The Imaginary Invalid

"I attended Southeastern's production of The Imaginary Invalid and watched the entire play." Bravo! Bravo! That was my reaction to the first half of the play. My face and abs were sore from laughing so hard. I was rather confused for the first 20 minutes or so, because unlike a movie, there was no preview to have an idea of what’s to come. I probably should have read the introduction in the pamphlet. This play was the last play ever written by Moilere. It was about a hypochondriac seeking a doctor for her daughters hand in marriage. I really enjoyed the rock opera duet put on by Cleante and Angelique. I was confused, yet intrigued for the majority of the play. However, I thought the director and actors and actresses did a phenomenal job of entertaining the audience during the three or four scenes prior to intermission. However, the second half of the play just did not keep my attention. Whether it was more story development or what, but I thought there were extra scenes that didn’t really accomplish much. For example the whole maid turns into a doctor skit just did not interest me. It thought it was very childish, and seemed to drag on for too long. I also wished I would have looked up what invalid meant before I watched the play, because it would have made it a lot easier to understand. For example, why they were speaking pig Latin, or why the maid and doctor were the same person. I guess that was part of the quirky humor, but I did not think it was funny. Plays are a unique way to interact with the text. It offers the director’s engagement with the text as well as some of the individual actors of play. I like the fact that it was live and I feel like that is true acting. Ideas I have rarely come out how I imagined so congratulations to director Nixon.

This week i chose to paint a picture as a reflection on my day at the cemetery. The painting is a metaphor for faith. Because where there death (the cemetery), there is new life (the tree). Jesus calls us to die to ourselves, and who ever looses his life will find it. The painting is also based on Walt Whitman's poem "When Lilacs Last the Dooryard Bloom'd" The picture doesn't do the painting justice, so i will bring it to class tomorrow.

Blogging on Blogging

Prior to this class I was unfamiliar with blogging. I always thought blogging was something people did to complain, or naysay a product or person. However my view of blogging has changed since taking this class. Blogging is a way to express your emotions through a continuous thought of a specific topic. Blogging to me is less formal and more emotional. Blogging seems like a public journal, which is both good and bad I think. The good side of that is other people can come into agreement with your thoughts. As well as elaborate on your thoughts to help you understand a different perspective. Blogging also opens avenues to express yourself, and show your personality. That journaling does not offer. The bad thing about blogging, well not bad, just different, is journaling is more intimate.

I think that blogging with an emphasis on literature certainly helps with understanding the literature being discussed. In order to fully complete the blogging prompt, a reread of the text is necessary. This reread helps develop a deeper understanding to the text. I am starting to understand that there is a method to Professor Corrigan’s madness. As weird as it is reading to trees, painting, visiting a graveyard, they all force me to think deeper in to the meaning, and feeling the author was feeling. The literature experiment is the catalyst for my change in feeling. In a similar way, commenting on another person’s blog help me connect with their feelings.

Sometimes I feel like these blogging assignments are just busy work. Especially when I remember I have a blog due by midnight and its late Sunday or late Tuesday night. My work usually shows my rushed efforts. However, for the most part I have really enjoyed blogging my opinions. It put a new spin, yet again, on my outlook towards literature.

Cemetery proof

There is little doubt as to my whereabouts in this picture, but in all honesty this was taken as we were leaving the cemetery. This picture was made possible by the swift memory of Alex, and my handy camera phone.

When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom'd

Today we took a field trip to a local cemetery to reread a portion of Walt’s poem “When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d”. For me, it brought the literature to life. Since the poem was based around the death of Abraham Lincoln, and the Civil War, It brought the text to life. I feel like Walt could have written the poem in a cemetery, because of the vivid imagery used to describe his feelings. O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I loved? “And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul that has gone? And what shall my perfume be, for the grave of him I love?” It brought a new dimension to the text, because I don’t have to imagine what this would look like, because I am standing in the middle of it. Not the exact one, but all cemeteries are very similar. As we were leaving, I wondered if anyone buried here had a poem written about them.

Reading out loud made me realize how unique Walt Whitman’s writing is, because he strings together words that I am not used to. I found myself stumbling on some of the phrases, and having to read and reread stanzas to try and just say the words in the correct order. “And the streets, how their throbbings throbb’d, and the cities pent—lo! then and there,” Walt is a fantastic writer, it’s just difficult to understand his verbiage sometimes. Similar to The Traveling Onion, I understood the message and context more the second time I read it, then more so when I asked questions, and read it aloud.

But overall, I think the trip helped me understand the context of the poem better. "I went to the Lakeview, Roselawn and Tiger Flowers cemetery complex for this fieldtrip, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes." However, I didn’t have a camera, so I took a picture with my phone, so hopefully I can send it to my e-mail somehow.

The Traveling Onion

Friday’s class helped shatter my preconceived notions about literature, specifically poetry, and helped me develop a process in understanding it better. First I used to think everything the author meant had to be understood the first time it was read. That unfortunately just isn’t true. Also, I thought the text meant one thing, and that was the authors meaning. That was also disproved in Friday’s class, because The Traveling Onion can be taken literally, or figuratively. The process we used was similar to the scientific method for conducting experiments.

My initial reaction was based on the premise of not taking things for granted. C.S. Lewis writes “When you consider the immense number of meetings and fertile unions between ancestors which were necessary in order that you should be born, you perceive that it was once immensely improbable that such a person as you should come to exist: but once you were here, the report of your existence is not in the least bit incredible.” I can relate this back to the onion that traveled so far to make it to this stew today. It wasn’t until we did the second step, asking questions, did I start to understand the point. I was confused on the lines “commenting on the texture of meat or herbal aroma but never on the translucence of onion,” Andrew help me understand a different view on the importance of the small things in life. The onion is a very small, but crucial in adding flavor to the meat and stew. That was the third step in the experiment, getting another view point. I understood the poem better after these three steps. But the crucial step I missed before that step was to reread the poem. Rereading is so important. Like any form of literature whether it would be music, movies, or books. The second and third time is far more important than the first, because the first time is just read to get the main points and what it’s about. It isn’t until the second and third time that you start to pick up on small details like subtle glances. Then we reread the poem again, however it was aloud. Then we discussed it as a group. This was good to hear everybody’s differing views on the same texts.

Overall, I thought it was a very effective and helpful exercise, and I will implement this experiment for all the future texts that I read

Joel...Gods Faithfulness

Monday’s class was very peculiar for the first twenty minutes, because I did an exercise that I had never done before. I was asked to go find a quite place on campus and read a portion of Joel. This minor prophet of the Old Testament has a very unique way of blending poetry with the God-breathed message that need to be portrayed. He uses many similes and metaphors to explain what nature is doing. Anyway, back to what I did on Monday; I found a quite place, the Valencia courtyard, and proclaimed a portion of the second chapter of Joel to the listening trees and shrubbery. They were a fairly good audience, because they didn’t finish my speech with window shaking boo’s that usually ensue after I speak. As weird as it seemed talking to trees, I liked the feeling I got from proclaiming the words of the Lord out loud. I am really exited to paint in class tomorrow. Especially with the imagery I got from reading and rereading Joel. I’m not an especially good painter, so this will be interesting. Crayons are my medium of choice.

The book is filled with such dramatic language as “Its teeth are the teeth of a lion, and it has the fangs of a lioness.” This is vivid, and perfect for painting. Joel is a reminder of God’s faithfulness. Though they are going through severe drought and famine, God promised it would get better. Then, later in the second chapter; God does exactly what He says. “Behold, I am going to send you grain, new wine and oil, and you will be satisfied in full with them;” Completely honest, trust was a great hindrance in my relationship with God. I knew He had so much planned for me, but I was afraid to surrender fearing that the outcome was out of my hands. I like being in control, and that’s not how it works. To say I’m completely there would be a lie, because I’m learning to trust God more and more each day. He meets every need, and the book of Joel is a fresh reminder of this.

Things to Carry.

The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brian is an intriguing story for several reasons. I thought it very interesting about the specific weight of all the items. Why would they include specific weights for everything they carried? Perhaps it was because of the setting of the book. A platoon of soldiers deployed into the Vietnam War are just taking over villages and burning them for a “bigger cause”. The Vietnam War to me and I’m sure others was a pointless period of America’s history. Not in the sense to demean the soldiers who did serve and give their lives for our country, rather the fact that War accomplished very little. I think the author uses the weights to show how un-epic the war was for this group of soldiers. They had so much time on their hands to weigh items. I appreciate their willingness to serve. They seem to carry things that mean to most to them… deep thought right.

If I had a knapsack, what would I carry in it? What 3 things mean the most to me? The Bible is the obvious choice; however I don’t want to play town the importance of the Bible. This one-pound eight ounce masterpiece would get me though anything I can imagine. It would certainly get me through a mission in the jungle. I would also carry a photograph of my family. Not because I will forget what they look like, but to remind me that there will always be people that love me, and that I can see again. The last thing I would carry a soccer ball. Soccer seems to be a way to connect with everybody in the world. I’m sure the Vietnamese people would surrender for an hour or two to play a quick game. These seemingly trivial choices really mean a great deal to me, and cant imagine living a life without them.