As I stated in my opening sentence for my advanced comp class blog, this is the last blog that I "have" to post for this class. However, I may continue to write about different books that I read, as sort of a running commentary for myself. I have such a long "to-read" book list, I'm sure I'll not be short of material to comment on. :)
I have really enjoyed this class. Some of the texts were hard for me to grasp, and consequently I found myself re-reading quite often. I am a fan of Charles Dickens and of Virginia Woolf, so it was nice to have an "excuse" to have read some of their work, which I hadn't previously read. I had started Great Expectations when I was 15, after reading A Tale of Two Cities, but for whatever reason, I never finished it, and it has been on my "to-read" list since then (that's over 10 years!! I know, I know, that's really terrible!)
English is not my major and though I have always wanted to take English classes, they never held precedence on my college courses list (science usually won out). I have read many classics on my own, simply because I was interested in the author or the book; I suppose that interest in literature comes from my Mom, being an English teacher herself. The same goes for writing. She taught my brother and I Shakespeare to memorize when we were kids. My brother was always much better at that than I was, and he had whole scenes memorized when he was only 8 or 9 year old! Needless to say, my brother is a very adept and capable reader and writer and is actually quite well read. When he does write, his writing is some of the best I've seen. You can't tell him that though . . . perhaps while he is in Iraq for the next few months, he'll start writing a bit . . .
Anyway, I have digressed from where I was originally going with this post. I have also really enjoyed reading everyone's discussion responses and was actually rather pleasantly suprised to find people who agreed with my interpretation of a certain text! I also like that everyone had a chance to say what they wanted, whereas in the classroom setting, there are always those intraverts who prefer to remain silent and absorb everything and not return their own feedback.
I may look into taking more lit classes in the future and at the very least getting a hold of some syllabi so I can do some reading on my own. . . . :)
Friday, March 6, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Stream of Consciousness
In class, we are reading Mrs. Dalloway, by Virginia Woolf. This novel is extremely interesting in that there is a constant stream of consciousness that flows through each character, especially the main character of Clarissa.
I was laying in bed this morning reading the novel, and I realized that it was the kind of novel that inspire one to think consciously about their own stream of consciousness and to have their awareness of it heightened. Basically, it makes me feel inspired to write.
For example, this morning was such a delicious morning, with the windows opened and the cool Oklahoma wind by turns gently blowing the blinds into the room and then sucking them out against the screen as if the wind were taking giant breaths of life in the world and then only to violently bang the blinds against the screen, as if the wind were trying to force them outside to join it. The air was light and not too bright - perfect for morning reading in bed. The kind of lightness where you feel that perhaps time has stopped, and will stay stopped. The sage green blanket on the bed and the soft gold sheets against my skin set the light off just right. I felt as though I was wrapped up and nestled in the wind and the air and the feeling of the morning, not just in the blankets and pillows as I curled up with my book. There was a stillness, a peace in the morning; a calmness that calms the soul and refreshes and revives the body. I wondered how many mornings like it I had missed because I was caught up in my business or the business of the day and the hustle and bustle of time and appointments and commitments that push me through the day, often as I resist, longing for the moment I was so enjoying - that quiet stillness. Time wins out though with its pushiness and pushes the morning out to be taken over by the lunchtime hour, whose start was signaled by my growling stomach as it thought about the food in the kitchen, just waiting for me to prepare it. Then the lunchtime hour hurries and rolls into the afternoon hour, which is taken up with commitments of various kinds - writing thank you notes, making necessary phone calls and other obligations. I find myself torn between longing to have a busy, "professional" life and the stillness of the day at home, being a simple housewife. It seems no matter which I have obtained for myself, I long for the other. Such juxtaposition of the soul is such a torment! And so I try for both, which is almost worse because I am in perpetual state of "looking forward" and unable to relax and enjoy the now. The now, like this morning, the soft, light white air of the calm morning: cool, quiet, undemanding, relaxing, wanting nothing but company, which I was only too happy to give it. Alas, but not all mornings can be of such!
I used to write like this quite often - I was always carrying around a small notebook to write an important thought or a poem that came to mind. That was when I was a teenager and the world was new and fresh and I was in love with it. Before I was wounded by circumstance, by time, by uncompassionate selfishness of people, of a person. That was when my writing stopped. When the pain of my life was too much to bear, to even pen, when I wanted simply to get through the day and had no hope of a better tomorrow. That is all behind me now - I have hope of a better tomorrow and yesterdays' better tomorrow was in fact, today. And life is great, life is enjoyable, life is content. Perhaps I shall pick up my pen again and begin to think like I used to . . . but with a new, fresh outlook on life.
I was laying in bed this morning reading the novel, and I realized that it was the kind of novel that inspire one to think consciously about their own stream of consciousness and to have their awareness of it heightened. Basically, it makes me feel inspired to write.
For example, this morning was such a delicious morning, with the windows opened and the cool Oklahoma wind by turns gently blowing the blinds into the room and then sucking them out against the screen as if the wind were taking giant breaths of life in the world and then only to violently bang the blinds against the screen, as if the wind were trying to force them outside to join it. The air was light and not too bright - perfect for morning reading in bed. The kind of lightness where you feel that perhaps time has stopped, and will stay stopped. The sage green blanket on the bed and the soft gold sheets against my skin set the light off just right. I felt as though I was wrapped up and nestled in the wind and the air and the feeling of the morning, not just in the blankets and pillows as I curled up with my book. There was a stillness, a peace in the morning; a calmness that calms the soul and refreshes and revives the body. I wondered how many mornings like it I had missed because I was caught up in my business or the business of the day and the hustle and bustle of time and appointments and commitments that push me through the day, often as I resist, longing for the moment I was so enjoying - that quiet stillness. Time wins out though with its pushiness and pushes the morning out to be taken over by the lunchtime hour, whose start was signaled by my growling stomach as it thought about the food in the kitchen, just waiting for me to prepare it. Then the lunchtime hour hurries and rolls into the afternoon hour, which is taken up with commitments of various kinds - writing thank you notes, making necessary phone calls and other obligations. I find myself torn between longing to have a busy, "professional" life and the stillness of the day at home, being a simple housewife. It seems no matter which I have obtained for myself, I long for the other. Such juxtaposition of the soul is such a torment! And so I try for both, which is almost worse because I am in perpetual state of "looking forward" and unable to relax and enjoy the now. The now, like this morning, the soft, light white air of the calm morning: cool, quiet, undemanding, relaxing, wanting nothing but company, which I was only too happy to give it. Alas, but not all mornings can be of such!
I used to write like this quite often - I was always carrying around a small notebook to write an important thought or a poem that came to mind. That was when I was a teenager and the world was new and fresh and I was in love with it. Before I was wounded by circumstance, by time, by uncompassionate selfishness of people, of a person. That was when my writing stopped. When the pain of my life was too much to bear, to even pen, when I wanted simply to get through the day and had no hope of a better tomorrow. That is all behind me now - I have hope of a better tomorrow and yesterdays' better tomorrow was in fact, today. And life is great, life is enjoyable, life is content. Perhaps I shall pick up my pen again and begin to think like I used to . . . but with a new, fresh outlook on life.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
"When Love is Old"
I really enjoyed reading "When Love is Old" by W.B. Yeats. Personally, I like to put myself sometimes (not always) in a character's place in a story (or especially a movie). I can see Mike and I being married forty years or so down the line, still in love, having reared our children and seen them out, having gone through careers and houses and cities and bases and life events and hard times and good times and births and deaths, all the while still loving each other and still there for each other. This stems from the commitment that we have made to each other: indeed we made a covenant with the Lord in front of family and friends to be committed to each other until death do us part. I know that Mike's love for me is not the passing love for my youthful looks and I think that he has certainly proved that throughout the length of our first pregnancy. My body underwent some major changes, and his love for me has not changed. And his desire for me has not dwindled in the least either - in some ways, it has increased, perhaps because I am bearing his child, a fact that he quite proud of. (Men glow too when their wives are pregnant.) I can see how the speaker in Yeats poem has that kind of love for his wife - how he has stayed with her through it all, until the very end. I find this to be very romantic.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Joe's story
In class we are reading Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. I'm not through it yet, but it has been very hard to put down. This afternoon one of the parts that I read about was the story of Joe's childhood. I won't describe it here, in case you haven't read it yet. I was completely shocked at the story and my heart really went out to his poor mother. I can't believe that Joe, to that day (in the story) defended his father saying he had a heart.
I think of similar stories in today's world, about women who try to get away and can't. And then people are afraid to house them for fear of their own lives, or making a scene, and that's how women in domestic violence end of dead.
Last week I read a story of a local woman who was beaten to disfigurement by her husband. It is a miracle that she escaped alive. From the pictures, it was hard to tell if she still had her left eye or not. I don't understand how men can resort to such violence. I mean, intellectually, I've read papers, textbooks, seen movies in class and I still don't get it. Even after being in a relationship with an extremely controlling and verbally, mentally and sexually abusive man, I don't understand how they can do that. Except that they are heartless, confused victims themselves. That is no excuse though.
And my heart goes out to Joe, for he has married someone just like his father. And he won't leave. And his wife won't change. And poor Pip has to bear the brunt of it.
On another level, I can't understand how Mrs. Joe can do that to her husband. She is supposedly a Christian in the novel. Hasn't she read 1 Peter and Titus???? How can she do that to her husband? How can he take it? How can he allow it to happen to Pip, except perhaps with the understanding that her wrath will come his way if he sticks up for Pip.
I realize all my questions are big, and probably without answers. Frustrating. Of course, I think the answers are in the Bible - but not every person is a Christian, and not even every Christian understands certain Godly principles such as love and respect, especially for one's spouse. And you can't force beliefs on anyone. They have to chose for themselves who they will serve.
I think of similar stories in today's world, about women who try to get away and can't. And then people are afraid to house them for fear of their own lives, or making a scene, and that's how women in domestic violence end of dead.
Last week I read a story of a local woman who was beaten to disfigurement by her husband. It is a miracle that she escaped alive. From the pictures, it was hard to tell if she still had her left eye or not. I don't understand how men can resort to such violence. I mean, intellectually, I've read papers, textbooks, seen movies in class and I still don't get it. Even after being in a relationship with an extremely controlling and verbally, mentally and sexually abusive man, I don't understand how they can do that. Except that they are heartless, confused victims themselves. That is no excuse though.
And my heart goes out to Joe, for he has married someone just like his father. And he won't leave. And his wife won't change. And poor Pip has to bear the brunt of it.
On another level, I can't understand how Mrs. Joe can do that to her husband. She is supposedly a Christian in the novel. Hasn't she read 1 Peter and Titus???? How can she do that to her husband? How can he take it? How can he allow it to happen to Pip, except perhaps with the understanding that her wrath will come his way if he sticks up for Pip.
I realize all my questions are big, and probably without answers. Frustrating. Of course, I think the answers are in the Bible - but not every person is a Christian, and not even every Christian understands certain Godly principles such as love and respect, especially for one's spouse. And you can't force beliefs on anyone. They have to chose for themselves who they will serve.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
The Browning's
Elizabeth Browning and Robert Browning were both poets in their own right who met, fell in love and got married. It sounds like a literary fairy tale of some kind. I haven't read all of their poetry, or the poetry that they both wrote after they were married yet.
The poetry that we read from them this week in class was a rather interesting selection I thought. Rather than the lovey-dovey poetry you might expect from their life, the selections were far from that. Robert's poem was about a duke who may have killed his previous wife, probably for extramarital relationships. Elizabeth's poem seem liked she was begging for love and affirmation of love in a marital relationship. Do these peoms reflect real -life situations, as some of their other works doing (according to various literary sources online)? It would be interesting to find out . . .
The poetry that we read from them this week in class was a rather interesting selection I thought. Rather than the lovey-dovey poetry you might expect from their life, the selections were far from that. Robert's poem was about a duke who may have killed his previous wife, probably for extramarital relationships. Elizabeth's poem seem liked she was begging for love and affirmation of love in a marital relationship. Do these peoms reflect real -life situations, as some of their other works doing (according to various literary sources online)? It would be interesting to find out . . .
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Monster shocker!
This week in class we are reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. So far, I have really enjoyed the novel (I'm only a little over half way through). I am still absolutely amazed by the range of vocabulary and word usage that Mary Shelley had at the age that she wrote this novel (I think she was 19ish). Although, her mother was Mary Stone Wollencraft and her father a literary as well, and she eloped with Percy Shelley ~ so when you think about how she was probably raised and the people who influenced her life from birth, perhaps it isn't so shocking.
Anyway, when I got to the chapter where the monster wants to talk to Frankenstein on the top of the mountain, I was completely surprised by the language he used. I had started to read this novel when I was 18, but I never got this far, so all of my knowledge of Frankenstein came from Hollywood (and I haven't seen the movie Mary Shelley's Frankenstein). He was just so eloquent in his explanation and throughout his story (which I'm in the middle of), you really can begin to feel for this poor creature. I think in some ways, it also makes it hard to believe that he was created and learned to speak that way in just a short amount of time (almost two years).
I also found it quite interesting that Shelley doesn't actually go into detail about how Frankenstein created the monster, but rather leaves that up to the imagination. Some things she goes into vivid detail, while at the same time leaving quite up to the imagination. I can really see why this novel is such a classic and I'm glad that I've been given the opportunity to read it [again].
I'm anxious to get back to the novel and finish it. As soon as I finish my online posting for tonight . . .
Anyway, when I got to the chapter where the monster wants to talk to Frankenstein on the top of the mountain, I was completely surprised by the language he used. I had started to read this novel when I was 18, but I never got this far, so all of my knowledge of Frankenstein came from Hollywood (and I haven't seen the movie Mary Shelley's Frankenstein). He was just so eloquent in his explanation and throughout his story (which I'm in the middle of), you really can begin to feel for this poor creature. I think in some ways, it also makes it hard to believe that he was created and learned to speak that way in just a short amount of time (almost two years).
I also found it quite interesting that Shelley doesn't actually go into detail about how Frankenstein created the monster, but rather leaves that up to the imagination. Some things she goes into vivid detail, while at the same time leaving quite up to the imagination. I can really see why this novel is such a classic and I'm glad that I've been given the opportunity to read it [again].
I'm anxious to get back to the novel and finish it. As soon as I finish my online posting for tonight . . .
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Blake's "Garden of Love"
"The Garden of Love"
~William Blake
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And ``Thou shalt not'' writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore;
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be;
And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys & desires.
I was a little saddened after reading William Blake's "Garden of Love". It took me reading it about five times to get a sense of the meaning of it. After I came to the realization of what that meaning could possibly be, I was rather saddened by it.
This is the conclusion that I came to, (copy from the forum I posted): The poem "Garden of Love" argues that the relationship between religion and freedom cannot be. The gates of the chapel were shut, not letting anyone in, with the beginning words of most of the Ten Commandments (Thou Shalt Not . . . ) written above the door. However, there was no follow up to the "Thou Shalt Not", indicating that perhaps one just couldn't do . . . anything. The garden was not filled with flowers, being allowed to grow freely, but was filled with graves. I.e. the flowers have no freedom to grow. I think that Blake is suggesting that if one is religious, they have no freedoms in this world; they are constricted by laws and moralities from doing whatever they will. One might even say that religion could be seen in his eyes as the leash to conscious morality.
I was saddened basically because I believe personally for the opposite to be true: it is through religion that we possess the greatest freedom. In my religious belief, which is that I have a personal relationship with Christ, I have the greatest freedom~ the freedom of being forgiven and loved unconditionally. And from that freedom flows all kinds of love. Deep amorous, committed, respectful love for my husband, plutonic love for friends, love for God's creatures. From that freedom of being forgiven, I can let go of wrong doings and hurts and move on and forgive those who hurt me.
I don't think that the Lord's commandments were made to keep us from doing what we wanted, but to protect us. I also don't think that it is the Priests' job to go around keeping us from doing what we want, but to shepphard us, as keepers of the flock.
I sort of feel like I'm able to get my point out that I want to get out, so I'll use an illustration from my life.
In the 10 Commandments, it is written "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery". This commandment is not to keep us from the pleasure of love making, but to serve as a guide in our commitment and covenant in marriage. Sure it can be fun going around having one night stands with no strings attached, "two ships bumping in the night" and all that. But in the soul, it can leave one feeling haunted, unattached, lost, and unworthy even. In a marriage, you can have that kind of fun as often as you want, and it is so much more than that. The intimacy between a husband and wife can grow and blossom into a beautiful act of commitment, love, cherishing one another, selfless giving on both partners and even a form of worship (after all, God created sex and He knew what He was doing). There are no fears of abandonment, consequences or loss. Instead of leaving the soul empty, it leaves the soul nourished, nurtured and fulfilled. Joy and desire are completed in oneship between two people.
I hope that helped get my point across a little better. I hope that Blake was writing about the institution of the Church putting restrictions of the Word of God and how it is for every person and not personal convictions . . .
~William Blake
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And ``Thou shalt not'' writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore;
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be;
And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys & desires.
I was a little saddened after reading William Blake's "Garden of Love". It took me reading it about five times to get a sense of the meaning of it. After I came to the realization of what that meaning could possibly be, I was rather saddened by it.
This is the conclusion that I came to, (copy from the forum I posted): The poem "Garden of Love" argues that the relationship between religion and freedom cannot be. The gates of the chapel were shut, not letting anyone in, with the beginning words of most of the Ten Commandments (Thou Shalt Not . . . ) written above the door. However, there was no follow up to the "Thou Shalt Not", indicating that perhaps one just couldn't do . . . anything. The garden was not filled with flowers, being allowed to grow freely, but was filled with graves. I.e. the flowers have no freedom to grow. I think that Blake is suggesting that if one is religious, they have no freedoms in this world; they are constricted by laws and moralities from doing whatever they will. One might even say that religion could be seen in his eyes as the leash to conscious morality.
I was saddened basically because I believe personally for the opposite to be true: it is through religion that we possess the greatest freedom. In my religious belief, which is that I have a personal relationship with Christ, I have the greatest freedom~ the freedom of being forgiven and loved unconditionally. And from that freedom flows all kinds of love. Deep amorous, committed, respectful love for my husband, plutonic love for friends, love for God's creatures. From that freedom of being forgiven, I can let go of wrong doings and hurts and move on and forgive those who hurt me.
I don't think that the Lord's commandments were made to keep us from doing what we wanted, but to protect us. I also don't think that it is the Priests' job to go around keeping us from doing what we want, but to shepphard us, as keepers of the flock.
I sort of feel like I'm able to get my point out that I want to get out, so I'll use an illustration from my life.
In the 10 Commandments, it is written "Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery". This commandment is not to keep us from the pleasure of love making, but to serve as a guide in our commitment and covenant in marriage. Sure it can be fun going around having one night stands with no strings attached, "two ships bumping in the night" and all that. But in the soul, it can leave one feeling haunted, unattached, lost, and unworthy even. In a marriage, you can have that kind of fun as often as you want, and it is so much more than that. The intimacy between a husband and wife can grow and blossom into a beautiful act of commitment, love, cherishing one another, selfless giving on both partners and even a form of worship (after all, God created sex and He knew what He was doing). There are no fears of abandonment, consequences or loss. Instead of leaving the soul empty, it leaves the soul nourished, nurtured and fulfilled. Joy and desire are completed in oneship between two people.
I hope that helped get my point across a little better. I hope that Blake was writing about the institution of the Church putting restrictions of the Word of God and how it is for every person and not personal convictions . . .
Monday, January 12, 2009
English Lit Since 1800
This blog was created for my UCO English Literature Since 1800 class.
I do love to read and write, among many other academic interests, and this is actually not my first blog. I have a blog about family life that I try to post to faithfully. I have a lot of family and friends all over the world that read it so they can keep up on current events with my family (such as the upcoming birth of my husband and I's little girl). It's a private blog, however, if anyone is interested in reading it, I would be happy to add you, so just email me and let me know. I also have another private blog that only I have access to so I can vent about things that might upset me, I have a blog that I co-author with my husband where we write love letters back and forth to each other (that's a lot of fun! :-) ), I have a blog where I attempted to start writing a story and somehow that never really got launched (although I haven't given up on it yet, the story is still in my head), and I started a blog for the small group in my Bible study where we can post prayer and praises (since we all have blogs).
Anyway, I tend to go on and on in my blog posts, so I can see myself spending a lot of time blogging for class and not doing other assignments . . . lol . . . :)
I do love to read and write, among many other academic interests, and this is actually not my first blog. I have a blog about family life that I try to post to faithfully. I have a lot of family and friends all over the world that read it so they can keep up on current events with my family (such as the upcoming birth of my husband and I's little girl). It's a private blog, however, if anyone is interested in reading it, I would be happy to add you, so just email me and let me know. I also have another private blog that only I have access to so I can vent about things that might upset me, I have a blog that I co-author with my husband where we write love letters back and forth to each other (that's a lot of fun! :-) ), I have a blog where I attempted to start writing a story and somehow that never really got launched (although I haven't given up on it yet, the story is still in my head), and I started a blog for the small group in my Bible study where we can post prayer and praises (since we all have blogs).
Anyway, I tend to go on and on in my blog posts, so I can see myself spending a lot of time blogging for class and not doing other assignments . . . lol . . . :)
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