:(
/checktimestamp
ugggggggggggh can't sleep ~.~
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
LTMO 144D - Paper #1
Darlene McCoy
Bruce Thompson
LTMO 144D
24 April 2011
Translation - Take It Seriously!
Motl, Peysi the Cantor's Son, is a novel by Jewish author and playwright Sholem Aleichem. The novel, Aleichem's last, remains unfinished due to his death. Aleichem wrote the entire novel in Yiddish, so many a translator translated it into English to allow English-speakers to enjoy the adventures of a mischievous little hellion. The most recent version, translated in 2009, is by Aliza Shevrin. Another, translated in 1953 is by Tamara Kahana. With translation comes discrepancies in many forms, and the two recent translations of the novel are no exception. These slight discrepancies, no matter how trivial they seem, change the reader's experience in reading the novel.
A glance at the two novel's covers implies that the novels will not read in the same fashion. Shevrin's translation's title is, Motl, the Cantor's Son, while Kahana's is Adventues of Mottel, the Cantor's Son. Another difference between the two is the spelling of Sholem Aleichem's name. Shevrin spells it Sholem Aleichem, and Kahana spells it Sholom Aleichem. While the different spellings and titles are small discrepancies, they are still present and may change the reading experience for a reader. The difference in the titles changes the reader's first impressions of the novel. Kahana's addition of the word "adventures" to the title of the novel gives the reader more of an idea about what the novel is about. "Adventures" is also quite the exciting word, and implies that the tale is either joyous, courageous, or amusing. Shevrin's translation lacks the word "adventures" so the reader cannot imply anything but that there is a person named Motl, and he is the son of a cantor. The most apparent difference between the two covers is that of the image on the front. Shevrin's translation of Motl is bundled with her translation of Tevye the Dairyman, and the cover's image is that of a fiddler on a roof. An illustration of Mottel, surrounded by animals, structures, and other people adorns the cover of Kahana's translation. Because the image on Shevrin's translation is not of Motl, the reader can imply nothing about him or the novel from it. On the other hand, the reader can imply many things about Mottel from Kahana's translation's cover. Mottel is the center of the illustration, and the other things illustrated seem to revolve around him. Mottel wears a cheerful smile on his face, yet the two people behind him seem to wear expressions brought on only by endless labor. Mottel is shaded in a way that makes him seem light, and not filled with grief. The other two people are almost pure black; they seem to be overpowered by the color, overpowered by their grief. The illustration thus implies that Mottel is a cheerful young boy who has not yet grown enough to know more than his own personal world, and he is not bogged down by daily life as many others around him are. The differences in the two covers change how much knowledge the reader has prior to starting the novel, thus changing the reader's experience.
The text itself features many examples of different translations creating different reading experiences. The beginning of the chapter, "A Sea of Tears," differs. In Shevrin's translation, Motl's mother cries for the people around her who are suffering. His brother then responds to her tears, telling her, "You sin, Mama!" Motl agrees with his brother, because he feels that their mother has nothing to cry about. They have made it across the ocean, and are in America. He does however, emphasize with his mother, thinking, "But how can a person not cry when surrounding him is so much misfortune, so many reasons for tears, for a sea of tears?" Through this scene, the reader learns more of how Motl thinks. It develops his character as a thoughtful, understanding, boy. It also further emphasizes just how much Motl's mother cries. This scene sets the stage for Motl's description of all the misfortune around him and how much if affects everyone on Ellis Island - but it is not present in Kahana's translation. The reader does not get the small depiction of the characters of the novel that Shevrin's translation provides, and thus, their reading experience is changed.
The simple changing of a name in this novel can create quite the different reading experience. In Shevrin's translation, there is a small girl aboard the same ship as Motl's family who is called Ketzele due to her overwhemingly cute qualities. To the unknowing mind, Ketzele is simply a name, and is something looked over, it is not alarming in the least. In actuality, Ketzele is Yiddish for "kitten," which goes well with Motl's description of her, which otherwise, gives no inclination that the child is kitten-like. In Kahana's translation, the girl is called Pussy. In America, "pussy" is a widely known slang term for female genitalia. Therefore, an American reading Kahana's translation may find the fact that a child of three goes by the name of "Pussy" quite disturbing. The other other implication of the word "pussy" American-English is just simply a synonym for "cat." Mottel tells of the girl as such: "She is such a darling that everyone calls her Pussy. Pussy is not quite three years old, but she already runs around, talks, sings, and dances." There is no implication that she is cat-like, just a small, sweet child, which may lead the reader to think, "Are the sailors playing a trick on the poor Jews who are unaware of American slang? What is going on here?!" That thought process can interrupt the flow of the novel, and it most definitely can change the reader's experience. The definite meaning of the name Pussy is lost in translation and causes some rather alarming confusion!
Descriptions of the city differ in each translation. When riding on the ferry into the city, in Shevrin's translation, Motl notes that, "We see an enormously huge iron statue of a woman. She looks like a giant mother," but in Kahana's translation the Statue of Liberty is described as, "There we were looking at a tall, huge iron statue, standing in the distance, made in the shape of a woman who is holding up a torch." Kahahna's version of the description of the Statue of Liberty does not contain the word "mother." The Statue of Liberty was quite the important symbol for immigrants entering America through New York's harbor. Many looked upon her as the mother of all those lost, forgotten and without hope. Through the simple word "mother" Shevrin's translation evokes these emotions and direct feelings. Thus, due to an emotional response, the reader's experience is changed by a very slight difference.
New York's skyline comes fast upon Motl's family aboard the ferry. It, too, is described in a different way in each translation. In Shevrin's version, Motl describes the city: "Ach! What tall buildings! They are cathedrals, not buildings! And windows! A thousand windows!" In Kahana's, he states: "Oh what a city, what enormous tall houses! They aren't houses -- they are towers which stretch their hands up into the sky. And how many windows! Millions of windows..." The main difference in these two phrases is the noun Motl uses to describe the buildings in the city. The word "cathedral" implies the concept of a religious safe-haven, a place where all is good and holy. The word "towers" is more associated with giant, spiral skinny structures that pierce the sky. Thus, the difference in words creates different meanings out of what seems to be the same sentence. Each work evokes a different connotation.
The vernacular in the translations is different. Shevrin's translation uses Jewish phrases such as "mazel tov" and "oy vey." Kahana's version uses "congratulations" instead of "mazel tov" in her translation, and the phrase "oy vey" is not found in her version at all. Shevrin's use of Jewish vernacular connects the reader to the Jewish culture found in the novel by using actual Jewish phrases. Kahana's version lacks the more foreign words, and may appeal to a different audience more because the language of the novel is less foreign, and therefore less difficult to internalize. Either way - the lack of Jewish phrases may change the reader's experience as well.
A simple sentence can change how a paragraph reads. In Shevrin's translation, a family friend, Pinni, says that, "May the czar suffer as long as it will take for them to get rid of us!" in regards to the threat of being deported due to Motl's mother being too loud for America. Pinney, in Kahana's version, says "The Czar's beard will grow down to his toes before we move from here." One version is much more dark than the other. Shevrin's version seems to be much more spiteful, more dripping with hatred for the old country. Kahana's version makes Pinney's response seem more of a joke, more of something silly to be laughed at, which makes for a lighter mood. Both are used to further develop Pinney/Pinni's character, but each does so in a different way. The different portrayal of a singular character can make for a different reading experience.
Different translations create different reading experiences. Even if the experience is slight in difference, different reading experiences create different interpretations of a novel. Different interpretations of a novel can affect people in a multitude of ways, sometimes making them take actions they might not have without reading a text. For example: the Bible has been considered the most read book of all time. It was originally translated from Greek and Hebrew manuscripts by an immense number of different translators. Many different people read the Bible, and took their own interpretations from its pages. Because people believed in their own interpretations, branches of religion formed from one book. If stripped down to its bare bones, religion is a form of culture; a set of practices, values, and works shared by a society. Countless numbers of people gave their lives for their belief in their interpretation of the Bible, their culture. Though Motl, the Cantor's Son will more than likely not influence history perhaps as much as the Bible did, it is important to note the differences in the translations, because Motl will influence someone, somewhere, at some point in time. It is a novel that is a very prominent figure in Jewish literature, and will continue to influence the culture associated with Jewish literature for quite some time. With each new translation, the novel will change in ever so slight ways that may end up changing how a person feels about it, which may change culture, which may cause someone to do or think in a certain way. Therefore, it is important to pay attention to small differences in translations of novels such as this one, because small differences can make for small changes, but a multitude of small changes over time can cause a giant move in an aspect of life and culture.
Bruce Thompson
LTMO 144D
24 April 2011
Translation - Take It Seriously!
Motl, Peysi the Cantor's Son, is a novel by Jewish author and playwright Sholem Aleichem. The novel, Aleichem's last, remains unfinished due to his death. Aleichem wrote the entire novel in Yiddish, so many a translator translated it into English to allow English-speakers to enjoy the adventures of a mischievous little hellion. The most recent version, translated in 2009, is by Aliza Shevrin. Another, translated in 1953 is by Tamara Kahana. With translation comes discrepancies in many forms, and the two recent translations of the novel are no exception. These slight discrepancies, no matter how trivial they seem, change the reader's experience in reading the novel.
A glance at the two novel's covers implies that the novels will not read in the same fashion. Shevrin's translation's title is, Motl, the Cantor's Son, while Kahana's is Adventues of Mottel, the Cantor's Son. Another difference between the two is the spelling of Sholem Aleichem's name. Shevrin spells it Sholem Aleichem, and Kahana spells it Sholom Aleichem. While the different spellings and titles are small discrepancies, they are still present and may change the reading experience for a reader. The difference in the titles changes the reader's first impressions of the novel. Kahana's addition of the word "adventures" to the title of the novel gives the reader more of an idea about what the novel is about. "Adventures" is also quite the exciting word, and implies that the tale is either joyous, courageous, or amusing. Shevrin's translation lacks the word "adventures" so the reader cannot imply anything but that there is a person named Motl, and he is the son of a cantor. The most apparent difference between the two covers is that of the image on the front. Shevrin's translation of Motl is bundled with her translation of Tevye the Dairyman, and the cover's image is that of a fiddler on a roof. An illustration of Mottel, surrounded by animals, structures, and other people adorns the cover of Kahana's translation. Because the image on Shevrin's translation is not of Motl, the reader can imply nothing about him or the novel from it. On the other hand, the reader can imply many things about Mottel from Kahana's translation's cover. Mottel is the center of the illustration, and the other things illustrated seem to revolve around him. Mottel wears a cheerful smile on his face, yet the two people behind him seem to wear expressions brought on only by endless labor. Mottel is shaded in a way that makes him seem light, and not filled with grief. The other two people are almost pure black; they seem to be overpowered by the color, overpowered by their grief. The illustration thus implies that Mottel is a cheerful young boy who has not yet grown enough to know more than his own personal world, and he is not bogged down by daily life as many others around him are. The differences in the two covers change how much knowledge the reader has prior to starting the novel, thus changing the reader's experience.
The text itself features many examples of different translations creating different reading experiences. The beginning of the chapter, "A Sea of Tears," differs. In Shevrin's translation, Motl's mother cries for the people around her who are suffering. His brother then responds to her tears, telling her, "You sin, Mama!" Motl agrees with his brother, because he feels that their mother has nothing to cry about. They have made it across the ocean, and are in America. He does however, emphasize with his mother, thinking, "But how can a person not cry when surrounding him is so much misfortune, so many reasons for tears, for a sea of tears?" Through this scene, the reader learns more of how Motl thinks. It develops his character as a thoughtful, understanding, boy. It also further emphasizes just how much Motl's mother cries. This scene sets the stage for Motl's description of all the misfortune around him and how much if affects everyone on Ellis Island - but it is not present in Kahana's translation. The reader does not get the small depiction of the characters of the novel that Shevrin's translation provides, and thus, their reading experience is changed.
The simple changing of a name in this novel can create quite the different reading experience. In Shevrin's translation, there is a small girl aboard the same ship as Motl's family who is called Ketzele due to her overwhemingly cute qualities. To the unknowing mind, Ketzele is simply a name, and is something looked over, it is not alarming in the least. In actuality, Ketzele is Yiddish for "kitten," which goes well with Motl's description of her, which otherwise, gives no inclination that the child is kitten-like. In Kahana's translation, the girl is called Pussy. In America, "pussy" is a widely known slang term for female genitalia. Therefore, an American reading Kahana's translation may find the fact that a child of three goes by the name of "Pussy" quite disturbing. The other other implication of the word "pussy" American-English is just simply a synonym for "cat." Mottel tells of the girl as such: "She is such a darling that everyone calls her Pussy. Pussy is not quite three years old, but she already runs around, talks, sings, and dances." There is no implication that she is cat-like, just a small, sweet child, which may lead the reader to think, "Are the sailors playing a trick on the poor Jews who are unaware of American slang? What is going on here?!" That thought process can interrupt the flow of the novel, and it most definitely can change the reader's experience. The definite meaning of the name Pussy is lost in translation and causes some rather alarming confusion!
Descriptions of the city differ in each translation. When riding on the ferry into the city, in Shevrin's translation, Motl notes that, "We see an enormously huge iron statue of a woman. She looks like a giant mother," but in Kahana's translation the Statue of Liberty is described as, "There we were looking at a tall, huge iron statue, standing in the distance, made in the shape of a woman who is holding up a torch." Kahahna's version of the description of the Statue of Liberty does not contain the word "mother." The Statue of Liberty was quite the important symbol for immigrants entering America through New York's harbor. Many looked upon her as the mother of all those lost, forgotten and without hope. Through the simple word "mother" Shevrin's translation evokes these emotions and direct feelings. Thus, due to an emotional response, the reader's experience is changed by a very slight difference.
New York's skyline comes fast upon Motl's family aboard the ferry. It, too, is described in a different way in each translation. In Shevrin's version, Motl describes the city: "Ach! What tall buildings! They are cathedrals, not buildings! And windows! A thousand windows!" In Kahana's, he states: "Oh what a city, what enormous tall houses! They aren't houses -- they are towers which stretch their hands up into the sky. And how many windows! Millions of windows..." The main difference in these two phrases is the noun Motl uses to describe the buildings in the city. The word "cathedral" implies the concept of a religious safe-haven, a place where all is good and holy. The word "towers" is more associated with giant, spiral skinny structures that pierce the sky. Thus, the difference in words creates different meanings out of what seems to be the same sentence. Each work evokes a different connotation.
The vernacular in the translations is different. Shevrin's translation uses Jewish phrases such as "mazel tov" and "oy vey." Kahana's version uses "congratulations" instead of "mazel tov" in her translation, and the phrase "oy vey" is not found in her version at all. Shevrin's use of Jewish vernacular connects the reader to the Jewish culture found in the novel by using actual Jewish phrases. Kahana's version lacks the more foreign words, and may appeal to a different audience more because the language of the novel is less foreign, and therefore less difficult to internalize. Either way - the lack of Jewish phrases may change the reader's experience as well.
A simple sentence can change how a paragraph reads. In Shevrin's translation, a family friend, Pinni, says that, "May the czar suffer as long as it will take for them to get rid of us!" in regards to the threat of being deported due to Motl's mother being too loud for America. Pinney, in Kahana's version, says "The Czar's beard will grow down to his toes before we move from here." One version is much more dark than the other. Shevrin's version seems to be much more spiteful, more dripping with hatred for the old country. Kahana's version makes Pinney's response seem more of a joke, more of something silly to be laughed at, which makes for a lighter mood. Both are used to further develop Pinney/Pinni's character, but each does so in a different way. The different portrayal of a singular character can make for a different reading experience.
Different translations create different reading experiences. Even if the experience is slight in difference, different reading experiences create different interpretations of a novel. Different interpretations of a novel can affect people in a multitude of ways, sometimes making them take actions they might not have without reading a text. For example: the Bible has been considered the most read book of all time. It was originally translated from Greek and Hebrew manuscripts by an immense number of different translators. Many different people read the Bible, and took their own interpretations from its pages. Because people believed in their own interpretations, branches of religion formed from one book. If stripped down to its bare bones, religion is a form of culture; a set of practices, values, and works shared by a society. Countless numbers of people gave their lives for their belief in their interpretation of the Bible, their culture. Though Motl, the Cantor's Son will more than likely not influence history perhaps as much as the Bible did, it is important to note the differences in the translations, because Motl will influence someone, somewhere, at some point in time. It is a novel that is a very prominent figure in Jewish literature, and will continue to influence the culture associated with Jewish literature for quite some time. With each new translation, the novel will change in ever so slight ways that may end up changing how a person feels about it, which may change culture, which may cause someone to do or think in a certain way. Therefore, it is important to pay attention to small differences in translations of novels such as this one, because small differences can make for small changes, but a multitude of small changes over time can cause a giant move in an aspect of life and culture.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Darlene McCoy
Karen Barad
FMST 80K
20 April 2011
Week 3 Readings
I took Helen Longino’s piece as evidence for the fact that not all background assumptions are bad, and that they are, in fact, necessary for good science. A person cannot determine any information by a hat being on a table, or a state of affairs. Information can only be attained by said person assuming something about it, and then testing that assumption to determine if it is true or not.
I especially liked Hartouni’s piece because it really illustrated Donna Haraway’s thoughts. The story about the man named Virgil really helped me see what she was saying. I’m of poor eyesight, like him, and I remember quite clearly what it was like to put glasses on for the first time. The whole world was brighter, more colorful, and much less blurry, but it was completely weird to me for quite some time. It took a while for me to get used to the much less blurry outlines of figures. I got my glasses at the end of the 3rd grade. I cannot imagine living life near blind and then suddenly being able to see. I feel like I can understand Virgil’s confusion when he opened his eyes after the operation. Through the years, I’ve learned to see. He had no years to learn.
Donna Haraway also especially spoke to me due to a class I took last quarter. We had read a piece by Gayatri Spivak, which essentially said, “Though humans may never have the ability to communicate every exact word and feeling with one another, we must try. There is substance to the communication we do achieve and we must not throw it away due to it’s lack of complete credibility.” I connected that statement to what Donna Haraway wrote about objectivity, and feel like she is saying much of the same thing, just about a different subject, among many other confusing things!
Karen Barad
FMST 80K
20 April 2011
Week 3 Readings
I took Helen Longino’s piece as evidence for the fact that not all background assumptions are bad, and that they are, in fact, necessary for good science. A person cannot determine any information by a hat being on a table, or a state of affairs. Information can only be attained by said person assuming something about it, and then testing that assumption to determine if it is true or not.
I especially liked Hartouni’s piece because it really illustrated Donna Haraway’s thoughts. The story about the man named Virgil really helped me see what she was saying. I’m of poor eyesight, like him, and I remember quite clearly what it was like to put glasses on for the first time. The whole world was brighter, more colorful, and much less blurry, but it was completely weird to me for quite some time. It took a while for me to get used to the much less blurry outlines of figures. I got my glasses at the end of the 3rd grade. I cannot imagine living life near blind and then suddenly being able to see. I feel like I can understand Virgil’s confusion when he opened his eyes after the operation. Through the years, I’ve learned to see. He had no years to learn.
Donna Haraway also especially spoke to me due to a class I took last quarter. We had read a piece by Gayatri Spivak, which essentially said, “Though humans may never have the ability to communicate every exact word and feeling with one another, we must try. There is substance to the communication we do achieve and we must not throw it away due to it’s lack of complete credibility.” I connected that statement to what Donna Haraway wrote about objectivity, and feel like she is saying much of the same thing, just about a different subject, among many other confusing things!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
EDU 60 Memo #1
Darlene McCoy
dmmccoy@ucsc.edu
Segment 1 Memo - Option B
Yolanda Diaz-Houston - Section 1E
April 13, 2011
506 words
To Whom It May Concern:
My name is Darlene McCoy, and I’m a student at UC Santa Cruz. Merely getting to this school was a near impossible challenge for me because of where I grew up. I live in an area right outside of Sacramento – Rancho Cordova, and let me tell you, it’s not exactly the best place to go to school. When I was in elementary school, in the ‘90s, there was paper provided in the classrooms, there were pencils if someone forgot or needed one, and there were functional materials. My teachers were incredible, and happy to be there teaching each day. While my elementary school was still poor, it was alright. It wasn’t a huge challenge to get through a day of class. In high school, I was hearing about how my beloved music program might be getting cut every other week, my textbooks were falling apart, my classes were at least 30 students to one teacher, our library was a joke, and our career center was a distant memory. In school, I was in the honors/AP program - I can’t imagine what it was like to be in the normal classes, with even less material. Just this year at least half of my high school’s sports programs were cut. I’m pretty sure my music teacher got about $500 for the orchestra for the entire year. There were about fifteen people of my graduating class of anywhere from 250-300 who went to a four-year college. Our original class freshman year was about 650 students. What happened to all of them? Why is the school system failing so miserably?
I believe that if the state gave more funding to schools, that students like me, from my background, would have opportunities to thrive in life, and all of society would benefit. If my school had more funding, we could have had better classrooms, better teachers, and better material. College would not have seemed like a far-off impossible dream. Other students could have had the chance to thrive more in elective classes. We could have a library that was worth taking the time to go to, or a career center to aid us in our future endeavors. I feel like with more funding, graduation rates in my area would go up. And furthermore, because graduation rates would go up, crime rates would go down. Just the other year, at Rancho Cordova’ annual 4th of July Celebration, someone was shot, and the whole thing had to be shut down. How is education not a public good? There are far too many benefits from having an educated populace to not fund education through tax dollars. Why is it that I, my former classmates, and my community have to suffer due to our lower income? Why is the state not protecting us, not helping us become educated citizens? The cuts to education are insane – how can a society function without educated citizens that are able to perform their duties well? I expect more from my state.
Sincerely,
Darlene McCoy
dmmccoy@ucsc.edu
Segment 1 Memo - Option B
Yolanda Diaz-Houston - Section 1E
April 13, 2011
506 words
To Whom It May Concern:
My name is Darlene McCoy, and I’m a student at UC Santa Cruz. Merely getting to this school was a near impossible challenge for me because of where I grew up. I live in an area right outside of Sacramento – Rancho Cordova, and let me tell you, it’s not exactly the best place to go to school. When I was in elementary school, in the ‘90s, there was paper provided in the classrooms, there were pencils if someone forgot or needed one, and there were functional materials. My teachers were incredible, and happy to be there teaching each day. While my elementary school was still poor, it was alright. It wasn’t a huge challenge to get through a day of class. In high school, I was hearing about how my beloved music program might be getting cut every other week, my textbooks were falling apart, my classes were at least 30 students to one teacher, our library was a joke, and our career center was a distant memory. In school, I was in the honors/AP program - I can’t imagine what it was like to be in the normal classes, with even less material. Just this year at least half of my high school’s sports programs were cut. I’m pretty sure my music teacher got about $500 for the orchestra for the entire year. There were about fifteen people of my graduating class of anywhere from 250-300 who went to a four-year college. Our original class freshman year was about 650 students. What happened to all of them? Why is the school system failing so miserably?
I believe that if the state gave more funding to schools, that students like me, from my background, would have opportunities to thrive in life, and all of society would benefit. If my school had more funding, we could have had better classrooms, better teachers, and better material. College would not have seemed like a far-off impossible dream. Other students could have had the chance to thrive more in elective classes. We could have a library that was worth taking the time to go to, or a career center to aid us in our future endeavors. I feel like with more funding, graduation rates in my area would go up. And furthermore, because graduation rates would go up, crime rates would go down. Just the other year, at Rancho Cordova’ annual 4th of July Celebration, someone was shot, and the whole thing had to be shut down. How is education not a public good? There are far too many benefits from having an educated populace to not fund education through tax dollars. Why is it that I, my former classmates, and my community have to suffer due to our lower income? Why is the state not protecting us, not helping us become educated citizens? The cuts to education are insane – how can a society function without educated citizens that are able to perform their duties well? I expect more from my state.
Sincerely,
Darlene McCoy
Darlene McCoy
Karen Barad
FMST 80K
13 April 2011
Week 2 Readings
Reading Karen’s introduction to her book before watching Copenhagen was incredibly beneficial to my understanding of the film. She does a great job of pointing out inconsistencies, or points of interest, and I liked how she explained the encompassing themes of the film. It was very useful to know some background on the film – though I knew quite a bit about Bohr and Heisenberg before due to an earlier physics class – because it really isn’t the easiest thing to pick up on. Knowing that there was going to be three separate and different interpretations of what happened at Copenhagen helped me keep up with the film. In the film, the uncertainty principle is explained, but in a way that is more difficult to understand, so it was nice to have an explanation I could read again and again in front of my face.
The other reading for this week, the piece by Stephen Jay Gould, should have probably surprised me, but it didn’t. I feel like I’ve always just assumed that racism leaked into all aspects of human life and culture. I don’t understand how people could believe other people are less than them unless more than just the idea that “They look different” was circulating around. Of course the white man would “prove” that he is superior to the black biologically. As Gould points out, though, all of the scientists he discusses, especially Morton, do not try in the least to cover their tracks. That surprised me. They were so blatantly racist! It also surprised me that Ben Franklin believed that the black man was less than the white – I had already known that some of the others mentioned were of that thought, but not Ben Franklin! It was quite surprising, indeed.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
FRL! Article
Darlene McCoy
The Fish Rap Live!
12 April 2011
Recent Theft at Porter College Due to “Rollin’ Raccoons”
The Porter Housing Office issued a statement to all residents of the Porter apartments due to the rise of theft at the college earlier this week.
Top-secret investigators have thus began researching who what when where why and how personal belongings have gone missing.
Their current conclusion is that raccoons have been sneaking into apartments and taking belongings back to their homes in the woods.
When asked why local raccoons would want anything to do with a bunch of backpacks and Altoid bins, Super-secret investigator #1 replied, “I’m not quite positive yet, but I think it may have something to do with the content of the belongings. We’ve found numerous drugs, including ecstasy, in recovered belongings. Additionally, the raccoon population has exploded in the last year! We couldn’t figure out why… but now!” He paused, contemplating his next statement.
“We think the raccoons have been taking ecstasy, mating like mad, and are now sneaking into apartments to find more. That’s what’s happening at Porter College.”
Super-secret investigator #1 has worked at Porter College for over fifteen years and investigated more than 100 mysterious happenings, but he has never, in all his time, seen such ravenous raccoons. He believes that they are the true culprits, but will continue to investigate the matter to the best of his ability.
FRL! Article?
Darlene McCoy
The Fish Rap Live!
12 April 2011
Outstanding Opiates
Once upon a time, in a land far far away, I was a freshman. I understand that it’s hard to be a freshman. I understand that it’s hard to be a pitiful, mongering, creature that might only be considered to be of the same species as normal human beings. You’re longing for something, for some change, to alter your life and thought drastically so you can actually feel like you’re in college. Well my dears, my loves, my poor specimens, there’s a cure. You can’t find it at the health center, nor can a psychologist give you enough therapy to merley emulate the effects of this cure. There is only one thing, available at only certain types of places, sold by only certain types of people, that can cure you, darlings. You need drugs. And you need a lot of them.
Now, I’m aware that you might be all “straight-edge” and shit, but I was, too. I understood the whole, “drugs are bad and if you take them you’re going to die,” thing. But – if you’re of this mindset, oh dear poor freshman, you are in dire need of aid. In dire need of the cure. I know, back in that foreign time, I was. I was far too stubborn to think about doing anything I considered “out of the ordinary.” Then, on one Friday night, two weeks into my first quarter of college, one silly incident changed everything.
It was sometime around midnight in the dorms. My roommates were out, and I was bored. Lonely, even, too. I’d been up since six, and figured that sleep might be a good idea. (I’ve learned better than to think that, now.) I began to snuggle up with my bed, with the comfortless generic dorm sheets, when I heard someone say my name in the hallway. Confused, and surprised that anyone even knew my name, I rolled out of bed and opened my door to investigate.
I found three guys outside my door. They looked friendly enough, and apparently they were friendly, for they asked me to come back to their room with them. I accepted their offer without hesitation – the prospect of friendship to a lonely freshman renders all common sense from the brain.
In their room, they began drinking and smoking and whatnot. It terrified me at first: what if I got in trouble, for something I wasn’t even doing, for something I was so against doing? How would my mother react? Would I be kicked out of school if I was caught? Furthermore, I’d never been around weed before, and that shit smelt awful. So, after careful deliberation (more, fuck this shit) I decided that returning to my room was in my best interest.
One of the guys followed me out of his room, and back to mine. I didn’t think anything of letting him into my room; though I’m sure now he was crossfaded as all hell and that I should’ve been thinking. Freshman brains, man, they really don’t work so well sometimes. This boy went to the center of my room and started playing some God-awful club mix crap on his phone. He then began dancing in a way that I would only describe now as, “like a drunk bitch.” And for some damn stupid reason, I decided to join him instead of kickin’ his ass out and going to bed.
He grew tired and sat on my bed. I followed, not thinking that a drunk boy inviting you to bed might be a bad idea. My brain, oh my brain at the time, it did not work. I had not found the cure for my freshman ways. I had no idea a cure even existed.
Anyway, this asshole tried to get all up on me. He told me, “You’re the third hottest girl in Porter,” hoping that I’d take it as a compliment. I did (it meant I was pretty, right?). So this guy, noticing my nonsensical smiles at his fantastic playa skills, tried to kiss me. His face was far too close to mine before I pulled back. The boy’s lips reeked of tequila. Gross gross gross.
By that time, I was incredibly annoyed and too damn tired to think sensibly. I climbed onto my bed (which are significantly above the floor in the Porter dorms) and laid down. I hadn’t mustered enough courage to ask him to leave yet, so he laid down right next to me. He hugged me, and then like, started flipping me back and forth over his body. He found it amusing. I found it terrifying. The rage began to boil up inside of me, and I started yelling at him to stop, because I was sure someone was going to get hurt.
I was correct in my assumption.
This guy, in his drunken glory, threw me off the side of my bed enough to throw me off balance and allow my weight to pull me to the floor. The dumb shit came tumbling down off my bed right after me. I feel on my hand. He fell on me. We got up, and by that time my rage had finally boiled over – that motherfucker was going to leave, and leave at that very moment.
Angry injured girls are quite frightening creatures. He left. Quickly.
I woke up the next morning and became aware of my hand – and how it was twice it’s normal size. Since the health center on campus is closed on the weekends, I ended up icing my hand on and off for the entire day. I finally decided to call a RA, because my hand wasn’t feeling any better. The RA ended up calling a CSO, and I ended up in an ambulance on my way to Dominican Hospital.
In the next few days, I learned that I had “broke the shit out of my hand,” (direct quote from my doctor, by the way!) and that I’d need surgery to realign the bones. They had to put metal pins in my hand, so, after the operation, they gave me hella drugs. Opiates, to be specific.
After spending some time in a hotel that my mother was staying at during the ordeal, I returned to the dorms. I was all hopped up on those opiates – and the thing was, I had never been on any kind of “happy-pill” before. Everything was so wonderful, so cool, and I found myself wandering aimlessly around the halls. Well, I say wandering aimlessly now, but at the time I feel the more appropriate term might have been, “floating.”
With time, I found myself in the 5th floor lounge. There were a few people in there, fumbling with laptops. They looked friendly enough – and hey! I was looking for friends again. Now, naturally, I’m quite the shy individual, and approaching a group of strangers, or a single person, for that matter, is not of my normal character. But because I was all super-happy and didn’t feel insecure, I began talking. Blabbering. Going on about whatever came to mind. I guess it was amusing, and I found that I had enjoyed myself, too.
I returned to the 5th floor lounge, time and time again during the two weeks that I was on those amazing amazing opiates. I just talked. Talked forever. About nothing. By the time I had stopped taking the opiates, I had made friends. It was fantastic! Amazing! Magnificent and phenomenal.
Because a large cast calls for inquisition, I ended up telling many a person how exactly, my hand had been broken. With each retelling, I realized more and more how damn dull I was that night. Those observations became my rite of passage back into the human species, and in the end, all I could think was, “This was all due to me wandering around on opiates?!”
Opiates were my cure. The floating feelings caused by the drug helped me look at my life in a different mindset, to asses how I’d been living, and the decisions I’d made in my life thusfar. The conclusions I drew from my experience helped me grow away from the closed-minded, naïve, little freshman that I was, once upon a time, in that land far far away.
I’d like to state here that after: I smoked hella fuckin’ weed.
Happy 4/20, everybody!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Darlene McCoy
Karen Barad
FMST 80K
6 April 2011
Week 1 Readings
The “Five Sexes” and the “Five Sexes Revisited” gave insight to a kind of people not commonly spoken of. I, for one, have not ever given serious thought to intersexual people or hermaphrodites until I read those articles. I honestly just did not think of sex in terms of anything but male and female - and then suddenly there were five different sexes floating about in my head! It’s not that the information that intersexual people existed startled me it’s just more the fact that I’d never given a thought to how they live, or even how a person could be defined as intersexual. I appreciated the fact that Anne-Fausto Sterling did a follow up on her article, because I feel that no work or issue is completely resolved, and her revisions to her original ideas made me feel that she legitimately cares for her work, which made me care more.
The “XY Corral” piece more or less blew my mind. I was just so shocked at how the team of scientists in the article attempted so furiously to keep gender roles intact. The “special segment” that makes a person male is only active on the Y chromosome! This article just made it incredibly clear that science is not without its biases and whatnot.
The movie shown in class yesterday made consequences of social constructivism taking a role in scientific study and practice quite clear. It was quite the downer to learn what people had gone through because doctors thought that having an undefined sex would harm a person socially to the point where surgery should be employed to correct “deformities.” It was almost like learning about the consequences of racism for the first time. People did what I would consider unnecessary things to others due to how they were born. I understood that the doctor’s intentions were good and genuine, but I don’t understand why they wouldn’t just wait a while for the person in question to make a decision about their body and life. Either way – Anne-Fausto Sterling and the movie we watched gave me some fantastic food for thought and made me more excited for the upcoming weeks!
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Stories!
I can write about me
and you
and you and me
Homan.
If only
one day
I can find the words
Lord of the Rings is cool.
As a ruler:
Would you leave the land you love, to see it prosper under another's rule?
OR
Remain loyal to your people, and attempt to keep buggerin' on?
Thinkin'.
???
~.~
and you
and you and me
Homan.
If only
one day
I can find the words
Lord of the Rings is cool.
As a ruler:
Would you leave the land you love, to see it prosper under another's rule?
OR
Remain loyal to your people, and attempt to keep buggerin' on?
Thinkin'.
???
~.~
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