Oedipus Rex

Oedipus Rex

 

 

We started studying Oedipus Rex in class last week. Unfortunately, I missed both classes, so I am desperately trying to catch up.

Oedipus: tragic hero. Noble character.

Creon: antithesis to Oedipus. Opposite in every way.

We're reading this play in class, and my teacher has just mentioned some connections to modern life: there was a plague in ancient Greece, and nowadays, there have been three major plagues (SARS, AIDS, cancer, swine flu, no name a few). The characters resemble some of our bloviating modern-day politicians.

Archetypal theme: the people did not choose to avenge the death of their king, so they were punished with the plague.

Homework: look up why Tiresias went blind, re-read the first scene of the play, and read the rest of the play.

Oedipus Rex

Oedipus Rex

 

 

We started studying Oedipus Rex in class last week. Unfortunately, I missed both classes, so I am desperately trying to catch up.

Oedipus: tragic hero. Noble character.

Creon: antithesis to Oedipus. Opposite in every way.

We're reading this play in class, and my teacher has just mentioned some connections to modern life: there was a plague in ancient Greece, and nowadays, there have been three major plagues (SARS, AIDS, cancer, swine flu, no name a few). The characters resemble some of our bloviating modern-day politicians.

Archetypal theme: the people did not choose to avenge the death of their king, so they were punished with the plague.

Homework: look up why Tiresias went blind, re-read the first scene of the play, and read the rest of the play.

Projects coming up

20 little poetry projects - poems using different techniques
Oedipus Rex. Test coming up in three weeks.

Creepy, creepy...

Creepy, creepy...

 

 

The latest story that we're reading in my English class is titled Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? by Joyce Carol Oates. I read it last night with the TV going in the background; it just so happened that the show on at the time was CSI. Good Lord. The story was already about this guy who follows a young girl home and entices and manipulates her to come out of her house and come with him, so the TV was actually perfect background noise. What's scary for me personally is that I know this guy who has the same elements as the antagonist in this story, who, incidentally, called me this week under a blocked number, and has a similar way about him as the antagonist in our story.

We're talking right now about the various reactions that the class has about the story. It seems to be a coming of age story, with factors of a young girl growing up and some family factors such as an absent father, a mother who seems to prefer her sister to her. Granted, the point of view here is third person, omniscient. The music seems to be extremely important, being quoted as an incantation. It is also something of a morality tale, where the protagonist is seduced by her own vanity.

Some context here: this story was written in 1966, when the Vietnam War was in full swing (and the associated civil rights marches and protests). The women's movement was also happening, as well as the Cold War and the space race. The drug revolution was beginning, and rock n roll was beginning its Golden Age.

As a coming of age story, the description of the antagonist, Arnold Friend (A. Friend?) could almost be seen to be a description of Bob Dylan, and this brings to mind the story of the Pied Piper, who seduced his public with his music

Sacrifice: it seems that the protagonist was a sacrifice for her family, whether or not that was willingly.

Study questions (portfolio entry #2), with all textual support:

1. Describe Connie completely.
   

   -paradoxical combination of vanity and insecurity
   

   -one moment she's a little girl, the next a young woman
   

2. Describe Connie's parents completely.
   
3. Who is Arnold Friend, and why does she go with him?
   

Connie is manipulated, and because she is such a narcissist, she allows herself to give in

*grumble*

Just got my first English test back today, and I have to say that frankly, I'm a bit disappointed. In general, I don't like English tests because they can be so subjective, and this one was no exception. It doesn't help that I was very distracted by some more personal goings-on in my life, so I just wasn't prepared. Having said that, I got a decent mark, though lower than I expected. I really need to work on my study discipline, I tell ya!

An exercise in explication

Using this rather disturbing prose poem, show, line by line, the importance and interrelationship of the lines in the poem.

What you have heard is true – this tells the reader that the writer knows what she is talking about and that the suspicions (read: gossip) are true.

I was in his house – she experienced the family for itself (she was THERE)

His wife carried a tray of coffee and sugar – an air of domesticity, of normalcy. Coffee and sugar show the contrast between bitter and sweet, and are also colonial (read: repressive) crops.

His daughter filed her nails, his son went out for the night – the inequality between the kids. (Why can the son go out while the daughter stays in to file her nails?)

There were daily papers, pet dogs, a pistol on the cushion beside him. - Contrast between the normalcy of the household and violence, the symbol of violence is DISPLAYED on the cushion

The moon swung bare on its black cord over the house – gives the reader the impression that there is something wrong and very fake about this family. The black cord symbolizes the control the colonel has over his family, his world, and his country. The moon also shines at night (hidden things come to light)

On the television was a cop show – the colonel thinks that he is in the right, and is trying to show his authority

It was in English - in some dark way, is trying to make his guest feel at home. Does he think the English (read: American) way of doing things is better?

Broken bottles were embedded in the walls around the house to scoop the kneecaps from a man's legs or cut his hands to lace – a barrier around his house. This is an example of passive violence. Why the need for such a strong barrier?

On the windows there were gratings like those in liquor stores. – more protection, to go with the broken bottles

We had dinner, rack of lamb, good wine, a gold bell was on the table for calling the maid. – this man revels in luxury in his fortress of a house. He's such a proud man that he has a GOLD bell for calling the maid.

There was a brief commercial in Spanish – the only thing in the native language is a commercial, to sell things.

His wife took everything away – obviously, this is a patriarchal household. Women (his daughter, the maid, his wife) are not valued except perhaps as servants.

There was some talk then of how difficult it had become to govern – of course, this being a patriarchal household, the real talk begins after the women have left the room.

The parrot said hello on the terrace – this is the only entity to say hello so far! Rather ironic. This is a symbol of the people in this country who repeat what they're told and are told to shut up when they say something the leaders don't like.

The colonel told it to shutup, and pushed himself from the table – the only one to utter a greeting has been silenced. The colonel doesn't like that (so don't let it happen to you). This shifts the tone of the whole conversation, and the visit itself.

My friend said to me with his eyes: say nothing. – He said it with his eyes because it is unsafe to say it out loud. The friend probably knows what the colonel did, in fact, so we say nothing for fear of retribution.

The colonel returned with a sack used to bring groceries home – something not out of the ordinary; what does it hold? A revisiting of the contrast between the violent, repressive work the colonel does and the everyday, middle class life he leads. (example of magic realism)

He spilled many human ears on the table – He's showing off his trophies, and doesn't care who sees them. This is a rather gruesome and rather aggressive and arrogant way to entertain his guests, but from what we have seen so far, it's par for the course.

They were like dried peach halves – dead, dried up, completely transformed.
They don't hear anything, anymore.

There is no other way to say this – indescribable.

He took one of them in his hands, shook it in our faces, dropped it into a water glass. – another show of the man's arrogance. He's saying, "Look what I've done, and I'm not afraid to do it again."

It came alive there. – Like a person or animal crawling in the desert, the thing, previously dead, has come back alive once given some water.

I am tired of fooling around he said. – His unwillingness to negotiate regarding whatever is happening in his country.

As for the rights of anyone, tell your people they can go fuck themselves – self-explanatory, no? There doesn't seem to be any symbolism behind this line. He said what he said, and that's that. No negotiation here.

He swept the ears to the floor with his arm and held the last of his wine in the air – He's toasting and celebrating himself and his accomplishments.

Something for your poetry, no? he said – Looks like a sarcastic toast to the author's poetry. If the wine was red, it would also be an allusion to the spilled blood that accompanied the amputation of the ears, and what could possibly happen to the author if she doesn't stay silent about her experience at the man's house.

Some of the ears on the floor caught this scrap of his voice – some listened to what was doing on.

Some of the ears on the floor were pressed to the ground – some were listening to what might happen next.

A funny story...

Aunt Jennifer's Tigers

Read this poem. My English teacher told a very, very funny story about a group of cheating students who all came up with the same theory: the tigers represent Aunt Jennifer's breasts!! As much as this sounds ridiculous beyond all understanding, this could be a serious discussion about a woman's sexuality, a repressed marriage...yeah. I could write a mini essay about that issue in general.

Something to think about...

The Terrorist, He Watches

BOY, 10, DEAD IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT

This was an assignment based on this story
 

Who: Samuel Wilson, 10 years old

What: died after being crushed between subway cars. He was playing with his friends on the platform in between the cars.

When: Saturday afternoon, late 1960s

Where: The Bronx, NYC

Why: Another passenger pulled the emergency cord, the train stopped suddenly, and Samuel was not holding on
 

INTERVIEWS

The Brave Man (Ronald Erickson)

The Lady Who Watched (Betty Gilford)

Samuel's Mother (Manuela Wilson)
 

Interview Transcripts

Ronald Erickson

Q. Mr. Erickson, thank you for meeting with me today to discuss this tragic event. You were there before and after the incident where the young boy – Samuel Wilson – died. How are you feeling now?

A. Well, you know, all things considered, I'm doin' alright. It was very sad that the kid died, but what can you do? He was doin' something pretty stupid.

Q. Did you know the kids at all?

A. I'd seen 'em around the neighbourhood, but we didn't know each other. They reminded me of me, in a way. I used to do stupid things like that when I was a kid.

Q. OK. Could you explain?

A. Well, you know how kids are. Full of life, free and wild. When I was a boy, I jumped from the roof of one moving truck to another, like loggers do. We would meet somewhere, and some of us, the ones who were braver, would ride the trucks to another meeting place. It doesn't compare to playing in between the subway cars, but I was a lot older than those boys when I did it. You can't imitate the rush that you get when you're doing something like that.

Q. Do you think it was the kids' fault that something so tragic happened?

A. Well, like I said, they were doing something pretty stupid. But it doesn't mean that it was their fault. Boys will be boys, and nothing can change that.

Q. Did you ever get hurt when you were jumping from truck to truck?

A. I don't have any serious injuries, but I did have some close calls. One time I almost fell off when a truck was turning a corner. Almost had a heart attack, that time.

Q. How is your life now?

A. Oh, my life is good. I finished high school a little late, but I finished. I married my oldest friend, and we have two beautiful little girls at home. I have a good job managing an auto shop, and I'm studying at night right now to become a mechanical engineer.
 

Q. How have you been since the accident?

A. My emotions have been put through the wringer. I mean, I've seen some things – at the auto shop where I work, a guy ripped his arm right off – but never with kids. Kids aren't supposed to die so young, and not so bloody. First thing I did when I got home was hug my girls and kiss my wife as though tomorrow would never come. I can't imagine what the poor mother is feeling right now.

Q. Well, thank you very much for your time today, Mr. Erickson.

A. You're very welcome, miss.
 

Betty Gilford

Q. Hello, Mrs. Gilford, thank you for meeting with me today. You were there before and after this tragic accident where the young boy passed away. How are you feeling now?

A. Oh, I'm not doing very well. I went to the doctor, and he took my blood pressure, and it's through the roof. I'm feeling hot flashes, my friends tell me I'm red as a beet, and I haven't been able to eat very much since the incident. All I can think of is that young boy, laid out on the tracks, and that I could have done something to prevent his death. (voice breaks)

Q. What can you tell me about the events preceding the accident?

A. Well, I was there with a couple of my friends, just coming from our weekly brunch in Soho, when all of a sudden, these kids decide to play between the subway cars. Poor kids, their mothers must not have had any idea where they were. I wanted to tell them to shut up and sit down, but I was afraid of them. My son has a bully just like those kids and I know what they're capable of.

Q. But Mrs. Gilford, one of the other passengers on the train stated that you did do something to try to prevent the accident.

A. I did, but obviously it wasn't enough. I was afraid of them, you know. Three of them were Negroes, and one was something else, maybe Hispanic or something. They're not like us, you know. They're just – wilder or something. It's scary. I don't like them, in general. When I tried to get them to stop, one of them just replied with a "Yes'm," but that obviously didn't mean anything. And then they laughed at me, and that's when the accident happened.

Q. Mrs. Gilford, do you feel like you're responsible for the accident?

A. Well, the kids started coughing and whacking each other's backs after I tried to intervene. When they laughed and whacked each other's backs, they lost their balance – especially the leader, the one who was killed. So in a way, I am responsible for the death of that poor boy.

Q. I'm sorry to hear that you feel that way.

A. I'm sorry that it happened. Except for my brunch with my girlfriends, I would have never gotten out of bed that day if I had known this was going to happen. I'll have to talk make an appointment with my therapist as soon as possible. I have a lot to tell him about the whole situation.

Q. Do you think you'll be able to work through this?

A. Oh, I think I'll be fine, with time. My girlfriends – the women I was with the day it happened – are great, supportive women and we'll work through it together.

Q. That's excellent news. This is, actually, all the time we have today, so I thank you for spending it with me.

A. You're very welcome. You seem like a wonderful young woman, so it was my pleasure.

 

Manuela Wilson

Q. Hello, Mrs. Wilson, and thank you for meeting with me today. My name is Sarah McMullin, and we're here to discuss the accident that took the life of your son, and your feelings surrounding that. Are you ready to begin?

A. (voice breaks) Yes.

Q. How are you today?

A. Oh, I'm doing ok, I guess. I miss my son.

Q. Before we begin, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Samuel, and about the family. How was Samuel as a boy?

A. Oh, he was a wonderful boy. Full of life, noisy, always had to do something with his hands or feet. He didn't do very well in school, because he didn't like books very much, but he always got along with his teachers. Especially when they asked him to build something, or talked about war machines or outer space. He was our only child. (voice breaks)

Q. What was Samuel like as a baby?

A. He was a good baby, but right at the beginning, he got sick often. He used to cry and cry and cry until we ran out of things to do for him. I guess that made us cherish him that much more when he got older.

Q. Other than Samuel, are there lots of children in the family?

A. There are lots of cousins, since my husband and I both come from large families. We did have plans to have more children. I guess we'll have to continue with those plans more than ever, to fill the hole that Samuel left behind, but in the meantime we'll be able to occupy ourselves with the nieces and nephews.

Q. How are you and your husband these days?

A. We'll be okay. My husband and I have been best friends since we were Samuel's age – he was once a boy just like Samuel – and we know exactly what we need at the right time. So we'll be comforting each other for the near future. My husband is considering taking time off work, but I don't know if we'll be able to afford to do that.

Q. Do you think you'll want to have more children?

A. Oh, definitely. My husband and I are both young, so we can definitely do that. I don't think we'll be able to replace our Samuel, though. His teachers and the family always said that he was one of a kind.

We want to buy a big house and fill it with the sounds of children.

Q. That sounds beautiful. I'd like to continue, but we're out of time. Thank you so much for meeting with me. I know it was hard for you, so I appreciate it very, very much.

Samuel (pg 64)

For reference

Questions:

Q. Did the man who pulled the cord intend on killing the kids?
A. It is unclear whether or not that was his ultimate intention, but what is clear is that he wanted to shut them up more than anything else. (see the answer to the other question for a continuation of this response.

Q. Who is the protagonist in this story? Explain. (i.e. the main character)
A. Samuel is the protagonist. He is the one who moves the story along, who has active parts in the story, and he is the one who is remembered after he dies.

Q. What do you know about the setting of "Samuel"? What can you infer about the neighbourhood?
A. This neighbourhood is a bit rough, and is racially mixed but the races are wary of each other.

Q. In the fourth paragraph we are told the "three of the boys were Nagro and the fourth was something else." Is race important in this story? Is Samuel "Negro" or something else?

Q. Exactly why did a man walk "in a citizenly way to the end of the car, where he pulled the the mergency cord"? Do you think that author blames him? Or do you blame the boys? Or anyone? Explain.
A. He wanted to shut the boys up, not kill them. He wanted peace and quiet, and the boys were interrupting that. I do not blame him for wanting some peace and quiet, but I do blame him for the boys' deaths. The boys, on the other hand, were themselves engaged in a very unsafe activity and so were responsible for their deaths.

Q. Find an example of irony and foreshadowing.

Q. What idea/theme does the last paragraph develop?
A. There is always a chance for a new beginning, but the second time around is never the same as the first time.

DON’T WANT (A PAIN THAT I’M USED TO)

Yelling in the background and
the living room full of noise; energy like black smoke
and a smell of rot permeate the air.
The tears and anger take over my insides
Though they are not shown
Because, as we all know,
A soldier never shows her true self.

EPIPHANY(TOXIC)
I should not take all that is dealt to me. Other people's problems are not mine.

Heavy burdens weigh me down
Until I cannot take another step
Noise in one ear, never ceasing
Sadness overwhelms me but still
I hold firm, wishing all to be silent
You are toxic, like an invader
That was once a friend
But is now a worst enemy

We Real Cool

The Pool Players
Seven at the Golden Shovel

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

-Gwendolyn Brooks

We is separated to put emphasis on the importance of the posse or the entourage (enjambment, to create a run-on line). For people such as the characters in this poem, the posse is quite often a bastion of safety.

The alliteration of the poem creates a rhythm, where the poem almost wants to be sung (or spoken).

This poem can be compared to the 7 deadly sins: Greed, Pride, Wrath, Lust, Sloth, Envy, Gluttony. It speaks to the daily experiences of the urban dispossessed and marginallized.

"powder" pt. II

In a paragraph characterize the father in this story.

He is a free spirit, who flaunts convention: "He was indifferent to my fretting. Snow whirled around us in bitter, blinding squalls, hissing like sand, and still we skied."
This shows that he is truly a person who thinks outside the box, takes risks, and is proud and arrogant.

This man also desires global control, but local loss of control. He likes to call the shots, but also likes to takes risks for the sake of fun and memorable experiences.

Is this man bad, irresponsible, childish? Some say yes, but I say no. I say that what he is trying to do is give his anal-retentive, hanger-arranging son a memorable experience on Christmas Eve. I don't think there's anything wrong in that, and I challenge anyone who has other opinions about that to, well, BRING IT ON.

Overall, he means well. He did manage to get his son home for Christmas eve dinner like he promised. Nobody got hurt, and nothing got damaged. The marriage may have ended, but risks were taken, but they were calculated risks that had the result of the above-mentioned anal-retentive kid having an experience he won't forget anytime soon.

epiphany et. al.

epiphany(n): in a literary sense, a revelation of a truth often embedded in the ordinary

James Joyce: Epiphany is when the "whatness" of a thing is revealed

quotidian(n): the everyday

I need to formulate my personal epiphany. What about? There have been many significant events in the past several months. Could it be that being let go from my job was actually a great gift, literally a blessing in disguise?

BEDTIME STORY, pt. 2 of ??

BEDTIME STORY

By Jeffery Whitmore

 

"Careful, honey, it's loaded," he said, re-entering the bedroom.

 

Her back rested against the headboard. "This is for your wife?"

 

"No. Too chancy. I'm hiring a professional."

 

"How about me?"

 

He smirked. "Cute. But who'd be dumb enough to hire a lady hit man?"

 

She wet her lips, sighting along the barrel.

 

"Your wife."

 

I am becoming very, very tired of this story. These measly 55 words create a scene, not a full short story!! That's my biased, no-coffee-at-8am opinion, and I'm sticking to it.

 

The theme of this tiny speck of a story is somewhat unclear, simply because it is so short. Having said that, it seems that the message that the author is trying to convey is twofold: that it takes a certain kind of person to kill a spouse, and sometimes, we don't know a person as well as we think we do.

STOP FLAKING OUT!!!

These past couple of days have been, more or less, a wash. Yesterday, I slept in and missed the first class of the day. I didn't read the pages I was supposed to read for the next class, so I wasn't as prepared as I could (should) have been for it.

Then today, my alarm didn't go off, so I slept in and was late for today's first class. GRRR %$@#!!! Did I mention that I had left my text in my locker, so I couldn't do the reading for said class?

Get it together, woman. You can't fuck this one up.

Reflections before class

2009-08-25

Hello everyone, my name is Sarah and I am a reformed school slacker. I am 33 years old and this is my third attempt at completing my postsecondary education.

Right now, I'm wondering what, exactly, I am doing at a place like Dawson.
I feel rather old here, among all these spring chickens, and quite out of place. After all, I am the age of the average teacher here. At least I know my way around the school.

Having said that, I am in the nursing program, where most people have university degrees or significant life experience. Whereas I am stuck here as a university dropout (without even a transcript to show for it) and none of those experiences that, in some people's view, make one a whole person. Apparently, though, I am smart, and talented, and very capable of partaking in this experience.

Incidentally, I am enjoying my time here so far. It helps when one isn't buried in soul-crushing loneliness!

Enough blathering.

2009-08-28

Apparently, the bar that I frequent on a regular basis is closing its doors. Whether or not that's permanent is, as I write this, up for review. In fact, I am at the bar as I write this.

Another thing that annoyed me is that I missed one of my coworkers, this guy that I'm somewhat interested in, by about 15 minutes. Ironically, I went home to change my pants and stopped at the pharmacy to test a perfume, and that's what cost me the extra time.

God, maybe I do belong here after all! It seems that being immature keeps me young.

new notes and literary devices

1. we infer, but the text implies.
2. "in media res" - in the middle of things (Latin)
3. loaded situation (but do we really talk about these things in real life??)

august 28, 2009 - class

Here I am again in my 8 am Intro to College English class, and I'm still wondering what I'm doing here.

I have to say, though, that the instructor is very engaging, nice, and funny, and that goes a long way towards helping me feel more at ease.

Another thing that I need to do that will help me feel better: DROP THE ATTITUDE! I was the same way at the same age, so...just lose it. It'll make me feel more at home here.

Aside: I think I want to a literary analysis of "Howl" by Allan Ginsberg. Ya.