Have you ever been in the terrible spot of wanting to have the entertainment of reading a book without actually having to do the work of finding a book and reading it? I feel like I'm in that spot at the moment, and it is not entirely pleasant. Having a cold does not help my outlook on said literary adventure, but I have had this feeling for a little while now, so I feel that it should be addressed.
Sitting in classes hearing about the importance of literacy and pushing students to achieve academically is inspiring and great and all, but it seems to mess with how books are viewed on when one is not in class. Instead of enjoying 'The Hunger Games,' and lamenting the strict governmental control that forced Katnis to leave her family and participate in the gladiatorial games of the government, I am analyzing its literary characteristics and language availability to see if middle school students could read it. Audio books are even subject to this strict view, because if they are read to fast, students won't be able to keep up, and if they are too slow, everyone will fall asleep (myself included). I've even tried branching out to leave the world of Adolescent Fiction and read 'grown up' books, and have found myself being thoroughly depressed by Kazuo Ishiguro's butler in Remains of the Day, and his driving around the English countryside mourning the effects of war on his beloved country and life.
Floundering in my literary enjoyment, I have gone back to the classics and am rediscovering my love for literature through none other than Dorothy L. Sayers, and her brilliant Lord and Lady Peter Wimsey. Granted, I am somewhat stuck listening to it since I have a 2 hour commute everyday, BUT her delightful prose is once again reminding me that books can be read for fun and I do not have over analyze everything I read. It's a wonderful rediscovery, the only downside being it's hard to relax, drink tea, and listen to a book while hurtling down the high way every morning and afternoon. But I guess that's why I have a travel mug.
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Not a Covered Wagon
I have the greatest internship ever. I get to dress up as an 1836 school teacher and teach 4-6th graders about life at a Military Fort in 1836. Yes, I'm in costume for this venture, and it is quite fun. We talk about teaching and learning in a one room school house, what would have happened if they got in trouble, how long they would have had school on Saturday, and what they would have eaten for lunch. I even lit a fire in the fireplace the other day. It took a while, but we had a fire. I've met some pretty sweet people as well. It's great.
Lately, I seem to be crisscrossing the country at regular intervals to see a few people who are far away and are very dear to my heart (namely the Boyfriend and the Sister). The Boyfriend lives on the West Coast, while the sister is in the Windy City, and I've been able to visit them both (though I must admit that the Sister has gotten the short end of the visiting stick). The need to purchase decent luggage is becoming increasingly apparent as I continue to make these travels as my red backpack from high school is nearing the end of its rope.
These meanderings in conjunction with my current place of employment have got me thinking about the progression of travel. Back in the day (around 1836), travel took a very long time. There were no airplanes and cars were not readily available to all. Railroads were slowly becoming available, but even that was a novelty. Walking, horses, wagons, and other types of wildlife were the transportation mechanisms of the day, none of which were terrible swift.
Even though my two people are far away, and I have to travel back and forth quite a bit, and eventually find a new backpack or cute carry-on bag, it really isn't that bad. The Sister will wing her way over to our house for Thanksgiving via little train, big train, and eventually automobile. The Boyfriend is eve farther away, but travelling to see him doesn't take 2 months. And although the gaps between seeing him are long, I am not traveling in a covered wagon hoping the donkey doesn't pass out along the way. So, I'll go unpack my bag from this weekend, find my red backpack and get ready for the next traveling adventure.
Lately, I seem to be crisscrossing the country at regular intervals to see a few people who are far away and are very dear to my heart (namely the Boyfriend and the Sister). The Boyfriend lives on the West Coast, while the sister is in the Windy City, and I've been able to visit them both (though I must admit that the Sister has gotten the short end of the visiting stick). The need to purchase decent luggage is becoming increasingly apparent as I continue to make these travels as my red backpack from high school is nearing the end of its rope.
These meanderings in conjunction with my current place of employment have got me thinking about the progression of travel. Back in the day (around 1836), travel took a very long time. There were no airplanes and cars were not readily available to all. Railroads were slowly becoming available, but even that was a novelty. Walking, horses, wagons, and other types of wildlife were the transportation mechanisms of the day, none of which were terrible swift.
Even though my two people are far away, and I have to travel back and forth quite a bit, and eventually find a new backpack or cute carry-on bag, it really isn't that bad. The Sister will wing her way over to our house for Thanksgiving via little train, big train, and eventually automobile. The Boyfriend is eve farther away, but travelling to see him doesn't take 2 months. And although the gaps between seeing him are long, I am not traveling in a covered wagon hoping the donkey doesn't pass out along the way. So, I'll go unpack my bag from this weekend, find my red backpack and get ready for the next traveling adventure.
Monday, 1 March 2010
Caulfield and Batman
I've been reading The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger and researching the censorship and banning that have taken place throughout the years. One of the authors I keep coming back to highlights the extreme paranoia accompanying the repeated decision to deny adolescent readers access to Salinger's novel. Pamela Steinle maintains that the invention and use of the nuclear bomb was the even that rocked America's faith in individual's abilities to choose correct action. Adults no longer trust the conceptual abilities of teenagers because the adults have lost the solidity of their own thinking because humanity now has the capability of destroying the planet. So, Holden Caulfield (the main character in Catcher) is not a character to be trusted as he questions American social structures and importance of adult interaction throughout his journey. He is a 'hero' who bleeds, experiences fear, and stands as an outside observer of society.
Recently, I listened to a podcast that discusses the cultural shift from the heroic, perfectly untouchable Superman to the dark, twisted character of Batman. It seems that with the advent of nuclear firepower, society no longer looked for a hero that could save them from looming disasters. Suddenly, there was a need for a hero who could enter into dark, difficult problems facing ordinary people. Or, as my podcasting friends pointed out, there was a need for a hero that could be met in the grocery store when he ran out of milk, bleed if you punched him in the nose, and die if a bullet was fired at his chest. As the moral framework of society was being shaken from the obliteration of Japanese men and women, an ordinary someone was needed who could prove himself better than the bleak experiences that created him.
Being so much more than simply disgruntled and malcontent with the world he lives in, Holden Caulfield's piercing observations sever him from the community of human experience as he stands apart from society, judging, critiquing, and attempting to better the forces that created him. Playing the part demanded by his social status, Bruce Wayne's nightly transformation into Batman allows him the space to subvert the system that created him and provides the opportunity for rebellion against the current societal framework. Both in the remote position of being able to push against perceived moral boundaries, Caulfield and Batman raise questions and force readers to question the legitimacy of cultural morality and the individual's contribution therein.
Recently, I listened to a podcast that discusses the cultural shift from the heroic, perfectly untouchable Superman to the dark, twisted character of Batman. It seems that with the advent of nuclear firepower, society no longer looked for a hero that could save them from looming disasters. Suddenly, there was a need for a hero who could enter into dark, difficult problems facing ordinary people. Or, as my podcasting friends pointed out, there was a need for a hero that could be met in the grocery store when he ran out of milk, bleed if you punched him in the nose, and die if a bullet was fired at his chest. As the moral framework of society was being shaken from the obliteration of Japanese men and women, an ordinary someone was needed who could prove himself better than the bleak experiences that created him.
Being so much more than simply disgruntled and malcontent with the world he lives in, Holden Caulfield's piercing observations sever him from the community of human experience as he stands apart from society, judging, critiquing, and attempting to better the forces that created him. Playing the part demanded by his social status, Bruce Wayne's nightly transformation into Batman allows him the space to subvert the system that created him and provides the opportunity for rebellion against the current societal framework. Both in the remote position of being able to push against perceived moral boundaries, Caulfield and Batman raise questions and force readers to question the legitimacy of cultural morality and the individual's contribution therein.
Monday, 22 February 2010
Marriage & All that Stuff
I found some G. K. Chesterton Quotes on marriage and sex and all that stuff there. They are quite fantastic and thought I should share.
"Love means loving the unlovable - or it is no virtue at all." - Heretics, 1905
"A man imagines a happy marriage as a marriage of love; even if he makes fun of marriages that are without love, or feels sorry for lovers who are without marriage." - Chaucer
"Women are the only realists; their whole object in life is to pit their realism against the extravagant, excessive, and occasionally drunken idealism of men." - A Handful of Authors
"The whole pleasure of marriage is that it is a perpetual crisis." - "David Copperfield," Chesterton on Dickens, 1911
"A good man's work is effected by doing what he does, a woman's by being what she is." - Robert Browning
"Women have a thirst for order and beauty as for something physical; there is a strange female power of hating ugliness and waste as good men can only hate sin and bad men virtue." - Chesterton on Dickens
"Marriage is a duel to the death which no man of honour should decline." - Manalive
"The first two facts which a healthy boy or girl feels about sex are these: first that it is beautiful and then that it is dangerous." - ILN 1/9/09
"I have little doubt that when St. George had killed the dragon he was heartily afraid of the princess." - The Victorian Age in Literature
Good night, and good luck.
"Love means loving the unlovable - or it is no virtue at all." - Heretics, 1905
"A man imagines a happy marriage as a marriage of love; even if he makes fun of marriages that are without love, or feels sorry for lovers who are without marriage." - Chaucer
"Women are the only realists; their whole object in life is to pit their realism against the extravagant, excessive, and occasionally drunken idealism of men." - A Handful of Authors
"The whole pleasure of marriage is that it is a perpetual crisis." - "David Copperfield," Chesterton on Dickens, 1911
"A good man's work is effected by doing what he does, a woman's by being what she is." - Robert Browning
"Women have a thirst for order and beauty as for something physical; there is a strange female power of hating ugliness and waste as good men can only hate sin and bad men virtue." - Chesterton on Dickens
"Marriage is a duel to the death which no man of honour should decline." - Manalive
"The first two facts which a healthy boy or girl feels about sex are these: first that it is beautiful and then that it is dangerous." - ILN 1/9/09
"I have little doubt that when St. George had killed the dragon he was heartily afraid of the princess." - The Victorian Age in Literature
And that, my friends is that. Here's the link.
Monday, 15 February 2010
Looking for a Hole
My academic writing is a bit dodgy at the moment, so I'm trying to write a paper and my words are hitting the page with about as much grace as a ton of bricks falling into a swimming pool full of pasta. It's not going well, which isn't really helping my cause. Ideas that were well formed a couple of days ago are getting stuck somewhere between my ears and elbows, and I'm not real sure what to do about it. My creativity is severely lacking even in this random quib about my life because I can't think of something creative to say about life.
Why did I decide to write everyday? What was I thinking? I think I need to find one of those daily inspiration sites that will send me something to write about.
Why did I decide to write everyday? What was I thinking? I think I need to find one of those daily inspiration sites that will send me something to write about.
Sunday, 14 February 2010
Valentine's Day
Well, a year ago today, I was in Oxford, England drinking tea in a pub, reading Jane Austen, attending an incredibly romantic concert without a date, and having ice cream with friends. It was glorious. I remember it was the first Valentine's Day that I did not spend the whole day being depressed about being single. It was quite an accomplishment particularly since all of Oxford was decorated with hearts and pink and cute couples. However, it happened. And it was a lovely day.
This year, however, instead of bemoaning my singleness, I am missing the person responsible for my not having the title of 'single' attached to my Facebook profile (if in fact I decided to put it on Facebook). So instead of drinking tea in Oxford, I'm drinking tea in Wisconsin. And while there is no concert in a 200 year old concert hall for me this evening, I do get to electronically converse with that one guy, which is quite fun.
I promise this blog will not become a long lament or anything. But it is Valentine's Day. So, I get some leeway, right? I really do not enjoy those laments, so I assure you, this will not become one of those.
This year, however, instead of bemoaning my singleness, I am missing the person responsible for my not having the title of 'single' attached to my Facebook profile (if in fact I decided to put it on Facebook). So instead of drinking tea in Oxford, I'm drinking tea in Wisconsin. And while there is no concert in a 200 year old concert hall for me this evening, I do get to electronically converse with that one guy, which is quite fun.
I promise this blog will not become a long lament or anything. But it is Valentine's Day. So, I get some leeway, right? I really do not enjoy those laments, so I assure you, this will not become one of those.
A Story
So, I just finished Graham Greene's 'The End of the Affair,' and although it is a morally questionable read, it is one of my favorite books. Strange? Probably, but it is amazing. I always feel like my heart should break after reading it, as it explores the differences and similarities of love and hate and how one man works through them all. As the two lovers meet and devour each other, Greene explores the idea of both hate and love consuming the very essence and life of a person. So much is consumed, in fact, that at the end of the novel nothing is left. Nothing, except for the One Thing that never runs out, and even He isn't wanted because of what was taken.
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