Writing

Wright, suppressed by his mother’s lashes and his grandmother’s religion, is finally able to express himself through writing. He creates a story that whispers of “longing and death (120),” thoughts and feelings Wright had been burdened by because of his mother's paralysis. Hiding these thoughts was draining and unhealthy for Wright. It excites him to pen the story for it is something of his own, infused with his own emotions and worries. “There was no plot, no action, nothing save atmosphere and longing and death. But I had never in my life done anything like it; I had made something, no matter how bad it was; and it was mine… (120).” It pleases him to share the tale because it allows him to communicate with another human being a topic higher than food and punishment. By reading his story to his neighbor, Wright tells her his feelings, but not in an overly open, uncomfortable way. He is “sharing with her the burden of his existence,” as Patricia Hampl wrote, and he finds it greatly gratifying.

Paralysis

When Wright first discovers his mother’s paralysis, he is shocked and unable to understand her condition. During Wright’s turbulent young life, his mother had remained a constant presence, a woman who, even after his father’s abandonment, stayed strong. Her strength makes her illness “seem unthinkable.” (85) Now, Wright’s rock has crumbled, leaving Wright stunned and silenced. He becomes emotionally withdrawn from his family members, especially his mother, whom he cannot bear to talk to, look at, or tend. He refuses to eat food and is embarrassed when he is forced to eat or when comments are made about his unhealthy weight. He wishes he were older, so he would not have to rely so on others. Wright is simply unable to cope with his mother’s paralysis, a drastic change in his life. His mother had been his voice-of-reason when Wright was in trouble, and she had tried to be his provider of food and affection. Her illness pierces Wright and leaves him unsure of himself and his future. He is fearful of her death, and this fear and uncertainty pins him to silence and numbness.

Heritage

Wright admits that, as a child, he and his friends were “poor, half-starved, ignorant, victims of racial prejudice.” (61) Wright, his friends, and their race were regarded with disgust from white people. Both white people and black people looked upon Jews with disgust. Wright taunted Jews because it was an acceptable way for him to vent his racial frustrations. Although unsure of why he held such strife, Wright disliked white people. He disliked their constant access to food and their violence against black people. Wright disliked Jews because they had “killed Christ.” Harassing Jews at the local grocery was a way to unleash this hatred upon a race, which, generally, was disliked by both warring parties. Wright had no true reason for his cruelty. Vaguely, without real thought or reason, Wright does it to pass time in a way that won’t inspire his mother to beat him, but, truly, Wright torments Jews to unreel racial anger that usually boils quietly, unexplained and shapeless, inside.

Hunger

As a young child, Wright’s life is bereft of true joy. He achieves superficial, brief happiness by drinking and engaging in nefarious activities. However, when the soap letters are wiped from the windows, when his drunkenness wears away into sobriety, he is left hungry and empty. Wright is hungry because his life is empty, both literally and figuratively. Sustained on bread and tea, Wright is constantly seeking a morsel of something, but nothing is to be found, and so he sleeps and lives with an empty stomach. Figuratively, Wright has no father and no real home. He is given no love from his father and is shown only snippets of kindness from his mother, who is tired from failure. His first home dies in a fire, and the flat in Memphis is scarred with unhappiness. The orphan home serves as a shelter, not as a place of security. Wright’s life has no path and no potential purpose. His hungriness represents emptiness of the body and of the soul.

School's Out Forever?

Gatto’s essay was quite fascinating. I know little about the history of America’s schooling system and was interested to find out that it is based off of Prussia’s schools. That being said, I think Gatto is mildly insane. The concept that America’s schools are “laboratories of experimentation on young minds, drill centers for the habits and attitudes that corporate society demands” (159) is absolutely ludicrous. I think America’s schooling system needs to be rethought and reformed, yes, but Gatto’s statement borders on conspiracy and paranoia.
I absolutely believe that schooling is necessary. Twelve years of it is extreme, but elementary and secondary schools are certainly essential. As Gatto mentions, schools teach their pupils to respect authority and follow directions, skills necessary to maintain jobs. He fails, though, to recognize that schools provide an environment in which to learn social skills and acquire friendships. Furthermore, schools expose their students to subjects that otherwise might have remained veiled. To become a chemist, you first must know that atoms exist. In school, I’ve learned to share, play nice, and create friendships. These are life skills. In second grade, I made my friend Kelly cry because I told her I was prettier than her. Not only was this statement selfish, it was rude and untrue. I felt awful for quite some time. So, at seven, I came to know that praising yourself is horribly self-absorbed and, often times, hurtful. Without school, this lesson, and other lessons like it, would have come later in life. Through school, we learn to interact with people everyday. We learn to suppress our feelings around those we do not like, and we learn to value the friendships we are able to make. In kindergarten, there was a kid named Jeff in my class. Jeff was reclusive and quiet. He never wanted to play blocks with me. The next year, when I was in first grade, Jeff was still in kindergarten. He had been held back because, as my mother later found out, he wasn’t considered “socially ready” for first grade. School is tedious, and this needs to be, and can be, changed. School, however, should not be abolished all together for a multitude of reasons, including, but not limited to, how it teaches social skills.

Nonacademic Education

In grade school and middle school, my favorite school-related memories are "nonacademic" ones. When I was in fifth grade, my elementary school sent all of its fifth grade students to Chicago. It was pretty much awesome. On the bus ride there, all of us ate Twinkies and played Go Fish. I think three people threw up. We were only in Chicago for a couple of hours, but we were able to see the Museum of Science and Industry, and we ate a pizza dinner at the Rain Forest Café. I spent way too much money on things I'd never use or see again, including a shot glass. I think a couple more people threw up on the bus ride home. Basically, it was a great day. And I'm not being sarcastic. The museum had a miniature fairy castle exhibit. I was with my friends all day. I was ten. Enough said. Now, learning in a school that stresses a nonacademic education, I am content. In University's environment, I've traveled to New York, gone spelunking, and visited Purdue to attend a theatre workshop. I value University's effort to offer nonacademic activities. Such activities enrich the high school experience.

Rhetoric on the Town Presentations

The presentations on Thursday were interesting. A lot of people took pictures of places in Carmel and then explained how Carmel is attempting to present itself as a quaint, colonial-like town. JP’s photo of the art gallery showed this rhetoric well. I especially liked Erin’s photo of the JCC. I thought it interesting how a police car always sits outside, presenting an image of safety, but, in all actuality, were something to happen to the JCC, that lone police officer would be of little use. I think so many people chose to photograph Carmel because Carmel, through its buildings, sidewalks, and creeper statues, so clearly conveys a message.

Isn't it "The media doesn't," not "The media don't?"

The media certainly shapes society. Advertisements and shows are created to cater to a certain public demand, but they also feed and present Americans with things they never knew they wanted. Last night, for instance, on “Desperate Housewives,” one of the housewives bought a new Lexus. Bree then proceeded to point out to her friends her Lexus’s refrigerator, sunroof, and heated seats. After the scene was over, the camera zoomed in on the word “Lexus” on the car’s bumper. The first commercial during the commercial break was for a Lexus car. It was if I was living in “The Truman Show.” It was blatant product-placement. ABC and Lexus had exchanged money to present their “Desperate Housewives” audience with something new to lust after. Also, as seen in “Two Ways a Woman Can Get Hurt,” some advertisements and shows encourage violence and cruelty, especially towards women. The United States has a high battery and abuse rate of women, quite possibly from how the media shapes society to treat its women unkindly and to constantly want things.
I also agree with Kendall that the media warps our ideas of the wealthy and the poor. The media often plays to stereotypes, presenting homeless as sots, and it often glorifies certain classes, showing the wealthy as glamorous, careless idols. I disagree to an extent with Kendall on her idea of how the media presents the middle-class. Yes, at times the media does present blue-collars as somehow morally lesser than the rich, but the media does “carry information about the working class and its problems (339).” When Madoff’s Ponzi scheme was revealed, the media had a field day interviewing middle-class Americans. As for credit card debt, I certainly think that the media encourages consumerism, but I don’t think it encourages Americans to run out of money. After all, the media wants us to have lots of money and no debt, so we can continue to buy things.

Rhetoric on the Town

Today I visited Café Patachou and my local Marsh. Patachou is a small café near my house, and Marsh is just down the street as well. Patachou sells itself as quaint and homey, but it has four other locations, making its small-town feel seem unauthentic. Marsh, off of 146th Street, has recently undergone remodeling, and now defiantly looks like it belongs in Carmel. The inside has a mural of cows grazing, which I snuck a picture of. It came out a little blurry because, as I was taking it, an employee started walking towards me. I got out of there as soon as possible. For my pictures, I wanted to capture Patachou’s false homeliness and Marsh’s pretentiousness. Patachou was difficult because it’s hard to present the essence of something in a simple picture. Marsh, on the other hand, was a quick run inside and outside, and one can still easily see that Marsh is selling itself as an oasis of pork loin, Wheaties, and $11 wine to Carmel moms with red nails.

Mickey Mouse and Such

According to Gitlin, America presents the image that it is “fun.” However, the issue is deeper than that. Gitlin explains that some countries rely on America for entertainment, as well as inspiration and guidance. America’s entertainment industries, as well as its government and economy sectors, influence other countries.
America has a great influence over the world because America’s image and products are part of “a common imagination (826)” and are an escape. American films, for example, end happily. Most foreign films end with death, destruction, or a sense of lost hope, like the French film “Persepolis.” People of all nations want to believe that all will end well. However, unlike America, most countries know such a thing rarely happens, and their films reflect that. However, it’s nice to get lost in an American film where the characters ride into the sunset.
Furthermore, the youths of other countries are willing to listen to and, to some degree, adapt American culture. “Young people do not live in monocultures. They are not monocular (826).” Youths in South Africa and China “are both local and cosmopolitan (826).” They can embrace aspects of American culture without losing themselves. English further ties these young people to America. For many, English is a second language. And, fortunately enough, America’s goods tend to be in English. The ability to understand and relate to the Americans who also use these products and who also watch those films furthers the interest in American culture.
America might not shout “Fun!” to Americans, but that’s because we lose sight of how our culture, in general, is composed and safe. Yes, we have no health care. Yes, there are homeless and those without jobs. But there is no genocide occurring in our country. There is no famine. Our government is not in turmoil. Our society, our secure, rich society, “imposes few burdens. Attachments and affiliations coexist, overlap, melt together, form, and re-form (828).” To those in countries where potential violence looms constantly, and where unhappiness and stress reign, America looks pretty fun.

Two Ways a Woman Can Get Hurt

“Turning a human being into a thing, an object, is almost always the first step toward justifying violence against that person (428).” When a person is depicted as a sex object, it becomes easier for a viewer to see this person as less than a person. If a man or woman becomes just another thing to own, they will not be treated kindly. Most people do not treat things with care, for things have no feelings. The objectification of women is extremely troubling because “there is a world of difference between the objectification of men and that of women. The most important difference is that there is no danger for most men, whereas objectified women are always at risk (430).” Although sexist to a degree, women are physically weaker than men and are more susceptible to violence. Women are beaten and abused every day, and so when a magazine ad shows a woman about to be shot, the ad seems to downplay the atrocity of violence against women. The treatment of men as sex objects is not fair either, but “men are not likely to be raped, harassed, or beaten (430).” The objectification of women is troubling and disturbing, made more so by the statistics about date rape and domestic violence Kilbourne lists. I found the ad on page 425 to be especially shocking, the one with the woman being attacked by three men. I know no one who would be inspired to purchase a pair of jeans after seeing an ad glorifying a potential rape scene. I think it’s horrible that companies, like Calvin Klein, are pleased when they receive negative publicity for a disgusting ad.

Stabbing My Eyes Out

Obviously, a lot of men watch the Super Bowl. And, according to the ads of the Super Bowl, these men like beer. And women. No surprise there. So far, I’ve seen about 25 Budweiser commercials. All involved “drinkability.” Most involved “humor,” or some lame form of it. I know I’m not the target audience, but some of these ads are mildly pathetic. One Budweiser ad featured two men at a ski resort, discussing the definition of drinkability. Chump #1 explains to Chump #2 that drinkability is like skiing smoothly. He points out an expert skier who lands nicely on the ground. Then Chump #1 points out to Chump #2 an inane skier who hits imaginary trees. “That,” he gloats, “is the opposite of drinkability.” I suppose here is where one is supposed to laugh, but instead of a guffaw, this incredible feeling of emptiness overwhelms me. It seeps through my pores like a sinister cloud of toxic twilight, stabbing my heart with sharp shrapnel of sadness. In other words, that commercial was epic lame. And other commercials have not improved this opinion. So, in conclusion, men who like beer, women, and stupid jokes watch and enjoy the Super Bowl. Pretty fascinating stuff. Really, I’m enthralled.