Wag the Dog

I have to say, this film was probably the best we've watched all semester. It was actually enjoyable. I can see how it relates to postmodernism. It's all about questioning, or not questioning. Like deconstruction we read about, or that poem that asks (or doesn't ask) what poetry is. It questioned the things we take for reality without a second thought, and it makes you wonder if anything going on outside your immediate surroundings is actually going on, or if it is all made up like the war in the movie. And even if you see something with your own eyes, can you be sure its real? How is one to know anything, really?

What Is Poetry?

This poem and its response really made no impression on me. Perhaps that's what they were shooting for, I don't know. But I am pretty indifferent to them. The response was mildly amusing, but neither really affected me whatsoever, not on an emotional, sensory, or an intellectual level. Overall, definitely not the most interesting reading of the semester.

Derridada, ch. 4

This chapter was interesting. I didn't know that Duchamp had used several names when he submitted his artwork, or wrote letters to his friends, for that matter. I was unaware of his female "alter-ego" Rrose. It's an interesting play on words, and I wish I spoke French so I could better understand it, as well as all his other ones.

Derridada

I am totally and hopelessly lost in this chapter. I was mentally flailing about while reading it, and am utterly confused as to what he is talking about. The whole discussion of time is beyond my comprehension. I can't wait for class tomorrow; maybe then I'll understand about all the "primordial time," and "I-as-having-been," and " within-time-ness." And aside from that, maybe he'll explain, in terms I can understand, how this relates to deconstruction, because I've definitely lost that thread.

The Stranger, Part I

The main character of this story is so strange. He's just so apathetic towards everything, he doesn't seem to care. His mother dies, but is he sad? No, not really. He goes to her funeral, but doesn't feel anything. And it's not that he feels something other than sadness, he just doesn't feel anything. Marie asks him if he loves her, and wants to marry her, and he's even indifferent to that. "Then she wanted to know if I loved her. I answered the same way I had the last time, that it didn't mean anything but that I probably didn't love her."Not only is he indifferent, but he seems unable to sympathize with anyone, like the old man who is torn up over losing his dog. He remarks that it's pitiful, but other than that, he doesn't try to comfort the man or anything, just tells him about the pound. During the funeral procession, Perez is clearly unable to keep up and is very upset by Maman's death, but he doesn't offer to help the man or even slow down. It's like he doesn't fell compassion. Reading this story, it's as if he's outside of himself looking down on his life and making calm observations. Like he's watching his life rather than living it, if that makes any sense. And I can't understand why he murdered the Arab on the beach. The glint of the sun off the knife was in his eyes, so he shot the Arab? If the sun was bothering him so much, you'd think he would have gone inside instead of continuing to wander around the beach.
I can see why we are reading this after talking about existentialism. This man is alienated from everything. He has no religion. He's certainly not connected to any other human beings, even those that care for him. He is even separated from himself.

Surrealist Manifesto/ Poetry

I wish I understood the Manifesto. At times I could understand, like when he discussed the injustice, in his mind, of the waking reality being considered by most to be of greater importance than the sleeping reality. And when he talked about the importance of dreams. But the rest of the time, I must admit, I had difficulties following his train of thought. The Surrealist poetry, however, I found much more enjoyable. Probably the one that made the most sense to me was 'The Manless Society' by Pierre Unik. I especially liked his comparison of the closely arranged houses to pores on the skin. How, even though that world is filled with man-made objects and machinery, there's no natural or human aspects to it. The rest of the poems, although I didn't always understand what they were trying to tell me, I liked as well. Even though I have no idea what they're getting at, at least I can enjoy the series of interesting images they present me; especially Breton's 'Postman Cheval', when it says, "It is made of the backs of swans with a spreading wing for banisters/It turns inside out as though it were going to bite itself/But no, it is content at the sound of our feet to open all its steps like drawers/Drawers of bread drawers of wine drawers of soap drawers of ice drawers of stairs," it reminds me of a dream I had once in which I was descending a staircase and the stairs opened into more stairs which opened into more stairs so that there were an infinite number of directions in which to climb.

Civilization and Its Discontents

Today's lecture was extremely helpful. Some of the things Freud said about civilization were confusing, so it was nice to get a little background on what theories he is basing this book on. The question concerning someone loving their neighbor as themselves is a tough one. I mean, ideally, it would be great for a person to love the whole of mankind. But realistically, its very impractical if not impossible. I have to agree with Freud when he says that some men are undeserving of one's love. Its a huge waste of energy and effort to try and love everyone, and loving one's enemies can prove dangerous. It's a nice thought and all, but in the end self-preservation wins out. And, if we are as Freud believes, we are generally incapable of it. As he says in chapter five, "The element of truth behind all this, which people are so ready to disavow, is that men are not gentle creatures who want to be loved, and who at most can defend themselves if they are attacked; they are, on the contrary, creatures among whose instinctual endowments is to be reckoned a powerful share of aggressiveness. As a result, their neighbor is for them not only a potential helper or sexual object, but also someone who tempts them to satisfy their aggressiveness on him..." On this point I cannot disagree, there's no denying we are aggressive beings. And because of our tendency to aggressive behavior toward one another, loving all one's neighbors would be to contradict mankind's nature. A depressing thought, I have to admit. But the fact that people try anyway leads me to believe that there is more to human beings than Freud proposes.

A Doll's House

I can see now how this play was quite a shocker when it came out. Nora was a horrible wife by the standards of the time. She borrowed money without consent, committed forgery, lied and manipulated her husband, defied her husband and up and left. A woman, thinking for herself, shunning those standards, probably upset some people. Modern readers, though, like myself, can see where she's coming from. I mean, true, she did lie and forge. But no one seems to take motive into account, she did it for her husband. And even when Torvald finds out and she tells him she did it for him, that fact seems to just zip right over his head until he's read the second letter. Torvald's reaction to the second letter is really what broke the last straw with Nora. She was all set to go drown herself in the river when that letter arrived. The turning point in her thoughts is almost palpable. Torvald is going on about how he's forgiven her, he thinks she's worried he doesn't mean it, which is pretty self-centered I have to admit. Watching it on film, I and everyone around me just cringed, because we knew she'd finally had it. Then she has that talk with him and leaves. He even tries to forbid her leaving, to which she says, "It is of no use forbidding me anything any longer." His last ditch effort to prevent her leaving is to bring up the children. This is really the one part of her argument with which I do not agree. She's abandoning her children, doesn't know if she's ever coming back or if she even wants to. Her thoughts that she's not suitable are noble, but she's just running away. I'm not saying I agree wholeheartedly with Torvald's notion of "sacred duties" and that she's a mother and wife before a human being, but I do believe she has a responsibility to help raise those she brought into the world. Of course, back then she really had no say in how they were raised, and her husband actually tells her to leave them alone after reading the first letter. I don't approve of her leaving, but really, what options did she have, being a woman with no authority?

The Yellow Wallpaper

Well, this story was kind of creepy. Wallpaper driving this woman insane. In light of the Mills reading earlier this week, especially his discussion of marriage, this story seems to illustrate rather vividly his opinions. The woman in the story is married to a doctor, who believes she is well when she is actually probably mentally unstable. He patronizes her, and treats her serious concerns as silly because she is a woman. But there is nothing, she believes, she can do about her condition, her social one at least. In the very beginning, when she is talking about her health, she says she disagrees with her husband and brother, but then says repeatedly, "what is one to do?" Later on, you know she feels trapped in her social condition when she starts to identify with the woman behind the wallpaper, behind the bars. She even wonders, " if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did?" The only time she thinks she can be free is when she is completely alone, like the women who creep about in the daylight but are imprisoned by night. When she's alone, she doesn't have to watch what she says and obey her husband. Finally, after she has ripped off most of the wallpaper she exclaims, "And I've pulled off most of the paper, so you can't put me back!" As crazy as that sounds, she thinks she's finally freed herself from her feelings of entrapment and is free to creep about all she wants. It was an interesting story, to say the least.

The Communist Manifesto - Part II

In this section, Marx and Engels try to explain why their communism will work and why people should believe in it. The way they do this is what I really found intriguing. It is very systematic. They address problems the bourgeois class has with communism, and then counters each statement. For example, the bourgeois say that communism will take away all private property. That statement is countered with Marx saying that only the bourgeois have really any property, and that the proletarians have none, and when the bourgeoisie disappear it won't matter because you can't take from someone that which they do not possess. In this manner, they counter all arguments against communism. It almost reminded me of when I read 'Crito'. How Socrates brings up all the arguments people have given of why he should chose exile over death, and how he considers each point separately and systematically to convince others that his choice of death is the only suitable option.

Frankenstein, cont.

I finished the novel today, and it's just as tragic as I remembered. It's was interesting to watch Victor lose his short-sightedness. When he created the creature, he could not see past the act of creation to the possible consequences, and by middle, he is very aware of the consequences, not just those that had affected him personally, but what might happen to others. He was able to consider the creature's request for a companion and realize that it may make things worse for mankind, not just one or two wreaking havoc, but a whole brood of them.
When the creature asks Victor for a partner, he blames him for abandoning him, thus making him as he is, murderous and hateful. Instead of nurturing his creation, he ran from it. One could almost say he brought all this upon himself by abandoning the creature. But would the story have turned out any differently? I think not. Although the creature would have had a companion in Victor, he still would have been aware of how the rest of humanity would view him. And it is human nature to desire more than what you have. The creature would have eventually desired the affection of another being, the kind Victor could not provide. He would've made the same request. And although Victor may have spent more time with the creature, something tells me he would've still been reluctant because, as he said, who's to say they would even like each other or that she would not be flat out evil? Plus, he realized how against Nature his act of creation was and would not hasten to repeat it. I think it still would have ended badly.

Frankenstein

I am excited to read this novel again. I greatly enjoyed it the first time. For today's discussion we had to read the letters and preface. That's one of the things I found interesting about this book, how it's a story within a story. Later in the novel, when the doctor meets his creature in the mountains, and the creature tells his story, it's his story within the doctor's story within the Arctic explorer's story. Kind of confusing, but there it is. Looking at the study notes/lecture on this book also made me reflect on the sublime aspects of it. Nature in the novel is truly sublime, from the beautiful yet dangerous Arctic ice to the mountain and lake near the doctor's home. The creature itself could also fall under that category. He is terrifying, but also amazing because his existence seems to defy the laws of the natural world.

Ode on a Grecian Urn

This is a poem I have had to read several times for various classes throughout the years. I've heard several teachers and professors talk about it, but my reaction to it is always the same. It always evokes in me a sense of sadness, which is an odd reaction, I know. But I always feel sad for the figures on the vase, probably because of a small word choice on the part of Keats. He makes it sound joyous, "Ah, happy, happy boughs!", when speaking of the trees, but it's his use of the word 'can' instead of 'will' that makes me feel the opposite. The trees can't shed their leaves. Even if they want to. Not that the leaves never will fall, but that they can't. Not that the Lovers never will kiss, but that they can't.
It also seems interesting to me that a Romantic poet, who should have a greater understanding of Nature and its constantly changing ways, would choose to write about an unchanging scene.

Preface?

Wow. Preface to Lyrical Ballads... that was a challenge. Not that it was difficult to comprehend so much as the redundancy wearing on my nerves. Wordsworth did have some interesting things to say, though, so I'll overlook the ridiculous amount of time it took me to finish it. First thing of note I found was his description of a poet. "He is a man speaking to men," but also is a man with "more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul..". At first, it sounds as if Wordsworth placed poets above regular men. But as he continues to extol the many virtues and characteristics of poets, he writes that poets are essentially the same as any other man. This was what caught my eye. Every man is a poet, in a sense. They all possess knowledge of human nature and a comprehensive soul, but what seperates poets from the rest of the population is the degree. The degree to which one man knows human nature is greater than that of another man, so by Wordsworth's definition the first man is more suited to be a poet.
I have not yet read the poems this preface proceeds, but I wonder if they are nearly as radical as he makes them sound. He takes pains to remind the readers that they should be read and criticized a certain way, and not compared to certain other poetry, even though he repeatedly asks us to judge for ourselves. Should prove to be interesting. I just hope they're not so tedious to get through.