Joe and Thoreau

In “Johnny Got his Gun,” Joe rails against war and government, condemning America for treating its soldiers and citizens carelessly. He is angry because he was told, as a soldier, that he was fighting for a cause, but as he rots slowly, he has lost sight of this cause, revealing its unimportance. In “Resistance to Civil Government,” Thoreau argues that the United States government views its men as “moveable forts and magazines, at the service of some unscrupulous man in power,” that “the mass of the men… have the same sort of worth only as horses and dogs, as machines, with their bodies (838).” Thoreau states that it is our duty to protest and question our government. He writes, “All machines have their friction; and possibly this does enough good to counterbalance the evil (839).” Ultimately, “Resistance” revolves around the motto, “That government is best which governs least (836).” Thoreau prescribes resistance, not necessarily revolution. Joe, however, wants a major overhaul of the government. He wants people to be furious about war. He alerts his readers that nothing is worth dying for- not country, not liberty. “And all the guys who say life before dishonor is pure bull the important thing is life before death they should be left alone too. Because the guys who say life isn’t worth living without some principle so important you’re willing to die for it they are all nuts… All the guys who died all the five million or seven million or ten million who went out and died to make the world safe for democracy to make the world safe for words without meaning how did they feel about it just before they died... They died with only one thought in their minds and that was I want to live I want to live I want to live (151-153).” Joe is certainly more radical than Thoreau, but both men choose to protest their government, either with hate clouding their vision or with resolve for a better union softening their quill.

J'adore

Things I love:
• The words “fresh” and “salacious”
• My Science National Honor Society pin- Be jealous.
• Margaret Atwood
• English history, especially the reign of King Henry VIII
• The book “Rebecca”
• Steak and Shake’s cheesy fries- I’d die without them, even if they’re going to be the cause of my death.
• The board game “Clue”- I’m usually Professor Plum or Miss Scarlet. Back off.
• Writing unusual stories
• The movie “Gone with the Wind”
• The sound of high heels on linoleum
• Lord of the Rings- I’ve wasted more than half my life watching these movies and reading these books.
• The play “No Exit”
• Using a fan in the winter
• ‘60s music- I adore the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Fleetwood Mac, and CCR, to name a few.
• The television show “Alias”
• Hacking up magazines and making collages
• Indian summers
• The American Civil War- I think it’s extremely interesting and know a lot random facts about it. Did you know that Gettysburg was essentially started by a shoe sale? ‘Tis true.

This might be a woefully inadequate blog, but I had fun writing it, so I hope you forgive its shortcomings.

Doctor Moreau on a Concrete Island waiting for Godot

I have an obsession with lists and notes. This obsession cannot be quenched nor can it be silenced. Lists and Post-its litter my room and linger in its corners. There is a Post-it on my light switch that says, “Schedule.” I have a Post-it on my calendar that says, “Spanish? E-mail.” Indeed, there’s a list in front of me now that lists all my homework for this evening. I don’t mind my listed living; I tend to forget things if not reminded constantly. Book lists, however, are taking over my life. When I was in fifth grade, I got into the habit of making lists of books that I wanted to read. As these books were rented from the library and read, I highlighted the list in pink, to show what had been accomplished. As my interest in books grew and expanded, so did my lists. I had a “Must Read” list, and I had a “Beach Reads” list. I had a “Recommended List” that went on and on and listed books that friends and relatives had recommended. Today, I don’t bother categorizing books into certain lists. When I come upon a book title that sounds interesting, I write it on a spare piece of paper. This piece then has quite the journey as it gets lost multiple times, is worried over, is found, is recorded onto a larger list, and is considered for my “Ultimate List.” The Ultimate List is on my bulletin board and travels with me every time a sojourn is taken to the library. It’s a list of books that I really, really want to read and am slightly embarrassed about not reading yet. “In Cold Blood,” “Running with Scissors,” and “The Golden Compass” all reside on this list. “Dune” is the newest addition. I have a plethora of book lists in my desk that sit in a folder and occasionally see the light of day, but these lists are so vast that they tend to overwhelm me. A lot of Stephen King novels are on this list.

Duck and Cover!

A couple weeks ago, I was talking with my aunt. Or more like I was talking to her, and she was listening. I was blathering about bomb shelters, for whatever reason, and my aunt goes, “I have one of those.” Yes, Aunt Kristen has a bomb shelter. But I’m getting ahead of myself. A few years ago, my Aunt Kristen and Uncle Kevin moved to the middle of Nowhere, Pennsylvania. Kevin likes to remodel old houses as a hobby, and so the house they moved into is indeed interesting. For starters, it’s from the 1800s. And has an outhouse. And if you want to go outside, you have to wear an orange vest or else you’ll get shot by hunters. The house is near a barn that’s infested with raccoons. Uncle Kevin’s already had to shoot one raccoon with rabies, so nobody’s allowed around or in the barn. The house is on more than thirty acres of property, and the road leading up to the house seems to be that extensive, too. The first time my family visited the house, we joked the entire way up about Jack Torrance and axe murderers. Despite what I think is its inherent creepiness, the house appeals to my relatives for some reason. Now I know that its major selling point was its location. Aunt Kristen and Uncle Kevin are entirely convinced that a pandemic is going to sweep across America and kill a large number of Americans. Their farmhouse will be their haven. A bomb shelter is apparently nearby in the woods, stocked with water and food. Aunt Kristen even invited me to stay at the house when the pandemic begins its spread. Now that the swine flu has emerged as a lethal disease, perhaps I should start packing. Or not.

Chef Ramsay would make pasta

I can write about anything I like? The freedom is overwhelming! But, hail, an idea! “Elle” magazine has a recurring piece where celebrities and prominent public figures explain whom they would invite to a dinner party to end all dinner parties. Only five people can be invited. I posed this question to my brother, and after I convinced him to take it seriously - his first response being, “Flavor Flav!”- he babbled on about Richard the Lionheart and King Arthur. My mom heard us talking and chirped in, “Rambo!” I would invite Anne Boleyn, Alexander the Great, John Lennon, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Mary Magdalene. I considered inviting Jesus, but I think He would end up dominating the conversation. And there might be some tension between Him and Mary. So, it’s better to just avoid the whole thing. The party would be great, though. Anne Boleyn would be quite the gossiper and share all sorts of juicy tidbits about her time spent with King Henry VIII. Mary would give us the lowdown on what really went down in the days of the New Testament. I’d lend her my copy of “The Da Vinci Code.” Alexander the Great would be a great storyteller and tell epic stories of battles fought and won. Tolkien would explain his interest in battles to Alexander, and they’d discuss what went wrong at Helm’s Deep. I’d consult with Alexander on military tactics, and he’d probably wow me with his intellect. Should the conversation halt, Anne Boleyn or I would start it up again by asking questions. It might be difficult to get John Lennon to talk, but he would probably have something to say about politics or music. He and Alexander might debate a bit about the value of war. I’d definitely chat with Tolkien about his ideas and his artistic process. I’d tell him some of my short stories ideas, and he’d comment and add thoughts. Tolkien and Lennon would probably hit it off and whisper about utopias together, and Alexander would occasionally interject pessimistic points. Mary and Anne would sigh together over men, and I would be in heaven.

Victor/Victoria

I don’t like playing sports. In gym class, I tend to run away from the basketball, not towards it. I played with Barbies when I was little and sometimes lament that those days are over. I like pink, Meg Cabot books, and gold jewelry. I’ve thought about my wedding dress, I doodle flowers in my French notebook, and I start journal entries with the title, “Dear diary…” I’m also beast at the “Super Smash Bros. Melee” and “Lord of the Rings: Return of the King” video games. I simply own as Legolas. When my brother’s friends come over, they sometimes ask me to hang out with them, especially when they’ve brought over “James Bond: Nightfire.” I can wreak destruction with the sniper rifle. I also love the “Terminator” movie series, and I’m the hugest geek when it comes to “Lord of the Rings.” I’ve read my share of comic books and know a lot of obscure facts about certain superheroes. Wolverine, Spiderman, and Wonder Woman are my favorites, and I’ll argue all day about how stupid I think the Atom, Plastic Man, and Cloak and Dagger are. I’m crossing my fingers for a “Doctor Strange” movie. My sense of humor is morbid and often sick, I can’t stand school drama, and my new favorite show is “Deadliest Warrior” on Spike, now that “Terminator” might be cancelled. These traits certainly aren’t overwhelmingly masculine, but, if you don’t know me, you might be surprised. I’m willing to embrace hobbies that are and aren’t feminine. I don’t think society influenced me to be this way; I simply follow what I like. My parents exposed me to a lot of different media, like books, music, and television shows, and then allowed me to realize my own interests. And when I play “Melee,” I’m usually Princess Peach. Or Samus. It depends on my mood.

Audrey Hepburn and Wonder Woman

When Cofer lived in Puerto Rico, she was considered attractive. When she moved to the United States, she was introduced to a new culture and a new idea of beauty. In the States, she was considered dirty and unattractive. She was ridiculed for her skinniness and her short height, although in her native Puerto Rico, she was thought to be unusually tall. After Cofer is scarred by a bout of chicken pox, she begins to latch onto images of beautiful, strong women. She admires Wonder Woman and daydreams about leaping over buildings, and she practically lusts over a pretty blond doll. She begs her mother to buy her Wate-on so she’ll gain weight and finally look like the heroes she sees in her comic books. Throughout “Story of My Body,” Cofer struggles with her poor self-esteem and the impossible beauty standard that exists in the United States. When she goes off to college, her Puerto Rican heritage is deemed exotic and desirable, and she reaches a weak sort of happiness. Cofer will never be confident, however, if she continues to rely on the opinions of others and the media to validate her beauty and her worth.

Gay Marriage

I don’t understand much about the world. I don’t understand the human immune system, and I’ll never comprehend why some animals eat their young. Physics remains a mystery to me, and the cruel duo of greed and ignorance will continue to baffle me. I do, however, understand love. Love binds us to our neighbors and our families, creating bonds of affection and fraternity that can further the human race and infuse life with purpose. Love can cause war and demand peace, and it can corrupt and it can make whole, but its existence is undeniable and ultimately rich in purpose. For love to be denied is to deny a basic right. Marriage, a basic expression of love, should be allowed to all who seriously seek it. Marriage was once denied to African-Americans and prisoners, and these groups are now able to wed whom they please, a right that is still denied to gay couples. It is an outrage and a shame that a committed gay couple cannot express their love through marriage. True, this does not personally affect me, but I still find it horrible that all cannot openly and legally marry. I believe that if you love someone wholly and want to commit your life to that person, you should be able to marry him or her. I’m not religious, so I don’t particularly believe in sin, and I certainly don’t believe it’s wrong to love someone if that’s who you think you’re called to love. Besides, wasn’t it Jesus who preached acceptance and love for thy neighbor? I don’t want to offend or insult, but I don’t think He would approve of the way we treat our gay friends and neighbors.

A Bicycle Built for Two

As explained by Wolfson in the beginning of “What is Marriage,” marriage has several implications, depending on culture and context. Wolfson explains that marriage is indeed a declaration of “love and dedication to another person (99),” but it is also “a relationship between a couple and the government (100).” The author seeks to show that marriage is complicated and important, for only an important thing has so many definitions. When Wolfson later introduces the topic of same-sex marriage, he wants the reader to remember the definitions, to show what gay couples are forced to forgo. I don’t know much about marriage, but I do know some about happiness, and Wolfson’s explanation of marriage seems thoughtful and rings true. He writes, “For better or for worse, marriage is about choice, whether it be the choice to ‘make it official’ with your beloved and to accept the protections and the responsibilities that accompany that decision; the choice to work at your marriage and make it rewarding and good; the choice to betray or divorce a spouse; or the choice to avoid the institution of marriage altogether (101).” I hadn’t thought about the choice that comes with marriage because choice is so linked with marriage, it blends with it. Marriage comes when a couple decides to wed, and a marriage lasts when a couple decides to remain true.

All the Single Parents

According to Dr. Wade Horn, a single-parent household is like an airplane that sometimes fails to reach its destination. A two-parent household, on the other hand, always reaches the airport. The author of the essay, Santorum, uses Dr. Horn to explain why single-parent homes are a threat to children, although single parent homes certainly aren’t the abomination Santorum makes them out to be. Single-parent households, like two-parent households, can be loving, stable environments. When Santorum points to facts that show that children in single-parent households are depressed, he fails to analyze the data, leading to the downfall of his argument. He fails to acknowledge why these kids have a single parent. Perhaps their parents have gone through a divorce, or their mother has died, or their father is fighting for a year in Afghanistan. All these circumstances can cause depression. Perhaps it’s not the single parent situation that causes the depression or bad grades or drug use; perhaps the situation that led to the single parent is the cause. Even then, single parents are often quite adept. They’ve learned to make a turkey sandwich for their kindergartner while on a business call. Or their children have quickly learned independence, and they spread mayonnaise on their own sandwich in the morning. The frazzled single mom who bails on her son’s soccer match does exist, but she’s not as prolific as Santorum seems to suggest.

Appearances

In Vázquez’s “Appearances,” she waits to reveal that Brian and Mickey are straight men. She knows that the reader will assume they are gay, so that when she announces their actual sexual orientation, it will shock the reader. Interestingly enough, she talks about Mickey’s girlfriend before she reveals his heterosexuality, slightly lessening the “reveal” when it comes. She does eventually bluntly state his and Brian’s sexuality in an attempt to show that “gay men look like all men and all men look like gay men (476).” It makes the reader aware to the fact that antigay feelings can negatively affect heterosexuals and homosexuals. Vázquez tells the story of Tom and Jan Matarrase to further her point. When out for a walk one evening, the married couple was attacked by a group of men who thought they were a gay couple. Vázquez desperately wants her readers to know that anyone can be a victim of antigay violence. If straight men like Mickey and Tom can be attacked for simply looking gay, how can we protect those who actually are gay? The menace of antigay feelings seems much more potent when some of its victims aren’t even part of the targeted group.

Transcendentalism

During camp at Turtle Island, Eustace Conway teaches his young students to cut off a lock of their hair whenever they cut a branch off a tree. In this way, Conway is spiritual. He believes living things should be respected, but he does not worship trees or revere deer. He is thankful for their existence, and in heightened moments he praises their existence, but he never prays to them. He prays to a god, but he is not particularly religious or devout. Conway is a practical man and seeks sense. Nature is both useful and beautiful to him, but he does not wallow in its poetry. Because he does not see nature as a divine being, Conway is not a transcendentalist. He is too rational to believe in transcendentalism’s romantic version of the woods. He does accept transcendentalism’s view that we should live in nature, but his drive to spread this message forces him to become an outgoing businessman, a role most transcendentalists would loathe.

Nature

In “Nature,” Emerson writes, “The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and the heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood.” Further in the essay, he writes, “In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth.” In Emerson’s ludicrous essay, these are the only sentences that make sense. After imparting some wisdom, he goes on to spew drivel about nodding to vegetables and becoming an eyeball. The first parts of his essay, however, are insightful. As children, we make forts and hike in the woods and create memories. When, as an adult, we return to these places of sanctuary and innocence, we relive and remember these memories. The woods remind us of youth, rekindling the feelings of immortality, happiness, and carelessness we once so easily felt as children. Emerson is right in stating that “In the woods… a man… is always a child.” He quickly deteriorates into blather, however, when he writes, “[In nature,] I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part of particle of God.” This is something Chris McCandless would highlight in his yellow highlighter and savor. He would make notes near the phrase and bask in its inspiration. To me, the statement, and the whole rest of “Nature,” romanticize and complicate trees and dirt. Forests do allow us experience a pure world close to God’s ideal, but I feel no connection to a god when I swat mosquitoes swarming about my head and whack overhanging branches blocking my path. When Emerson writes, “The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them,” “Nature” reveals itself as a mawkish orgy of pseudo-religious superfluousness. Trees drenched in sunlight are beautiful, but Emerson finds purpose and religion too readily in their beauty. His outpouring of love for mud, sticks, and moss are not just overly sentimental, they’re almost insulting. Could Emerson detect God’s work in the wake of a tornado? Would he be able to find poetry in the smoke of a forest fire? Not all things born of nature are precious or reasonable. When one tries to find purpose in something disastrous, explanations are sought for things that cannot be explained. Emerson found purpose in the flutter of leaves; would he be able to find purpose in tragic deaths like Chris McCandless’s ? Not all things have a purpose.

Why, Gilbert, why?

Elizabeth Gilbert greatly admires Eustace Conway. She respects his way of life and how he has attempted to complete his dreams. Eustace’s Turtle Island impresses and amazes her. She is in awe of him, which is clear from her first meeting with Eustace, when she meets him in New York. She writes, “It seemed curious to me that somebody who eats possum and wipes his butt with leaves could have managed to acquire a thousand acres of pristine wilderness. But Eustace Conway was, as I would discover, a most cunning man (11).” Later in the book, she writes, “My initial reaction on witnessing Eustace Conway’s life was relief. When I first heard of his life and his adventures, all I could think was Thank God. Thank God somebody in America was still living this way. Thank God there was at least one genuine mountain man, frontiersman, pioneer, maverick out there (125).” Her use of “maverick” and “cunning” show the scope of her admiration. Gilbert is taken with Conway and so wants to spread his story. She thinks readers will find Conway compelling, and so her story benefits both Conway and readers, by informing readers about this Man of Destiny and by giving Conway free publicity, to use a crude term. Gilbert also seems to want to challenge herself as a writer. Conway is a complicated man, one who is both pitiable and admirable. Readers may dislike Conway, with his narcissism and his perfectionism, but they can also be swept up in Gilbert’s terms of affection and see Conway as respectable, strong, and tender. Gilbert, by writing "The Last American Man," challenged herself to present a full picture of Eustace Conway’s personality, with all his faults and merits, and she tried to explain both his cruel streak and his gentle side. One could argue she tries to get the reader to see Conway as she sees him, but I think she mostly wanted to write a character study about a man whom she finds great.