I Hope I Would Walk Away from Omelas: Post for 12/2

I'm going to try something a little different for this post responding to Le Guin's The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas. It's a first-person narrative of a girl in Omelas who is exposed to the child in the closet. I don't really know if it works, but here it goes!


I am eleven. I live in Omelas. Things are nice here. I am happy. I do good in school. I like art. Mom says I am really good. I like living here. Everyone is so carefree. Everyone smiles so easily. I can't be sad while I am in Omelas.

Mom is calling me right now. She says she has something to tell me. She says she thinks I am old enough to understand. I wonder what it is. I go to find out.

I found out. Mom thought I would understand but I don't. She talks about a child in a closet. One who is only a little younger than me. One who suffers. One who has to suffer so we can be happy. I thought everyone was happy in Omelas. But not the child. The child sees no sun when I see it every day. It is starving when I am full. It is not clothed when I have clothes in my closet I never wear. Mom and Dad are taking me to see it. I don't want to go. They make me.

Horrible. I feel... compassion. I feel... pain. I feel. Guilt. The forbidden emotion. I hide it.

I am home. I cry for the child.

Why?

It has been five years since I have seen the child. Terrible. I still feel guilt. I think of the child every day. I will visit the child today.

I went. Guilt.

Today in class I got up and left. I could take it no more. I left my books. My sketchbook. I left everything. I don't go home. I walk through the city gates.

I keep walking. Will I stop? Will I turn around? Will I return to Omelas? Or do I keep going? I think of the child. I do not stop.

The Famous Figurative Language Disappearing Act: Post for 11/30

While reading a piece of literature, be it from the Bible or not, we never really look for figurative language. We get so used to it being there and interpreting it instantly that it almost disappears. The only times we ever really notice it are when they take time to process or you don't get the connection right away. At least, that is how it works for me. When I went to read Paul's letter to the Philippians it was difficult for me to find figurative language. I had to slow down a lot and try to process the material differently. Even reading at a snail's pace, I didn't find a lot of figurative language. I'm not even sure what figurative language we are supposed to be looking for. Or even if some things I found are figurative language. For example, "... having been filled with the fruit of righteousness". Is that figurative language? I know that righteousness is not literally a piece of fruit. So is it figurative language? What kind?

Other than some of those types of statements, I really didn't find a lot of figurative language. I found a few uses of simile, but that was just about it. I found as simile that stated, "...among whom you appear as lights in the world..." referring to the saved in a world full of sinners. Paul also says, "...even if I am being poured out as a drinking offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith...". When Paul was speaking of Timothy he said, "But you know of his proven worth, that he served with me in the furtherance of the gospel like a child serving his father" to show how Paul was Timothy's mentor and spiritual father. I'm sure there were more examples of figurative language, but I either missed them or didn't know what they were.

I think understanding figurative language is a necessary part of reading literature, especially the Bible. The Bible has many examples of figurative language, all of which helps us get a better understanding of teachings, God, and other things. Figurative language might provide a concrete explanation for an abstract concept or relate a lesson to something that we would understand. If we looked at the Bible, and many other literary works, without a basic knowledge of figurative language I think we would just be confused.

Items of Importance: Make-Up Post for Alliance for Independence

This is my make-up assignment for not being able to make it to the Alliance for Independence. All I can say is that I spent much more time on these than anybody spent on the field trip. I guess that's what I get for not making it there? I chose to paint three pictures, each representing a character in the play The Boys Next Door. I didn't actually paint them, I decided to paint items in their lives that were significant. For Arnold I painted popcorn because he works at the theater, a polished shoe because a man at his work makes him polish his shoes, and a map of Russia because he continually threatens to go to Russia. For Norman I drew a doughnut because he is eating them all of the time, keys because he is obsessed with his keys, and Sheila's phone number because they are "dating" (even though I don't think she actually gave him her phone number in the play). Last, for Lucien I drew books because he was always checking them out, a library card because he was so proud of his, and a spiderman tie hanging out of the book because he wore one to see the "State Sneck". Well, here you go.

Everyone is a Temple: Post for 11/18

I really enjoyed Flannery O'Conner's short story A Temple of the Holy Ghost. I know that we are supposed to talk about symbolism for this post but I'm not sure what to talk about. I'm not the type of person that can spout off symbolic facts like, "This is what the girls being at a convent means!" or "The author wanted to convey this by giving the child braces! Ah-ha!" I can't do that. Is there even anything I could get from that? I haven't figured out yet if I over-think things or I don't think about them enough. Could it be different for each situation? Maybe.

This story began to remind me of the imago dei discussion in Dr. Fettke's essay. At least at the end when the girls (who should not have seen this in the first place, they're only fourteen) saw the intersex person at the fair. At the beginning of this short story they were taking the "I'm a Temple of the Holy Ghost!" statement from the nun very lightly, to the point where they were mocking it. Everyone started to say, "You're a Temple!" to others and so on. Did they think the same thing when they saw the intersex person? Probably not. They were so disgusted by it that it never even would have crossed their mind. At the end of the story priests went to the fair, inspected it, and had the police shut it down. Do they believe that person is a Temple of the Holy Ghost? They are from the same religion that the nun was from that told the girls about everyone being Temples, right? So then, why did they have the place shut down? In no way am I condoning an intersex person displaying the good china for everyone who walks into that tent. But, were the priests offended by the person showing themselves? Or were they offended that the person claimed that God had made them that way and they were okay with it? Maybe the priests thought, "Surely this person can't be a Temple of the Holy Ghost"? But isn't everyone supposed to be a Temple? I hope this kind of discussion is what we were supposed to do for this post.

The Man Who Didn't Actually Want to Be at Dinner: Post for 11/16

I went to see The Man Who Came to Dinner today, Sunday, at the Polk Theatre. I brought a friend from my hometown with me and we both enjoyed ourselves. At first the play didn't seem like the comedy it had been advertised as, but then Sherry Whiteside came in with his witty and intelligent comments. I kept the program from the show and I noticed a quote on the front cover, "Is there a man in the world who suffers as I do from the gross inadequacies of the human race?" I think this quote is a great representation of the Sherry character. He sees different inadequacies in everyone else. Maggie is inadequate because she fell in love. Miss Preen, the nurse, is inadequate because she does not get to him quick enough when he calls. Dr. Bradley is inadequate because he thinks he is a wonderful writer but isn't. What Sherry fails to see is that the inadequacies the he is truly suffering from are his own, the foremost being his selfishness. The statement on the cover does ring true, just in a different way than Sherry meant it. He reminded me a little of Orson Welles, director of Citizen Kane and the man who radio broadcast War of the Worlds. He was a very well-known radio-show host, just as Sherry was. He was also known for indulging in selfish pleasures at the expense of those around him.

There were also a few other characters that I enjoyed more than others, as well. Miss Preen, the nurse, had a small but comical part. She didn't have many lines but her facial expression and body language made her scenes enjoyable. Another character that made me laugh was Beverly, Sherry's Hollywood friend. The actor who played Beverly was very talented and portrayed the character in a way that had the entire audience laughing. There was another character, Banjo, that Sherry had kept referring to. Throughout the first two acts, I had been hoping that Banjo would make an appearance. I almost gave up, but in the third act he showed up. He had a very different comic style than the rest of the characters. He did more slap-stick comedy, which I am a big fan of. I liked his character. All-in-all my experience with the play was positive, entertaining, and enjoyable.

A Conversation: Post for 11/11

While I was reading The Spirit of God Hovered Over the Waters, the essay by Steven Fettke, I kept imagining a disabled person talking to God when they got to heaven. How do some disabled people get saved? Do they understand what that even means or who God is? I don't know. The essay talked about a lot of things I have thought about often. It was well written and very insightful. But anyway, in this conversation God and this severely autistic boy are sitting under a tree together. They are sitting close, the boy is right next to God and God has his arm around the boy's shoulders. Because he is in heaven, the boy no longer has autism. Let's say his name was Jamie, he was probably about seven or eight. He had been unable to speak, but had a talent in art. My answers God gives are just guesses. I could never know what He thinks, but contemplating what His responses might have been took this essay and this subject to a new level. And this is only a minuscule portion of what this eternal conversation could be like.

Jamie: You're God, aren't You?
God: Yes, Jamie, I am.
Jamie: You know my name? That's cool. But, why?
God: I love you, that's why. I love you for all that you are and all that you were.
Jamie: Really? You do? But, why? Not many people did. My family did, but that was just about it. Others were nice to me. But, most people didn't like to look at me. Why did they do that?
God: I love you because I made you. People acted like that because you were different from them in a more obvious way. No two people are the same, Jamie, but some differences are easier to see.
Jamie: Oh, okay. But, if you knew people would do that then why did you make me the way I was?
God: Do you know how people had to help you with things?
Jamie: Uh-huh.
God: Well, you were helping others with something else.
Jamie: What is that, God?
God: You helped them open their minds. They learned to accept and love someone different from them.
Jamie: Did some of them really? I did that? Well, I didn't notice much.
God: You did, I promise.
Jamie: You know something, God? I heard people talk about You before. Sometimes they made sense. Sometimes they didn't. The ones that didn't talked about weird things. About demons. Some of them said I had it. Is it like a birthmark? Or a present?
God: No Jamie, it isn't. They aren't nice. They work for the devil. Sometimes they talk to people and get them to do bad things. Sometimes they live inside people.
Jamie: Well, they don't sound good. Did I have one?
God: No, you didn't.
Jamie: Then why did they think I had one?
God: Because you were different. People are sometimes scared of what is different.
Jamie: Well, that doesn't seem right.
God: No it isn't, but that is what happens when people have freedom to do what they wish.
Jamie: Well then, why did You let them be free? You know, if they were gonna do stuff like that?
God: I didn't want them to love me because I made them. I wanted them to love me and follow me because they wanted to. So I let them have free will.
Jamie: Oh, I get it. Well, God, I love You. I don't see why anyone wouldn't. 
God: Thank you Jamie. You don't know how much that means to me. I love you, too.
Jamie: Thank you, God.
God: For what?
Jamie: For making me the way I was. You told me I helped people. I like that. It makes it worth it. You know what else I liked? Being able to draw and paint real good. People liked my pictures.
God: I gave you that gift for a reason. I loved watching you draw and paint. It is a wonderful way to express yourself.
Jamie: Thanks. You know, God, when I got sick I was real worried. So was everyone else. But, I am happy here. I like being with You. I just wish Mommy could know I was doing real good. She was so sad.
God: She may be sad, but she knows you like it here. I am comforting her and making sure she knows.
Jamie: Thanks, God. I'm so glad.

No Alliance for Independence for Me: Post for 11/9

Unfortunately I was unable to attend the field-trip to Alliance for Independence like the majority of my classmates were. I think it would have been a worthwhile and educational experience to go. It may have given me a new perspective on The Boys Next Door. Or maybe not, I do have friends and family with disabilities. But, then again, each person is unique and would be a different experience. Anyway, I still couldn't go and what's done is done.

Do you know something that did help me "see" this play better? When we went into our groups in class and performed small sections of the play. It really helped in exploring the personalities of each of the characters. You begin to see patterns in their speech and their reactions to the different people and situations. I have only been and actor onstage twice. Once, in third grade, I played a reindeer in the Christmas play. In fifth grade, I played a one of three (or four?) birds that were singing storytellers throughout the entire musical production of Little Red Riding Hood. Not a lot of acting experience. Through this exercise, I started to understand why thespians love theater so much. You really get to know your characters. You analyze and dissect the story so many different ways that you can't help but begin to understand it. I think it was one of my favorite in-class exercises that we have done.

Last thing, and I will stop boring you with my chatter. I finished The Boys Next Door today. The first act was focused more on comedy, I think. The last act certainly had comedy in it, but there were so many things that broke you heart when you read them. I couldn't believe how badly Barry's father had treated him. I can understand why he is the way he is, now. His fear of his father is so extreme that he was put back into an institution because of their encounter. And Jack left! Everyone mourned in their own strange way. Arnold screams, "Nyet!" and packs to go to Russia. Norman yells, "If you leave, Jack, I'll go on a hunger strike. Free doughnuts!" and throws them out the window. Lucien runs into his room and shouts out, "Jack be leaving us!" It was all so heart-wrenchingly sad.

The Pro Golfer and the Five-Year-Old: Post for 11/4

I enjoy plays. I like dialogue between the characters. There are a few hints to where something is happening, what it looks like, and what the characters look like. Other than that, while reading a play, it is all left up to the imagination. When you go to see a play that you have read, sometimes you end up a little disappointed in what you see, though. Oh, well.

Anyway, I started reading The Boys Next Door by Tom Griffin. I thought it was entertaining and, at times, very comical. Four of the main characters all live together in the same apartment. Oh, and they are mentally handicapped. Sometimes I would forget they were, even though it is their disabilities that are the fuel for the entire story. You get caught up in the jokes and their strange behavior and sometimes it slips your mind that the reason it all happens is because of their handicap. Strangely enough, the one that seems the most together (so far) is Barry, the schizophrenic. He thinks he is a prof golf player. No harm done right? I guess that's not the case, because their social worker, Jack, says that Barry is a "grade A schizophrenic" and shouldn't even be in the home with them because he has been in so many institutions. Arnold is a talker and a worrier. Norman likes his sweets and his keys. Lucien has the mind of a five-year-old and the government apparently thinks he can be "fully integrated into the community" and so the Senate is interviewing him. I wouldn't think so. Would you force a five-year-old to be on their own? No! Then why force a man who is mentally five and goes around the apartment singing the ABCs?

You know, I don't really like summarizing all of this stuff. It is kind of boring and a bit of a cheat blog. But, I really don't know what to talk about. I'm not sure what Professor Corrigan wanted us to get out of this play. Or at least out of the first act. Are we supposed to feel bad for those with disabilities? I, too, think it is terrible how some people pick on them, like Arnold in the supermarket. And I have a cousin with a disability they can't quite diagnose, but resembles autism. I see her sometimes, she is almost 12 years old physically. I see speaking incoherent sentences and it makes me sad. She doesn't even notice she doesn't make sense to most people. But she seems happy. Does that count? But, that couldn't have been the whole point of reading. Why this play? This topic? Never mind that it is presented comically. You can't ignore what the play is really focused on.

A Beautiful Contradiction: Post for 11/2

A Beautiful Contradiction

By Kristen Looper

A nature path

Beautiful and relaxing

Unknown creature in rustling bushes

Groups of dragonflies perform their dances

Birds make soprano sounds

Accompanied by the bass voices of toads

Breezes tousle branches

And make cattails sway

Shadows are formed

By trees

By birds overhead

Living secrets below
A lake of broken glass

Reflecting a blue sky

White clouds

Bright yellow sun

A nature path

Can a true one exist?

The flip-flop of shoes

On the concrete path

Airplanes above

The hum of city life

Houses interrupting forests

Trains and cars leave trails behind

And sing a broken tune

All so out of place

A contradiction to nature

I went to Lake Bonny Park for this field trip, and I stayed there for at least 45 minutes. I’m no poet. I know that. I have been worried about this assignment since Professor Corrigan announced it in class, partly because I didn’t really have time to go to Lake Bonny Park and mostly because I am no poet. I don’t know how a poet makes their words flow in that way. They make it seem so easy. My brain just doesn’t work that way. From Mary Oliver’s Walking Home from Oak-Head comes the stanza, “I’ll stand in the doorway stamping my boots and slapping my hands, my shoulders covered with stars”. I can’t even pretend to have the kind of talent that can turn “I came inside and shook off the snow” into beautiful words like that. I guess that is why I can appreciate poetry, even though I sometimes don’t like it. I can’t do it.

Now, about my experience at the park. I didn’t go in the morning or the evening when it was cool. I went in the afternoon, the only time I could go, when it was hot. I went alone, but that was kind of stupid. I walked that whole nature path. It was pretty sometimes, when there were no buildings or drainage ditches or signs saying “Nature Path 1.3 Miles”. That wasn’t much of the time. It helped to look the other way. I guess you could say that this was the way I came up with my poem. It wasn’t really a nature path. It was a path that happened to have nature on it. As I walked I read the poems by Mary Oliver, focusing mostly on Six Recognitions of the Lord and Musical Notation: 1. I like how she takes note about the small and simple things. In Six Recognitions she says, “I lounge on the grass, that’s all. So simple.” Often we forget to appreciate those kinds of things. I live in the middle of a cow pasture, grass all around, and I forget. In Musical Notation she mentions her old dog who appreciated flowers. If a dog can appreciate them, I would imagine we can, too. The difference between us and the dog is that we are so preoccupied with other things. The dog has no cares and no schedule. I had been worried about fitting this trip into my schedule when I should have just realized that I needed to appreciate the small things. The sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and the light dancing off the surface of the lake are all so beautiful, yet so easy to overlook.