Thank You, Forever and Always

Michael Sexson, you are an outstanding man. Thank you for everything that you've done for this class, the MSU community, and the nation. I am so lucky to have the opportunity to learn from you. I am so sad that this class is ending, when I have learned how to learn in this class. I feel like I didn't show it properly at the beginning of the semester but wow, I have learned so much. I have gained so many new skills and I see things in a new way. Really. This was one of those few classes that change people's lives and that you tell your grandchildren about decades later. I cannot fathom my life without this course. I am going over all of the materials again and again, and learning something new each and every time. This is something that will stay with me for all of my days. This was challenging, but turned into heaven. Your lyricism and mystique was captivating, there was never a dull moment. I honestly doubted if I was going to gain anything out of this class or if I would have to fake my way through it, but nay I should never have doubted. You led the way and connected every dot.

Matthew: Thank you. You were such a sassy and smart TA and I really enjoyed your input. Your quirky way of leading was really well received by all. I loved hearing your experiences and your thoughts rather than just being prompted and prodded into responding. You are superb. I met you years ago but I am only now getting to know you and I'm so glad that I did. I wish you the best of luck in all of your future endeavors.

Classmates, thank you for everything. I just wanted to say it again. You made 3:00-5:00 one of the best times of my week.

TRACINGS

I cannot even begin to express the amount of growth that has taken place over the course of this semester. I truly "didn't get it" at the beginning (hence my lack of insightful blog posts). I didn't know what to think, I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what I was missing. I wanted to and I tried, but I always left class feeling like I was wearing blinders. These blinders were keeping me from seeing something really important, that there was something important waiting to be seen just on the outskirts. Something really clicked just over the mid-semester mark. Pieces of the intricate puzzle started falling into place and the end result? A CIRCLE. No big surprise there, but really: Everything is connected. Past to present to future, myth to stories to real life, dreams to reality to imagination. It is one and the same, just a different angle. I wish it had clicked sooner, but I'm just glad that it did at all. This class is a diamond, with multiple facets and each one shinier than the last.

First off, thank you for telling me what you thought of my poem/performance. I am so flattered by the praise and thoughts of everyone, I couldn't have performed for a better, more supporting group of people! You made it such an enjoyable experience and I'm so glad that it touched everyone. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my entire life, I have never felt more exhilarated. I didn't really think of it affecting others, I was only focused on my part in it and I'm so happy that it stuck with people and made them think about it/help them accept them for who they are (which is, in the words of Bruno Mars: beautiful just the way you are.)

Part of the success of this class is due to the people who occupy it and share their inner most selves. We lucked out with an incredibly group, I have been able to relate to EVERY single person on something and it feels so awesome to have that connection to people here. As said in the poem I wrote, making friends had a rough start but since high school, I have lucked into so many and I count the people in this class as some of the most intelligent group of friends I've made yet. Thank you all for everything.


JOE: I am so happy we have a class together. When we met a few years ago, I instantly knew that you were one charismatic son of a bitch. I have enjoyed your film exploits and you always make me smile. Even when I've pulled an all nighter and want nothing more than to sink into deep slumber, your comments snap me awake. Your presentation made so much sense that it made my brain hurt but I was still hoping that you would just keep on talking and making sense for eternity. I'm so bummed I have a class afterwards so I had to miss your song but I can guess that it was really amazing.

JONAH: Ever since we ran into each other and confused all of our friends with our "quote fingers", I have admired the crap out of you. You are one killer guy. Your fairytale was so raw but sweet. You're always so ready with a thought or reply, I'm in awe of you. I cannot think that quick on my feet when it comes to connections. But you never take yourself too seriously, humor is always lurking in your comments and you're always ready to pounce on a joke. Thank you for all of your comments in class. And thank you for the hug you gave me after my poem, I was so elated that you liked it and that just sent me over the edge. I'm kicking myself that I had a meeting during your presentation, but I've asked around and have gotten the gist of it, bravo.

SPENCER: Oh Spencer. Where to even start? When I met you, I was so scared of you. You pretended to be mad at me during the first retreat and I believed you for months. Then, when we started talking, you quickly became one of my very good friends. I'm so so happy I know you. And contrary to what has been said by Calder... And me, I'm so glad that you're in this class. I don't science at all, but your presentation made it accessible to an art nerd such as myself. One of the more compassionate and thoughtful people I know, I can't wait to see where you end up in life.

ROSE: I respect the hell out of you, ma'am. Your presentation was so personal and open, wow. Talking about depression is tricky, it seems like society discourages it but it needs to be talked about. Thank you for sharing that part of yourself. I shared the same feelings with you at the beginning of the semester, I just did not get it. I didn't get it and I was mad that other people did and that I just could not make the connections. Your comments always challenged everything and added yet another layer of thought to the discussion. Your humor brought us up when we started getting too deep and your wit made sure that there was never a dull moment.

YASMIN: Hey (old) Roomie! Funny to remember that we used to live together (sorry for my sometimes grouchy nights.) It has been so much fun with you in this class, I categorized everyone's smile after your presentation. I loved how spot on your observations were. It's nice to reconnect with you after the year apart. You're so smart and compassionate, I know you'll go far and be a star in your field. You're always taking notes and listening, I can't keep up with your thoughtful comments.

CALDER: Our post class/walk across campus discussions have been one of my favorite rituals this semester. Head pounding with information, talking with you cements the major points while winding down from the discussions. You have been compassionate from the start and it was so great getting to know you this summer and to then have a class with you. You're one line zingers and humor is always appreciated, as well as your input and thoughtful comments. The question you posed in your presentation is one that I have often wondered about. To this day, I still don't know what to think about the events of that fateful day. And I wonder how many times history has been skewed by one victor to the other... Would our history books be different if someone else had written it? Most definitely because it is most definitely true that history is just the third person account of a witness, written by someone else. Crazy stuff to think about, eh? Thank you for driving that home.

CONNOR: What a great addition to our class. Your comments and thoughts have always left me spinning. I've thought about a few of your comments after class has ended and have had several aha moments. I don't know you as well as the others in class, but it's obvious by what you share that you are incredibly intelligent and beyond talented. And based on what Joe has said, you're incredibly thoughtful and fun. And your sweaters are awesome, by the way.

KATIE C: You're so sweet, I always relate to everything you say in class. And thank you for your hug after my presentation! That made me so happy, I was shaking and smiling the rest of the evening. Your reaction was the cherry on top for me. I really enjoy your take on our material, you're so sassy! You always evoke and speak with such emotion, that sometimes I just listen to you talk and I feel more than hear. You're a big personality in a quiet way, which I love. You are like a shadow: Everyone knows that you're there but they sometimes forget and then WHAM, you make yourself known so quickly that they marvel how they could ever forget something so important.

VALERIE: I want to talk about your life sometime. You are an amazing woman. I love that you bring the mystical side of things to the table, talking about tarot and the universe. I have tarot cards and have been trying to teach myself but I'm really awful. When you talked about it, I was glued to your words. You're so intuitive, I love your take on everything. I'm really inspired by you, you're so confident in yourself and I want to be that kind of women. Self assured and strong. And open, I can't even imagine the trials you faced with your ordeal. Terrifying. Inspiring. During your presentation, when you passed out the Tarot cards, I held them in my hands longer than my neighbors because I really wanted to "feel" my card and when I got the Sun, I was so happy with it. I appreciate all of your kind words on your blog and in person, for some reason you're one that I really wanted to impress in class. I really admire you.

BRADY: From our first T&C class together to now, it's fun to look at the growth of our thoughts and comments. You're so poetic, in all that you do. And never rude, you're always firm in your opinions. Your presentation was perfect for you, I really enjoyed it as a fellow lover of poetry and how it's portrayed. I've never thought about the fact that I've never heard a poem by the author and that I love the ghost of the poem and not the actual thing itself. It made me sad. But at the same time, I imagined how much more moving it would be if I could hear Fitzgerald or Shakespeare reading their own words and I got chills. Wow. You are goin' places Brady, and don't let your dream tell you otherwise. You'll have that nameplate on a desk fer sure.

LOGAN: Ouch, you make my head hurt. So much sense. TOO much sense. I don't even know what to say. You captured everything I've thought in this class but compiled it into one lecture. You said out loud what I've thought but never fully realized. Congratulations on your brain, sir. I'm glad we finally have an honors class together, I've known you for years and I've always known you were smart but wow. You are beyond brilliant.

CAROL: You always look so excited to say things, and that energy is contagious. I find myself leaning forward, listening, and assessing whatever you say because you're so full of life. Thank you for infecting us all with that fervor. Your comments after my presentation were so encouraging. I really appreciate it. Your talk of myths and stories really hit home with me. Your opener alone made me incredibly nostalgic. Thank you for being such a presence in class.

KATIE N: I'm so glad that you came up with a mystery game for your project. That was so much fun. When non honors think of honors, I bet that that is not what they imagine. It was relevant (and had a brilliant message behind it) but still engaging and fun. We all talked and had to think of our own responses. Afterwards, I thought of how our lives are a giant board, and we're the pieces. We all have our lines and our secrets, and we DO want to know everything. We want answers, knowledge, explanations but your game taught us once again that you don't always get what you want. Your interjections in class have really made me think about my life and how it pertains to all of our readings. And vice versa.

BROOKE: You're awesome. I want to buy you a drink sometime. Thank you for your presentation, it was eye opening and so true. I've always been most comfortable with someone after I've been vulnerable but I never really realized that that was why. I went through all of my relationships and close friends and the ones that I'm happiest with are those that I've exposed my whole self. Until we are vulnerable, we are shorting ourselves of happiness. In the few days since your presentation, I've made more of an effort to be more vulnerable. I've shared a fact with friends to help them get to know me more, I open up more than I usually do, and I've tried to bare parts of myself to loved ones. And you know what? I'm still here. And I feel good. Thank you. You're such a neat person and I love that you're so outdoorsy. I hope to run into you outside of class, you're an incredibly neat person.

This has been one of the most challenging and rewarding classes I've ever taken in my life. I am so happy to be a part of it. I would have never learned so much as I did without the help of my incredible classmates.

"Myths Are Public Dreams, Dreams Are Private Myths" -Joseph Campbell

There are far too many things to think about. The "mania" of our discussions before is now creeping in. Everything makes far too much sense and I have so much to say, but when I sit down to say it, it flies away. I GET THIS CLASS but I can't prove it. Dreams, myths, fairytales, circles, swimming, mania, past, present, future. It's all in my head and I know that it makes sense, but I just can't connect them on here. But really, I love that I get it even if I can't make the connections in the written word. It took me so long to get to the point of understanding, I just want to bask in it. I finally connect the themes of this class. From Arcadia to The Magus to Signs & Symbols: I can make connections. I hope to have conversations with classmates about this course even after the class ends. This will stick with me. I love this class

I have always been fascinated with mythology and fairytales, and "getting permission" to apply them to my life has been a dream come true. Same with Tarot cards. I'm encouraged to look at the signs and symbols that influence my life and to apply them to my days. Bingo! Thank you for that. I can't even believe the amount of legends that I live in a day. One minute I'm Heracles, then Persephone, and then Icarus. And that's just in a moment. I'm Snow White and Rapunzel and Cinderella. I love this class.

I also love that everywhere we turn, this class follows. I talk about myself in my presentation, Brooke does her presentation on vulnerability, Rose becomes vulnerable. Valerie brings us our Tarot cards that represent our lives, Carol talks about how our lives are myth repeating, and Joe dissects the process of our lives in the shape of storytelling. Talk about crazy! I love this class.

Circles and swimming have been smothering me since the get go. My classmates say "I'm drawing" or "I'm just circling, going through the motions". And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Holy Christ, I have to disengage because it gets to be too much and then I just start spouting a poem or something. My senses are heightened, but at the same time I have to actively ignore signs and symbols in my life to spare me from going insane. I love this class.

And now I have to stop. It's too much reality. But again, I love this class!

Beep Beep Beep Beep

I'm running for my life. If I stop, they'll kill me and everyone I love. I don't know how I keep going but I just run and run and run. I have to keep running. If I stop, I'll never start again. I have to get to my family. They need to run with me, where the hell is my family? I'm turning the corner when my boots feel like concrete. I stop running and can't move again. I see my family through the bushes. I'm hidden fro sight, they can't see me but I see the evil men coming round the house. I'm yelling my loudest but no noise comes out. I'm paralyzed against my will, straining to move but I'm stuck. I can't yell, but I'm heaving my hardest trying to. Suddenly, my vision blurs. I can't see anything unless I'm looking right at it, there's gray borders around my line of sight. It's getting bigger and bigger until all I see is gray static. The same thing is happening to my ears, I'm losing hearing. I barely hear the men catch my family and my gut is wrenching. My heart is pounding out of my chest and I'm on fire, sweating through my clothes. It's so hot, the air is heavy, what is happening?

I wake up to my phone beeping incessantly. It has probably been going off for a while, I hurry to hush it before I hear the bang on the wall announcing that the people in the room next to me are unhappy with my lack of speed. I roll to the other side of the bed.

This is a dream I've had all of my life. I don't know what it says about me, but this nightmare has been reoccuring for as long as I can remember. And though I wake up drenched in sweat and my heart near exploding, I always lie awake and analyze the differences. It's more brown than before, the men are wearing black uniforms, we're in what I think Russia looks like. There's always something.

The sensations are wicked. If magic existed, that kind would be illegal because it's terrifying. Not being able to yell when you're scared is horrifying. Trying to move and being stuck makes you want to die. And losing your senses drives you into a panic so fierce that you don't know how you could bare it for more than a second.

Nine minutes later. Beep beep beep beep. This time it's my text alert. Time to get up for good. I go to class without showering because I slept in, still sweaty from the nightmare. It's an uncomfortable day, with that unpleasant reminder of failing and being scared.

Musings & Mutterings

I thought I would write this to help bare myself,
I know a poem says not my full 21 years, but here is a window.
To help you get to know, me, to show you a glimpse of my soul.
Rambling on, talking birds, falling down the rabbit hole.
Drink me, here we go. 

 College is beautiful pollution, telling me memories of someone else
Preaching the past in my present for my future
I drink in the constellations of others and I love it.
Like Thomisina I MOURN for things I’ve never known
Miss what I’ve never thought, and long for things I’ve never imagined.
Books are my best friends, I don’t read, I consume. 

 Talk about drunk on the milk of paradise, this is heaven for me,
The universe in a spyglass, art fills my sight, even when I’m not looking.
Dissecting Mona Lisa smiles and traveling through time on a canvas,
I am Van Gogh with both ears to the ground
I live for a deadline, racing against time and needing to feel accomplished.
But on the flip side, I am crushed by grids.
Designing all my days but still can’t design a fulfilled life. 

 That’s a lie. I’m very happy. Just bored and crazy, but that’s normal right?
I’m struggling to be free of myself , shed the chains of Alaine, to become me.
Swimming in circles, my continual journey
Circles which turn into whirlpools from the rapid succession of my ellipses,
Spiraling down, drowning, drowning in my own oxygen.
Breathe. 

 It’s a wretched truth, but wait, no! All we know is wrong.
Rambling on. Bet you didn’t expect this today.
Right now I have hella stage presence but this is just one version of myself.
Me- Sat over in that corner, too shy to say, but soaking it in.
This class especially, it seems a sin to not be a sponge, just let me observe… 

 Words often escape me, though thoughts are abundant.
Like stars littering the skies on a cloudy night, I have my moments.
See, I have been taught to filter.
I was in a hermitage of my own creation.
My past totally possessed my present, and not of my own volition.
Because I didn’t have the power of self to say otherwise. 

 “Kill yourself,” my bully said, to which I said “OUCH”.
Then it hurt, now, a thank you. You have created a wonder woman.
I am slowly picking the locks of my insecurities in my head.
I lashed myself to the plane of freedom and got the hell out of dodge. 

 Everyone knows the number one rule of being cool is to seem un-phased
So I fake it ‘til I make it with the best of them.
But every now and again that voice comes back in my head to say, “don’t”.
Now I have learned to fight back so don’t get me wrong, I am strong.
I am tough. I like me now, which is actually weird to say out loud. But I like it. 

 Because of my past I didn’t grow up, I grew in
And since when is being an introvert so fucking wrong?!
Getting graded on how many words you say in a day has me scared.
Everyone here tells me to “get out there” and I do, but why push it so hard?
However, whatever, whenever, forever.
I will be me. Quiet. Reading. Observing. And this is bad?
In an extroverted world, I sometimes feel out of place.
Like I’m walking in the dark even with the lights on. 

But hear me, I am crafty, a fox and don’t you dare ask what I say because instead I feel.
I am a lover. Yeah, I’m wary as shit, burned thrice and not wanting to go into it.
But I get along, beating against my current, sometimes too focused on future not present
I fluctuate between worrier and warrior.
But I am fierce, ok?
Just quiet. Feeling.

But speaking of wary, finding a guy here is tricky.

Like we’ve said in class, sex is everything but
Since when is my desirability based on if I spread my legs at bars?
Bars where girls constantly ask “Am I pretty?”
Rich is pretty if you shop at the right stores, but you know what? I’M POOR.
And you know what tastes better than skinny feels? French fries.
Pretty does not define me and I refuse to be crestfallen because I CHOOSE to go home alone.  

The double standard is priceless, men get high fives while women get labels.
Forced to laugh in public and cry in private.
Lonely, because society tells me I should be. Superficiality.  Awesome.
Based on my fuckability, I am thus rated. “Sex ruins determinism”: Correct.
On a scale of one to over trusting, I jump the gap daily.
Circling back, “I wish simply to be.”
Circling, you see what I did there?
My mania is intensified, memory running rampant & constantly making connections.
Now, diatribe over, circling again.
  

I want to look at the galaxies through a microscope,
To see the cosmos in my present day, experience history in every moment.
“Living on, in the uncertain hour before the morning”
Plunging through red sands of time, I hunger for antiquity.
Obsessed with time while wasting it, THAT is my college experience.
Past, present, future, I live it all in a day. 

Now: WHAT IS THE POINT? 

 My life is not a fairytale; I’m older than all of the Disney princesses
But I’m still shackled to this idea of fate, wanting tarot cards to point my way
I want to fast forward to the past,
To live what others did before me but with me as the protagonist
I am influenced by it all, the world is in the palm of my hand, I’m a mini Atlas.
And I am exploring all of it since I am a product of the ages. And I am lost.
Like looking at the earth from space I feel so small…
In the words of our professor, I don’t know what the fuck is going on at all. 

 Other hand, other words from the class “Who gives a shit?”
(just fyi, I have pages of quotes this room and it is hilarious)
But immediately following who gives a shit, this was said:
“It is not what we know that counts, it’s what we WANT to know that matters.”
Everything I knew to be true was thrown out the door,
Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait. Lemme see if I’ve got this straight:
So what you’re saying to me is, it’s the THOUGHT of the thought that counts more? 

 Teaching with an attitude, all right, I can grab a hold of that
Grabbing with blistered hands, this acts both the barbs and the sauve.
What the hell has this class done to me? I’ve turned into a Sherlock wanna-be
Head exploding but feeling like my eyes are open for the very first time
Reality and dreams, blinking from one into the other 

 Dreaming has gained an all-new meaning after listening to you.
I’m tempted to drink drug tea or learn to sleep write since those are things, actually
I wonder if they miss me while I’m awake, my dreams.
Sinking into the next level of things, I can’t not think about it now.
Just keep the jam jars away from me; I don’t want to go too overboard.
I can barely tread water as it is. Still swimming. 

 The birds are speaking now, this is too much reality,
too much idle chatter from someone who hasn’t got a clue.
But really, how many of us do, like, f’real?
Time slips by, my past just was, making way for the present.
The future is happening now and I have said my peace.

 Now. What do you have to say?

There are many references in this poem, I tried to use as many as possible while still drawing from personal references and experiences. I've listed a few of the big ones.

1.  Talking birds - Four Quartets
2.  Falling down the rabbit hole, drink me - Alice in Wonderland
3. And like Thomisina, I mourn for things I've never known - Arcadia
4. Drunk on the milk of paradise - Kubla Khsn
5. Mona Lisa - Yasmin's presentation
6. Swimming in circles - Brady's blog/The Swimmer
7. Continual journey - Night Sea Journey
8. All we know is wrong - Arcadia
9. Hermitage of my own creation - Arcadia
10. Lashed myself to the plane of freedom - For the Time Being
11. Thrice - Kubla Khan
12. Beating against my current - referencing The Great Gatsby
13. Sex ruins determinism - Jonah's comment on Arcadia
14. Circling - Brady blog
15. Mania is intensified, memory running rampant and constantly making connections - Signs and Symbols
16. Living on in the uncertain hour before the morning - Four Quartets
17. Red sands of time - For the Time Being
18. My life is not a fairytale - referencing the fairytale discussions
19. Wanting tarot cards to point my way - Valorie's blog entry
20. I am a mini Atlas - Titan holding the Earth
21. It is not what we know that counts, it's what we want to know that matters - Arcadia
22. What the hell has this class done to me? - Signs and Symbols
23. I've turned into a Sherlock wanna-be - Sherlock Holmes by Sir Conan Doyle
24. Reality and dreams, blinking from one into the other - referencing the dreams discussion
25. drug tea and sleep write - Matt and Valorie's dream comments
26. Just keep the jam jars away from me - Signs and Symbols
27. I can barely tread water as it is. Still swimming - The Swimmer
28. The birds are speaking now, this is too much reality - Four Quartets

This poem was so fun to present to the class, I loved seeing everyone's expressions. I'm going to record it soon and put it up so people can hear the inflections and each emphasis.

What I Wanted To Talk About, But Didn't Have Time To Say.

Ha! First of all, I want to say that I saw a UPS truck today... So I think I should get like, 5 extra credit points or something. Take that FedEx!

Hmm, what did I want to talk about in class yesterday, but didn't have time for... In "The Magus", I was really interested in how Conchis makes the point that men look at "things" and that women look at relationships between "things". That made me stop and think about how I view the world as a female. I don't know if I look at relationships because that's natural, or if I do because Conchis says I do. I tried to think of before "The Magus" and I think he's right, but not all of the time. I see things just for things sake, but I do think that males notice relationships less. And not in an "I think men are less intelligent" type way, I don't like hopping on the feminist men hating train, but I know we think differently. The way that Conchis used this fact as yet another piece in his game was very clever.

Soo, ya. That's what I would have added to yesterday's discussion.

Treading Water and Geometry: This is my Honors Class

"A circle is the reflection of eternity. It has no beginning and it has no end - and if you put several circles over each other, then you get a spiral." - Maynard James Keenan

The themes I've noticed thus far in Tracings is that swimming and circles are incredibly important. Just as we said there are only two stories that are told (searching for an island and the crucifiction of a god), I have noticed that shapes and swimming are common themes in everyone's life.

Also, I am reading into every little thing. I have the mania. And I hate that I love it, and love that I hate it. Example: My first reaction to the quote above is to make a bad joke about circling the drain, spiraling out of control, falling into an endless abyss, yada yada.

Then the training kicks in and I immediately over analyze what I just thought:
-Why were those thoughts so dark?
-What do I mean by "abyss"?
-Am I frightened by my spiral or excited about the journey?
-Do I have a fear of drains?
-Who in the hell is afraid of drains?
-Why would I even think that?!
-What is happening?


Thank you so much, Professor. This is my life now.


But, I noticed that I'm NOTICING things that I normally wouldn't. I'm seeing things in (and sometimes) out of context and I wonder "Why?".

I've noticed that I notice things. I see things that I normally wouldn't observe, and it sparks my brain. I try to piece things together on my own without being told the solution. I try to understand what people are doing and why, without asking them. I read into what they are doing, and then wonder if I'm anywhere close to the truth or if I'm just conjecturing. I'm analyzing things that would usually pass by without a second glance.

It's exhausting. My brain is not used to this, but I am really enjoying the challenge. I sketch my surroundings so as to remember events, journaling more, and I'm even trying the mind palace thing to try and compartmentalize thoughts and facts, seeing if it actually does help memory.

I'm turning into a regular:

Minus the getting it right part.

With all of the circling and darkness that I've been focusing on, I think it's high time for me to lighten up and just observe for a while. I'm not scared of the darkness, I've just been focused on it for a while. And now I'm just going to let things happen and watch and remember and read into things and take notes and re-analyze and yes. Just that.


-A

Quality

I don't understand the prompt. Define quality? And explain how to measure it? And then ask how we should measure it?

Is this real life?


I feel like there are levels upon levels of quality, each with a different category: Professional quality, student quality, life quality, family quality, quality time, opinions of quality, etc. You want me to define quality? Which one? It's a multifaceted diamond that would take a hundred graphs and a dozen essays to truly show what I think about quality.

The big thing for me is, as a graphic designer, when quality is "done right" you don't really notice. If something is in perfect form, you may admire it for being well done but it's not really a conscious thought, it's not instant award worthy. You notice quality most when there is an absence of quality. Bad quality attracts your attention immediately. Why? Because it's not good. Plain and simple, something doesn't work. When there is good quality, you enjoy it and you gain from it but you might not immediately know why. You will walk away feeling good but do you think "Man, that was some good quality (insert subject) right there!"?

Possibly, but most likely you just walk away.

I agree wholeheartedly with Pirsig's ideas, that quality is the "knife-edge" of experience, found only in the present, known or at least potentially accessible to all static patterns... At least I think I do. It's like trying to describe a color without using the colors name or talking about what air feels like. 

How do you measure what you can't even describe or define? 

I'm not fully sure what the Legislature is planning on doing, or how you can incorporate quality into the university system, so I'll leave that to thinkers with "more quality thoughts" than I. 


-A

How the Past Possesses the Present: Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?

When reading "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" by Joyce Carol Oakes, I thought it was a twisted version of Sirens trying to lure their prey to their deaths. But unlike the more than willing sailors, Connie resisted Arnold Friend because of the sense of danger. We all know the feeling: A sinking feeling in the gut. The tingle of warning in your limbs. Becoming hyper-aware of your surroundings. His "incantation" lured her out of her house, against her better judgement, which only made him seem more like a Siren. Why would anyone leave, knowing they were walking right into harm's way?

"Their song takes effect at midday, in a windless calm. The end of that song is death."

Well now, doesn't that sound familiar?

At one point or another, we have all had fight-or-flight feelings to a bad situation. For me, the sinking gut is the worst, it's a blunt reminder saying I could have been more careful and now I have limited options. How do I get in such a predicament? Why didn't I learn my lesson before? Granted, I have never had a creeper outside of my house trying to kidnap me (or worse), but I have been scared.

I don't know how many times I've heard the line "you're only human" as a justification for mistakes. True, but wouldn't life be a bit easier if we learned from our mistakes? We homo sapiens seem to get lured into danger time and again because "we're only human". It is a state of being for us. Being tempted into situations is par for the course, and being lured away from the straight and narrow is a tale as old as time. Psyche peeking at Eros, Bluebeard's bride unlocking the door, Pandora and the box, Eve and the Tree of Knowledge, Icarus flying too close to the sun.... They were ALL given instructions, they knew better, and they did the exact opposite anyway! Few of these stories have completely happy endings, if at all. I bet if they knew the consequences, they would think twice about going against the directions, but the lure of breaking the rules is just too great. The call of disobedience and danger is too appealing. Lucifer was thrown from Heaven for going against God. The threat of Hell wasn't enough to deter him.

What is with us? This pattern is eternal. Why? Because we just can't help ourselves. The idea of going against what we're told is enticing, going against what we know to be safe? Some people like that. Connie, though she knew it was hazardous, left her house. Throughout time this has replayed over and over again. Same song, different verse.

Along with that, is the motif of "if I can't lure you away, I'll make you". Persephone and Hades, Zeus with, well, everyone, or Idun and Loki. This is where the terror comes in. The thought of being forcefully taken is one of a woman's worst nightmares. Connie is tempted and taken by "an old fiend", a satyr in disguise. He has this persona of nonchalance and charisma, but deep down he is one wrong answer away from snapping. He ripples while talking to Connie, trying hard to keep up the facade but failing at times and giving her cause for alarm. How many times has the wolf tried to fool the sheep?

The past possesses the present in so many ways. The elements of fate, temptation, disobedience, and force are a tale as old as time. The Sirens have songs for us all. And we must either learn to fight it or to accept the consequences of our actions.

Circling in Circles

The Night-Sea Journey, wow. This is just one big bullseye, with circles in circles in circles. There is terror in the never ending ebb and flow of a circle. Eternity and ceaseless moving around without cause sounds awful, when you think about it.

The barely hidden themes and metaphors of this story show purpose and questioning, themes that I have been too much of a coward to address in my teenage years. These stories make me look at a theme that is becoming all to obvious to me throughout this class: WHY?

I have always gotten a tad dizzy when focusing on the universe and the purpose of it all. It's all so heavy and exhausting. I avoided it for many years, instead focusing on my small world and my goings on and thinking only about what happened in my snow globe of a life. The "why" is too big for me sometimes. I can relate to the swimming mass because I have no clue where I'm going sometimes. I need direction, just like everyone else.

It's too big. I give up, can't handle it.

But at the same time, I have found comfort in the unknown. Knowing can sometimes be a curse. A relative with stage four cancer knows their fate, whereas I could die tomorrow in a car accident. The little sperm questions it's course, the why, when for some the why isn't of import. Faith comes into play. Why do we have faith, when there are facts? Why are facts unimportant? Are facts unimportant? It all varies from person to person.

So know I'm asking my question once again: What's the point? Why?

I'm not as scared to ask anymore. Or maybe, I'm just as scared, but I'm ready to start my odyssey, to try and find an answer.

Death, the Final Frontier.

Today.

Today I heard that there was a car accident on the road to my house. The house I grew up in, have lived in all my life, my safe place. A senior boy from my hometown was killed in that car accident while three of my little sister's classmates were injured. My little sister is distraught, my mother is terrified, and I? I am imploding with emotions. Everything I'm feeling is torpedoed inward and I have absolutely no control over the waves of helplessness, fury, and sadness that wash over me from time to time. Death is something I have had very little experience with. Having to deal with the themes of death the last few weeks, I thought of Annie Dillard's thoughts on death have been stuck in my brain; as well as Professor Sexson's question of "What's the point? Why are we here? What does it all mean?"

I've been asking myself the same question the last couple of hours. I have cried and laughed and cried again. It's odd, the strange floating feeling that death brings. It has the aftertaste of denial but the harsh reality of, well, reality. He's gone. He's never coming back. He will never hold his diploma or wife or grandchild. "What is the point?" rings through my head. I'm only 21 years old, how the hell am I supposed to know? Why the hell am I supposed to know?

I've driven that road more times than I could ever count, all my life, and I know it like the back of my hand. My little sister hit a deer this morning on the way to school. It could have been her. The death today could have so easily been her. Those S-Curves are notorious for being tricky, so why didn't they slow down? Why couldn't they have just slowed down? Why don't people EVER want to slow down? The obsession we all have to get from point a to point b is almost nauseating, like in "The Swimmer" to the "The Night-Sea Journey", we're all just catapulting forward through time and space but to what end? What is the fucking point? It was homecoming today, it was supposed to be one of the most exciting days of the year but instead, today has permanently been tarnished. Every homecoming from now on will be darker because a bright and promising soul was taken years too early.

It might be in bad taste to use this death as a diving board into my blog but so many points from class reverberated through my brain in the hours that have passed since I heard the news. Tomorrow I'm going home to be with my family and to comfort my sister, but I know that the questions will follow me wherever I go: What is the point?! To that all I know is that I will never know.

Stolen Away: A Displaced FairyTale

Fog. Again. Cleo leaned against the windowsill and looked across the pond. The outskirts of the garden were barely in sight on the other side, but everything else was shrouded in white. “Figures,” she thought, “since I’m under house arrest, the view should disappear, too.” Not like she was missing much, anyway. Living 15 miles out in the country, the only exciting thing she ever saw was a fox. Home schooling was not what she wanted, but she had very little say in the matter. It would be better if Cleo could at least socialize, but as her foster mom said “strangers weren’t allowed in the house.”

She turned back to look at her room. It felt too small for her, too young and stale. The peeling pink wallpaper didn’t represent her seventeen years, not to mention the dusty stuffed animals and whimsical bed cover.  Diane was her one and only foster mother. Cleo had lived with her for 9 years, but she never understood why Diane didn’t legally adopt her. “I hate going into town, you know that!” Diane would snap if Cleo asked. She had always thought it odd that she never moved around. Diane was always vague and said she’d found a loophole in the court system. Her real parents had died in a car crash when she was 8, she was told.

“Might as well be years away since I never go out these days,” she thought bitterly. On the plus side, she had extra time to practice. Diane would leave her alone whenever she sat down at the piano, so Cleo would play for hours. She was getting really good, too. She was secretly planning on applying to the music conservatory when she turned 18, something Diane had said absolutely not. It confused Cleo, it seemed like Diane thought she was going to stay after turning into a legal adult. She wouldn’t hear otherwise.

Cleo was pulled from her thoughts when she the front doors open. Cleo put on another sweater and braided her long hair to the side while going down the stairs. She immediately started playing piano, starting with her favorite assortment of Beethoven.

“I’m going to look for truffles, I want to hear the jazz piece played perfectly when I get back!” shouted Diane from the porch. Cleo shouted an acknowledgment and kept playing. Hours passed but Cleo barely noticed, her fingers accustomed to long days on the keys.

When she paused to crack her knuckles, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She went to the open window and saw a boy her age crouching under the windowsill. He smiled at her and bounded up, and before she could call him out for sneaking around, he said, “I’ve never heard anyone play that one so well. Usually people forget the repeat and skip to the end.”

She closed her mouth and assessed her trespasser. He was taller than her and had bright blue eyes, much lighter than her own. Then she noticed he was carrying a music bag. That piqued her interest. He saw her hungry gaze and chuckled. “You can try some, they’re a little old fashioned but I prefer the classics.” She looked back at him and nodded. “I’m Percy, by the way. Sorry for the intrusion, my car broke down a few miles back so I was walking and I heard your playing. Couldn’t help myself.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing duets and talking to each other.  Turned out he was a student of the conservatory too. He played piano but wanted to be a music teacher. He had a great wit, so she was laughing as much as she was playing. She was flattered by his praise and she liked impressing him. She completely lost track of time, such was the fun they were having.

The back door opened and made Cleo jump. She didn’t have time to push Percy out the door when Diane walked in. She stopped dead in her tracks, while Percy bolted up. Cleo could see recognition in his eyes. “You. I know you, you were on TV when I was youn…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Diane attacked. She rushed forward and pushed Cleo down and ignored her yelling. She grabbed Percy’s coat and shoved him towards the door, yelling and threatening him all the way. He resisted and tried to get to Cleo. Finally he yelled, “I know what you did!”

Diane paled.  “You know nothing. She’s mine! Her parents took everything from me!” Quicker than lightening, she whipped pepper spray from her pocket and sprayed Percy square in the face. He stumbled back with a yell of pain while Diane slammed the door.

Cleo was stunned. Suddenly she saw a flash back of strawberry hair framing her mothers face, the smell of her father’s cardigan. Playing with her puppy. Then her memories shifted. She heard her lawyer father talk about a woman in court blaming him for losing her case. Seeing her mothers panicked face turning around to the backseat. A bright light and a crash. Being jostled in the dark and waking up in an office. Diane was there with a nervous looking woman, saying that she had to live in a different place.

Cleo remembered it all. Diane had planned it. Cleo moved to go after Percy but Diane tried to stop her. With surprising strength, Cleo pushed Diane and watched in horror as Diane fell and hit her head off the corner of the coffee table. Cleo hurried to check her pulse. Alive. After a moment’s hesitation, she ran out to Diane’s car, started it, and caught up to Percy.

FOUR MONTHS LATER…

Cleo sat looking out her window. Her new window. She absentmindedly stroked the black lab’s head in her lap. She was still getting used to the yellow walls of her new room, but it was a change she was happy about. The smell of bacon wafted up from the kitchen and she heard the front door open. Percy’s greeting was muffled by the walls. There was a pounding on the stairs and a knock at her door. She turned to see Percy smiling and leaning into the room. “Your mom’s cooking us breakfast before class, hurry up or your dad’ll eat it all!” Then he blew her a kiss and she caught it, feeling the butterflies she’d become all too familiar with. He clambered back downstairs and she leaned back and looked out the window again, smiling.

She couldn’t believe her luck. She was finally home.

Alaine Field

TRACINGS

Based off of the fairy tale, Rapunzel.