Darlene McCoy
Marco Martinez-Galarce
Porter 80A
12 November 2009
Je m’appelle Prior. Je parle la vérité.
Friends - those of the amazing sort, those who are genuine and true, those who watch meteors dart across the night sky together - are hard to come by in this day and age. These angelic friends, who are cherished above all others, could have just become even more difficult to come by - they could have just died. They could have just died slow, painful deaths from some unknown disease. They could have died in the tens of thousands, and their government could not have put nearly enough effort into stopping the deaths. Society could have shunned those wonderful friends. These things could have happened, however, the melancholy reality is that they did happen. In 1985, friends, family, and other loved people of America died from the disease known as AIDS. In 1985, the Reagan Administration deregulated the healthcare system - tax breaks and conservative views were more necessary and proper to America than the preservation of human life.
AIDS: the culprit of this mass human destruction, is formally known to the world as the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. It is an illness that develops from HIV - a virus transmitted through bodily fluids such as blood or semen. HIV attacks the very backbone of the human immune system: Helper T Cells. A patient is said to have AIDS when their Helper T Cell count reaches dangerously low, or nonexistent, numbers. Without Helper T Cells, the immune system is not able to perform its reason for existence. It cannot ward off potentially fatal diseases. Those who are inflicted with AIDS usually die of a rare disease that was thought to be previously eradicated from the common spectrum of human life. This illness is most common among the populations of homosexuals, heroin addicts, hemophiliacs and Haitians (The Age of AIDS: Part One).
Tony Kushner's play, Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes, address the illness of America during the beginning times of the AIDS epidemic. Kushner makes use of the central theme of a sick body to reveal his more significant pieces of advice to humanity. He employs two different manners to convey his messages: a metaphorical approach, and within the text, a physical approach.
Kushner's first piece of advice begins with the statement that America is sick. The presidential era of Ronald Reagan was littered with concerns about federal spending and government expansion. Reagan promised the people of America that taxes would be lowered and that the economy was going to expand. Ronald Reagan was quite the conservative president, and his policies reflected his way of thinking. He cut funds to the health care system because he thought that private enterprise would progress the health care system’s economic market more efficiently than the federal funding would. This only caused the health care system to become deregulated, and that caused a reduction in the training and planning of medical personnel. He implemented the DRG system, which was a new approach to paying for medical services. The bill received by the patient would be for the whole cost of treatment for a certain diagnosis, instead of the cost of procedures and services actually given to the patient. This bill allowed physicians to be more comfortable in their practice. Reagan’s system controlled health care costs, but it did not do much for the people in terms of access to health care (Cost Concerns and Policy Changes from 1969-1992). Considering there was massive AIDS epidemic wrecking America during Reagan’s era, his policies were not the best idea for the times. A focus on access to health care might have been a better idea.
Ronald Reagan was a considerably conservative president, and the common population attributed his political ideas to that of conservative religions. The most common religion associated with conservative ideals is the Mormon religion. Mormons believe that homosexuals can choose between their lifestyle and being heterosexual much like they can choose to worship God or the devil. They believe simply that God is not “that way,” and that since man is made in the image of God, man should not be “that way.” Those who contracted AIDS were seen as people who had received “God’s judgment” for going against the idea of heterosexuality set in holy scriptures. Only "evil" people contracted HIV. Even less conservative religions, like the general American brand of Christianity, believe that sex is only justified by the creation of life. Since homosexual sex does not bring about life, it is not justified in the eyes of God (The Alyson Almanac). These conservative views were wide-spread throughout America during Reagan’s era and because of them homosexuals were discriminated against. They did not receive sufficient health care most of the time because of that discrimination. Some doctors would not see a homosexual patient, and some doctors may have performed sub-par procedures and services on a gay patient. Drugs to ease the pain of the disease were more difficult to come by because of the bias. Research for AIDS was not funded well because the conservative way of life did not care enough for other people to fund it sufficiently. On top of that, the health care system was rather inadequate at the time, so many people suffering from AIDS suffered much more than they should have. They suffered not only the physical pain of AIDS, but they suffered emotional pain through being abandoned by their loved ones and shunned by society. People died horrible, lonely, deaths in massive numbers, and President Reagan was only concerned with conserving funds and promoting economical growth. The immorality of the times was a force to be reckoned with. America during the Reagan era was a sick, sick body.
Roy Cohn, as portrayed in Angels in America, was a man of legends. He was the epitome of all negative ideas in the world. Roy Cohn bribed, flattered, and lied to near anybody or anything without any sense of guilt. He aided in the conviction of an innocent woman, Ethel Rosenburg, of treason by seducing a judge over the phone (Roy Cohn). Ethel Rosenburg was later executed for her “actions.” Roy Cohn was a man with no soul. He denied his own sexuality until the day he died, because admitting his sexual desires to the world would severely dampen his uncanny ability to blackmail others. He refused to accept the world for what it is; he believed he could change it using his power, so he was obsessed with maintaining that power. Roy Cohn was the purest form of an immoral being. He was, as Ton Kushner described him, "the polestar of human evil, he's like the worst human being who ever lived, he isn't humaneven, he's..." (Kushner 227) Roy Cohn was also a man with AIDS. The negatives of Roy’s past and personality come back to haunt him in the form of AIDS and the ghost of Ethel Rosenburg, who appears to torment Roy in his last days of life. Roy Cohn detests the hospital scene because in his eyes, it represents weakness. The hospital is a place where all physical power in the world is taken from a man. Relying on others for care and comfort is not an idea Roy Cohn takes easily to. He believes true strength can only come from being independent and relying on one’s self. He does not realize that all humans need to collaborate to better themselves. Roy Cohn’s body is too sick - too immoral - for the world, so it gives in and becomes part of another. Tony Kushner bestows Roy with this disease as a warning to humanity: immorality, if left unchecked, will be the end of all things. If all hell continued to progress in America, America would be the next body to collapse from sickness.
Tony Kushner delivers an ironically unforeseen message along with the creation of the character Norman Arriaga - or to his friends, Belize. Belize is Roy Cohn's primary caregiver when he is admitted with “liver cancer.” Belize is an angel in America. He is discriminated against in society, but that does not stop him from living his life with dignity and pride. He cares for every being that crosses his path, even the unpleasant beings, even Roy Cohn. Belize may abhor a person he is treating, but he will still treat them, and treat them well, because they are human, and all humans are interconnected. Belize's work goes mostly unnoticed throughout the play. He has three main relationships in the play: he is Roy Cohn's nurse, Louis Ironson's acquaintance, and Prior Walter's friend. Belize's relationship with Roy can be described as two immense and opposing forces of the world colliding. "Roy: Find the vein, you moron, don't start jabbing that goddamned spigot in my arm till you find the fucking vein or I'll sue you so bad they'll reposses your teeth you dim black motherf . . . Belize: Watch. Yourself. You don't talk that way to me when I'm holding something this sharp. Or I might slip and stick it in your heart. If you have a heart." (Kushner 157). The two more or less can only stand to be in the same room because Roy Cohn cannot physically stand, and Belize has so much self-control that he can still treat quite possibly the most offensive person on the planet. Belize and Louis' relationship can be seen as that of a teacher and a student who does not understand the concepts being taught. Time and time again throughout the play Belize and Louis collide, but Belize always goes back to try and help Louis, no matter how many times he offends him. Belize cares enough, even about the sad miserable spectacle that is Louis Ironson, to try and make him understand the concept of love. Neither Louis nor Roy ever thanks Belize once for his angelic deeds or character. The two are far too caught up in their own miserable lives to ponder, even for the slightest moment of time, the amazing character that Belize is. Not once in the play does another person deliberately acknowledge Belize’s angelic tendencies. Tony's message is now clear: the good of the world goes much unnoticed.
The key word is much- for there is one character in Angelsin Americawho understands how wonderful Belize is. Prior's relationship with Belize is that of a supreme friendship. Belize speaks to Prior in French, "the language of love," and Prior responds to him in French as well. The two only ever speak French when they address one another. No other character has the privilege of hearing "je t'aime" come from Prior Walter's lips. Though Prior never acknowledges Belize’s incredible caring for him directly in the text, he does so indirectly in his speech. Prior Walter is a prophet. He speaks the word of Tony Kushner. He is an honest man who stays true to himself, and who accepts the world for what it is. He is a homosexual and he is proud. Early in the play he informs his lover, Louis, of his disease. AIDS horrifies Louis, and he abandons Prior, which causes him great emotional pain and suffering. When Louis tries to return to Prior, he rejects the offer. Prior Walter believes in a true form of love – a mere disease cannot frighten one who is truly cares for another person away. While Prior is resting peacefully in bed, an angel comes to visit Prior, and she informs him, “I am here to make you a Prophet to the world. God has abandoned us in heaven so we need to stop life on Earth to find him once more. You are to tell the world that it is ending.” Prior rejects this task, and goes to heaven personally to correct the ways of the angels. He reveals to them, “We can’t just stop. We’re not rocks – progress, migration, motion is… modernity. It’s animate, it’s what living things do. We desire. Even if all we desire is stillness, it’s still desire for. Even if we go faster than we should. We can’t wait. And wait for what? God…” (Kushner 264). The world may be a dreadful place at times, but it always moves forward. Prior realizes that he wants to move forward with the world, because he is a part of it. He is addicted to life. The angels grant him his wish, and he returns to Earth. Though Prior denies his role of prophesy, he is still a prophet to the world. His new, and Tony Kushner's true, message is: accept the world for what it is, for it keeps spinning, and it only spins forward. Prior despises the hospital because it is the physical representation of the immorality of the world. People are sick and dying of an unknown disease and most doctors can only think of the sexual preference of the person who is sick, their paycheck, or some other trivial idea that should not matter in the least.
Emily is Prior’s nurse. She is an Italian-American woman who is generally so busy caring for people in the hospital that she hardly has time for many lines in the play. Emily’s character is played by the actor who additionally plays the role of the angel in Angels in America, so the angel can be inferred as Prior’s nurse. The angel takes care of Prior in the form of care he entirely needs - she tends to his broken heart. After Louis’ betrayal, Prior believes that life is over. Because Prior is such a pure man, the angel attempts to make him a prophet, and by doing so Prior realizes that the world only moves forward. He can move on without Louis, the world is not over. He can live with AIDS, the world is not over. This realization makes Prior want to continue living, and it makes him accept the world for what it is. The acceptance of the world is what convinces the angels to allow Prior to continue living life and deny the prophesy. Prior’s body may be sick, but his mind is not, so he can continue living in this world.
Though Prior Walter and Roy Cohn are complete opposites, they are bound by one thing: they both have AIDS. If two polarly opposite people can be connected, even in the slightest fashion, all humans must be intertwined somehow. If a single member of the human species falls ill to a disease, the others should come to his or her aid, even if for the mere sake of logic, if not for the sake of morality. A disease affects many more than those who physically have it. A disease affects every person, and ignoring those who are in need of aid because they are different in any superficial way is absolutely immoral and ignorant. Humans will deteriorate over time, like Roy Cohn’s body, if they do not take care of one another morally, physically, or spiritually.
Emily and Belize are the physical representations of angels on the Earth. These two act as a guiding light for Prior and Roy, yet Roy is far too ignorant to follow his guide, and his ignorance becomes the end of him. Prior follows the light, and he is rewarded with a satisfying life. Emily and Belize are both are powerless characters in society. The powerless of the world bear the burden of nurturing humanity’s sins.
Only those who are strong and true may survive in this world, because the world only moves forward. It does not wait for those who are faint of heart, and those who are faint will deteriorate over time, until the body that binds them together no longer exists.
Works Cited
The Age of AIDS: Part One. By William Cran and Renata Simone. FRONTLINE, 2006. DVD.
Alyson, Sasha, ed. The Alyson Almanac. Boston, Massachussetts: Alyson Publications, Inc, 1993. Print.
Ciment, James, ed. "Healthcare: Cost Concerns and Policy Changes From 1969-1991." Social Issues In America, An Enclycopedia. Vol. 4. Armonk, New York: M.E Sharpe Inc, 2006. 849-51. Print.
Ciment, James, ed. "HIV/AIDS: 1980s: Overcoming Fear and Denial." Social Issues In America, An Encyclopedia. Vol. 1. Armonk, New York: M.E. Sharpe Inc, 2006. 67. Print.
Kushner, Tony. Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes. New York, New York: Theatre Communications Group, Ice, 1995. Print.
"Roy Cohn." Porter Core Reader(2009). Print.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Bad Paper #2 - Draft #3
not really different - think I'm only going to turn in two drafts
Lisette Mulvey would be a typical middle school student if she didn't have have to worry about getting prescription eye drops, about her scars, or the dead nerves in her face. She would be a typical middle school student if her father hadn't have broken her eye socket, nose, and mentally damaged her for life. She'd be normal if she didn't have to wear dark-purple tinted prescription glasses, and if her vision wasn't horribly clouded and blurred. She'd be just like everyone else at her tender age of thirteen years if she realized that her life is horribly void of a responsible, sane, parental figure. But, Lisette Mulvey is not a typical middle school student - she is the protagonist of Joyce Carol Oates' short story, ID.
Among her other issues, her parents are divorced, her mother goes out with whoever, whenever, and does whatever, without telling her daughter when or even if she will be returning, and her father is a figure existent only in her thoughts, because as far as she knows, he is a sergeant in the Army. Yet, somehow, this girl thinks that her life is not so terrible. She's more concerned about boys, her friends, and being "mature." In the story, these issues are the only ones that Lisette actually acknowledges. This poor being has far more problems than she cares to see, and Joyce litters her work with clues alluding to Lisette's additional unmentioned issues.
The first issue not directly addressed by Lisette is her rather lacking ability in determining character. Lisette is interested in a boy by the name of JC - a boy who has been held back for multiple years, so he is significantly older than the other students and therefore more likely to exploit a younger girl, a boy when asked if he had ever shot a person who just just shrugs and laughs, and a boy who the other students know as a person that “you didn't trifle with.” Lisette doesn't see the problems that could arise by trusting this boy - she only sees his "silky black hair falling across his forehead," but because Oates implements the other, more negative details, the reader is clued in on Lisette's fault.
The second issue that Lisette does not see, but the reader does, is the fact that her father has some severe problems with controlling his anger. She cannot see that the fact that her father "[was] shouting behind her, swiping with his fists - not meaning to hit her" as a complication in her life. She loves her father, and thinks that, "Daddy didn't mean to hurt me." Oates' descriptions of the event once again, clue the reader in on the true conditions of Lisette's life.
Lisette's mother is the central issue the entire story. She tells her daughter that she is a blackjack dealer at the Casino Royale. There are many clues that inform the reader that Lisette is not being told the truth about her mother's profession. Her mother has never given a direct answer to Lisette's questions about what she does for a living, and furthermore, her mother does not want her to wear lipstick, a common symbol of the desire to be sexual. Now - these two clues don't seem to be too significant in determining what Lisette's mother does for a living, but additional clues revealed at the climax of the story tie everything together. A dead woman is found in a drainage ditch outside of a sleazy motel -- not an uncommon place for a freshly slain hooker -- and Lisette is brought to a morgue to identify this woman. Lisette is shown a red jacket and a handbag, in which there is a wallet, in which there is an ID. The jacket, handbag, and wallet resemble garments owned by Lisette's mother, and the ID is revealed to be Yevette Muvley's. Lisette's mother is a dead prostitute. Yet, when even presented with her mother's dead mangled corpse, she cannot see that her life is horrible.
Lisette is blind, and Oates even alludes to her blindness in multiple ways. Glasses are a common symbol for needing aid with seeing correctly, and Lisette dons her glasses everyday, all day. Lisette also identifies people by their features, race, and sex. She does not once mention that she knows a person in her life by their personality. She is blind to characteristics that make people who they truly are. Additionally, Oates employs the color purple to identify negative things in Lisette's life. Lisette's lipstick is a luscious purple color, and Lisette's mother, in a flash back, leaves purple kiss marks all over her then husband, and even Lisette's glasses' lenses' are tinted purple.
Because this girl is so blind to the terrible circumstances of her life, she has the ability to deny her reality. And she does not deny this reality because she is a young girl, and therefore immature, she denies it because the denial of things that are detrimental in life was actively practiced by her mother. Lisette's mother knew who and what she was - but she told her daughter otherwise. She never admitted that she was a prostitute. She was a "blackjack dealer" at a "casino."
In the end, when Lisette is confronted with her mother's dead body, she cannot cope with the truth. She denies the truth again and again, telling herself that it is not possible, because her mother just simply cannot be the "thing" on the steel table. She instantaneously is taken to a bathroom, where she almost throws up. Almost - Lisette catches herself. That corpse was not her mother. She then demands to be taken back to her school, so she can continue living her life. She wants to see JC, and eat lunch. When she arrives, Lisette's friend Keisha inquires if she is “O.K.” to which she replies, while laughing into the “bright buzzing blur,” “Sure I'm O.K. Hell, why not?” She returns to the girl who knows only what she has seen, and she had not seen her mother earlier that morning. She continues to live in a daze, in denial, and blindly. She refuses to cope with the reality of her life. And that's the end of Joyce Carol Oates' tale.
Now, every work is created for a reason - whether for simple pleasure, or to teach a lesson, or some other reason. This work, ID, was written to make its readers think. It was written to make its readers think about the true circumstances of their own lives, and how they deal with them. Lisette's story is simply the means in which Oates uses to begin the train of thought.
Oates, Joyce Carol. "ID." The New Yorker 29 Mar. 2010: 80-88. Print.
Self-Assessment Questions:
What are the strengths of your writing? Which parts work well, and which parts work best?
-- Once again I feel as if my voice is my strong point. I also feel like this essay is a little more clear than the last I wrote. I don't really know, but I also feel like the fact that my character's life is so screwed up helps keep the reader interested. I also like my introduction, I feel that it would grab interest well.
What heights did you reach for? How much did you challenge yourself in this writing?
-- Again, I tried my best. I think I challenged myself to a degree that I am content with, considering ID was not very simple to analyze.
Which elements, devices, punctuation, or rhetorical effects from Gorrell did you use?
-- I feel like this paper again, uses dashes a lot, and alliteration (not nearly as much as the last!), and all the common things I do...
Which parts did you have trouble developing?
-- I had crazy amounts of trouble structuring this paper, and keeping my focus. I find it difficult to make and follow my own prompts. Hopefully the paper makes more sense now. :)
Which mental processes did you sue during the drafting?
-- I did a few outlines for this paper. One on paper, and another on my laptop, per draft.
How many hours did you spend on it? How did you allocate your time?
-- I spent a hefty amount of time on this paper because my second draft is almost a complete rewrite. I feel like the times when I worked the hardest were when I was figuring out what to write about and how to write about it. Once I had my structure and idea down it wasn't so bad.
Is there anything in particular you'd like me to attend to as I read?
-- I really like the phrase "freshly slain hooker." It makes me happy.
Whom would you acknowledge as helpers? Sources? Someone who gave you an idea? Peer edited?
-- This time, I wrote some of my paper in Porter's 5th floor lounge (which is full of my friends, among other people) and asked those who were present from time to time if what I was saying made sense, and I somewhat used them as a thesaurus. My peer editors also helped me quite a bit this time by simply telling me, "I don't get it. Can you explain this more?"
Lisette Mulvey would be a typical middle school student if she didn't have have to worry about getting prescription eye drops, about her scars, or the dead nerves in her face. She would be a typical middle school student if her father hadn't have broken her eye socket, nose, and mentally damaged her for life. She'd be normal if she didn't have to wear dark-purple tinted prescription glasses, and if her vision wasn't horribly clouded and blurred. She'd be just like everyone else at her tender age of thirteen years if she realized that her life is horribly void of a responsible, sane, parental figure. But, Lisette Mulvey is not a typical middle school student - she is the protagonist of Joyce Carol Oates' short story, ID.
Among her other issues, her parents are divorced, her mother goes out with whoever, whenever, and does whatever, without telling her daughter when or even if she will be returning, and her father is a figure existent only in her thoughts, because as far as she knows, he is a sergeant in the Army. Yet, somehow, this girl thinks that her life is not so terrible. She's more concerned about boys, her friends, and being "mature." In the story, these issues are the only ones that Lisette actually acknowledges. This poor being has far more problems than she cares to see, and Joyce litters her work with clues alluding to Lisette's additional unmentioned issues.
The first issue not directly addressed by Lisette is her rather lacking ability in determining character. Lisette is interested in a boy by the name of JC - a boy who has been held back for multiple years, so he is significantly older than the other students and therefore more likely to exploit a younger girl, a boy when asked if he had ever shot a person who just just shrugs and laughs, and a boy who the other students know as a person that “you didn't trifle with.” Lisette doesn't see the problems that could arise by trusting this boy - she only sees his "silky black hair falling across his forehead," but because Oates implements the other, more negative details, the reader is clued in on Lisette's fault.
The second issue that Lisette does not see, but the reader does, is the fact that her father has some severe problems with controlling his anger. She cannot see that the fact that her father "[was] shouting behind her, swiping with his fists - not meaning to hit her" as a complication in her life. She loves her father, and thinks that, "Daddy didn't mean to hurt me." Oates' descriptions of the event once again, clue the reader in on the true conditions of Lisette's life.
Lisette's mother is the central issue the entire story. She tells her daughter that she is a blackjack dealer at the Casino Royale. There are many clues that inform the reader that Lisette is not being told the truth about her mother's profession. Her mother has never given a direct answer to Lisette's questions about what she does for a living, and furthermore, her mother does not want her to wear lipstick, a common symbol of the desire to be sexual. Now - these two clues don't seem to be too significant in determining what Lisette's mother does for a living, but additional clues revealed at the climax of the story tie everything together. A dead woman is found in a drainage ditch outside of a sleazy motel -- not an uncommon place for a freshly slain hooker -- and Lisette is brought to a morgue to identify this woman. Lisette is shown a red jacket and a handbag, in which there is a wallet, in which there is an ID. The jacket, handbag, and wallet resemble garments owned by Lisette's mother, and the ID is revealed to be Yevette Muvley's. Lisette's mother is a dead prostitute. Yet, when even presented with her mother's dead mangled corpse, she cannot see that her life is horrible.
Lisette is blind, and Oates even alludes to her blindness in multiple ways. Glasses are a common symbol for needing aid with seeing correctly, and Lisette dons her glasses everyday, all day. Lisette also identifies people by their features, race, and sex. She does not once mention that she knows a person in her life by their personality. She is blind to characteristics that make people who they truly are. Additionally, Oates employs the color purple to identify negative things in Lisette's life. Lisette's lipstick is a luscious purple color, and Lisette's mother, in a flash back, leaves purple kiss marks all over her then husband, and even Lisette's glasses' lenses' are tinted purple.
Because this girl is so blind to the terrible circumstances of her life, she has the ability to deny her reality. And she does not deny this reality because she is a young girl, and therefore immature, she denies it because the denial of things that are detrimental in life was actively practiced by her mother. Lisette's mother knew who and what she was - but she told her daughter otherwise. She never admitted that she was a prostitute. She was a "blackjack dealer" at a "casino."
In the end, when Lisette is confronted with her mother's dead body, she cannot cope with the truth. She denies the truth again and again, telling herself that it is not possible, because her mother just simply cannot be the "thing" on the steel table. She instantaneously is taken to a bathroom, where she almost throws up. Almost - Lisette catches herself. That corpse was not her mother. She then demands to be taken back to her school, so she can continue living her life. She wants to see JC, and eat lunch. When she arrives, Lisette's friend Keisha inquires if she is “O.K.” to which she replies, while laughing into the “bright buzzing blur,” “Sure I'm O.K. Hell, why not?” She returns to the girl who knows only what she has seen, and she had not seen her mother earlier that morning. She continues to live in a daze, in denial, and blindly. She refuses to cope with the reality of her life. And that's the end of Joyce Carol Oates' tale.
Now, every work is created for a reason - whether for simple pleasure, or to teach a lesson, or some other reason. This work, ID, was written to make its readers think. It was written to make its readers think about the true circumstances of their own lives, and how they deal with them. Lisette's story is simply the means in which Oates uses to begin the train of thought.
Oates, Joyce Carol. "ID." The New Yorker 29 Mar. 2010: 80-88. Print.
Self-Assessment Questions:
What are the strengths of your writing? Which parts work well, and which parts work best?
-- Once again I feel as if my voice is my strong point. I also feel like this essay is a little more clear than the last I wrote. I don't really know, but I also feel like the fact that my character's life is so screwed up helps keep the reader interested. I also like my introduction, I feel that it would grab interest well.
What heights did you reach for? How much did you challenge yourself in this writing?
-- Again, I tried my best. I think I challenged myself to a degree that I am content with, considering ID was not very simple to analyze.
Which elements, devices, punctuation, or rhetorical effects from Gorrell did you use?
-- I feel like this paper again, uses dashes a lot, and alliteration (not nearly as much as the last!), and all the common things I do...
Which parts did you have trouble developing?
-- I had crazy amounts of trouble structuring this paper, and keeping my focus. I find it difficult to make and follow my own prompts. Hopefully the paper makes more sense now. :)
Which mental processes did you sue during the drafting?
-- I did a few outlines for this paper. One on paper, and another on my laptop, per draft.
How many hours did you spend on it? How did you allocate your time?
-- I spent a hefty amount of time on this paper because my second draft is almost a complete rewrite. I feel like the times when I worked the hardest were when I was figuring out what to write about and how to write about it. Once I had my structure and idea down it wasn't so bad.
Is there anything in particular you'd like me to attend to as I read?
-- I really like the phrase "freshly slain hooker." It makes me happy.
Whom would you acknowledge as helpers? Sources? Someone who gave you an idea? Peer edited?
-- This time, I wrote some of my paper in Porter's 5th floor lounge (which is full of my friends, among other people) and asked those who were present from time to time if what I was saying made sense, and I somewhat used them as a thesaurus. My peer editors also helped me quite a bit this time by simply telling me, "I don't get it. Can you explain this more?"
Bad Paper #2 - Draft #2
Lisette Mulvey would be a typical middle school student if she didn't have have to worry about getting prescription eye drops, about her scars, or the dead nerves in her face. She would be a typical middle school student if her father hadn't have broken her eye socket, nose, and mentally damaged her for life. She'd be normal if she didn't have to wear dark-purple tinted prescription glasses, and if her vision wasn't horribly clouded and blurred. She'd be just like everyone else at her tender age of thirteen years if she realized that her life is horribly void of a responsible, sane, parental figure. But, Lisette Mulvey is not a typical middle school student - she is the protagonist of Joyce Carol Oates' short story, ID.
Among her other issues, her parents are divorced, her mother goes out with whoever, whenever, and does whatever, without telling her daughter when or even if she will be returning, and her father is a figure existent only in her thoughts, because as far as she knows, he is a sergeant in the Army. Yet, somehow, this girl thinks that her life is not so terrible. She's more concerned about boys, her friends, and being "mature." In the story, these are the only things that Lisette actually acknowledges. This poor being has far more problems than she cares to see, and Joyce litters her work with clues alluding to Lisette's additional not mentioned issues.
The first issue not directly addressed by Lisette is her rather lacking ability in determining character. Lisette is interested in a boy by the name of JC - a boy who has been held back for multiple years, so he is significantly older than the other students and therefore more likely to exploit a younger girl, a boy when asked if he had ever shot a person who just just shrugs and laughs, and a boy who the other students know as a person that “you didn't trifle with.” Lisette doesn't see the issues with this boy - she only sees his "silky black hair falling across his forehead," but because Oates implements the other, more negative details, the reader is clued in on Lisette's fault.
The second issue that Lisette does not see, but the reader does, is the fact that her father has some problems with controlling his anger. She cannot see that the fact that her father "[was] shouting behind her, swiping with his fists - not meaning to hit her" as a complication in her life. She loves her father, and thinks that, "Daddy didn't mean to hurt me." Oates' descriptions of the event once again, clue the reader in on the true conditions of Lisette's life.
Lisette's mother is the central issue the entire story. She tells her daughter that she is a blackjack dealer at the Casino Royale. There are many clues that inform the reader that Lisette is not being told the truth about her mother's profession. Her mother has never given a direct answer to Lisette's questions about what she does for a living, and furthermore, her mother does not want her to wear lipstick, a common symbol of the desire to be sexual. Now - these two clues don't seem to be too significant in determining what Lisette's mother does for a living, but additional clues revealed at the climax of the story tie everything together. A dead woman is found in a drainage ditch outside of a sleazy motel -- not an uncommon place for a freshly slain hooker -- and Lisette is brought to a morgue to identify this woman. Lisette is shown a red jacket and a handbag, in which there is a wallet, in which there is an ID. The jacket, handbag, and wallet resemble garments owned by Lisette's mother, and the ID is revealed to be Yevette Muvley's. Lisette's mother is a dead prostitute. Yet, when even presented with her mother's dead mangled corpse, she cannot see that her life is horrible.
Lisette is blind, and Oates even alludes to her blindness in multiple ways. Glasses are a common symbol for needing aid with seeing correctly, and Lisette wears her glasses everyday, all day. Lisette also identifies people by their features, race, and sex. She does not once mention that she knows a person in her life by their personality. She is blind to characteristics that make people who they truly are. Additionally, Oates employs the color purple to identify negative things in Lisette's life. Lisette's lipstick is a luscious purple color, and Lisette's mother, in a flash back, leaves purple kiss marks all over her then husband, and even Lisette's glasses' lenses' are tinted purple.
Because this girl is so blind to the terrible circumstances of her life, she can deny her reality. And she does not deny this reality because she is a young girl, and therefore immature, she denies it because the denial of things that are detrimental in life was actively practiced by her mother. Lisette's mother knew who and what she was - but she told her daughter otherwise. She never admitted that she was a prostitute. She was a "blackjack dealer" at a "casino."
In the end, when Lisette is confronted with her mother's dead body, she cannot cope with the truth. She denies the truth again and again, telling herself that it is not possible, because her mother just simply cannot be the "thing" on the steel table. She instantaneously is taken to a bathroom, where she almost throws up. Almost - Lisette catches herself. That corpse was not her mother. She then demands to be taken back to her school, so she can continue living her life. She wants to see JC, and eat lunch. When she arrives, Lisette's friend Keisha inquires if she is “O.K.” to which she replies, while laughing into the “bright buzzing blur,” “Sure I'm O.K. Hell, why not?” She returns to the girl who knows only what she has seen, and she had not seen her mother earlier that morning. She continues to live in a daze. She refuses to cope with the reality of her life. And that's the end of Joyce Carol Oates' tale.
Every work is created for a reason - whether for simple pleasure, or to teach a lesson, or some other reason. This work, ID, was written to make its readers think. It was written to make its readers think about the true circumstances of their own lives, and how they deal with them. Lisette's story is simply the means in which Oates uses to begin the train of thought.
Oates, Joyce Carol. "ID." The New Yorker 29 Mar. 2010: 80-88. Print.
Among her other issues, her parents are divorced, her mother goes out with whoever, whenever, and does whatever, without telling her daughter when or even if she will be returning, and her father is a figure existent only in her thoughts, because as far as she knows, he is a sergeant in the Army. Yet, somehow, this girl thinks that her life is not so terrible. She's more concerned about boys, her friends, and being "mature." In the story, these are the only things that Lisette actually acknowledges. This poor being has far more problems than she cares to see, and Joyce litters her work with clues alluding to Lisette's additional not mentioned issues.
The first issue not directly addressed by Lisette is her rather lacking ability in determining character. Lisette is interested in a boy by the name of JC - a boy who has been held back for multiple years, so he is significantly older than the other students and therefore more likely to exploit a younger girl, a boy when asked if he had ever shot a person who just just shrugs and laughs, and a boy who the other students know as a person that “you didn't trifle with.” Lisette doesn't see the issues with this boy - she only sees his "silky black hair falling across his forehead," but because Oates implements the other, more negative details, the reader is clued in on Lisette's fault.
The second issue that Lisette does not see, but the reader does, is the fact that her father has some problems with controlling his anger. She cannot see that the fact that her father "[was] shouting behind her, swiping with his fists - not meaning to hit her" as a complication in her life. She loves her father, and thinks that, "Daddy didn't mean to hurt me." Oates' descriptions of the event once again, clue the reader in on the true conditions of Lisette's life.
Lisette's mother is the central issue the entire story. She tells her daughter that she is a blackjack dealer at the Casino Royale. There are many clues that inform the reader that Lisette is not being told the truth about her mother's profession. Her mother has never given a direct answer to Lisette's questions about what she does for a living, and furthermore, her mother does not want her to wear lipstick, a common symbol of the desire to be sexual. Now - these two clues don't seem to be too significant in determining what Lisette's mother does for a living, but additional clues revealed at the climax of the story tie everything together. A dead woman is found in a drainage ditch outside of a sleazy motel -- not an uncommon place for a freshly slain hooker -- and Lisette is brought to a morgue to identify this woman. Lisette is shown a red jacket and a handbag, in which there is a wallet, in which there is an ID. The jacket, handbag, and wallet resemble garments owned by Lisette's mother, and the ID is revealed to be Yevette Muvley's. Lisette's mother is a dead prostitute. Yet, when even presented with her mother's dead mangled corpse, she cannot see that her life is horrible.
Lisette is blind, and Oates even alludes to her blindness in multiple ways. Glasses are a common symbol for needing aid with seeing correctly, and Lisette wears her glasses everyday, all day. Lisette also identifies people by their features, race, and sex. She does not once mention that she knows a person in her life by their personality. She is blind to characteristics that make people who they truly are. Additionally, Oates employs the color purple to identify negative things in Lisette's life. Lisette's lipstick is a luscious purple color, and Lisette's mother, in a flash back, leaves purple kiss marks all over her then husband, and even Lisette's glasses' lenses' are tinted purple.
Because this girl is so blind to the terrible circumstances of her life, she can deny her reality. And she does not deny this reality because she is a young girl, and therefore immature, she denies it because the denial of things that are detrimental in life was actively practiced by her mother. Lisette's mother knew who and what she was - but she told her daughter otherwise. She never admitted that she was a prostitute. She was a "blackjack dealer" at a "casino."
In the end, when Lisette is confronted with her mother's dead body, she cannot cope with the truth. She denies the truth again and again, telling herself that it is not possible, because her mother just simply cannot be the "thing" on the steel table. She instantaneously is taken to a bathroom, where she almost throws up. Almost - Lisette catches herself. That corpse was not her mother. She then demands to be taken back to her school, so she can continue living her life. She wants to see JC, and eat lunch. When she arrives, Lisette's friend Keisha inquires if she is “O.K.” to which she replies, while laughing into the “bright buzzing blur,” “Sure I'm O.K. Hell, why not?” She returns to the girl who knows only what she has seen, and she had not seen her mother earlier that morning. She continues to live in a daze. She refuses to cope with the reality of her life. And that's the end of Joyce Carol Oates' tale.
Every work is created for a reason - whether for simple pleasure, or to teach a lesson, or some other reason. This work, ID, was written to make its readers think. It was written to make its readers think about the true circumstances of their own lives, and how they deal with them. Lisette's story is simply the means in which Oates uses to begin the train of thought.
Oates, Joyce Carol. "ID." The New Yorker 29 Mar. 2010: 80-88. Print.
Monday, May 10, 2010
I Am Still
Just a sad, scared, lonely little girl
...in a world far too harsh for my feeble mind.
When will it end? When can I live again?
...in a world far too harsh for my feeble mind.
When will it end? When can I live again?
Bad Paper #2
Darlene McCoy
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
6 May 2010
Dear Reality, You've Been Denied!
As the story ID, by Joyce Carol Oates opens, readers are taken to a 7th grade math class where they find a mildly buzzed protagonist working hard to pass a lusciously purple kiss imprinted on a Kleenex to a boy “you didn't trifle with” who went by the name of JC. When there is a knock at the classroom door her teacher, Ms. Nowicki, goes to open it, and this protagonist, Lisette, takes her chance. The boy receives the note, crumples it, and shoves it in his pocket. She then hears her name called by the figures at the door - two police officers. The officers take Lisette to the local hospital, and proceed downstairs to the morgue. Lisette is asked to identify a woman's body - potentially her mother's. When she observes the body, Lisette instantaneously denies that it could even possibly be her mother. Lisette cannot see - she cannot even begin to think that her mother is the mangled corpse sprawled out on the steel bed.
Lisette Mulvey would be a typical middle schooler if she didn't have have to worry about getting prescription eye drops, didn't have to worry about her scars, or the dead nerves in her face. Lisette Mulvey would be a typical middle schooler if her father hadn't have broken her eye socket, nose, and mentally damaged her for life. She wouldn't have to wear dark-purple tinted prescription glasses. Her vision wouldn't be horribly clouded. She'd be just like everyone else - infatuated with her looks, and what the boys thought when they looked at her.
The glasses and injury that set her apart are a symbol of Lisette's inability to conscientiously identify her world. She cannot see that JC will exploit or potentially hurt her in the future. She cannot see that her father has anger issues. She cannot see that her mother is dead, even when her corpse is thrust before her eyes. She only sees what she wants, and anything else, well, just does not exist. She does not accept anything that is potentially detrimental to her life. She simply lives, day by day, not even caring for which day it is, dazed by her own actions, and sometimes, other forms of intoxication. How do we, then, as readers know that these terrible things are true?
Oates guides us to these conclusions by adding tidbits of information to her story. In the case of JC, Oates includes one sentence that undoubtedly lets us know who he is: "A girl had asked JC if he'd ever shot anybody and JC had just shrugged and laughed." Most 7th graders don't shoot people, or even know how to use a gun, or for that matter, own guns. Lisette's own description of how she came across her injuries reveals her father's issues, and even more so, her inability to realize those issues. "Daddy [was] shouting behind her, swiping with his fists - not meaning to hit her." There are many clues sprinkled into the entire short story that lead to the conclusion that the dead woman in the morgue is Lisette's mother. The fact that she disappears randomly for unknown numbers of days, the fact that she finds ways to weasel out of answering direct questions about her profession, and the fact that Lisette's mother doesn't want her to wear lipstick are all subtle clues to her prostitution. And this dead woman was found in a drainage ditch behind a sleazy motel -- not an uncommon resting place for a freshly slain hooker. Mentioning that the wallet found near the corpse carried the ID of Yvette Mulvey could even be considered a not-so-subtle hint, yet Lisette still refuses to see any connections between any of the aforementioned ideas.
When Lisette is finally confronted with the issues surrounding her parents, she cannot cope with the ideas presented to her. Officer Molina, the cop that is most focused on in the story, tells Lisette that her father is not, in fact, a sergeant in the army anymore, but that he has been AWOL from his position for a year. She is so shocked that she begins to shiver furiously. She cannot control the truth. Next, the officer leads her over to the corpse. Lisette looks over the body, thinking that, “This was not a woman, but a thing – you could not really believe that it had ever been a woman. Some sad, pathetic, broken female, like debris washed up on the shore.” She begins gagging, and the officer leads her to a restroom in case of vomiting. Lisette demands to be taken back to school, taken back to JC. The officers comply, and when she arrives, Lisette's friend Keisha inquires if she is “O.K.” to which Lisette replies, while laughing into the “bright buzzing blur,” “Sure I'm O.K. Hell, why not?” She returns to the girl who knows only what she has seen, and she had not seen her mother earlier that morning. She continues to live in a daze. She refuses to cope with the reality of her life.
And who could blame her? Her mother was a prostitute, found dead in a ditch, her father was a raging lunatic with anger issues, and from the way her life is going, she herself will possibly follow in her mother's footsteps, her first client being JC. She has nobody, no one, not one person in the world to turn to. Nobody to take her to get her prescription eye drops, nobody to tell her to care enough about herself to wash, nobody to tell her what's right from wrong. Is it okay for this girl to just deny reality, because hers is so horrid, or should she try to confront it and conquer it?
Lisette Mulvey is used as the protagonist in Joyce Carol Oates' short story, ID, to explore how this grimy, grungy girl copes when the true circumstances of her life are shoved in her face, like a plate of freshly prepared worms, still squirming. And through her experience -- readers are forced to attempt to identify their own "true circumstances,” and ponder the idea of denying reality.
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
6 May 2010
Dear Reality, You've Been Denied!
As the story ID, by Joyce Carol Oates opens, readers are taken to a 7th grade math class where they find a mildly buzzed protagonist working hard to pass a lusciously purple kiss imprinted on a Kleenex to a boy “you didn't trifle with” who went by the name of JC. When there is a knock at the classroom door her teacher, Ms. Nowicki, goes to open it, and this protagonist, Lisette, takes her chance. The boy receives the note, crumples it, and shoves it in his pocket. She then hears her name called by the figures at the door - two police officers. The officers take Lisette to the local hospital, and proceed downstairs to the morgue. Lisette is asked to identify a woman's body - potentially her mother's. When she observes the body, Lisette instantaneously denies that it could even possibly be her mother. Lisette cannot see - she cannot even begin to think that her mother is the mangled corpse sprawled out on the steel bed.
Lisette Mulvey would be a typical middle schooler if she didn't have have to worry about getting prescription eye drops, didn't have to worry about her scars, or the dead nerves in her face. Lisette Mulvey would be a typical middle schooler if her father hadn't have broken her eye socket, nose, and mentally damaged her for life. She wouldn't have to wear dark-purple tinted prescription glasses. Her vision wouldn't be horribly clouded. She'd be just like everyone else - infatuated with her looks, and what the boys thought when they looked at her.
The glasses and injury that set her apart are a symbol of Lisette's inability to conscientiously identify her world. She cannot see that JC will exploit or potentially hurt her in the future. She cannot see that her father has anger issues. She cannot see that her mother is dead, even when her corpse is thrust before her eyes. She only sees what she wants, and anything else, well, just does not exist. She does not accept anything that is potentially detrimental to her life. She simply lives, day by day, not even caring for which day it is, dazed by her own actions, and sometimes, other forms of intoxication. How do we, then, as readers know that these terrible things are true?
Oates guides us to these conclusions by adding tidbits of information to her story. In the case of JC, Oates includes one sentence that undoubtedly lets us know who he is: "A girl had asked JC if he'd ever shot anybody and JC had just shrugged and laughed." Most 7th graders don't shoot people, or even know how to use a gun, or for that matter, own guns. Lisette's own description of how she came across her injuries reveals her father's issues, and even more so, her inability to realize those issues. "Daddy [was] shouting behind her, swiping with his fists - not meaning to hit her." There are many clues sprinkled into the entire short story that lead to the conclusion that the dead woman in the morgue is Lisette's mother. The fact that she disappears randomly for unknown numbers of days, the fact that she finds ways to weasel out of answering direct questions about her profession, and the fact that Lisette's mother doesn't want her to wear lipstick are all subtle clues to her prostitution. And this dead woman was found in a drainage ditch behind a sleazy motel -- not an uncommon resting place for a freshly slain hooker. Mentioning that the wallet found near the corpse carried the ID of Yvette Mulvey could even be considered a not-so-subtle hint, yet Lisette still refuses to see any connections between any of the aforementioned ideas.
When Lisette is finally confronted with the issues surrounding her parents, she cannot cope with the ideas presented to her. Officer Molina, the cop that is most focused on in the story, tells Lisette that her father is not, in fact, a sergeant in the army anymore, but that he has been AWOL from his position for a year. She is so shocked that she begins to shiver furiously. She cannot control the truth. Next, the officer leads her over to the corpse. Lisette looks over the body, thinking that, “This was not a woman, but a thing – you could not really believe that it had ever been a woman. Some sad, pathetic, broken female, like debris washed up on the shore.” She begins gagging, and the officer leads her to a restroom in case of vomiting. Lisette demands to be taken back to school, taken back to JC. The officers comply, and when she arrives, Lisette's friend Keisha inquires if she is “O.K.” to which Lisette replies, while laughing into the “bright buzzing blur,” “Sure I'm O.K. Hell, why not?” She returns to the girl who knows only what she has seen, and she had not seen her mother earlier that morning. She continues to live in a daze. She refuses to cope with the reality of her life.
And who could blame her? Her mother was a prostitute, found dead in a ditch, her father was a raging lunatic with anger issues, and from the way her life is going, she herself will possibly follow in her mother's footsteps, her first client being JC. She has nobody, no one, not one person in the world to turn to. Nobody to take her to get her prescription eye drops, nobody to tell her to care enough about herself to wash, nobody to tell her what's right from wrong. Is it okay for this girl to just deny reality, because hers is so horrid, or should she try to confront it and conquer it?
Lisette Mulvey is used as the protagonist in Joyce Carol Oates' short story, ID, to explore how this grimy, grungy girl copes when the true circumstances of her life are shoved in her face, like a plate of freshly prepared worms, still squirming. And through her experience -- readers are forced to attempt to identify their own "true circumstances,” and ponder the idea of denying reality.
Friday, May 7, 2010
GOGOGOGOGO
Darlene McCoy
& Yani Pohl
Le 7 mai, 2010
Une petite dialogue!
Y : Bonjour Madame Antoinette, je m’appelle Yani. Comment allez-vous?
MA : Je ne suis pas bien. Je suis dans la terre!
Y : La terre? Ah non! Vouz étes mort?
MA : Oui, je suis morte.
Y : Qu'est que vous étes morte?
MA : Je suis morte le seize octobre, mille sept cent soixante trois.
Y : C'est un longtemps! Comment vous étes morte?
MA : J'ai perdu ma tête.
Y : Ta tête?! Ah non! C'est très violent! Qu'est que vous avez fait avant de perdre ta tête?
MA : J'ai pensé a ma vie. Je n'ai pas compris pourquoi ils n'ont pas envie de manger du gateau!
Y : Vraiment? Je me demande pourquoi. Et ton mari? Il a perdu sa tête aussi?
MA : Oui. Il l'a perdue aussi, neuf mois avant moi.
Y : Avez-vous eu des enfants avant que vous étes morte?
MA : Oui, j’ai eu duex petit fils, Louis-Joseph et Louis Charles et j’ai eu duex filles, Marie et Sophie.
Y : Je vois. Est-ce que vous avez eu une bonne vie?
MA : J'ai dansé chaque soir, j'ai mangé de la bonne noriture chaque jour, j'ai été la femme du roi. Ma vie a été bonne.
Y : Désolée pour vos morts ! Mais, j'ai besoin d'aller! Au revoir, madame!
& Yani Pohl
Le 7 mai, 2010
Une petite dialogue!
Y : Bonjour Madame Antoinette, je m’appelle Yani. Comment allez-vous?
MA : Je ne suis pas bien. Je suis dans la terre!
Y : La terre? Ah non! Vouz étes mort?
MA : Oui, je suis morte.
Y : Qu'est que vous étes morte?
MA : Je suis morte le seize octobre, mille sept cent soixante trois.
Y : C'est un longtemps! Comment vous étes morte?
MA : J'ai perdu ma tête.
Y : Ta tête?! Ah non! C'est très violent! Qu'est que vous avez fait avant de perdre ta tête?
MA : J'ai pensé a ma vie. Je n'ai pas compris pourquoi ils n'ont pas envie de manger du gateau!
Y : Vraiment? Je me demande pourquoi. Et ton mari? Il a perdu sa tête aussi?
MA : Oui. Il l'a perdue aussi, neuf mois avant moi.
Y : Avez-vous eu des enfants avant que vous étes morte?
MA : Oui, j’ai eu duex petit fils, Louis-Joseph et Louis Charles et j’ai eu duex filles, Marie et Sophie.
Y : Je vois. Est-ce que vous avez eu une bonne vie?
MA : J'ai dansé chaque soir, j'ai mangé de la bonne noriture chaque jour, j'ai été la femme du roi. Ma vie a été bonne.
Y : Désolée pour vos morts ! Mais, j'ai besoin d'aller! Au revoir, madame!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I FUCKING LOVE ROBOT UNICORN ATTACK
OH MY GOOD FREAKING GOD THIS IS THE BEST GAME EVER CREATED!
Highest score in one run so far: 33244
Yeah, bitches.
I roll unicorn.
(Best time killer EVER!)
Highest score in one run so far: 33244
Yeah, bitches.
I roll unicorn.
(Best time killer EVER!)
Tomorrow!
Are you thinkin' about tomorrow?
'Cause I'm thinkin' about tomorrow.
April 29th. Yep.
I'm thinkin' about tomorrow.
'Cause I'm thinkin' about tomorrow.
April 29th. Yep.
I'm thinkin' about tomorrow.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Rollin' Sad Panda...
...I feel like mostly everything I do is pointless.
Or more, I feel as if I have no connection to the things I do now days.
No direction, no purpose, I just do things.
I feel disconnected from life, from people, from the world.
I feel like an outsider, eavesdropping on a world that was never actually meant for me...
(Though, I'm sure, since I'm human, it kind of was meant for me...?)
Someone, please.
Just look at me once, look at me and care, look at me and want to hold my hand, tell me it'll be okay... I need a fucking rock.
I'm so tired of all these pebbles. I miss my rock. Rocks. Rocks. I like rocks.
I don't believe that Cameron actually liked me, even for a minute... not anymore. No more hope. Logan doesn't like me as anymore than a friend. I'm mostly sure of that now. Blarrrrrrrg.
Nobody asks why I look so God awfully depressed when I walk into the lounge - nope.
The lounge makes me so sad. I need to be away. Summer needs to come.
I miss my rock.
Rocks. They're good things.
~.~ @ life, yo.
Or more, I feel as if I have no connection to the things I do now days.
No direction, no purpose, I just do things.
I feel disconnected from life, from people, from the world.
I feel like an outsider, eavesdropping on a world that was never actually meant for me...
(Though, I'm sure, since I'm human, it kind of was meant for me...?)
Someone, please.
Just look at me once, look at me and care, look at me and want to hold my hand, tell me it'll be okay... I need a fucking rock.
I'm so tired of all these pebbles. I miss my rock. Rocks. Rocks. I like rocks.
I don't believe that Cameron actually liked me, even for a minute... not anymore. No more hope. Logan doesn't like me as anymore than a friend. I'm mostly sure of that now. Blarrrrrrrg.
Nobody asks why I look so God awfully depressed when I walk into the lounge - nope.
The lounge makes me so sad. I need to be away. Summer needs to come.
I miss my rock.
Rocks. They're good things.
~.~ @ life, yo.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
French Comp
Darlene McCoy
162 mots
Je vais visiter la Nouvelle Orleans avec ma meilleurs amis, Cindy et Jacob. Cindy a dix-neuf ans, comme moi, et Jacob a vingt et un ans. Il est plue age que Cindy et moi. Cindy et Jacob ont les cheveux bruns, et je pense que ils ont les yeux noirs. J'ai les cheveux blonds, et les yeux bleus! Aussi, j'ai l'air contente. Nous allons prendre un avion dans le demain matin. Quand nous arrivons, nous allons manger au resturant, et puis, nous n'avons pas faim! J'ai envie de danser dans la Nouvelle Orleans, mais, Jacob n'aime pas danser, si, je pense que nous allons faire du shopping! Nous avons froid quand c'est le soir. Jacob et moi parlons en francais, parce que nous apprenons le francais dans l'ecole! Cindy n'apprend pas le francais dans l'ecole, si elle ne parle aussi que Jacob et moi. Quand le soir finit, nous allons a l'aeroport, et prenons un autre avoin pour returner a chez nous!
162 mots
Je vais visiter la Nouvelle Orleans avec ma meilleurs amis, Cindy et Jacob. Cindy a dix-neuf ans, comme moi, et Jacob a vingt et un ans. Il est plue age que Cindy et moi. Cindy et Jacob ont les cheveux bruns, et je pense que ils ont les yeux noirs. J'ai les cheveux blonds, et les yeux bleus! Aussi, j'ai l'air contente. Nous allons prendre un avion dans le demain matin. Quand nous arrivons, nous allons manger au resturant, et puis, nous n'avons pas faim! J'ai envie de danser dans la Nouvelle Orleans, mais, Jacob n'aime pas danser, si, je pense que nous allons faire du shopping! Nous avons froid quand c'est le soir. Jacob et moi parlons en francais, parce que nous apprenons le francais dans l'ecole! Cindy n'apprend pas le francais dans l'ecole, si elle ne parle aussi que Jacob et moi. Quand le soir finit, nous allons a l'aeroport, et prenons un autre avoin pour returner a chez nous!
Monday, April 19, 2010
I Kind of Miss
FFXI.
Why?
'cause the real world is no damn better.
There's still assholes here that will do anything, walk over any person, whatever, to get what they want. "Gear" is just defined differently in the real world.
It's fucking pitiful. Ugh. I see why Rubino just hates people.
Even if I was staring at a screen all day,
more times than none, I was happy.
and if not happy -- I was at least bored.
Now... most of my days are mediocre at best...
and still boring.
and I can't craft IRL! FUCK! XD
I really liked to make money.
and pizza.
so much pizza.
YUUUMM.
Blarrggg. Hella days in a slump.
Too confused to come out of it, too.
:( Sadface.
BUT! I am going to the Distant Worlds concert with Jacob this summer.
That'll be freakin' awesome.
Why?
'cause the real world is no damn better.
There's still assholes here that will do anything, walk over any person, whatever, to get what they want. "Gear" is just defined differently in the real world.
It's fucking pitiful. Ugh. I see why Rubino just hates people.
Even if I was staring at a screen all day,
more times than none, I was happy.
and if not happy -- I was at least bored.
Now... most of my days are mediocre at best...
and still boring.
and I can't craft IRL! FUCK! XD
I really liked to make money.
and pizza.
so much pizza.
YUUUMM.
Blarrggg. Hella days in a slump.
Too confused to come out of it, too.
:( Sadface.
BUT! I am going to the Distant Worlds concert with Jacob this summer.
That'll be freakin' awesome.
finaldraftthatisliketwowordsdifferentfromsecond
Darlene McCoy
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
19April 2010
Oh, Irony!
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines through, and that purpose further makes the article a more profound work.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote a piece of fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic” (Thurman 22). He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but with comments attributed to another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. And after his exposure, those interviews would be the last reports he wrote; for his career will soon come to a close.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and through that article, imply that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments. In that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to imposter, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression)” (22). This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, to which he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing” (23).
Through all of the irony and the other comical effects in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout its entirety, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded” (23). She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing essentially lies was probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over” (23). Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – passing off false work, or false words, as genuine and true only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides its entertainment value. Without Thurman's addition of comical effects, especially irony, this article could have very well been just another news story that could have possibly bored its reader to tears, or even death! Yet, without her additional, more subtle message, this article would have been only a simple pleasure for the mind – and what snobbish aristocrat would want to read that?
Works Cited
Thurman, Judith. "Counterfeit Roth." The New Yorker 5 Apr. 2010: 22-23. Print.
Self-Assessment Questions:
What are the strengths of your writing? Which parts work well, and which
parts work best?
-- I feel like the main strength of my writing is my voice. I've been told time and time again that it really shines through in my essays, fiction, or even my God-awful poetry! I'm not really sure what parts work best, but I'm very fond of my introduction paragraph.
What heights did you reach for? How much did you challenge yourself in this
writing?
-- I tried my best to produce a paper of quality. I don't know if I especially challenged myself, but, I tend to always do my best when I write papers, so I sort of always challenge myself. I always want to write a paper that I actually like - and while this one isn't my favorite, I'm pretty content with it. I also don't especially find writing essays challenging anymore.
Which elements, devices, punctuation, or rhetorical effects from Gorrell did you
use?
-- Honestly - I couldn't say without looking them up in the text and dissecting my paper - but I feel like I use parallel structure often. And of course, I use dashes. They're my favorite. I think there is a hefty amount of alliteration in there, too! I write very unconsciously, and just type whatever comes to mind - then edit later.
Which parts did you have trouble developing?
-- I had trouble developing my actual argument, because I really don't feel like someone would contradict me saying "This article is legit!" I also found dissecting my article to be more work than I had expected. So putting in the time that I did could be considered "hard."
Which mental processes did you sue during the drafting?
-- I organize my ideas on paper; in somewhat of an outline form, then: I sit, I put on classical music, I relax, and I write.
How many hours did you spend on it? How did you allocate your time?
-- Argh! I don't really know how many hours specifically I spent on this paper, but it was probably more than other people. I think I spent about an hour to two just dissecting my article, and then I think I spent maybe a good three hours putting it all together. I can't really say - for there were of course, times of distraction. Each edit I spent probably about a half hour to an hour on.
Is there anything in particular you'd like me to attend to as I read?
-- Not really. It is what it is!
Whom would you acknowledge as helpers? Sources? Someone who gave you
an idea? Peer edited?
-- Nobody in my group of friends cares for or is as interested in writing as I am, so discussions with them about this class have been very limited, so I'd have to say that my peer editors were my best "helpers," even though I didn't always use their corrections or advise. I trust myself more than anyone when it comes to writing!
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
19April 2010
Oh, Irony!
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines through, and that purpose further makes the article a more profound work.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote a piece of fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic” (Thurman 22). He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but with comments attributed to another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. And after his exposure, those interviews would be the last reports he wrote; for his career will soon come to a close.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and through that article, imply that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments. In that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to imposter, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression)” (22). This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, to which he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing” (23).
Through all of the irony and the other comical effects in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout its entirety, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded” (23). She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing essentially lies was probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over” (23). Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – passing off false work, or false words, as genuine and true only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides its entertainment value. Without Thurman's addition of comical effects, especially irony, this article could have very well been just another news story that could have possibly bored its reader to tears, or even death! Yet, without her additional, more subtle message, this article would have been only a simple pleasure for the mind – and what snobbish aristocrat would want to read that?
Works Cited
Thurman, Judith. "Counterfeit Roth." The New Yorker 5 Apr. 2010: 22-23. Print.
Self-Assessment Questions:
What are the strengths of your writing? Which parts work well, and which
parts work best?
-- I feel like the main strength of my writing is my voice. I've been told time and time again that it really shines through in my essays, fiction, or even my God-awful poetry! I'm not really sure what parts work best, but I'm very fond of my introduction paragraph.
What heights did you reach for? How much did you challenge yourself in this
writing?
-- I tried my best to produce a paper of quality. I don't know if I especially challenged myself, but, I tend to always do my best when I write papers, so I sort of always challenge myself. I always want to write a paper that I actually like - and while this one isn't my favorite, I'm pretty content with it. I also don't especially find writing essays challenging anymore.
Which elements, devices, punctuation, or rhetorical effects from Gorrell did you
use?
-- Honestly - I couldn't say without looking them up in the text and dissecting my paper - but I feel like I use parallel structure often. And of course, I use dashes. They're my favorite. I think there is a hefty amount of alliteration in there, too! I write very unconsciously, and just type whatever comes to mind - then edit later.
Which parts did you have trouble developing?
-- I had trouble developing my actual argument, because I really don't feel like someone would contradict me saying "This article is legit!" I also found dissecting my article to be more work than I had expected. So putting in the time that I did could be considered "hard."
Which mental processes did you sue during the drafting?
-- I organize my ideas on paper; in somewhat of an outline form, then: I sit, I put on classical music, I relax, and I write.
How many hours did you spend on it? How did you allocate your time?
-- Argh! I don't really know how many hours specifically I spent on this paper, but it was probably more than other people. I think I spent about an hour to two just dissecting my article, and then I think I spent maybe a good three hours putting it all together. I can't really say - for there were of course, times of distraction. Each edit I spent probably about a half hour to an hour on.
Is there anything in particular you'd like me to attend to as I read?
-- Not really. It is what it is!
Whom would you acknowledge as helpers? Sources? Someone who gave you
an idea? Peer edited?
-- Nobody in my group of friends cares for or is as interested in writing as I am, so discussions with them about this class have been very limited, so I'd have to say that my peer editors were my best "helpers," even though I didn't always use their corrections or advise. I trust myself more than anyone when it comes to writing!
Hate Hate Hate
Sinking feelings.
Please, please, please, please.
Don't go away.
Please, happiness.
Stay?
Please, please, please, please.
Don't go away.
Please, happiness.
Stay?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
It's Been Such a Long Time
...since I've made a legitimate blog post.
Let's see..
update on life:
Spring break was really awesome. Spent a lot of time with Jacob, and threw a pretty good party. Danced on a table with the best friend. Yep. ♥
I think I really like this guy named Logan, but some other interesting things have happened lately and I'm not 100% sure about that right now.
Other interesting things meaning... my friend Cameron...
I think I'll let you know that story later, dear blog, 'cause I dunno how I feel about it right now.
In other words -- Kick Ass is an awesome movie. The little girl is wtf bat shit crazy and it's kind of totally freakin' awesome.
Now! Back to boys and blahblahblah
I dunno how comfortable I am with putting stuff so personal on the internet anymore.
Mostly because now I really have no idea who reads it, and in which way they take it. I know my now ex-BFF Mark used to read this blog often, and honestly I don't know if he does anymore. He hasn't talked to me in like, 3 months. ~.~ Julia has also read this before, and while I hope to God we're still fairly good friends, sometimes I worry because I'm scared, sad, and still more or less mortified by Mark's abandonment of me. I just don't want to post anything to make either of them think less of me... though I don't know if that would affect how Mark feels about me, anyway.
When this was a blog about FFXI, and FFXI only, well shit, I honestly didn't give a fuck what people thought -- they lived usually over 1,000 miles away and if I never wanted to speak to them again I didn't have to. I didn't have to deal wih their bullshit, their criticism, or their judgmental eyes... passing them in the hall, pretending they are non-existent... urrrghh!
The other thing about a blog about FFXI was it was just a game. I feel like I'm more or less not only posting my story online, but my friends' too. I guess it was the same for FFXI, but who the fuck would care if you were a little bit of a dick in a video game in the real world, really?
At least I think so... kind of.
I dunno. I just don't feel like it's okay for me to post things about other people. Not anymore. I care far too much for Logan, and Cameron, and Kendal, and Tanner, and Julia, and even Allyson and Mark to make our lives here a text based reality TV show. But I also miss writing. I miss ranting. I miss not giving a fuck about so and so's reaction. Because I am me when I write, and God damnit, I am not a bitch when I write. I have a backbone and I am strong, and the itty bitty bit of rage that does live within me can be unleashed.
Argh. I'm just so aggravated. So confused. So grouchy 'cause I got yelled at 'cause I kinda fail at DotA. (lol)
Oh -- in other other words: got my first hickey. I think? And by first I mean set of four.
Think on that, muthafucka.
I'd like to think my personal reaction to finding them this morning was kind of priceless.
OH! and James, sweet gay guy who used to live with Robert, said that I should write for FRL! again.
That kind of made my night. He's such a sweetheart.
Let's see..
update on life:
Spring break was really awesome. Spent a lot of time with Jacob, and threw a pretty good party. Danced on a table with the best friend. Yep. ♥
I think I really like this guy named Logan, but some other interesting things have happened lately and I'm not 100% sure about that right now.
Other interesting things meaning... my friend Cameron...
I think I'll let you know that story later, dear blog, 'cause I dunno how I feel about it right now.
In other words -- Kick Ass is an awesome movie. The little girl is wtf bat shit crazy and it's kind of totally freakin' awesome.
Now! Back to boys and blahblahblah
I dunno how comfortable I am with putting stuff so personal on the internet anymore.
Mostly because now I really have no idea who reads it, and in which way they take it. I know my now ex-BFF Mark used to read this blog often, and honestly I don't know if he does anymore. He hasn't talked to me in like, 3 months. ~.~ Julia has also read this before, and while I hope to God we're still fairly good friends, sometimes I worry because I'm scared, sad, and still more or less mortified by Mark's abandonment of me. I just don't want to post anything to make either of them think less of me... though I don't know if that would affect how Mark feels about me, anyway.
When this was a blog about FFXI, and FFXI only, well shit, I honestly didn't give a fuck what people thought -- they lived usually over 1,000 miles away and if I never wanted to speak to them again I didn't have to. I didn't have to deal wih their bullshit, their criticism, or their judgmental eyes... passing them in the hall, pretending they are non-existent... urrrghh!
The other thing about a blog about FFXI was it was just a game. I feel like I'm more or less not only posting my story online, but my friends' too. I guess it was the same for FFXI, but who the fuck would care if you were a little bit of a dick in a video game in the real world, really?
At least I think so... kind of.
I dunno. I just don't feel like it's okay for me to post things about other people. Not anymore. I care far too much for Logan, and Cameron, and Kendal, and Tanner, and Julia, and even Allyson and Mark to make our lives here a text based reality TV show. But I also miss writing. I miss ranting. I miss not giving a fuck about so and so's reaction. Because I am me when I write, and God damnit, I am not a bitch when I write. I have a backbone and I am strong, and the itty bitty bit of rage that does live within me can be unleashed.
Argh. I'm just so aggravated. So confused. So grouchy 'cause I got yelled at 'cause I kinda fail at DotA. (lol)
Oh -- in other other words: got my first hickey. I think? And by first I mean set of four.
Think on that, muthafucka.
I'd like to think my personal reaction to finding them this morning was kind of priceless.
OH! and James, sweet gay guy who used to live with Robert, said that I should write for FRL! again.
That kind of made my night. He's such a sweetheart.
Friday, April 16, 2010
lawlessaydraftishnumbertwo
Darlene McCoy
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
16 April 2010
Big-Wiged Readin'
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines through, and that purpose further makes the article a more profound work.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote a piece of fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic” (Thurman 22). He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but with comments attributed to another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. And after his exposure, those interviews would be the last reports he wrote; for his career will soon come to a close.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and implying that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments. In that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to impostor, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression)” (22). This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, to which he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing. (23)”
Through all of the irony and the other comical effects in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout the entirety, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded” (23). She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing essentially lies is probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over” (23). Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – passing off false work, or false words, as genuine and true only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides its entertainment value. Without Thurman's addition of comical effects, especially irony, this article could have very well been just another news story that could have possibly bored its reader to tears, or even death! Yet, without her additional, more subtle message, this article would have been a simple pleasure for the mind – and what snobbish aristocrat would want to read that?
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
16 April 2010
Big-Wiged Readin'
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines through, and that purpose further makes the article a more profound work.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote a piece of fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic” (Thurman 22). He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but with comments attributed to another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. And after his exposure, those interviews would be the last reports he wrote; for his career will soon come to a close.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and implying that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments. In that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to impostor, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression)” (22). This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, to which he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing. (23)”
Through all of the irony and the other comical effects in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout the entirety, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded” (23). She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing essentially lies is probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over” (23). Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – passing off false work, or false words, as genuine and true only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides its entertainment value. Without Thurman's addition of comical effects, especially irony, this article could have very well been just another news story that could have possibly bored its reader to tears, or even death! Yet, without her additional, more subtle message, this article would have been a simple pleasure for the mind – and what snobbish aristocrat would want to read that?
I Really Wish!
...that you weren't so busy...
but hopefully, this weekend will be good...
and I'd like to think the "You're awesome" on my cork board came from you...
...but I know you can't get into the dorms...
D'aww :(
I really wish...
I wasn't so shy...
Blarrrgg!
but hopefully, this weekend will be good...
and I'd like to think the "You're awesome" on my cork board came from you...
...but I know you can't get into the dorms...
D'aww :(
I really wish...
I wasn't so shy...
Blarrrgg!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Bad Paper is Bad.
...but I've got to print it out at the computer lab, so on the blog it goes!
Darlene McCoy
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
13 April 2010
Oh, Irony!
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines though.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic.” He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but containing comments out of another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. That would be all he wrote.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm, and expected, to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and implying that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments, so in that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to imposter, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression.)” This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing.”
Through all of the irony and other comical effect in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout the entire article, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded.” She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing basically lies is probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over.” Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – doing it wrong only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides a piece written for enjoyment.
Darlene McCoy
Margaret Amis
Writing 2
13 April 2010
Oh, Irony!
When he founded The New Yorker in 1925, Harold Ross' aim was to please. He wanted his readers to enjoy a sophisticated humor magazine, full of amusing yet intellectual comments, sometimes vicious satire, and overall – things to make even the most snobbish aristocrat chuckle so heartily that his over sized wig would simply slip off his shiny bald head. To this day, the magazine has persevered through the test of time, and holds true to its founder's intentions. It is no wonder, then, that a witty and well-crafted article such as Judith Thurman's “Counterfeit Roth” would be found in the modern day New Yorker. It is also no wonder, then, that she would use a well-known, and well-loved literary technique, coupled with an amusing tone and other garnishing techniques, to craft a frighteningly funny piece. Irony, the main technique used to amuse, abounds in Thurman's article, and that irony serves to accommodate and bolster the magazine's main purpose – to simply entertain. Yet through the hilarity of it all – a second purpose, the article's own purpose, shines though.
Counterfeit Roth tells the tale of a man who wrote fiction – for a newspaper. What's wrong with that? The man, Tommaso Debenedetti, was a reporter, not an author; his misleading words were read as fact. He had reported that a well known American author, Phillip Roth, in an interview, had made some rather unpleasant comments about President Barack Obama; about how his rhetoric about hope and change was empty, comments about his banality, and his failure. Yet, in fact, when asked about his statements in another interview, Roth seemed confused, and said, “It is completely contrary to what I think. Obama, in my opinion, is fantastic.” He denied the validity of all that Debenedetti had reported, and furthermore explained that those comments could only be a mere figment of Debenedetti's imagination – for he had never met the man, nor even heard of the newspaper he wrote for, Libero. Later, Roth did some research of his own. That research lead him to uncover another false interview, with the same false comments, written by the same man, but containing comments out of another's mouth. John Grisham, another well known American author, was victim number two! He was also the last victim, for he plans to travel to Italy to sue Mr. Debenetti. That would be all he wrote.
A piece packed with as much irony as Thurman's cannot be considered anything but downright funny. First of all – the article is about a fiction writer uncovering and undermining fiction. It would be more of the norm, and expected, to find a fiction writer encouraging another to continue writing, continue imagining, and to continue telling tales. Yet, what happens is quite the opposite, is unexpected, and is therefore comical. Another point of irony in the article is the newspaper that Debenetti wrote for sympathized with the Prime Minister of Italy, and his report, which would have been an attempt to make the Prime Minister appear to be less-scandalous, and more well-suited for his position, only made another newspaper, the Corriere della Sera, produce an article praising Roth's harsh criticism of Obama, and implying that the citizens of Italy should evaluate their own non-existent criticisms of their own national leader. Debenetti's intentions were anything but bringing the Prime Minister's administration and behavior into question. Now, it would seem more plausible for a reporter to make up disapproving comments under another's name if that other person was one who actually somewhat believed in those comments, so in that case, he would just be exaggerating on a general distaste – but Philip Roth nor John Grisham believe that Obama is a failure. They are in fact, both democrats, who believe that Obama will do good for America. It is very amusing that Mr. Debenetti could pick two people to imposter, and find that they not only simply disagree with the words put into their mouths, but are both on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Thurman's tone and structure is even ironic in the sense that it does not follow the traditional form of an essay. Generally, in a essay, only information important to the argument is presented. Thurman adds additional information, that is not necessarily dire to the explanation and understanding of her argument using parentheses, to create more of a comical effect. In one instance, she writes, “(The only Facebook page bearing the writer's name shows a bearded, curly-haired, young hipster with a goofy expression.)” This tone, and the use of the words “goofy” and“hipster,” contradict the usual formality of her article, and the aforementioned idea of only mentioning ideas that support an argument in an essay. Thurman uses dialogue to amuse her readers further, at the end of her article, she mentions that Roth was asked if Debenetti impersonated him well, like the character in his novel, Operation Shylock, he simply replied, “No, that was literature, this is merely life, and I certainly did a better job of imposturing.”
Through all of the irony and other comical effect in the article, a more serious message peeks out from in between the lines. Throughout the entire article, Thurman uses Philip Roth to convey how she feels, and her article's point, “'You have to wonder what the guy was thinking.' Roth concluded.” She implies that he was not thinking, and that publishing basically lies is probably not the best idea he had. She includes Roth's attempt to give reason to the man's idea, to be fair, “The best explanation I can find is that this obscure freelancer had hit upon a way of selling articles by attributing anti-Obama sentiments to famous American writers. It was a good gimmick, and he probably had fun. But I can't imagine what he'll do now – surely his career is over.” Thurman uses Roth's words to emphasize her point – doing it wrong only hurts one in the end.
All in all, “Counterfeit Roth” is a piece that adequately deserves its place in The New Yorker. It is amusing, well-written, and has a point to it besides a piece written for enjoyment.
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