Fadwa Tuqan's "Song of Becoming" reminds me of my childhood friend. I remember the days when we were riding our bicycles roaming around our small barrio to play with other children. The child, whom I once enjoyed the company but can't have even a single dimple on her face today. Memories I recall, innocence we had, but is hard to redecorate now. Maybe because of the thought of what we are becoming right now. The stage wherein we became an adult, being molded and have known issues pressing the present situation we have.
Just like Tuqan's poem, as the title barely implies, becoming which means to become. It is shaping something, the environment, experiences and other factors shaping that something into what it is today. It centers on the life of two young men; from the times of their childhood until adulthood, then to what they are now and the rest of their life's notes. The boys enjoying their childhood until they become the ..."trees plunging deep roots into the earth, stretching high towards the sun." It tells us the boys have grown up into someone who can now decide and stand firm on their own. They have shaped by the environmental factors and experiences thay had. They may enjoy the times of the past but there is also a moment in life wherein they will become the past itself and become a story handed down for generations among a people.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Guests on the Sea
Mahmoud Darwish, is a recognized Palestinian poet, whose prose gave voice to the Palestinian experience of exile, occupation and infighting in his poem Guests on the Sea. The poem conveys the sentiments of a Palestinian who are in crusade for a land that they could call their own. Darwish himself has experienced being a visitor, a guest to say so, just likje any other Palestinian. The poem cannot be easily understood if the reader itself do not have any background about the Israeli- Palestinian conflict. The phrase "glue of memory" elicits a feeling of being not a part of something, being a nation and not a country. The vastness of the sea implies the unbounded and the extent feeling of the Palestinians of wanting a land, a land on their own and not in control with others.
Moreover, the line .." Is there another rock over which to offer a new sacrifice for your mercy?” , is a biblical allusion which means that they will do everything, whatever it may gave or take it from them --- even death. While the repetition of the line "sea, do not give us the song we do not deserve", stresses out an admonition of wishing for something they cannot own. It also picture outs the ambiguity of a Palestinian mind wanted to reach for their goal and shift their doubts to a a certain approach because it would be a longer trip for them in the sea, full of hope!
Moreover, the line .." Is there another rock over which to offer a new sacrifice for your mercy?” , is a biblical allusion which means that they will do everything, whatever it may gave or take it from them --- even death. While the repetition of the line "sea, do not give us the song we do not deserve", stresses out an admonition of wishing for something they cannot own. It also picture outs the ambiguity of a Palestinian mind wanted to reach for their goal and shift their doubts to a a certain approach because it would be a longer trip for them in the sea, full of hope!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
The Journey
When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.
~Sophia Loren, Women and Beauty
The quotation above best describes "The Journey" by Maxine Kumin. In the poem the narrator is the mother talking to her thirteen year old girl about the other world she will be going through. Mothers have historically fulfilled the primary role in raising children. Being one is an outstanding and an extraordinary role a person specifically a woman could have. Having a child inside her womb is not and easy job. Keeping and caring for it in nine long months is quite amazing. This may also explains why a mother wanted to have extra care to her child. She wanted to double secure her child, she could not afford to see her child suffer. She wanted her to grow and to raise her child/children the way she did it to them. The mother and child has this invisible threads that connect them which is a partly different bond compared to the father. The mother gives the unequivocal love for her child.
Motherly acts is apparent in the poem, the mother equips her child towards her journey to a completely different world. Inculcate to her the realities that would cloud her as she continue to venture through life. The use of symbolisms added also to the poem's creative presentation. The mentioning of how the gods behave and the swan which means how men can be alluring and mischievous is one I liked most.
The poem also is so into my interest because I can relate to it. It reminded me of my mom's so-called "litany" when she tells me what is right and wrong, what is supposed to do and not to. I now understand why this is so. Every mother wanted whatever is good for her child. It is like a fulfillment on her part seeing her child/children grew the way she wanted and planned. Remember the famous line; "Mother knows best."
~Sophia Loren, Women and Beauty
The quotation above best describes "The Journey" by Maxine Kumin. In the poem the narrator is the mother talking to her thirteen year old girl about the other world she will be going through. Mothers have historically fulfilled the primary role in raising children. Being one is an outstanding and an extraordinary role a person specifically a woman could have. Having a child inside her womb is not and easy job. Keeping and caring for it in nine long months is quite amazing. This may also explains why a mother wanted to have extra care to her child. She wanted to double secure her child, she could not afford to see her child suffer. She wanted her to grow and to raise her child/children the way she did it to them. The mother and child has this invisible threads that connect them which is a partly different bond compared to the father. The mother gives the unequivocal love for her child.
Motherly acts is apparent in the poem, the mother equips her child towards her journey to a completely different world. Inculcate to her the realities that would cloud her as she continue to venture through life. The use of symbolisms added also to the poem's creative presentation. The mentioning of how the gods behave and the swan which means how men can be alluring and mischievous is one I liked most.
The poem also is so into my interest because I can relate to it. It reminded me of my mom's so-called "litany" when she tells me what is right and wrong, what is supposed to do and not to. I now understand why this is so. Every mother wanted whatever is good for her child. It is like a fulfillment on her part seeing her child/children grew the way she wanted and planned. Remember the famous line; "Mother knows best."
The LAMB and The TYGER
When I first read the two poems separately, I thought "The Lamb" would all be about godliness and all the spiritual reflections. "The Tyger" as of a violently cruel nature and all the furious stuffs about it. Disengaging myself with the assumption I had, I think the lamb in the poem speaks of an unstained lamb, unblemished, undefiled and chaste lamb. And the tyger as an experienced, sophisticated one.
The Lamb from the Songs of Innocence and the Tyger from the Songs of Experience seemed to contrast each other. But considering the fact that the two poems were created with the same poet seems to untangle my bewilderment on what the two really meant. Do they really contrast or do they co-exist?
For me, they co-exist. It like that life gives meaning to death. More so, to be emptied in order to be full. The two poems lived together without conflict despite its differences. It is that innocence gives meaning to what is experienced and in return experienced gives meaning to innocence. The one exist to give purpose of the other. It is like having balance to everything. Have you ever imagine yourself always happy?, no problem, but do you feel contented with that? It's like looking for something to spice everything up. It is from purity comes the maturity of an individual. Life would be so boring if everything happens smoothly and always satisfies us. If this is so, would we still appreciate the beauty of life's challenges and trials, would we still know God if we do not have any problem?
The one may not be as pleasing as the other but they supplement each other. They gave each other the drift and their purpose. The two co-exist not to refute the other but to create equanimity, harmony and peace.
The Lamb from the Songs of Innocence and the Tyger from the Songs of Experience seemed to contrast each other. But considering the fact that the two poems were created with the same poet seems to untangle my bewilderment on what the two really meant. Do they really contrast or do they co-exist?
For me, they co-exist. It like that life gives meaning to death. More so, to be emptied in order to be full. The two poems lived together without conflict despite its differences. It is that innocence gives meaning to what is experienced and in return experienced gives meaning to innocence. The one exist to give purpose of the other. It is like having balance to everything. Have you ever imagine yourself always happy?, no problem, but do you feel contented with that? It's like looking for something to spice everything up. It is from purity comes the maturity of an individual. Life would be so boring if everything happens smoothly and always satisfies us. If this is so, would we still appreciate the beauty of life's challenges and trials, would we still know God if we do not have any problem?
The one may not be as pleasing as the other but they supplement each other. They gave each other the drift and their purpose. The two co-exist not to refute the other but to create equanimity, harmony and peace.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Better Half
Stay always at home. Watch over our children. Teach them ABC's and 123's every afternoon. Help them in their home works. Cook delicious foods that will entice me and everyone after a hard days work. Use sanitary facilities in preparing foods. Clean our surroundings or else we'll have bacterias and viruses everywhere. Do the laundry everyday. If you do it daily it would not be a hard work for you on a weekend. We do not also need to pay for our laundry. Iron them also so that it will be more comfortable to wear. Maintain our home environment. You can also do lawn activities. We have our backyard. You can manage to plant some vegetables there. Or you can do gardening, orchids? I love it too. But you do not have to do it the whole day. Find also time to recreate. Do not tire yourself, just as long as you're good and the house is alright too. Watch TV programs and talk shows to entertain you. Just be sure that the house won't be taken for granted. When you go to market make sure the house is secure and locked, we have to double secure everything because robbers are now everywhere. Teach our young to help you do the chores so that when they will grow old with enough initiative they will be the ones doing everything for us. Make sure also that appliances those that are using electricity is not wasted. Look after our bills so that we can budget it right. Follow-up also our child's school fees so that I could prepare for it also. No pressure dear, I will always be here for you. Just do not get tired shedding light to our family. We'll still have time for each other. Just do your job and I will do mine with love. Let us now prepare ourselves for the Sunday mass and after it we will go to a restaurant. It will be your day-off sweetie.
The Fury of the Overshoes
"Childhood isn't all that fun and sweet."
The poem "The Fury of the Overshoes" of Anne's Sexton speaks of an innocent child wanting grow old in an instant. His innocence is much showed how he wanted to have everything in an eye's wink-- he indeed do not yet know about most of the things. Anger and frustrations would then be the child's emotion on the poem as is best suggested by the poem's title. The impediments of being unable to become the person he fated to be. It is a usual perplexity of and individual to conceptualize oneself -- to establish one's self. This self conceptualization is not as easy as ABC and 123. It do not happen just by taking giant steps but one step at a time. You need not hurry things because you might slip and fall. You have to take it slowly but surely. And along with this journey comes tests who will push you up and down but still you have to embrace it. Afterall,the world wasn't handed to us on a silver platter, we had to learn.
The poem "The Fury of the Overshoes" of Anne's Sexton speaks of an innocent child wanting grow old in an instant. His innocence is much showed how he wanted to have everything in an eye's wink-- he indeed do not yet know about most of the things. Anger and frustrations would then be the child's emotion on the poem as is best suggested by the poem's title. The impediments of being unable to become the person he fated to be. It is a usual perplexity of and individual to conceptualize oneself -- to establish one's self. This self conceptualization is not as easy as ABC and 123. It do not happen just by taking giant steps but one step at a time. You need not hurry things because you might slip and fall. You have to take it slowly but surely. And along with this journey comes tests who will push you up and down but still you have to embrace it. Afterall,the world wasn't handed to us on a silver platter, we had to learn.
A Review : "Hanging Fire"
Upon reading and rereading the poem I have come into the conclusion of a girl -- an African-American, who is anxious, frustrated and confused on how her life will be. Having known her age (14 yrs. young) she in the role confusion stage of development. She has a fear of death, she always has this negative views of dying. She maybe had this thoughts in her mind because of the color she has. "my skin has betrayed me". She is afraid of being neglected and discriminated. Fears overcome her being.
As I have understood from the title "Hanging Fire", as it was said in class, it is an early weapon and in other researches I did a hang fire is associated with the word delayed, a hanging fire is a firearm which does not immediately takes of because it as if it stops in a second or two before it ignites. I think this best fits the girl's dilemma, she may have certainties in her life but was overpowered by doubts. Instead of doing something she just wait for something to happen. "There is nothing I want to do and too much that has to be done". This also gives us the idea of why she does not open the door where her momma was even if it is closed not locked.
Life can be so doubtful as it is but someone must do something to make his / her life worth it. Destiny is what we make it. It is just we should take one step at a time and expect the undeniable truth that as we take our steps there will always be uncertainties along it.
As I have understood from the title "Hanging Fire", as it was said in class, it is an early weapon and in other researches I did a hang fire is associated with the word delayed, a hanging fire is a firearm which does not immediately takes of because it as if it stops in a second or two before it ignites. I think this best fits the girl's dilemma, she may have certainties in her life but was overpowered by doubts. Instead of doing something she just wait for something to happen. "There is nothing I want to do and too much that has to be done". This also gives us the idea of why she does not open the door where her momma was even if it is closed not locked.
Life can be so doubtful as it is but someone must do something to make his / her life worth it. Destiny is what we make it. It is just we should take one step at a time and expect the undeniable truth that as we take our steps there will always be uncertainties along it.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
The Hunger Artist
After reading Franz Kafka's Hunger Artist, it disclosed the real meaning of what an artist is. The metaphorical act of hunger which conveys the grappling of a person(an artist) to see his craft having a satisfactory outcome. For me that the artist in the story did not find the proper outlet for his craft. He had the hard time doing it because he has to conform with the society which is indeed what we are experiencing in real life now. We tend to do things because this is how the people and the society dictate us. People tend to admire the art and the artist using the demands of the many. It is so difficult for the artist to partake his craft without the people appreciating it. An artist may experience ups and downs but still has the courage to show his craft as an expression of themselves. Just like how we live life. Life may be winsome and pleasing which we love most of the times,but this isn’t always the way things would be, it can also be as stormy as it is. Change is inevitable and the only thing that is constant in this world, we just have to face and enjoy it as long as we shared and expressed it right.
Friday, July 10, 2009
The Bottle of Mojitos:Revision of "The Cask of Amontillado"
The hundreds of fouls and offenses of Kobe I had accepted and ignored,but when he dared conquer my dreams I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely, settled -- but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved
precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity.
Kobe is a good friend of mind, since I was 5.
He was the son of our family's personal chef.
I came from the Ginobilli family from the southern part of Argentina.
A family of basketball realm.
Good and amazing players -- MVPs.
A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes the redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself as such to him has done the wrong. Neither by word or by deed had I given Kobe cause to doubt my good will. I am still me, I continued, as was my habit, to smile in his face, play and practice with him.He did not percieved that my smile was at the thought of my defense and the thought of his immolation.
This Kobe was my playmate until now, we play basketball.
He became my best friend and brother. We went to the same school.
He is bright -- not quite far from me, he enjoys scholarships and so me.
He is my teammate, my colleague. He is undeniably masculine and girl-magnets, feared and idolized by many.He is happy. He just have it all. He prided himself in the sport. His enthusiasm to this makes him MVP which is adopted to suit the time and the opportunity. Kobe was indeed sincere in his athletic career. In this respect, I did not differ from him materially -- I was skillful in basketball as well, in fact I earned my 3 consecutive MVP awards before he do.
It was dim part of twilight, when I encountered this friend of mine at the locker room after the heavy trainings during summertime. He approached me first, wearing only the shorts and a towel wiping all over his sweat. I was so pleased seeing him that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand.
"It's good to see you again!" I said.
"Same here, I just came from a one month training for the New York Huskies, I was given a chance to be trained by their amazing players and hopefully to play with them this coming season." he proudly said.
"That's a good news. Hope you can make it. You're good, just be cautious with your health."
I replied
"Yah, I constantly and religiously take my vitamins and my energy drink." he added.
"Good! Talking about energy drinks, Dad has stocked much of the newest and most expensive and good drink in town, would you mind if I invite you to drink it with me?
It's been months when I last shared a drink with you."
"What's that drink?"
"It's the newest Mojitos"
"The Mojitos! Quite expensive. Stocked by your dad? Amazing! "
"Come let's go!"
"To your house?"
"Yes, to the place where we once play the whole day."
Our tree house, it was intentionally made for the two of us, not above the tree but inside the tree, a big tree, the trunk open, cave-like tree under the stony woods 50-meters away from home.
Thus, Kobe came with me. We got the drink and started walking towards our playing habitat.
We brought flashlights, walk and walk..A picture of tiredness masked his face.
"Are you tired? We can go back, I am concerned with your health, you are good, respected,idolized like I once was.
You are about to play for the next season." I said.
"No this is nothing, it won't kill me. No one died because of fatigue."
"Yah right!" I replied
"Perhaps, this tiredness I felt will be gone after I drink the Mojitos." he surely said.
And so we arrived on the place where our childhood years were painted.
We got inside the tree, it became a smaller space for us, we indeed grew. We sit.
"Drink,"I said presenting him the drink.
He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly.
"I drink," he said, "to the trees and woods and ghosts around us. and to our childhood memories!"
"And I to your long life and basketball career."
"This tree is terrific and awesome. It is indeed made for us. Amazing!"
"The Ginobilli,"I replied, "made this for us, my great family."
"And your basketball realm!"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
He seemed to enjoy the drink, it seemed taste good on his unconscious taste buds.
"Here, more mojitos."
"Relish with it my friend, its good for you." I said
"Just continue and I'll get some woods to produce fire to give heat to this place."
Kobe didn't mind my exit. I carefully piled stones, boulders and medium sizes in front of
the tree. Partly conscious, he asks;
"What's that my friend?"
"Nothing! Just go on. I will do things for you now, I'll be pleasing you here." I said.
For a brief moment I hesitated, I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me.
As I said those words I busied myself in piling the stones. While realizing that Kobe has been 75% intoxicated. I continued doing my thing, I did it vigorously to wall up the entrance.
A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the inside of the tree, seemed to trust me violently. For a moment I hesitated to continue, I trembled. But the thought of an instant reassured me. I surpassed them in volume and strength. I did this.
It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth and the tenth stone. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position.
"What are you doing to me my friend? A joke?" he shouted.
"Yes a very good joke my friend, a joke that would fit with your mojitos."
"The mojitos are about to be done and gone."
"Yes my friend, and let you be gone too my friend!"
"I beg you, for God's glory!"
"Yes, for God's glory. ha-ha-ha!"
"The moji...tos..." with the voice losing its sound.
"Kobe!"
I grew impatient.
"Kobe!"
No answer.
I called again but no answer again.
I got my gasoline and lighted the match.
A fire came around the tree.
Slowly eating it all up.
"Farewell to you my friend!" I said.
"You may now take your break forever!
"May you rest in peace!"
precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity.
Kobe is a good friend of mind, since I was 5.
He was the son of our family's personal chef.
I came from the Ginobilli family from the southern part of Argentina.
A family of basketball realm.
Good and amazing players -- MVPs.
A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes the redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself as such to him has done the wrong. Neither by word or by deed had I given Kobe cause to doubt my good will. I am still me, I continued, as was my habit, to smile in his face, play and practice with him.He did not percieved that my smile was at the thought of my defense and the thought of his immolation.
This Kobe was my playmate until now, we play basketball.
He became my best friend and brother. We went to the same school.
He is bright -- not quite far from me, he enjoys scholarships and so me.
He is my teammate, my colleague. He is undeniably masculine and girl-magnets, feared and idolized by many.He is happy. He just have it all. He prided himself in the sport. His enthusiasm to this makes him MVP which is adopted to suit the time and the opportunity. Kobe was indeed sincere in his athletic career. In this respect, I did not differ from him materially -- I was skillful in basketball as well, in fact I earned my 3 consecutive MVP awards before he do.
It was dim part of twilight, when I encountered this friend of mine at the locker room after the heavy trainings during summertime. He approached me first, wearing only the shorts and a towel wiping all over his sweat. I was so pleased seeing him that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand.
"It's good to see you again!" I said.
"Same here, I just came from a one month training for the New York Huskies, I was given a chance to be trained by their amazing players and hopefully to play with them this coming season." he proudly said.
"That's a good news. Hope you can make it. You're good, just be cautious with your health."
I replied
"Yah, I constantly and religiously take my vitamins and my energy drink." he added.
"Good! Talking about energy drinks, Dad has stocked much of the newest and most expensive and good drink in town, would you mind if I invite you to drink it with me?
It's been months when I last shared a drink with you."
"What's that drink?"
"It's the newest Mojitos"
"The Mojitos! Quite expensive. Stocked by your dad? Amazing! "
"Come let's go!"
"To your house?"
"Yes, to the place where we once play the whole day."
Our tree house, it was intentionally made for the two of us, not above the tree but inside the tree, a big tree, the trunk open, cave-like tree under the stony woods 50-meters away from home.
Thus, Kobe came with me. We got the drink and started walking towards our playing habitat.
We brought flashlights, walk and walk..A picture of tiredness masked his face.
"Are you tired? We can go back, I am concerned with your health, you are good, respected,idolized like I once was.
You are about to play for the next season." I said.
"No this is nothing, it won't kill me. No one died because of fatigue."
"Yah right!" I replied
"Perhaps, this tiredness I felt will be gone after I drink the Mojitos." he surely said.
And so we arrived on the place where our childhood years were painted.
We got inside the tree, it became a smaller space for us, we indeed grew. We sit.
"Drink,"I said presenting him the drink.
He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly.
"I drink," he said, "to the trees and woods and ghosts around us. and to our childhood memories!"
"And I to your long life and basketball career."
"This tree is terrific and awesome. It is indeed made for us. Amazing!"
"The Ginobilli,"I replied, "made this for us, my great family."
"And your basketball realm!"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
He seemed to enjoy the drink, it seemed taste good on his unconscious taste buds.
"Here, more mojitos."
"Relish with it my friend, its good for you." I said
"Just continue and I'll get some woods to produce fire to give heat to this place."
Kobe didn't mind my exit. I carefully piled stones, boulders and medium sizes in front of
the tree. Partly conscious, he asks;
"What's that my friend?"
"Nothing! Just go on. I will do things for you now, I'll be pleasing you here." I said.
For a brief moment I hesitated, I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me.
As I said those words I busied myself in piling the stones. While realizing that Kobe has been 75% intoxicated. I continued doing my thing, I did it vigorously to wall up the entrance.
A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the inside of the tree, seemed to trust me violently. For a moment I hesitated to continue, I trembled. But the thought of an instant reassured me. I surpassed them in volume and strength. I did this.
It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth and the tenth stone. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position.
"What are you doing to me my friend? A joke?" he shouted.
"Yes a very good joke my friend, a joke that would fit with your mojitos."
"The mojitos are about to be done and gone."
"Yes my friend, and let you be gone too my friend!"
"I beg you, for God's glory!"
"Yes, for God's glory. ha-ha-ha!"
"The moji...tos..." with the voice losing its sound.
"Kobe!"
I grew impatient.
"Kobe!"
No answer.
I called again but no answer again.
I got my gasoline and lighted the match.
A fire came around the tree.
Slowly eating it all up.
"Farewell to you my friend!" I said.
"You may now take your break forever!
"May you rest in peace!"
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The Cathedral: Wife's Point of View
Wife : Martha
Husband : Jake
Blind man: Robert
I found it easy to have it by scene..
Husband : Jake
Blind man: Robert
I found it easy to have it by scene..
Scene 1: Now that the blind man was coming over to our house...
"Maybe I could take him bowling." my husband said...
Martha : I think the bowling idea is great, my husband and Robert will go, play and
enjoy and I'll be left here at home and rest. My burden will be lessened andI will be having more time for myself. And do I wiped my my hands with the dish towel relieved by the invitation Jake suggested.
Scene 2 : "I don't have blind friends." said Jake.
Martha : It's pretty good to have no friends or super close friends, especially to those who are physically-challenged ones like mine, Robert, visually-challenged.It's kinda agitating, yuo will feel responsible for him/her if something happens.Just like what I am feeling right now, Robert is grieving for his wife's death.He is now alone and nobody will take care of him anymore. Since I am the one to him and has been his assistant, I am responsible for him, no one but ME.
It's like I'm paying off all the good things he has done for from a very long timeago. I cannot also take it to leave him alone. I have no choice. I pity him.
Scene 3 : So when the time rolled around...
Martha : I went to the depot to pick up Robert and note I should be the one to pick him up, not my husband but me, Jake will not recognize him anyway. After seeing Robert, we went home straight. I drove him home. I must! When we arrived I welcomed him wholeheartedly and accommodate him as much as I and Jake could. I got him out the car and shut the door. I dress my face with a smile so that my husband won't recognize the irritation and disturbing feeling I felt. I talk to Robert, guide him, I introduced him to my husband and vice versa. But this does not end there. I still have to give Robert a chair to sit, carry his luggage and all. It's so annoying. I felt like its too much for that special treatment. But I always recall how considerate and kind Robert to me. I feel guilty. My husband opened small talks. I thank him for that, making Robert feel at home and lessening my attention to him. And so I prepared for dinner time.
Scene 4 : Dinner Time
Martha : When we sat down at the table, I put some food to Robert's plate. He can't eat if I don't. I just thought what Jake felt that time, maybe jealous or maybe he'll understand. I have no choice. And went on a serious eating. The food was no good but we ate everything.
Scene 5: After dinner
Martha : After the heavy meal, we went straight to the living room. Robert opened a conversation. More talk from Robert, he had a little of everthing. They chat and exchange questions with Jake. When my husband fekt he was beginning to run down and can't answer to Robert's question, he got up and turned the TV on. I felt irritated at first but somehow releif. I think my husband wanted to convert there chit-chat to another form of recreation. I think Jake can manage him, though he can't see, he can still hear it anyway. And so I found the time to go up so that I could prepare Robert's bed, still ME! After it, I will be preparing myself to sleep.
Scene 6 : The wife went downstairs..
Martha : I came back downstairs wearing my pink robe and pink slippers, after all the hard days work and exhaustion, I still look great! I smell something, ask them what was it, it's a cannabis. I ask Robert if he do smoke, he said he does. Well, ok! At least they can get jive with Jake. A little burden for me not to follow him all the time because he will be with my husband. I sat on the sofa between them and joined them. And felt high and fall asleep.
"Maybe I could take him bowling." my husband said...
Martha : I think the bowling idea is great, my husband and Robert will go, play and
enjoy and I'll be left here at home and rest. My burden will be lessened andI will be having more time for myself. And do I wiped my my hands with the dish towel relieved by the invitation Jake suggested.
Scene 2 : "I don't have blind friends." said Jake.
Martha : It's pretty good to have no friends or super close friends, especially to those who are physically-challenged ones like mine, Robert, visually-challenged.It's kinda agitating, yuo will feel responsible for him/her if something happens.Just like what I am feeling right now, Robert is grieving for his wife's death.He is now alone and nobody will take care of him anymore. Since I am the one to him and has been his assistant, I am responsible for him, no one but ME.
It's like I'm paying off all the good things he has done for from a very long timeago. I cannot also take it to leave him alone. I have no choice. I pity him.
Scene 3 : So when the time rolled around...
Martha : I went to the depot to pick up Robert and note I should be the one to pick him up, not my husband but me, Jake will not recognize him anyway. After seeing Robert, we went home straight. I drove him home. I must! When we arrived I welcomed him wholeheartedly and accommodate him as much as I and Jake could. I got him out the car and shut the door. I dress my face with a smile so that my husband won't recognize the irritation and disturbing feeling I felt. I talk to Robert, guide him, I introduced him to my husband and vice versa. But this does not end there. I still have to give Robert a chair to sit, carry his luggage and all. It's so annoying. I felt like its too much for that special treatment. But I always recall how considerate and kind Robert to me. I feel guilty. My husband opened small talks. I thank him for that, making Robert feel at home and lessening my attention to him. And so I prepared for dinner time.
Scene 4 : Dinner Time
Martha : When we sat down at the table, I put some food to Robert's plate. He can't eat if I don't. I just thought what Jake felt that time, maybe jealous or maybe he'll understand. I have no choice. And went on a serious eating. The food was no good but we ate everything.
Scene 5: After dinner
Martha : After the heavy meal, we went straight to the living room. Robert opened a conversation. More talk from Robert, he had a little of everthing. They chat and exchange questions with Jake. When my husband fekt he was beginning to run down and can't answer to Robert's question, he got up and turned the TV on. I felt irritated at first but somehow releif. I think my husband wanted to convert there chit-chat to another form of recreation. I think Jake can manage him, though he can't see, he can still hear it anyway. And so I found the time to go up so that I could prepare Robert's bed, still ME! After it, I will be preparing myself to sleep.
Scene 6 : The wife went downstairs..
Martha : I came back downstairs wearing my pink robe and pink slippers, after all the hard days work and exhaustion, I still look great! I smell something, ask them what was it, it's a cannabis. I ask Robert if he do smoke, he said he does. Well, ok! At least they can get jive with Jake. A little burden for me not to follow him all the time because he will be with my husband. I sat on the sofa between them and joined them. And felt high and fall asleep.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Somehow... I enjoyed, I learned and I posted!
Though bewildered me at first, this William Boyd was indeed good, having written the account of what has happened on the development and becoming into being of short stories.
I must say good, for in my own viewpoint, history is not a piece of cake. I hate history subject... tracing back to past years which I still do not exist and for god sake, I do not care! Thanks to Boyd, he opened a window for me to at least appreciate history through his records about short story.
Despite the fact that I do not felt the urge to enjoy what I am reading, I still understood how short yet meaningful stories came to be. Honestly speaking,I even don't remember those names mentioned in the history of short story but I was able to realized that its mystery and complexity of afterthought is a pavement to a simple narrative story in which the whole is undeniably greater than the sum of its component. Short stories must go on great craftsmanship for it has accomplish its purpose in very few words.
According to Sir Mike, "It is when you enjoy that you learn the most." That would maybe explain why I wasn't able to unveil the mystery of the short story "The Cathedral". I found it really (promise!) boring (sorry to Carver). I thought it would talk more about churches, gods, goddesses but ooh I doesn't! I just recognized its significant message after our Lit3 class (special thanks to ms.rose and to my classmates as well). I do not even sensed the rudeness of the husband towards the blind man in the story but while discussing about it, I discerned that it was true, people tend to do special favors to incapacitated persons not knowing how it is perceived by the person. I am not saying that we should not help disabled persons,rather, we must treat them as how we treat normal ones, know our limitations and the same as they do to theirs and maybe help them until they can't manage to do it. In addition, the blind mind affected me too, he gave me a conforming appeal. I may not be blind as he do but I am blinded with so many things in life. I realized, I am just living for the sake of living just like the husband, but was not able to see the scintillating reality. But its not yet the end of the world, I can still experience the underlying meaning of life and live it to the fullest. So much for that, the story was indeed a short story, from its mystery and beguiling resonance. It may be hanging but it has the elements needed in it to be called one and is impossible to be encapsulated.
"Virginia Woolf [...] said of photography, 'Isn’t it odd how much more one sees in a photograph than in real life?' This gives us, I think, a clue to the enduring power and appeal of the short story—they are snapshots of the human condition and of human nature, and when they work well, and work on us, we are given the rare chance to see in them more 'than in real life.'"
I must say good, for in my own viewpoint, history is not a piece of cake. I hate history subject... tracing back to past years which I still do not exist and for god sake, I do not care! Thanks to Boyd, he opened a window for me to at least appreciate history through his records about short story.
Despite the fact that I do not felt the urge to enjoy what I am reading, I still understood how short yet meaningful stories came to be. Honestly speaking,I even don't remember those names mentioned in the history of short story but I was able to realized that its mystery and complexity of afterthought is a pavement to a simple narrative story in which the whole is undeniably greater than the sum of its component. Short stories must go on great craftsmanship for it has accomplish its purpose in very few words.
According to Sir Mike, "It is when you enjoy that you learn the most." That would maybe explain why I wasn't able to unveil the mystery of the short story "The Cathedral". I found it really (promise!) boring (sorry to Carver). I thought it would talk more about churches, gods, goddesses but ooh I doesn't! I just recognized its significant message after our Lit3 class (special thanks to ms.rose and to my classmates as well). I do not even sensed the rudeness of the husband towards the blind man in the story but while discussing about it, I discerned that it was true, people tend to do special favors to incapacitated persons not knowing how it is perceived by the person. I am not saying that we should not help disabled persons,rather, we must treat them as how we treat normal ones, know our limitations and the same as they do to theirs and maybe help them until they can't manage to do it. In addition, the blind mind affected me too, he gave me a conforming appeal. I may not be blind as he do but I am blinded with so many things in life. I realized, I am just living for the sake of living just like the husband, but was not able to see the scintillating reality. But its not yet the end of the world, I can still experience the underlying meaning of life and live it to the fullest. So much for that, the story was indeed a short story, from its mystery and beguiling resonance. It may be hanging but it has the elements needed in it to be called one and is impossible to be encapsulated.
"Virginia Woolf [...] said of photography, 'Isn’t it odd how much more one sees in a photograph than in real life?' This gives us, I think, a clue to the enduring power and appeal of the short story—they are snapshots of the human condition and of human nature, and when they work well, and work on us, we are given the rare chance to see in them more 'than in real life.'"
This passage spells an entity. Photographs speaks a thousand words and yet it can only be untangled with a simple exposition. Just like the short stories, its mystery is a conundrum to the reader. It is in the person to discover and unfold its enigma of human condition and recount it to the real world. For if people sees the beauty in it, it captures their heart and will be developed for a lifetime.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
