Let's Go to the Carnival!

Firstly, I find it amusing and ironic that I get the opportunity to write my "Carnival Post" on the day campus hosted a carnival.
Which I didn't get to attend because I was studying in the library. (end rant)

This last section of literature we have gotten to read has been particularly challenging for my class. I find this interesting considering that all of this section of literature is pretty contemporary. It's our "era" [sort of].  But it's not a style of literature we're accustomed to studying. A theme I've discovered in the blogs of my peers that I find particularly striking is their understanding of the text through the Bible.  So in this Carnival Post, I will review a couple of example of ways in which my peers have been Biblically stimulated.

The following are pieces of my classmate's blogs I found particularly relevant to this theme.

On Mao II:
"Paul really likes to use the body of Christ metaphor in his letters. But that’s an excellent way to explain this. Each person is a part of the body that serves its own function. But the body as a whole depends on each function and each part is necessary. We are individuals serving one purpose and one group. But that does not take away the importance of each person’s individual talents. I resent the idea that “the future belongs to crowds;” partially because I am from Western society, which puts a premium on individuality, but also because God created me as a unique individual. I am important outside of the crowd as well as inside it."
(http://rjsunshine.wordpress.com/2013/05/09/mao-ii-part-3/comment-page-1/#comment-15)

On Lady Lazarus:
"Disciples of the world. If we cannot give up absolutely everything for Jesus... then we do not understand the gospel, nor have we tasted the sweetness of God's love in Jesus. Understand this: Christians die in order to live. I know I've written about this numerous times, but seriously... this is necessary to grasp."
(http://173john.blogspot.com/2013/04/dying-to-death.html?showComment=1368594912773#c987376836532106044)

The voices of my classmates speak loudly of the values of this campus. I am proud to be part of such conversations where we can find Jesus and his messages within every story, even the ones that challenge our beliefs and values. This is God's earth, after all. God's story. 

Good Country People

According to O'Conner's introduction, this was a tale typical of her.

• "A typical Flannery O'Connery story consists at its most vital level of people talking, clucking their endless reiterations of cliches about life, death, and the universe."
• "These completions are usually violent, occurring when the character--in many cases a woman--must confront an experience that she cannot handle by her old trustworthy language and habit-hardened responses."
• "And although the stories are filled with religious parodies and allusions, they do not try to inculcate a doctrine."

Lets talk about the irony of the ending now. I don't know how many people really liked Hulga all that much. She was a little bit of a B-Word. However, I dunno how I would have coped if I was in her shoes either. But you can't help but feel sorry for her when she's left in the second story of that barn, alone and legless and far from home. I don't even want to imagine her trying to crawl back to Mrs. Hopewell. I don't think that's what Flannery would be wanting us to think about anyway.

What I found most striking about this tale was all the discussions between characters about what makes people unique. Pointer seduced Hulga with the words "It's what makes you different. You ain't like anybody else." After he get's her leg away, he adds insult to injury before he leaves by basically saying she isn't special. Hell, he's gotten a glass eye from a lady before. What makes this encounter ironic are Mrs. Hopewell's typical statements: "Besides, we all have different ways of doing, it takes all kinds to make the world go 'round. That's life!"

My favorite part of the story was how Hulga thought she'd be enlightening the boy when all along it was the other way around.

Close Your Eyes to Open Your Soul.

To the question of "Would you rather be blind or deaf?" I have always said blind. Because then I would know true beauty. I mean preferably, I'd be neither, but still. I found it ironic that the husband's internal eyes weren't truly opened until he had closed his external eyes.

Carver's Cathedral was simply amazing. The story of a person opening up to another. Opening up to experiences completely different from any he's ever felt before. Human's are not good at coping with experiences very different from those of our day to day lives. We don't know what to do, what to say. We get anxious. It's a part of our nature to fear an hide that which is different. It's the reason so many people get stuck in their lives, jobs they don't like, relationships that are hurtful, places we've never been, bla bla bla. We're afraid of the unknown--duh. It's how we survive.

However, I've heard it said that people in the arts and especially in theater (who do not participate in destructive activities like drugs, alcohol, etc) live longer then people who are not artistic. It's because artists and actors open themselves up to experiences and characters that they would not experience in their regular day to day lives. They know how to cope. I have also heard this said of people who travel.

Funny, huh?

Also in the Cathedral, I was not sure whether I sympathized more with the wife or the husband. But maybe that wasn't Carver's intention. Maybe he was pulling an Alienation Effect with his simplistic minimalist writing style?

From the Surgical Tower Waiting Room

I made the mistake of reading Ralph Ellison's "Invisible Man" in the waiting room of Sanford Surgical Tower while my dad was in surgery. Take the peaceful spiritual emotions I felt reading "The Waking" and twist them up, snap them in two, and throw them across the equator. That is how this text made me feel. Hopeless, hurt, and alone (not the kind of feelings you want while in a waiting room). I literally got goosebumps and felt like the shit would never end. The depths to which humanity can sink.

One thing I didn't quite catch. This was NOT a true story, right? There was too much symbolism to make it be a true story, right? I just don't think I could cope with that right now if it were true. However, if it was, at least Ellison has the balls to write about it. I couldn't help thinking of Picasso's painting, "Guernica" after reflecting on the reading. It's art like that and "The Invisible Man" that will change the world. I hope.

Wake Up.

So I realize these blog posts are gonna be pretty wishy washy out of order. Don't judge me.



Roethke's poem "The Waking" is one of my all time favorites. It is a poem that everyone can relate to because it's core is an observation of life. All good art is one that holds up a mirror to life for people to see. Things always look different in a mirror then we think they look in reality.

The image of the lowly worm climbing up a winding stair is very striking. It is the only part of the poem I don't have some sort of understanding of. Is he comparing the worm to man and the stair to life? Or is it rather just an observation of how sometimes worms seem to just go and go with no real destination? What does the worm represent?

When I read this poem, I get the impression that I am praying. "The Waking" leaves me with a spiritual connection that feels like meditation and reflection. The repetition of the poem feels ritualistic and reading it feels like it should be a part of my daily wake up rituals. If I ever find another poem or piece of art that makes me feel like this one does, I will be a happier girl. "The Waking" is, in the words of Zora Neale Hurston, "a glimpse from God."

Beat It

I was very inspired by Ginsberg's "Howl." Its actually the first piece of beat poetry I've ever read. It was exciting to read even when I didn't understand all of the references the first time I read through it. However, from a theatrical perspective, I was very disappointed by Ginsberg's reading of it. He was obviously made for the page.

I also enjoyed reading about his life. He was a hippie before it was cool.

A couple of my favorite passages:

"who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade"

"I'm with you in Rockland
where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs al night and won't let us sleep"

I appreciate that in his poem, he references EVERYthing that he believes to be a cause of the pain of the poets. It's very Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen and La Vie Boheme from RENT.

It's groovy. What can I say?

Mount Kill-a-man-tomorrow

Hemingway's tale is only made more disconcerting by its autobiographical elements. As I was reading, I couldn't help continually repeating that old track in my head, the one that plays in all humans' heads at a some point of trivial enlightenment: "What if I died tomorrow?"

"He had been in it and he had watched it and it was his duty to write of it; but now he never would."

Many people live life recklessly, thinking "YOLO! Gotta take advantage of this world while I can." But as is said, you won't regret the things you did as much as the things you didn't do. The Snows of Kilimanjaro was a bit scary to read with my own life in perspective. Have I done and not done all the things that make me feel best? Hemingway certainly expresses his uniquely Hemingway-blunt outlook for his readers. Its so honest, it cuts right to the core of being human and gives the reader a perspective of himself... whenever this self-reflection happens, there is hope. Though granted Hemingway's character died in the end, he died with hope and leaves us to the promise of our own lives.

I loved it.