tend to bring two different approaches to the mentally handicapped. The boys next door tend to be a lighter side of things. Showing that these people are innocent and fun. All with there own little quarks. I have actually seen the movie version of this and I love it. I would love if we could watch it in class. But to see the deep personalities each one has is exciting to watch. I love the scene where everyone is hiding their stuff under their shirts. With the donuts under the shirt and the coal under the shirt just makes me want to laugh.  It is just so sweet to think about it from their point of view, that they actually thought it would work. That no one would notice. I find it fully that Sheila calls Norman fat and he says she is no skinny Minnie herself. I will have to say I pull from my memories of watching the movie than actually reading the text. Being able to see it with my eyes is best for me. But I do understand that it is good to leave some stuff up to the imagination.

The text written by Dr. Fettke was interesting to me. I actually have a class with him and he has talked about his son often. His perspective is amazing to listen to and often challenging to my own perspective. I have had little encounter with handicapped people and can see why the church has not done too well with how they deal with the handicapped. My church does have a special class for autistic kids that allow the parents to leave them so they can go attend church without having to focus on the needs of their children. We have to have trained staff and camera but it is well worth it. I feel like something like that is not only helping the person but their whole family. Giving them time to take a breath and just be in God’s presence. I don’t know that there are only like 5 other churches that we know of that do similar things. I do feel the church needs to step it up in this area, and maybe that means pointing my finger back at myself. I heard one pastor say that he never prays for something that he know he can be the answer for. Maybe it will take people like me steeping up and advocating for this cause.

My visit to Lake Bonny Park/ Nature Poem

You were here before me,

Created before I,

Intricately designed.

What was once raw and untouched,

Standing still,

Only to moved by the wind or the hand of God himself.

Now, is cut down, moved, transplanted,

You, who used to cover the earth,

Now must be preserved.

Yet even still, when moved or transplanted,

It cannot take away your beauty.

I listen to hear the raindrops fall.

It’s not a downpour, so I must listen closely.

My ears are overtaken by sound, but not what I would expect.

A siren from a nearby street, the engine of a grounds keeper’s mower,

A school bus filled with kids wanting to be home.

They do not understand you, your beauty.

Maybe one day they will.

I believe we will never know you like you were,

When you started.

When, at first, God created you,

So still, so beautiful.

I went to Lake Bonny Park for this field trip; I stayed there for at least 45 minutes.  It was a little gloomy outside, and had been raining, so I ended up sitting underneath the covering where the picnic tables are. What I noticed more than nature was the collision between nature and civilization.  There was a siren that passed by, the whole time I was there, there was a man mowing the lawn, so I heard the roar of the lawnmower while trying to focus on nature. It was not the most conducive environment for focusing on this assignment.  I ended up going with Seth and the conversation we had was probably the most influential part of my experience.  We talked about our favorite things about home, the difference between his home in Alaska and my home in Kansas.  Each differs in landscape and scenery, but it was good to reflect on the fact that there is beauty in both places.  I feel it is important to remember that wherever you are, you should focus on how God made that area uniquely beautiful.

State of the Planet 2

I decided to paint for the second reading of State of the Planet. It took me WAY longer than a blog would have but i think I enjoyed it much more than writing a blog. I wish I were a better artist, but I enjoyed painting this. Because it is a Nature Poem, I decided to try to put the two together by painting nature and putting words from the poem in it. Like a Wordle!. Picking what words I wanted to use was hard. In the end I liked the way it worked out.

State of the Planet

“How do you write about something you don’t understand?” Is the question I often ask myself before writing a blog. This has continued to be true for this blog on the reading of State of the Planet. It talks about a little school girl on her way to learn about life. This world we live in, how did it come to be and what makes it work. It mentions Lucretius, who is a Roman philosopher that’s only know work is Epicureanism De rerum natura, translated into English as On the Nature of Things or "On the Nature of the Universe". So this text seems to go from this world back to 89BC into deep philosophy. It was very hard for me to follow and I would have been very frustrated if I didn’t know we were going to unpack it in class tomorrow. There was some things that stood out to me however, that even if I did not understand the whole text I can walk away appreciating some of this text. “It must be a gift of evolution that humans can’t sustain wonder. We’d never have gotten up from our knees if we could. But soon enough we’d have fashioned sexy little earrings from the feathers, highlighted our neck bones by rubbings from the rock, and made a spear from the sinewy wood of the tree.” If we were about to sustain wonder we would never get up from our knees. I feel this is true in creation but this immediately applied in my life to God. I have to often down played the wonder of God. If I were to grasp even just a tiny sense of who he is, or his glory or wonder, would I ever be able to stop worshiping him an praising? Why is it has humans we can’t sustain wonder? Is there to much wonder to possibly sustain so we don’t even travel near it? Or do we just make our lives so busy that we pass by it every day not allowing the wonder of life and God to sink in because that would take time?

Lectio

This is the first I have heard of using lectio with text other than the Bible. I find it interesting how much lectio has come up recently. In my Bible class, in chapel, now in my literature class. I think people are realizing how impactful it can be in our culture today. The business of our lives has gotten to be so hectic that the thought of being silent and reading something more than once is unheard of. I think this is why lectio has started to pop up more and more, because when we actually do it, we take time to be silent and God can actually speak. He no longer has to compete with the iPod in our ear, the images on TV, what’s going on in the facebook world or what our next twitter will be, answer the text message and so on and so on. We are just silent. Letting the words sink in. Letting God speak to us. Just us, God, and written word. This sounds so ancient to me in my world today. “When we pray with poetry, whether the biblical poetry of the psalms or non-biblical poetry open to Christian appropriation, we open ourselves to the possibility of spiritual experience. In such instances, we not only read for information and aesthetic pleasure, we also engage in a sort of reading for transformation, a term I borrow from Sandra Schneiders and her seminal work, The Revelatory Test.” (Reading for Transformation through the Poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins) The thought of taking this prayerful attitude into poetry and allowing God to speak through other text is something worth trying. It, for me, goes against what I am used to and so therefore take discipline and intentionality on my part. To go, sit in silence and read and pray and talk with God. Probably will be valuable.

Reading on the Lawn

The experience of reading our poems was pleasant and I thought it be very beneficial. Aubrey read hers first, she was nervous to read it out loud because she didn’t think the boys would really enjoy her story. Why she thought this, I thought was silly. I felt this way because I feel that her story had good details and was well-stated from a female’s point of view in a relationship. But nevertheless, she was able to face her fears, and with a little encouragement, found some boldness, and continued on with her reading. Adam was next to read his story. After listening to the beginning of his story, I soon realized that it was not a story of fictitious characters or events, but was instead the recollection and retelling of memories and events from his personal childhood. Although the story was sad and very real, I was very impressed with his ability to tell the story and find strength in doing so. I was the last to read, but was excited to share my story with my peers. One nice thing about telling and reading your own story is that you are able to voice and portray the characters as you imagined them while writing the story.

                What I learned from this experience, was that it is one thing to write down your thoughts on a piece of paper, telling and creating your own story, but that is a completely different experience when you are able to tell the story to people you know and are able to bring the characters to life for them. I feel that it takes a great deal of boldness and courage to face your fears, like Aubrey, or share a personal part of your life, such as Adam. I think this is great practice for life since there will be many instances in life when you need to step up, face your fears, and share your thoughts with co-workers, friends, and family. It is important to be able to embrace these situations, stepping out of your comfort zone with boldness, and voice your thoughts.

Extra post for missing class

So I have to do an extra post every time I miss class…. Which happens to be a lot these days. I was having a hard time deciding what to write because I have blogged about all our recent readings. So I decided to write about what I feel I have learned so far or how my perspective has changed since talking this class.

First I was say that I am a senior and put of taking literature till my the last moment possible. I signed up for it three different times and always dropped the class because I knew I was just going to hate it. I am a very slow reader and have a hard time focusing so when I see huge readings like Shakespeare I get so freaked out I just don’t even start it because I know I’m going to be so bad at it. But looking at the outline for this class I felt like I would be able to make it through. Being able to write freely on these blogs has really encouraged me in my writing. Having reading that are short really helps me keep my attention and learn what we need to. The painting was one of the first time I really felt like I “connected with the text”. I had herd people say that before but I never really got it, but painting that one line from Joel I feel like I started to understand what that meant. How we talked about death and read C.S Lewis book gave me such great insight and really made me think. Even this recent reading on This Blessed House made me think so much about looking at people from God’s perspective. This class has helped me develop who I am as a reader, writer and thinker.  I will even say I am glad I took this class and think that I would have missed out if I never took it. So thanks to professor Corrigan for making this a class that is learner friendly for people like me!

My writing Experience

My writing experience was actually fun. It was nice to just write about what I wanted to write about and it was all made up in my mind. I have never really written like this before so I was super nervous and did not want to do it. I didn’t even know where to start. Luckily my friend Sam helped me start out with an outline. We talked about what I wanted it to be about. Then I formed the character in my mind. What was here name? What did she look like in deep detail, even down to saying she stood with her toes slightly facing in. Where was she from, how old was she, what stage of life was she in, what were her fears her strength, and the question started flying. Once I started answering all these questions is when I actually started to get excited for it. I wanted to start writing right then but didn’t have a computer to write on and there was no way I was going to start hand writing. (I don’t know how to spell well enough for that)

Once I actually started writing I, myself started to pretend that I was a famous writer. I felt like I need to go to a place for inspiration, so I went to Startbucks and sat outside on a beautiful day. Location is big to me but the weather effects me even more and the weather that day was probably designed by God just to put me in a writing mood. (Thanks God)  It worked. I just sat and wrote and it was fun. For the first time ever I really enjoyed writing. I don’t think the story is super touching or will really move someone or challenge them in any way. But for me… I enjoyed it. That is what mattered most to me.

Special Post. Short Story

That dreaded alarm clock. Staying up late practicing and researching made the morning come to quickly, but nevertheless it was here. It wasn’t like this morning was much different that recent ones, but the mornings were becoming a ritual I didn’t want to be a part of any longer. Maybe this would be the day that it would all change… at least that’s what I had hoped. Walking with what felt like 50 pounds on each foot, I headed towards the bathroom for the shower. “Everything gets better after the shower” I murmur to myself. I could have shouted the statement if I wanted to, it’s not like anyone was there to hear it. I didn’t have to worry about waking up that special someone who was still sleeping so soundly in the bed next to where I lay. I didn’t have to worry about a precious baby that was finally sleeping through the night. It was just me. “Probably gonna to be ‘just me’ forever”.  I wasn’t going to focus on that though, today was the day! The first big obstacle was what to do with this wiry, pin-straight hair. It never really look pretty to me, just a dull, light brown. My mom always said it complemented my eyes, “the brown makes the green in your eyes stick out more honey”, I heard her say time and time again. I did like my eyes. God decided to bless me in at least this one tiny area of my life. Now if only He could just work on all the other areas; that would be nice. Of course, that is if He is even there.

I was finally ready to head out. The outfit looked good; pretty, but serious. The fight between whether to wear the pink blouse or the white one felt like it would never end. On my walk to the subway I saw a mother struggle to get her stroller up the stairs. I ran over to help, but in the process, got mud on my freshly painted, bright red toenails and black- what used to be shiny- shoes. The lady was very grateful and I felt good about helping someone in need. I found a spicket and washed off my muddy foot. Sure enough the paint had not dried on my toes quite yet and what was once a smooth, glossy, and red surface was now a smudged, ugly, and dirty looking red toenail. “Awesome!” I looked up to see if anyone heard my exclamation, but no one did. What else was new? No one ever seemed to hear me. I don’t know why I was letting a little mud get to me so much. Growing up in the back woods of Georgia, me and mud used to be pals. However, things are much different now than they were then. Maybe, just maybe my helping that lady would somehow be returned to me at some point today.

Riding the subway felt normal now. The excitement of living in the “Big Apple” and getting to ride the subway every day had rubbed off. The only excitement I got from it now was getting to see the man who worked at the hot dog stand right above the station. He had to work out everyday to look that good. Girls were always mad that I never worked out and was still so skinny. I was naturally that way, but this man… no one could naturally be this good looking without trying. He would look at me and smile, with perfectly white teeth and that strong, jagged jaw bone. I would try to play it off like no big deal but on the inside I had to focus so hard on not stumbling over my own feet whenever I was in his presence. Or maybe if I stumbled over my feet he could catch me and we would fall in love and live happily ever after. Just like every other day, I realize that my life is not a fairy-tale, smile back, and move on to the subway.

Unlike last week, I got to go by my normal Starbucks today. David, the barista who had come to be a part of my ritualistic morning, saw me and his face said it all. The disappointment on his face matched the way I felt on the inside. “So… no luck with last week’s?” he said with sadness in his tone. David had been there from the first day, when I came in wide-eyed and ready to face the new world in which I had placed myself. He asked me that day what I was so excited about. “I’m starting my life today”. I realized that in my response I sounded like a little girl, finding out that Christmas was coming soon, and quickly apologized for my overpowering and abrupt response. “I mean, I’m going to get my first real job today.” We continued to talk as I explained how I had taken a huge step and moved away from everything I knew to come to my dream and make it happen. I can’t even remember that dream now. Instead, I question myself as to why I am even here. David had seen me come in one day after another, each day I was positive that that day would be the one. I could always tell he was truly sad for me when he would softly scratch his fingers through his curly black hair in a loss for words. I only knew this mannerism so well because I had seen it happen so many times by this point. To avoid talking about it I just ordered my usual drink and smiled. “You look very nice today.” David always told me I looked nice. But my past relationship of two years was filled with things like “you look beautiful”. Those words meant nothing then, so when David said them, they meant nothing now. When I went to grab my coffee he seemed to leave his hand on the cup long enough to be sure that it would touch mine. It caught me off guard. I liked it. But should I like it? What did I even know about this guy? We talked about my job search and he got me coffee. That was it. I figured I was reading into it too much. My sad, little life had gotten that bad. It was to the point where I think the barista likes me! HA! Thinking that is almost as naive as thinking this interview was going to be different than any of the others.

As I was leaving, I wished I went with the pink blouse instead of the white. If I were to spill any of that coffee on my white blouse, it would be very obvious. The office was just two block away and my heart was pounding. Did I know enough about this company? Was I even the right person for the job? Did it matter if I was? I just needed a Job. I had hoped that having a college degree would have opened up more opportunities to me than it had by now. I often felt that I should have stayed with my waitressing job back home, where even if the words were empty, I had someone who I could call mine, and it was “ok” if I got mud on my feet. I was there, standing in front of the office door. Feeling like it was pointless to be there, knowing what the outcome was going to be. Yet still… I knocked and went in.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

The story of This Blessed House really did a great job of pulling me in. I felt like I was their in their house as they found each individual object, I felt like I was watching and even feeling the tension of the fight between Twinkle and Sanjeev. In reading this is when I stated to better understand the difference between something that is plot driven and something that is character driven. I actually started to like it. In class, when we were talking about all the movies that are close to being plot or character driven I pretty much felt like I would never like anything that is character driven, that is until I read this story.

Something we talked about in my group was that many people mentioned how they didn’t like Sanjeev’s attitude. “Would you like it if your spouse stated putting up a bunch of Buddha  statues and pictures?” was one of the questions stated. I thought that was a great point. I wouldn’t like it for sure. Some people didn’t like how he seemed like he didn’t care. But something stood out to me. Something that if I had missed just one sentences my whole perspective would have changed about Sanjeev. It is when she had been taking a bath and he comes in and tells here that he is getting ride of the Mary statue in the lawn, she kind of freaks out and is standing at the door upset and this one special line happens… Here it is… “He went to shut a window, fearing that she would catch cold.” (p.1073) For some reason this just jumped off the page to me. He truly is a caring loving man. Up to this point I really didn’t like his attitude and his leadership as a man. But this one line told me that deep down he cared, he didn’t want her to catch cold and then as soon as he realized that she was crying he cracked.

This taught me that it is so important to read every line of a story or book. I tend to skip some stuff or zone out while reading and could possibly miss something that could change the whole story from the readers point of view. I was once having a conversation with a music teacher about speed reading and he mentioned that it really irritated him when people sped read because he hated the thought that someone could possible skip over a line that the author spent substantial time wrestling over which word would best describe what he was trying to say in that one sentence.  He continued to say that it is dishonoring to the author to speed read. My mind is not sold on that idea but I see where he is coming from. I’m going to keep thinking about that one.

This is my Painting

I am typically not a good artist at all. So I will say I was just a little worried about this assignment because I knew whatever I painted would not look like I want it too. For some reason I always have these great grand paintings or drawing or whatever in my head, and I go through what I feel will make it become reality on a page, but somewhere in translation things go severely wrong and my final work never looks like what I come up with in my mind. So I knew this would be the some reality for this project.

Once it came to the project though it was different for me because it was more than me just trying to be artistic, it was dealing with me and the text. How I was relating to what passage I was reading. Because of this process it wasn’t just trying to paint a master piece and make my painting the best. Now I would be lying if I said I didn’t want mine to still look good. But I didn’t care as much about what it looked like because I was looking into how it related to the text through my eyes, or my thoughts. I have never done that before. The… For the first time in a long time I was not disappointed in my finial work. I guess it could have been better but It was what I was encountering while I was meditating on the text. It was me. It was the text. I wasn’t trying to be anyone else I was just trying to understand and relate the text in a different way.

I enjoyed it so much I actually plan on doing another painting for one of my blogs because it truly does help you remember it better for one, but I just enjoy that a lot more than just sitting a mulling over a text trying to get as much as possible out of it. Painting give me something to do while my thought are running and thinking and trying to understand the text. It give my thought a vehicle other than using words.

Joel

   Joel was a passage that I had to read very slowly and often read many parts more than once. When it first starts off talking about the locusts and it doesn’t just mention locusts as a whole, there is the gnawing, swarming, creeping, and stripping locust. I never knew there could be so many different kinds. But I though, ok, is this really referring to actual locust or is it a metaphor to something else. Later on in the chapter is leads me to believe that it is actually locust that came and destroyed everything. So did God send them? Because of what? I feel that after reading this maybe there is some history to what was happening or what was going on before this that if I knew it, it would help me understand better this passage of Joel.

   Knowing the history or the background of a text that you are reading really help shape how well you understand what you are reading. I remember back when I read that poem out of the Literary Experience text and how confused I was at who the talk of a bonsi tree was really about the oppression of women. But I remember Professor Corrigan coming up and explain one line to me about “bound feet”. I had the picture of the tree so heavily on my mind that thinking of a tree having bound feet didn’t make any sense to me. But he said so matter-of-factly… Well in the Chinese culture they bound the feet of women so as to keep them from growing. I had learned that so long ago that when he said that it made sense! I feel the same goes for the Bible. There are things that I learned a long time ago but have kind of forgot them but knowledge of what the context is or what their culture was like changes so much of how I understand the Bible. I guess that is why it is important to learn history or read older books because they bring to life what is to follow them.

similes and metaphors...

One thing I love about our class is that we hardly ever just sit there and listen to a lecture. He always has us listening to something, reading something, and doing something hands on. I learn so much better that way, it just seems to open up different parts of my brain and allows things to sink in and stay in. where as listen to a lecture, the words seem to bounce off my brain, never sticking.

He did this hand on learning with the house of cards. In trying and trying to build a house of cards we all saw how hard it was and how much work and focus it took to just build two stories! I don’t know how many times my group tried and how many different ways we tried to just make a full second story, we never really succeeded. But I did succeed in something with the house of cards; I got such a better understanding of what C.S Lewis was referring to when he used that metaphor in his book.

We talked about similes and metaphors in class and I have also been talking about that in another class as referring to the Bible. So much of how Jesus taught was trying to get us to understand divine things through our everyday human activities. I would like to know how many times it is said in the divine subject x is like human understanding y. It is one way we can began to even touch the tip of understanding the divine nature. I think that we need to remind ourselves of this when we are trying to witness to people. So many times we through facts at them like, “your going to hell”, “repent of your sins”, “God is love” “The kingdom of Heaven is near” and so on. We need to go back and see how Jesus taught so often, through stories and parables, or in our words, similes and metaphors.

Luch Talk

I know this is a little late but I wanted to blog on our lunch talk we hade last week. I tend to learn more from conversation type learning as compared to lecture or reading type learning. So having lunch together and talking out the literature we brought was a great experience for me. I sat with Aubrey, Adam, Alicia, and Shantel and we had a good conversation. I will say I was a little worried that conversation would be dead and we would have to ask awkward questions and call on people to answer them. But our conversation actually flew by and went well. I brought a poem from our lit book that was very confusing to me and wanted to talk it out. Thankfully everyone else did not really get it either so I felt better about myself. It was not until professor Corrigan came by and explained it then I got it. Alicia brought some song lyrics that were really good. I think that is where I got one of the best thoughts in my head. Something about literature clicked. The lyrics of that song could apply to different people in different situation and that is what literature is supposed to do. I think I always look for a black and white explanation. I want to know exactly what something means. But one of the beauties of literature is that it is expandable and reaches people on different levels. That conversation can go back and forth and it does not ever really come to one specific conclusion. But rather multiple conclusions that people can see from different angles. Aubrey brought a book that she had been reading that had a very confusing statement about literature that we all seemed to circle around in our mind for a while not really coming to any conclusion, but once again, our good professor came and cleared things up for us. I believe I will ever understand literature like Paul Corrigan does but I do think through this table conversation I took a big step in understand literature and letting go of the desire to understand every text to complete fullness.

Cemetery

I went to the Lakeview, Roselawn and Tiger Flowers cemetery complex for this fieldtrip, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes. This time made me think about all those people.. what were their lives like. Some of them loved so long ago in such a different time than me, I went with Seth, Sterling and Isaac and some of our conversation we had was about a African American couple that had lived through some major racial oppression. Seth also said that it made him wonder what people would think of him once he died. What a great question to ask yourself and even check yourself. Am I living a life that is meaningful enough? Will I have impacted lives in my lifetime enough to be remembered? Reading the text of Lewis in the Cemetery made the words that he wrote have much weight. It wasn't just reading about death and grief, it was being surrounded by it. I think people often stray from readings about death or going to cemeteries because it is not the enjoyable place to be or things to read. But I think it is good to remind ourselves of the weight of death to sharpen our compassion for those who have lost loved ones and also remind us of the good we have in our lives. Someone once said "how can we know what true happiness is unless we understand the opposite". I don't know if I agree completely with that but I do know that you are far more grateful for things when you think of others hardships or something of your own that you have been through.
The day we went was on the anniversary of 9-11 which gave the field trip even more meaning. To sit and think of all the people who had died and all those who this very day are morning the loss of their loved ones. It just makes you stop in your tracks. I thought of all the children who lost parents and made me give prayers of thanks for my parents still being present in my life. I was glad I could  go and reflect on this specific day to remember what had happened nine years ago that is still effecting the lives of so many today.

Chapter Three: Theme

   It was my freshman year here at Southeastern when I first realize my struggles with going deeper into a text and looking beyond what was just before me. I tend to be a very black and white person. I don’t want there to be any question of what is going on, it is either this or that, no grey area.
   What caused me to notice this inside me was an assignment in my English Comp 2 class. The teacher handed us a photo. The picture was outdoors with a large bridge suspended over a river, next to the river a few feet from the bottom of the bridge was a very run-down shack surrounded by junk. It looked like someone one had been collecting random things thrown on the street or washed up on the river bank and took it back to that shack. The teacher asked us to go and write a one page response about the picture. So I went back and in a few more words described the picture like I just did for you. I went into as much detail as possible, because I didn’t see how I could write one page on this one picture. Somehow I pulled it out. He then asked us to talk about what we wrote, people started talking about how they saw it as the two different levels of society and how the upper class goes rushing by like the cars on the bridge never even noticing the lower class, or one student talked about how they saw it as a gateway into heave and how there was so much hope. Each time someone would say their thoughts I would gaze at the picture in confusion and think, how on earth did they get all that from this picture? That class is where my realization came: I am a very black and white thinker.
   The very same concept happened when I was reading the Piercy poem A Work of Artifice. It talked about a bonsai tree and a gardener and the last bit kind of confused me. The sentence explaining the poem said, “We can all agree that Piercy’s poem is “about” the oppression of women.” We can? We can all agree on that? Because I didn’t get that one bit! The more I thought about it and talked it out with my roommate I began to see how maybe someone could take it that way. Unfortunately I have a long way to go in understanding “theme”.

What We Talk about When We Talk about Love

Love... I believe it is the most universal sought out expression. Just as it was said in class, love and death are the main tension, or the engine of literature. Most all movies we watch have some sort of love in them. Even the manly ones like Braveheart and Gladiator, both of these movies deal with men driven by love, or the death of the ones they love. “Love makes you do crazy things!” Ever herd that one? William Wallace goes about killing tons of soldiers in the revenge of love. He goes against his own conviction about wanting peace and become their leader into war for his love: craziness, all for love. Even now as I have my iPod on shuffle, it’s amazing how many songs come up that are about love. Some are about gaining love, others about loosing it. It’s everywhere! I believe it is this way because we are created in God image and he is the Father of love, we have a spiritual and physical drive towards love. I don't believe the hunger for love is ever truly satisfied until we are in heaven with our Lord. Until that day, we continue to seek out, search for, long for, desire, need, wish for... love. There was a line that stopped me in my reading of this story. When Mel, the one doing most of the talking, says that "it seems to me we're just beginners at love." I think that statement has so much truth in it. When does one fully accomplish love? You hear married couples say all the time that they are more in love then ever before. Do we grow more in love or do we grow more appreciative for what love is and how important it is in our life or how blessed we are to have it in our lives.

Literary Profile

   My memory is not kinda to me, so I don't have any memories of bedtime stories when I was little or such things. When I try to look back on, and think about my first literature experience it would probable be singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" in rounds on a long car ride when vacation with my family. The most recent experience would be a book for my Intro to Bible class.
    I have never considered a nursery rhyme or a typical book to be considered literature so this is fairly new to me. I am not a reader at all, it just doesn't come easy to me. I think I get distracted too easily so the book does not keep my attention. In high school we read Hamlet as a class with the plane English text next to the original text, we also watched the movie along the way. That was one of my better experiences with significant literature.
   Literature is important in the sense of reading and understanding. There are so many books out that have great knowledge in them and to read that I feel is important. If music is considered literature then I find literature vital to my life. A day without music is bad! I'm not even talking about just listening, I am constantly humming a tune or singing. To relieve stress I enjoy playing guitar or piano and is calms me down. Music is a large part of my life, and if music is a form a literature than that would subsequently make literature a large part of my life. I am not quite sure what encompasses literature, once I gain a better understanding of what it actually entitles then I will be able to answer the question of how it is or isn't important.