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.