For our research project my group has chosen to examine the tradition of Alaska Native Storytelling. This is something that as a group we all seemed interested in and that should make it all the more fun. I feel that this topic is extremely important given the decaying state of Alaska Native Languages and, as there is no current page on Wikipedia that defines this topic, I think that the information should be made available to the entire world.
Of course, considering the subject, I have found myself asking many questions.
-Why is Alaska Native Storytelling so important?
-What life lessons or traditions are passed down and taught though these stories?
-What key significant factors are used in the creation and retelling of the stories?
I hope to answer these and many more questions before the conclusion of this project.
As this is to be a combined research project my group decided to split up the research into pieces so that we would be able to effectively research all aspects of our topic. In this situation I have been tasked with exploring the connections between life lessons in the stories, the origins of the stories, and whether or not the stories can be traced to a specific tribe. These questions I think are extremely important if we are to get a full understanding of Alaska Native Storytelling.
When it comes to actually creating our page, I think we will all work together on general planning and layout. Then as Tyler and I are more comfortable with computer use, the two of us will be working to get the information entered and posted to Wikipedia.
At this time I have completed a lot of research on this subject online and by locating “classic” texts related to Native Storytelling. Shockingly I was able to find much more than my fair share in a relatively short amount of time. As per our request, Lance Twitchell has agreed to meet with us next week and will provide information on our topic as well as answer questions for us. This should allow us to really achieve a deeper understanding of our topic as well as make it more thorough.
For my time-line I will be sticking to our project guidelines and completing every piece as quickly as possible for, I believe that, by the time our research is complete we will have a vast amount of data to combine, organize, and publish. As it just so happens, my working schedule has been rearranged and, I will be able to devote a considerable amount of time to the successful completion of this project. Also at my side I have a great group of people that will be assisting with nearly every step! Thanks Guys!!!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Reading Response: Politics and the English Language
“Politics and the English Language” written by George Orwell posed an enlightening and interesting read for me this week. This text, it would seem, has been written to educate the apparent ignorant masses that Orwell found himself surrounded by in his day and age on the so-called “correct use” of English and touches on many subjects in written and spoken English language.
While much of the information contained in this piece does somewhat educate the reader on the proper use of certain functions in the English language and how to apply them correctly, it is almost all completely one sided. Sadly, Orwell comes across as arrogant and above the rest of society as he makes his argument that English is “in a bad way” and used incorrectly.
His description of things like “dying metaphors, pretentious diction, and meaningless words” leads the reader down a self righteous path of “what it is” and “how it should be”. His use of passages taken form other authors written text does incorporate a feeling that some writing is not what it should be, however instead of guiding the reader and explaining the indifference Orwell seems to seek placing blame and demonstrating that minds of his caliber don’t exist or they wouldn’t write like this.
While this piece is written to supposedly address the use of English in Politics, it really comes across as him trying to dictate how language should be used by everyone, in every situation, and in every writing style. Could you imagine trying to creatively write something without these so called “Meaningless Words” used to describe a scene, setting, or object? Or to not be able to use “Pretentious Diction” to elaborate to your reader?
His argument of the “Not un-” formation of writing I felt was sound but any then it sounds so ridiculous to think that anyone would write like that anyway. The example used by Orwell “A not unblack dog was chasing a not unsmall rabbit across a not ungreen field” is hilarious (and scary), however hardly used in the common language of today. Perhaps this came about because Orwell chose to write about it?
After reading this, I did find myself questioning my use of language and metaphor in my everyday life. However, I am not a politician, I don’t write political documents, debates or laws so I don’t feel that I should allow the words of George Orwell to affect my skill advancement in my “generally” creative writing style…
Sorry Orwell!
While much of the information contained in this piece does somewhat educate the reader on the proper use of certain functions in the English language and how to apply them correctly, it is almost all completely one sided. Sadly, Orwell comes across as arrogant and above the rest of society as he makes his argument that English is “in a bad way” and used incorrectly.
His description of things like “dying metaphors, pretentious diction, and meaningless words” leads the reader down a self righteous path of “what it is” and “how it should be”. His use of passages taken form other authors written text does incorporate a feeling that some writing is not what it should be, however instead of guiding the reader and explaining the indifference Orwell seems to seek placing blame and demonstrating that minds of his caliber don’t exist or they wouldn’t write like this.
While this piece is written to supposedly address the use of English in Politics, it really comes across as him trying to dictate how language should be used by everyone, in every situation, and in every writing style. Could you imagine trying to creatively write something without these so called “Meaningless Words” used to describe a scene, setting, or object? Or to not be able to use “Pretentious Diction” to elaborate to your reader?
His argument of the “Not un-” formation of writing I felt was sound but any then it sounds so ridiculous to think that anyone would write like that anyway. The example used by Orwell “A not unblack dog was chasing a not unsmall rabbit across a not ungreen field” is hilarious (and scary), however hardly used in the common language of today. Perhaps this came about because Orwell chose to write about it?
After reading this, I did find myself questioning my use of language and metaphor in my everyday life. However, I am not a politician, I don’t write political documents, debates or laws so I don’t feel that I should allow the words of George Orwell to affect my skill advancement in my “generally” creative writing style…
Sorry Orwell!
Monday, March 7, 2011
The Cove - Critical Review
The lights go down and a cool, dark stillness creeps through the room on cat‘s paws. The only light passes through an open window shackled and chained into a corner by the walls that hold it. Great attention is being placed upon a television in the center of the room and, almost, all eyes watch in anticipation. Images begin to form on the screen, and suddenly a lighthouse appears to guide me on. My classroom is no more. I have been transported. I am far across the oceans of my world. I am in Japan. I am in Taiji. I am in pain.
The Cove is a documentary based on the whaling industry and the so-called “dolphin slaughter” that is happening in Taiji, Japan. It, in depth, describes the massive amounts of dolphins killed each year by the local Japanese “fishermen”. It also documents a cove located in Taiji where we can witness the tragic method used to capture the dolphins and the sickeningly brutal manner in which the dolphin slaughter takes place.
Hosted by Ric O’Barry this film bombards the viewer with information, however incomplete, at an alarming rate. Like an emotional rollercoaster this documentary keeps the viewer enthralled by providing information that causes a serious of emotional peaks and valleys. This, well thought out, information organization technique proves most effective. However, the films intended purpose is to “bring down” this industry and condemn them for their crime, and therefore is lacking, in many ways, complete information. Without further analysis outside of this film to locate this missing information, there are many questions left in my mind and, inevitably, the mind of most viewers.
As this film as been referred to, and accused of being a, Trojan Horse, for me that can only lie in the content of the subject matter and the manner in which it was presented. Upon viewing this film I felt it slowly eating away at the insides of me, even long after our class was over. I was unable to forget or to see what was happening now that my eyes had been opened to it. Of course there are other prejudices at play here. For instance; the American viewer has, most-likely, grown up in a society where the dolphin is a treasured and nearly sacred animal. This makes the subject matter almost instantly one sided. How could someone hurt our precious friend the dolphin? Why would someone do it? And the most common of human responses who can be punished for this!?
I think that in general the Japanese people had no true idea of what was going on. Did they know that dolphins were slaughtered in Japan? Probably. Did they know the extent or the brutality associated with this? I don’t think so. Human society tends to provide a great ability for “rational ignorance”. Rational ignorance, though usually used in Economics, states that if the cost of educating oneself on a particular subject enough to form an opinion outweighs the benefits of doing so, then rational ignorance happens and humans just don’t pay attention. I sure the Japanese people had some idea of what was happening but without the need to know more, they didn’t. This films does place a grim look on many people in Japan, but Taiji’s residents are not the whole country, and I do not see need to cast any blame without further understanding.
I hope that people will seek out the truth before deciding to cast their vote for or against Japan or the country’s people. This situation, like many others on Earth, needs to be studied properly and a better decision based upon all of the facts can be reached.
The Cove is a documentary based on the whaling industry and the so-called “dolphin slaughter” that is happening in Taiji, Japan. It, in depth, describes the massive amounts of dolphins killed each year by the local Japanese “fishermen”. It also documents a cove located in Taiji where we can witness the tragic method used to capture the dolphins and the sickeningly brutal manner in which the dolphin slaughter takes place.
Hosted by Ric O’Barry this film bombards the viewer with information, however incomplete, at an alarming rate. Like an emotional rollercoaster this documentary keeps the viewer enthralled by providing information that causes a serious of emotional peaks and valleys. This, well thought out, information organization technique proves most effective. However, the films intended purpose is to “bring down” this industry and condemn them for their crime, and therefore is lacking, in many ways, complete information. Without further analysis outside of this film to locate this missing information, there are many questions left in my mind and, inevitably, the mind of most viewers.
As this film as been referred to, and accused of being a, Trojan Horse, for me that can only lie in the content of the subject matter and the manner in which it was presented. Upon viewing this film I felt it slowly eating away at the insides of me, even long after our class was over. I was unable to forget or to see what was happening now that my eyes had been opened to it. Of course there are other prejudices at play here. For instance; the American viewer has, most-likely, grown up in a society where the dolphin is a treasured and nearly sacred animal. This makes the subject matter almost instantly one sided. How could someone hurt our precious friend the dolphin? Why would someone do it? And the most common of human responses who can be punished for this!?
I think that in general the Japanese people had no true idea of what was going on. Did they know that dolphins were slaughtered in Japan? Probably. Did they know the extent or the brutality associated with this? I don’t think so. Human society tends to provide a great ability for “rational ignorance”. Rational ignorance, though usually used in Economics, states that if the cost of educating oneself on a particular subject enough to form an opinion outweighs the benefits of doing so, then rational ignorance happens and humans just don’t pay attention. I sure the Japanese people had some idea of what was happening but without the need to know more, they didn’t. This films does place a grim look on many people in Japan, but Taiji’s residents are not the whole country, and I do not see need to cast any blame without further understanding.
I hope that people will seek out the truth before deciding to cast their vote for or against Japan or the country’s people. This situation, like many others on Earth, needs to be studied properly and a better decision based upon all of the facts can be reached.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Overheard Conversation Post
Tonight around seven pm I find myself sitting in the Starbucks located in the Barnes and Noble bookstore. I have ordered myself a caramel frappuccino and sit down at a nearby table to sip my iced coffee drink and play spy. After sitting for a while a group of students enter and make their way over to a table next to me and begin to remove there laptops and textbooks. Having already pulled out my notebook and my Political Economics book, in an attempt to look like I was paying attention to something else, I grabbed my pen and perked my ears up to listen. It only took a few minutes for the students to talk before the conversation grew and took on a life of it's own. This is what I witnessed.
Five students are sitting around a table. Three of them are males and and they are accompanied by two young and peppy women. They are high-school students or maybe college freshman, I cannot be sure. At first it is fairly quiet, with the kind “Hello” followed by a “How's it going?”, then the conversation gets interesting.
“You know you wanna see the pictures!”, says a boy loudly to a girl close to him.
“No. Seriously, I don't wanna know what you guys do when your alone.” the girl replies.
“You don't wanna see pictures of me a Will on our secluded cabin weekend? It took me forever to get him to go.”
The girls mumbles something, mostly inaudible.
“It was great, no one around and its just me and my roommate! I'm telling ya as soon as we got there we started heating the place up. Poured some of that champagne, and got under the blankets! Oh yeah!”
“He's huge, smelly and he has those weird teeth.” states the girl.
“No seriously, just listen.” says the boy.
Here is what I got from it.
●◌●
A boy and his huge, smelly, vampire roommate, Will, in a effort to escape the chains of their average boring days off escape to a secluded cabin for a more interesting weekend together. Upon arriving the boy professes his love for his smelly, huge, vampire roommate, cracks a bottle of Moet and Chandon, and proceeds to pour glasses for the two of them. Soon they are completely wasted and find themselves under the blankets and “heating the place up”. In order to preserve this precious moment the two of them then proceed to take pictures of themselves together, to show their friends and maybe even a few for themselves.
●◌●
Now, I am sure that this was not what really happened but, I cannot know that just by what I heard. I imagine that the boy just has a roommate that creeps out the girl because he is heavy and smelly and has bad teeth. I am fairly sure that when they arrived at the cabin, it was freezing and they threw wood on the fire, jumped under blankets while they waited for the place to heat up and had some champagne to celebrate the weekend. However, without the proper context I am sure this conversation could be heard or understood in many ways. None of which are right. It would also seems that tone and pronunciation also work together in order to help build the correct context in spoken language. Without the correct context we all sound about one banana short of a bunch!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Observation Essay
Jacob Willey
Instructor: VanLaningham
English 111-F06
5 Feb 2011
A Walk Through my Past
Sunlight falls effortlessly, cascading down through the clouds, casting shattered light to the earth below. Radiant spots of light travel slowly across the ground, scorching life in their wake, an effect created by the clouds drifting about the heavens. In brief glimpses we can view the sky, and its deep blue color, visible through small fissures in the ocean of vapor overhead. Off in the distance to the west, the sky and clouds take on a darker purpose and, to us, appear a deep shade of purple. Intermittently, bolts of light can be seen flashing, followed shortly by a deep rumble that rolls though the sky, shaking creation in its path. The storm is slowly rolling away, and soon the sound of thunder is nothing more than a memory, but the moisture left behind is a more than welcome drink for this heated land. Here, we stand on an old dirt road, the passage of time fresh upon it’s face; dips and holes the only traces of travelers past. Rocks shift restlessly under our feet as we travel along the road to the north.
Vast fields of farmland containing crops of beans, grain, and corn span the expanse in all directions. Unlike the grain and beans, which sway causally in the breeze, the corn stands in proud defiance of the wind and reaches up to worship the sun. Only the large green leaves and the silky golden tassels on the top of the stalks acknowledge the wind, flittering slightly as the breeze passes by. The once tilled ground, still a dark chocolate color, looks nurtured and cared for, a sign of the effort put into these fields by the farmers. Various types of flowers dot the sides of the road adding a kaleidoscope of smells and colors to our scene. Birds chirp and sing all around us, and butterflies dance on the breeze in the air.
As we reach the end of this road, we can see that the path north is blocked by fields and the intersecting road here runs east to west. To the west we can see more fields, and farm houses, looking like nothing more then tiny figurines out in the distance. As we turn east and resume our journey, the road slowly narrows and takes on the characteristics of a dirt driveway. Cut directly out of the field, sits a beautiful yard that acts as home to a large, fresh cut, deep green lawn. The strong smell of grass drifts through the air tingling and tantalizing our senses. We can observe a small brown shack sitting in the center of the yard. Silver fencing runs out from the sides of the shack barricading a square section of the yard to the back of it. Within the fence lay two sleeping dogs, tongues hung out in protest of the heat. The driveway continues on just a bit further and we can see that it forks into two paths. One arcs to the north leading up between the fenced area and the side of a large white house, the other leads east past the house and off into the distance. In the driveway sits a couple of cars, and a large dark brown tarp sits on a heap in front of them.
The house stands tall and welcoming before us. Two doors lead inside, one off the driveway on the side of the house, one on the front of the house off a large raised porch. Long thin gardens border the house, full of flowers and an assortment of plants. Brightly colored flowers are displayed in various positions and in a variety of planters around the house and on the porch. Large windows placed in the sides of the house, decorated with curtains, reflect the endless clouds rolling through the sky. Long green hoses, running several sprinklers, extend from a spigot on the side of the house and dart across the yard. The water being cast about to maintain the lawn mists softly through the air, creating a most brilliant rainbow effect when a wild sunbeam bursts out of the cloudy sky.
Entering the house through the side door, we walk into a large open space serving as the dining room. A large wooden table for eight sits in the center, and a kitchen is off to the left. The house smells of home-cooked meals, good times, and family. Three doors and a stairway lead off out of this room. Two of the doors, just there in front of us, lead to a bathroom and a bedroom. The doorway off to the right of this room leads to the living room of the house. The walls of the dining room are covered with cabinets filled with dishes and trinkets. Walking over to the living room door, we can see a entertainment center, very nice for this space in time, a large sofa, and a couple of chairs off in the corners filling up the rest of the room. If we back track just a bit, enough just to reach the base of the stairs we saw earlier, we can trot up the stairs and find three more bedrooms. All of these huge rooms filled with dressers, mirrors, closets, and king size beds. One of these rooms, in particular, equipped with a king size waterbed.
As we continue our walk, returning back outside after having paused to look at the house, we can see that there is a giant pole barn tucked away adjacent to the house and, therefore, not visible from the other side. The pole barn mainly composed of metal is large enough to house a crop plane. Through the window in the side we can see that part of this barn has been cornered off by walls and there is a weight room setup. There is also a set of stairs running up one of the sides, next to a mirrored wall, leading up to a second floor. Walking in through the side door of the barn, we can view weights of various sizes scattered about as if used often, and workout machines sitting all around. In the wall of mirrors before us there is a door on the right that leads out into the main area of the barn. Considering that the main area of the barn is irrelevant to this journey, let us continue up the stairs.
Couches rest against two of the four walls, blankets thrown all around, and videogames cartridges are cast throughout the room. A small colored television sits on a stand in the center of the room, and controller cords reach out from the Sega Genesis and Nintendo consoles beneath it. Large speakers sit to the left and the right of the television, and a stereo to control it all sits off to the side. It would appear that some children have spent many lazy summer hours lounging around here and playing video games. As we look around, we can here the sound of engines far off coming closer, so we head back down the stairs and back out through the door to see what we find.
Coming down the dirt road from the east are two children on four-wheelers. Both of these boys have tan skin, a testament to their travels in the sun, and sweat pours off them freely in the overwhelming heat. They whip down the road, racing side by side back to the house, impatient for the dinner to come. Nearly flying past us, they race up to the driveway of the house, park the four-wheelers and throw the large brown tarp back over them. They run inside the brown shack to feed and water the dogs and their pups, and head inside for dinner, later escaping back to the freedom of the pool barn later that night.
The place that I have been describing serves as one of my fondest child-hood memories. As a child I grew up for some time, with my brother and mother in Kokomo, Indiana. My mother worked hard to provide for us, but we lived in low income housing, and in a neighborhood that perhaps wasn’t the best in town. However, in school I was fortunate enough to meet a kid named Jeremy, who quickly became one of my best friends. This place was his home, and the setting of many of my summer days. A place to me that transcends time itself, for not only did I visit there for solace as a child, but I can revisit it in my mind now and still find relief. In many ways it helped to shape who I am today, by letting me escape kind of life that I had been born into, and showing me that whole families did actually exist.
Instructor: VanLaningham
English 111-F06
5 Feb 2011
A Walk Through my Past
Sunlight falls effortlessly, cascading down through the clouds, casting shattered light to the earth below. Radiant spots of light travel slowly across the ground, scorching life in their wake, an effect created by the clouds drifting about the heavens. In brief glimpses we can view the sky, and its deep blue color, visible through small fissures in the ocean of vapor overhead. Off in the distance to the west, the sky and clouds take on a darker purpose and, to us, appear a deep shade of purple. Intermittently, bolts of light can be seen flashing, followed shortly by a deep rumble that rolls though the sky, shaking creation in its path. The storm is slowly rolling away, and soon the sound of thunder is nothing more than a memory, but the moisture left behind is a more than welcome drink for this heated land. Here, we stand on an old dirt road, the passage of time fresh upon it’s face; dips and holes the only traces of travelers past. Rocks shift restlessly under our feet as we travel along the road to the north.
Vast fields of farmland containing crops of beans, grain, and corn span the expanse in all directions. Unlike the grain and beans, which sway causally in the breeze, the corn stands in proud defiance of the wind and reaches up to worship the sun. Only the large green leaves and the silky golden tassels on the top of the stalks acknowledge the wind, flittering slightly as the breeze passes by. The once tilled ground, still a dark chocolate color, looks nurtured and cared for, a sign of the effort put into these fields by the farmers. Various types of flowers dot the sides of the road adding a kaleidoscope of smells and colors to our scene. Birds chirp and sing all around us, and butterflies dance on the breeze in the air.
As we reach the end of this road, we can see that the path north is blocked by fields and the intersecting road here runs east to west. To the west we can see more fields, and farm houses, looking like nothing more then tiny figurines out in the distance. As we turn east and resume our journey, the road slowly narrows and takes on the characteristics of a dirt driveway. Cut directly out of the field, sits a beautiful yard that acts as home to a large, fresh cut, deep green lawn. The strong smell of grass drifts through the air tingling and tantalizing our senses. We can observe a small brown shack sitting in the center of the yard. Silver fencing runs out from the sides of the shack barricading a square section of the yard to the back of it. Within the fence lay two sleeping dogs, tongues hung out in protest of the heat. The driveway continues on just a bit further and we can see that it forks into two paths. One arcs to the north leading up between the fenced area and the side of a large white house, the other leads east past the house and off into the distance. In the driveway sits a couple of cars, and a large dark brown tarp sits on a heap in front of them.
The house stands tall and welcoming before us. Two doors lead inside, one off the driveway on the side of the house, one on the front of the house off a large raised porch. Long thin gardens border the house, full of flowers and an assortment of plants. Brightly colored flowers are displayed in various positions and in a variety of planters around the house and on the porch. Large windows placed in the sides of the house, decorated with curtains, reflect the endless clouds rolling through the sky. Long green hoses, running several sprinklers, extend from a spigot on the side of the house and dart across the yard. The water being cast about to maintain the lawn mists softly through the air, creating a most brilliant rainbow effect when a wild sunbeam bursts out of the cloudy sky.
Entering the house through the side door, we walk into a large open space serving as the dining room. A large wooden table for eight sits in the center, and a kitchen is off to the left. The house smells of home-cooked meals, good times, and family. Three doors and a stairway lead off out of this room. Two of the doors, just there in front of us, lead to a bathroom and a bedroom. The doorway off to the right of this room leads to the living room of the house. The walls of the dining room are covered with cabinets filled with dishes and trinkets. Walking over to the living room door, we can see a entertainment center, very nice for this space in time, a large sofa, and a couple of chairs off in the corners filling up the rest of the room. If we back track just a bit, enough just to reach the base of the stairs we saw earlier, we can trot up the stairs and find three more bedrooms. All of these huge rooms filled with dressers, mirrors, closets, and king size beds. One of these rooms, in particular, equipped with a king size waterbed.
As we continue our walk, returning back outside after having paused to look at the house, we can see that there is a giant pole barn tucked away adjacent to the house and, therefore, not visible from the other side. The pole barn mainly composed of metal is large enough to house a crop plane. Through the window in the side we can see that part of this barn has been cornered off by walls and there is a weight room setup. There is also a set of stairs running up one of the sides, next to a mirrored wall, leading up to a second floor. Walking in through the side door of the barn, we can view weights of various sizes scattered about as if used often, and workout machines sitting all around. In the wall of mirrors before us there is a door on the right that leads out into the main area of the barn. Considering that the main area of the barn is irrelevant to this journey, let us continue up the stairs.
Couches rest against two of the four walls, blankets thrown all around, and videogames cartridges are cast throughout the room. A small colored television sits on a stand in the center of the room, and controller cords reach out from the Sega Genesis and Nintendo consoles beneath it. Large speakers sit to the left and the right of the television, and a stereo to control it all sits off to the side. It would appear that some children have spent many lazy summer hours lounging around here and playing video games. As we look around, we can here the sound of engines far off coming closer, so we head back down the stairs and back out through the door to see what we find.
Coming down the dirt road from the east are two children on four-wheelers. Both of these boys have tan skin, a testament to their travels in the sun, and sweat pours off them freely in the overwhelming heat. They whip down the road, racing side by side back to the house, impatient for the dinner to come. Nearly flying past us, they race up to the driveway of the house, park the four-wheelers and throw the large brown tarp back over them. They run inside the brown shack to feed and water the dogs and their pups, and head inside for dinner, later escaping back to the freedom of the pool barn later that night.
The place that I have been describing serves as one of my fondest child-hood memories. As a child I grew up for some time, with my brother and mother in Kokomo, Indiana. My mother worked hard to provide for us, but we lived in low income housing, and in a neighborhood that perhaps wasn’t the best in town. However, in school I was fortunate enough to meet a kid named Jeremy, who quickly became one of my best friends. This place was his home, and the setting of many of my summer days. A place to me that transcends time itself, for not only did I visit there for solace as a child, but I can revisit it in my mind now and still find relief. In many ways it helped to shape who I am today, by letting me escape kind of life that I had been born into, and showing me that whole families did actually exist.
Reading Response: Salvation
Langston Hughes’s piece entitled “Salvation”, for me, was an exquisite example of just how much you can really convey in such a short amount of text. Hughes’s essay starts of with short and decisive sentences almost as if he wants to pull you back in time, with his words, and have you hear the essay from the mouth of a twelve year old child. The short sentences really set the stage for great narration and quickly begin to fashion an experience, within a tale, that I imagine nearly every person on earth can relate to.
Within this essay, Langston tackles many subjects head on that I think many people would be hesitant to write about.
Religion has always been a controversial subject on earth due perhaps to the vast array of different religions that span our world and its people. I believe that the concept of god is something that is fairly easy to understand, even as a child, for there must be something greater than us. Blind Faith on the other hand is a truly harsh concept to understand, especially, from a child’s perspective. As children we grow and tend to rely on the tangible, that is, things that we can see and feel for ourselves. Faith, though it may be argued by many others, I feel is tangible, but the concept and understanding of it eludes us when we are young. It takes years to develop, our depth of understanding faith, into something we can trust and rely on.
Langston hints at the fact that though he experienced a loss of faith in religion, he was actually “saved”. I feel that this is a truly important piece of information and that it is, most likely, not understood by everyone in the same way. I feel that Langston’s use of the word “saved” , in this context, refers to the fact that through this experience in his life he was saved from the child-like naivety and belief that Jesus would actually appear before him. I think that most people would be able to relate this key point in the story to the belief of Santa Claus or that of the Easter Bunny. I do not mean to say that Jesus is like Santa Claus, I just mean that we experience the same type “of loss of faith” upon hearing or experiencing the truth beyond our childish concept of reality. This experience for me happened as a young child sneaking down to find my mother wrapping and labeling presents as “Santa Claus”.
The truly sad part in all of this is the fact that, due to other peoples faith or belief in religion, a child went home questioning the actual existence of God, and was forced to lose a part of their innocence in the search for understanding. Perhaps he had been “saved” from ignorance but now his faith is cast in doubt. This is demonstrated by the fact that once he was the only one on the bench, waiting for Jesus to appear to him, he felt that he was being forced to adhere to the common practice of following those before him, without question. Perhaps, Jesus really was there, acting and speaking through the pastor and the people in the congregation. However, understanding of this caliber is hard to come by at such a young age and even harder to rationalize, whereas, conforming to those around you to appease a situation is a far easier decision, even if you end up sacrificing a part of yourself or your belief.
I am not sure if my comprehension of this piece is correct, or if anyone else felt the same way after reading it, but this is one of the many points that I gleaned from this essay.
Within this essay, Langston tackles many subjects head on that I think many people would be hesitant to write about.
Religion has always been a controversial subject on earth due perhaps to the vast array of different religions that span our world and its people. I believe that the concept of god is something that is fairly easy to understand, even as a child, for there must be something greater than us. Blind Faith on the other hand is a truly harsh concept to understand, especially, from a child’s perspective. As children we grow and tend to rely on the tangible, that is, things that we can see and feel for ourselves. Faith, though it may be argued by many others, I feel is tangible, but the concept and understanding of it eludes us when we are young. It takes years to develop, our depth of understanding faith, into something we can trust and rely on.
Langston hints at the fact that though he experienced a loss of faith in religion, he was actually “saved”. I feel that this is a truly important piece of information and that it is, most likely, not understood by everyone in the same way. I feel that Langston’s use of the word “saved” , in this context, refers to the fact that through this experience in his life he was saved from the child-like naivety and belief that Jesus would actually appear before him. I think that most people would be able to relate this key point in the story to the belief of Santa Claus or that of the Easter Bunny. I do not mean to say that Jesus is like Santa Claus, I just mean that we experience the same type “of loss of faith” upon hearing or experiencing the truth beyond our childish concept of reality. This experience for me happened as a young child sneaking down to find my mother wrapping and labeling presents as “Santa Claus”.
The truly sad part in all of this is the fact that, due to other peoples faith or belief in religion, a child went home questioning the actual existence of God, and was forced to lose a part of their innocence in the search for understanding. Perhaps he had been “saved” from ignorance but now his faith is cast in doubt. This is demonstrated by the fact that once he was the only one on the bench, waiting for Jesus to appear to him, he felt that he was being forced to adhere to the common practice of following those before him, without question. Perhaps, Jesus really was there, acting and speaking through the pastor and the people in the congregation. However, understanding of this caliber is hard to come by at such a young age and even harder to rationalize, whereas, conforming to those around you to appease a situation is a far easier decision, even if you end up sacrificing a part of yourself or your belief.
I am not sure if my comprehension of this piece is correct, or if anyone else felt the same way after reading it, but this is one of the many points that I gleaned from this essay.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Reading Response: Oranges and Sweet Sister Boy
This essay “Oranges and Sweet Sister Boy” written by Judy Ruiz, delved deep into the heart of society and into the mind of the average person, trying to understand the complex workings of the human psyche. In this piece, Judy has been confronted with her brothers life-altering decision and, in what would appear to be a somewhat vein attempt, she compares and contrasts her own life and experiences in a search for understanding.
This essay took on, what could easily be considered one of the most controversial subjects in all of history. Why are we born one sex or the other? Why do some feel that they cannot be comfortable or be who they are in there own body? How much must we endure before the “sex change operation” becomes our only choice?
For me this essay demonstrated good use of metaphor with comments such as, “the world is like an orange” , but more importantly it revealed much about the process of human perception, comprehension, and understanding. We as humans have a very hard time making sense of or deciphering the meaning behind choices that are not our own. Judy’s transsexual brother Carl has made a decision that he feels is in his best interest, and though it may be life altering, from his perspective it would seem that there is no other choice. She deems him “ hell bent on castration”. Her writing dictates that, to her, the concept of actually having a sex change is completely foreign. His life decision in this matter completely transcends her understanding.
Judy’s incorporation of dream sequence in her writing, I felt, laid down the fundamental grounds for her quest of understanding. Though dreams are just dreams, I think that we are constantly searching for truth, through dream, in our everyday life. These dream appear to demonstrate the insanity created by her attempt at acceptance. She seems the type of person that, even though this choice is only going to slightly affect her life, is still trying to rationalize a choice that to her is irrational.
Humankind tends to demonstrate this behavior in many ways, in our personal search for understanding. Through the centuries of our development here on Earth, I think that we have come a long way in understanding one another, and much of the fear and hate that we hold for the unknown has been replaced by a “live and let live” creed. However, this only goes so far. Humans have an innate fear of the unknown and things that we do not understand. I can only imagine what it must be like to be so uncomfortable on your own body. Or to have to suffer so much, at the hands of your own father, for these feelings. It may be that we will, on a personal level, never be able to understand the choices and decisions of another, but that should never hold us back from caring or trying to help in any way possible. Sometimes we just need someone to talk to or to lean on. I believe that at the conclusion, Judy, came to feel the same way.
This essay took on, what could easily be considered one of the most controversial subjects in all of history. Why are we born one sex or the other? Why do some feel that they cannot be comfortable or be who they are in there own body? How much must we endure before the “sex change operation” becomes our only choice?
For me this essay demonstrated good use of metaphor with comments such as, “the world is like an orange” , but more importantly it revealed much about the process of human perception, comprehension, and understanding. We as humans have a very hard time making sense of or deciphering the meaning behind choices that are not our own. Judy’s transsexual brother Carl has made a decision that he feels is in his best interest, and though it may be life altering, from his perspective it would seem that there is no other choice. She deems him “ hell bent on castration”. Her writing dictates that, to her, the concept of actually having a sex change is completely foreign. His life decision in this matter completely transcends her understanding.
Judy’s incorporation of dream sequence in her writing, I felt, laid down the fundamental grounds for her quest of understanding. Though dreams are just dreams, I think that we are constantly searching for truth, through dream, in our everyday life. These dream appear to demonstrate the insanity created by her attempt at acceptance. She seems the type of person that, even though this choice is only going to slightly affect her life, is still trying to rationalize a choice that to her is irrational.
Humankind tends to demonstrate this behavior in many ways, in our personal search for understanding. Through the centuries of our development here on Earth, I think that we have come a long way in understanding one another, and much of the fear and hate that we hold for the unknown has been replaced by a “live and let live” creed. However, this only goes so far. Humans have an innate fear of the unknown and things that we do not understand. I can only imagine what it must be like to be so uncomfortable on your own body. Or to have to suffer so much, at the hands of your own father, for these feelings. It may be that we will, on a personal level, never be able to understand the choices and decisions of another, but that should never hold us back from caring or trying to help in any way possible. Sometimes we just need someone to talk to or to lean on. I believe that at the conclusion, Judy, came to feel the same way.
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