Thursday, September 26, 2013

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.


Sunday, September 22, 2013

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.

Friday, September 20, 2013

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.




Thursday, September 19, 2013

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. 

Monday, September 16, 2013

Dreams & Memories: Visual Aids


Here are a few of the sketches I did of the dreams we shared in class. Like I said, not museum worthy but I thought it would be a fun way to remember my first impressions of my classmates. (Rose's is still my favorite)


-A

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Yesterday...

I felt like I woke up yesterday. I don't know what happened, but I feel like I was asleep for two weeks and I finally leapt out of my slumber. I don't remember getting excited about anything in the last 14 days. Which is actually really depressing for me, since I enjoy being a lively and excited person. I've been so incredibly focused on design and homework and my stress that I forgot to live. I was so tired all of the time, all I craved was a nap. I was also sick, so sleeping was the only extracurricular activity that interested me. Yesterday was different. I woke up and actually put on make up. I made it to my 8 o'clock class before my teacher. I did homework in a coffee shop for four hours. I made a playlist that keeps pumping me up for, well, everything. But I think the main thing was I reconnected with one of my high school classmates. We were never close, though we'd been in the same classes since Kindergarten. He was athletic and popular, while I an honors nerd who preferred books to people. There was never any bad blood, but we didn't run in the same circles. All of a sudden, we were talking like we'd been friends for years. He told me my honesty was refreshing and that he enjoyed my sass. This validation was an unexpected twist, a welcome compliment. I was happy to see that he'd grown up (though once a star, always a star).

I completely empathize with Nicholas's plight in "The Magus" now. Feeling listless and apathetic for two weeks was torture, and I hardly realized that I was unhappy. He was so down and bored that he sought out anything to make his life less drab. He was drifting from one day to the next and couldn't wait for a change, any change. Then along came Allison, who worked for a while, but she was a temporary fix to a very permanent problem. Greece? Sure, why not?

I'll save the longer analysis for later, but for right now, I just want to say: Damn Nick, I do not envy our life. Living without drive or passion is the absolute worst.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Signs & Symbols, Symbols & Signs

Being told that there are only two themes that every story is based off of really got me thinking. I started going over some of my favorite tales, analyzing the plot and finding common elements. I didn't know if I started agreeing because I was told this was true or because it actually is true.


A lost ship looking for an island

 -- OR --

The crucifixion of a god

I felt a little silly trying to find connections between these themes when it came to more modern stories. Obviously there aren't many ships looking for islands these days, what with satellites telling us where things are, so I felt like I was reaching a little bit. But then, I started doubting my doubts, trying to think outside the box.

I started reading too much into my reading into things. This class makes me question a lot of things, mostly the way I think. Am I thinking wrong because I believe the surface value? Or am I thinking wrong because I read into things, going past the surface? Then we dove into the 4 Levels of Interpretation. 

What?! I think my head might explode a little bit, but I feel the thrill of adventure. Delving into the psyche of, well, myself? This should be fun. Now I'm looking for signs and symbols in my own life, wary of much, receptive to anything. 

Watch out, mind. Ready or not, here we come.


-A