Great Expectations

I liked Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. But I never thought that I would ever go knocking on its door.

My foray in France was both exciting and disappointing. Alone in a foreign place equipped only with a French-English dictionary, I found it was easier to pretend I understood less than I actually did. It's sad to think of it like that. I boarded the plane with a completely different idea of France than what I came home with. The moment I stepped of the plane, les palmiers were everywhere. I thought I had landed in California.

As soon as I stepped through the door the host family was gracious. "Pour boire? du lait? du cafe?" This would be easy, I thought, I don't have to worry about going hungry. I was willing to eat frog's legs every night. The house was remarkably smaller than what I was used to. I shared a room with Laura, my correspondent. Although part of the exchange guaranteed me my own bed, I knew that this was France and that they were being friendly. I was grateful.

That was the first day. On the second day I learned that the French hate bare feet in the house. Laura's mother demanded that I wear les pontoufles-- house slippers. However, they were less slippers and more like clogs, making my treks up and down the stairs (about half the width of American stairs) dangerous. I would leave them up there just once, I thought, they won't notice I'm not wearing them. Of course, the first thing launched at me is, "Ou est les pantoufles??" That's okay. I could deal with their rules.

On the third day I met Laura's girlfriend. Now I think it's cool that she is open with herself, but the problem was that her mother thought she had a boyfriend 0.o The third day is when they began quizzing me on my ability to read minds. "Do you want an omelette sandwich or a nutella sandwich?" Me-- "Oh nutella please!" "You don't like my omelettes? Laura hates them. You don't like them?" Me-- "Uh, no, I mean, yes, I like your omelettes." "Okay then I will make you an omelette sandwich." That might sound small, but the entire day continued like that. Again, les pantoufles, then again with my backpack and my clothes, and whether or not I wanted to go swimming. The family was constantly asking me questions about my happiness but not listening to my answers. It may sound like small things, but this continued for a week straight, and I swear I didn't have ten minutes to myself to use the restroom.

On the fourth day Laura lost her purse. And her cellphone. Suddenly the small bickering, even the moderate shout/fights I had witnessed (over whether or not I wanted to eat jambon du pays or jambon blanc, whether or not I wanted to swim, or sit in the front seat) turned into full on war. Every problem in the household-- Laura's secrets, her relationship with her mother-- came out. Losing your purse, I suppose, means you will fail out of school and fail life. I was just standing there watching all of this build, and just when I make it upstairs away from the crying, I am called down again to eat dinner right in the middle of it.

When I was deciding to take French people kept telling me how beautiful the language was. I agreed, until I heard the angry, bitter French that was kicked around in this house. And while I was eating and they were shouting, I listened though pretending not to hear. Then suddenly a question was addressed to me, "Where did you last see Laura's bag?" I wasn't going to play that game, this wasn't my fault. I said nothing. "You don't understand anything do you?!?!" That was the last time I wanted to talk to my family. The rest of the week was spoiled. I wouldn't learn anymore grammar or ask anymore questions. As far as I was concerned, the trip was over. It was time to get to Paris.

And so on the sad day that the Americans had to part with their French families, I said goodbye and that was it. I left as Nick and Honey left after the war. The family had no idea why I had suddenly turned silent in the middle of the week, and they had come to no conclusion in their fighting. I was glad to be rid of the absurdist drama.

Reading Moliere

Tartuffe was awesome. I'm really happy we had the chance to read it in class. Finally, something a little light hearted! (...as opposed to dark :P )

 So I guess it's all in preparation for France. We leave Thursday, so I should probably start packing or doing some laundry...
Can I just say one thing? OMG
:D

There are three things I want to see while I'm in Paris: The catacombs, the cinemateque, and Oscar Wilde's grave. Hopefully there won't be any shopping involved.

OH, I also get to see the chair that Moliere died in!!! And sit in the Twin Windmills where Amelie was filmed.

I'm tossing around the idea of doing some reading too (gasp). I've never read anything by Emile Zola, so maybe it's time to start. Hmm...if anyone has suggestions, let me know!

Right now I am continuing my odyssey into children's literature. I've read Tales from Moominvalley, and I've just started King Matt. It's funny, children's literature is so broad that sometimes I think I am actually reading a book for adults. Most of the characters represent really adult themes, especially in Tales.

Sorry I'm so scatterbrained today. I'm just really excited for everything that's coming and I haven't thought about lit (I'm sorry to say) as much as I should have. So many things have happened in the course of the week. I was waitlisted from two liberal arts colleges. To be fair, they only accept something like 500 girls (if we're only counting girls haha). Some major prom drama has gone down, partially my fault, and partially a lot of other people's faults. And, oh yeah, I came to some realization about something that was right in front of my face (those of you who know me probably know about this). I'm kind of unsure, but then again, it's senior year and I want to have fun! Maybe by the end of the year I will be able to drive stickshift.

So long for now, I'll give an update when I'm back from FRANCE :D

Happy Pi Day!

I ate way too many donuts O_o

On to Heart of Darkness. I don't know what it's about or why we are reading it. It really confuses me.

But really I don't have the heart to analyze literature right now. Everything is just swirling around in my head-- Prom, the musical, France, and right now, economics.

And it's not just a dress. As a little girl I dreamed of this dress just as much as my wedding dress. Every dress I have ever worn has merely been leading up to this dress. Don't think dresses are just frivolous wastes of money. They are a symbol of womanhood, and this dress is part of every girl's coming-of-age story. A large part of women's culture revolves around dresses-- sewing circles, wedding dresses, party dresses-- and we idolize women with great fashion sense-- Princess Diana, Jacki O, Michelle Obama. Indulging in a fancy dress is what makes prom so much fun! (that and the date, but that's another story)

Lately I've been thinking about what I want in life. What I have achieved in high school. And while nothing really stands out to me, I also know that  I should give myself a little more credit. So should everyone else. Sure, I am not the highest of achievers, but I have definitely pushed some of my limits. I know that whatever happens in the future, I am going to be happy and have a lot of great experiences. Why am I being so sentimental? Probably because I have been looking forward to something for so long, and now that it's finally here, I'm worried it will slip right through my fingers.

The Truth comes out

Before this research paper I had never read Song of Solomon. Surprise (I'm such a bad student, aren't I?). And I'm glad I hadn't grabbed any old book--why? Because I have a terrible connection with most of them and hate revisiting explored ground. The options (of in-school books that would have been on the list. I have a much more interesting list of out-of-school books that would not have made the cut) starting from the earliest I can remember:

Peace Like a River- Allusions, Allusions, Allusions! This book would be great if it weren't so tightly knit together. What's more, I am the least religious person I know, and it's not that I hate books about religion, it's that I just don't have a connection to much of the ideas. More importantly, there wouldn't be much ground for speculation or controversy. All work has been done before me and I am quite certain I could sparknote it and write a decent paper (and probably get an A).

Great Expectations- I do not hate this book as much as most people. But that's not saying much. The problem here is that the work is less than a novel and more of a television series. I wonder if teachers will start idolizing One Tree Hill or Gossip Girl in the near future.

Beowulf and The Odyssey- I lump these together because, to be honest, I sometimes get them mixed up. It's probably because I remember sitting in class in the ninth grade, feeling awkwardly shy during discussions, and doodling all over my notes so as not to be screamed at. I also remember these books being read to me word for word. More so read at me than taught. Bad memories.

1984, Brave New World, Anthem, The Fountainhead- Dystopian literature sets me over the edge. How many times can we restsate the problems in our society? I clump these together because each paper would be saying the exact same thing. And don't think we could go about comparing and contrasting these, there is no hope-- the venn diagram would be one dystopian mass with its own gravitational constant.

Cry, the Beloved Country and Their Eyes Were Watching God- We should make a point about white supremacy and then kill every character in the novel. But for serious, I could consider doing a paper on these novels. Zora Neal Hurston's language is at least fluid and interesting. Paton also had the allusion thing going on in much less overt ways, which was refreshing.

Catcher and the Rye- Brings me back to the days when I used to write poetry starring my recurring character Gary the Canary. This was of course after the time when I used to spout emo musings about my violin or various other objects (mostly household appliances). It was a good time, not the worst of times, but saying hello to Holden after all this time might send me into regression (though Gary the Canary is worth revisiting).

 One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest- This is funny because before I actually read this, I read a book called Love Among the Walnuts and thought it was original. Silly me, I guess everyone wants a taste of Kesey's electric coolaid.

Huck Finn, In Cold Blood, Jane Eyre, and Into the Wild- I love these books too much to touch again. Just let it lie, why ruin that?

Catch-22 and The Great Gatsby- The other books I love enough to revisit and enjoy again. Especially Catch-22 because I have some weird emotional connection to a certain freshman relationship. The only reason I didn't pick these is because everyone else picked them, and I wanted to be original (or something). the other option was Fitzgerald's better novel (not This Side of Pardise, which actually sucked) Tender is the Night. But I guess it wouldn't have been any help to me at all on the ap exam because it wasn't on that spreadsheet.

In the end I was actually happy with my paper. My thesis--
Song of Solomon and Invisible Man both emphasize that the past is part of one’s identity through allusions and motifs; however, Invisible Man focuses on individual self-awareness apart from culture while Song of Solomon reaches identity through connection to culture.
I can really see how this paper could turn sour fast for some of my classmates. The problem is that by returning to some previously studied works, we regurgitate what we have already been told is true. Nothing is interesting, and like I said, I could probably write a paper on any one of these books in less than three hours using Sparknotes. I honestly had to stretch myself to even find a thesis for my paper. If I am correct, most everyone else's thesis went like this:

In [insert novel here], [insert author here] conveys that [insert theme here] through [insert literary technique here], [insert literary technique here], and [insert literary technique here].

Try typing any variance of your thesis into google. You will probably get a neatly packed response with a list of ideas that you could probably rip straight from wherever. Now paste my thesis into your toolbar. Incidentally, nothing of use comes up.

I'm sure the thesis was just as stale as the rest of the paper. And another one of the problems was that by the end of the process, which was stretched out well beyond what it should have been, I hated my paper. It's a shame because it's good work. It could have been really good if I had put it into prose and tightened it into a functional essay. The way it stands now, it will always be an uncompleted mass of what could have been.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that to everyone out there who told me I was an idiot for choosing a random Toni Morrison book-------HA!

Ms. Marcy, good luck!

Hope for us yet?

I've been hooked on tea lately. It's a curiosity-- as soon as I lose the floss I have been carting around for a few months, I switch to tea. I hope this doesn't mean that I will stop flossing my teeth entirely.

This week has been all sorts of panic attacks. The debate over the HOPE GPA raise to 3.7 will happen this Wednesday. It's sad. Our entire academic career has been based around the guarantee of a free education, and now at the point when we need it most, the rug is being ripped out from under us. The other day I found myself writing a letter to our dear Nathan Deal (who probably doesn't care because he has to meet budget demands) about the drastic changes. Take GPA from a 3.0 to a 3.5 and I understand, but a 3.7! Now to be clear, I didn't think this would affect me at all. Worked hard, good grades, challenging classes. Done. But now, in the face of an endless summer stuck in two part-time jobs, I am really too lazy to handle the burden. Why should I have to, considering I held up my end of the deal?

To lawmakers the change seems like business. But there are seriously kids out there who need the extra 10%, around 1,200 dollars, for books and a decent computer. I wouldn't have had a problem with these changes until I realized that the way to calculate hope gpa is less than fair. Take all of your core classes, subtract honors and ap points, add .5 points back for ap classes. Now, don't be fooled, sure the .5 may sound reasonable, but it is compensating for the fact that any B is a 3.0. Take an ap calc class and -gasp- earn an 86-- a decent grade, and maybe you even earned a 5 on the exam. But really that grade is a 3.5, less than the 3.7 needed for hope. Take your 3.5s and average them with the 4.0s (a 4.5 doesn't exist) and you will find that your A's actually do not balance out your B's. The system does not reward for A's, but really, punishes you for B's, or (horror) C's. It doesn't seem fair. There is a disparity between the way national AP curriculum is structured (in which you need to be challenged in order to learn) and the cracked way the state determines your academic worthiness.

I honestly yearn for socialized education. At least there is some guarantee in that.

Mr. Bloomfield's Orchard

There is a reason I go to the library, and it is not to read books that have any relevance to my life. I go in to be surprised. And lucky me, I came out with the best book I have read in ages. Mr. Bloomfield's Orchard isn't just what the title states-- The mysterious world of mushrooms, molds, and mycologists --but really an analysis on human curiosity and discovery.

I never for once thought that mushrooms could be so exciting (and I miss the non-fiction novel, I should really read Stiff one more time). Bloomfield tells a story about how one of his colleagues left him a mushroom to identify. Well, Mr. Bloomfield had an appetite, so he cooked it into a stew and ate it for dinner. The colleague returned and asked him if he had identified the Boletus satanus, Satan's bolete, that he had left on Bloomfield's desk. "Amazed at my evident health, he walked away shaking his head. Satan's bolete cannot kill a mule, but it can make people shit themselves senseless...however, before swearing of all mushrooms, it is useful to acknowledge that products as innocent as Wonder bread probably have some detractors." I cannot explain my love for Mr. Bloomfield, just as I cannot explain my love for Ken Jennings's blog.

In the first chapter Mr. Bloomfield explains the nature of an oddly phallic like mushroom called the Stinkhorn. He recounts the story Charles Darwin's daughter, "For Victorians in England, sufficiently obsessed with sex to become excited by table legs, their appearance was too much to bear. As a mature woman, Charles Darwin's daughter Etty so despised stinkhorns that she mounted an anti-fungal jihad with the aid of gloves and a pointed stick. She burned the collections in secret, thereby protecting the purity of thought among her female servants." It is surprising that a mycologist could be so eccentric as to make me enjoy the study of mushrooms, as he says, "Even high school students are familiar with the warty, black zygospores of zygomycetes, although they spend far more time defiling textbook diagrams of human anatomy than understanding fungi." Haha

Wow, that was one big block quote, but still, Mr. Bloomfield is awesome :)
On a better note, this week I read Oscar Wilde's "The Nightingale and the Rose." It was sad, ironic, and painful. Sardonically beautiful.

(And I've also realized that Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Mermaid" advocates women to shut-up and look pretty)

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Exhausted, scratching at brain, hoping something will come off like dandruff (gross!) Go to library, research ideas for a story, end up checking out a book on funny looking mushrooms. Go to work, gossip about co-workers, come home, sleep, wake up, play violin, take a moody shower. And that's about it.

I am a little disappointed in the outlines. I am worried that formatting might be going a little too far. Last semester's annotated bibliographies dragged down my average because my header wasn't positioned at the right place on the pages. Grammar, grammar, structure, structure! Not that I can blame you Ms. Marcy, I understand how atrocious these papers can be, but I just want to say that I hope it isn't like this in college. Nothing is better than writing a rough outline and then feeling my way through a paper while watching it magically develop (I guess that is why we are now being subjected to this torture).

Also, my paper isn't on Invisible Man, it's on Song of Solomon. I don't want an even compare/contrast between the two. I want it to be 60/40 or even 65/35 because I feel as though my audience (that is, you) has a background on Invisible Man and doesn't need a walk through of every allusion. The focus, I feel, is not proving that Invisible Man is about individualism, it is about proving that Song of Solomon is not about individualism. So I want to treat the elements in Invisible Man more like assumptions because, I feel, that will make a more sophisticated paper.


I am excited to discuss more existentialism in class. Nothing is better than thought-provoking debates. The only thing I ask is that everyone keeps an open mind and remembers the Little Prince! :D