Best of Week: Onion Skins

The best comment I heard this week was related to the short story Cathedral being read in class. In the story, the main character finds onion skins in a shopping bag he is using to undergo, little to his knowledge, a spiritual transformation. At this, someone mentioned the scene in Shrek http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9nJlXLF06k where ogres are compared to onions because of their layers.
This made a lot of sense in the context of the story, since it showed how even a pot-smoking fourty-something year old, who is also proudly unsophisticated, can in fact possess layered deeper qualities, that don't meet the eye, and might require some drawing out.
This made me have a much deeper appreciation for people around me. People who I find to be irritating, simplistic, apathetic, or too passionate might all in fact be quite different and understandable underneath their layers.
Although I never intentionally or maliciously have denied the existence of people's layers, the moment in class really but a nice ogre's face on the whole issue. This guy in the story, just like Shrek, have depths which might take a while to get to. Why, then, should I deny anyone I know that possibility?

What if?: I was a doorframe

Being a doorframe seems like it would be a lot of fun. Get to stand there, watch things, but only have people stay under you when they're yelling to the outside, or there's an earthquake. In any case, the story Boys contains a door frame who witnesses the childhood, infancy, and coming of age, in and without a particular order.
I think similarly being able to monitor a life in these snap shots would be compelling but also tedious. How much can you really tell about someone by the way they enter a house? Isn't what happens once you've entered what really matters? The story would say no, but I would say yes. I prefer a chance to actually get to know someone, to see them through an action, instead of before and after. That way you can actually understand the way they work, instead of the way the did work, and the way they will work. A door frame is still a cool mechanism for a story, but we don't learn nearly as much as we can about how the people involved fundamentally change. Rather, we learn what has fundamentally changed about them.

Connection: Heart of Darkness and The Wizard of Oz

This comparison was made in class, how Marlow goes into Congo-Oz down the Yellow Brick River, but I thought direct parallels, as well as theme resolutions deserved some fleshing out.
Marlow starts his journey in Kansas-Brussels, in the comfort of family and friends, to depart, on an eye-opening journey, for the Congo. Here the two stories are slightly different, but very helpful to each other. Marlow makes his initial journey from a place of comfort, on a ship, while observing a distant/unknown land. Similarly, Dorthy is in her house when she's uplifted, but the journey is in fact much quicker, since her destination is clearly not of this world. Conrad is here making a statement the Wizard of Oz doesn't in forcing us to realize that these horrors are part of our world.
In the interest of time and space, I won't go through the entire book, but make a few other connections.

Kurtz as the wicked witch. This comparison actually makes a lot more sense if you've seen Wicked. (which, for better or worse I have) The two stories inform one another in building a true sense of how the villain's role is more of a fall from grace, and less of a chosen path. In both stories, the character on the journey confronts the villain simply to help free them from the heart of darkness, not to defeat them. (Dorothy unknowingly aiding an escape, and Marlow preventing a return). Dorothy obviously doesn't feel a spiritual obligation to carry on the memory of the witch, but the Heart of Darkness is less of the classic hero's tale than the Wizard of Oz to start with.

The Manager as the wizard. This one's a bit harder, but in both cases, the two are essentially reluctant and somewhat incompetent masters of worlds they take by circumstance, staying healthy and dropping in a hot air balloon, rather than by design or prowess. In the end, we see that in both cases actual leadership skills are lacking and pure lack allows each to survive.

In the end we see why the Heart of Darkness is called the Heart of Darkness, and not the Heart of Fuzzy Bunnies- it's dark. The side of human character and nature it reveals is something the Wizard of Oz, a classic hero's journey, could never touch on. Even if they borrow some characters.

Blogging Around

Kyle compared the sisters in King Lear to those in Cinderella, since they are both prohibitive and jealous of their sister's gifts. I responded.

If only there were a role from the step mother. How do the husbands/Edmund fit into the metaphor? Are the motivations of the two sets of characters in fact the same?
This seems awfully incomplete, but I do like the basis of siblings teaming up to take advantage of the sibling on the outside.


Brandon talked about how his favorite moment of the week was Mr. Allen's joke, because humor helps lighten serious situations, and make them more interesting. I sort of agreed.

I think the fact that you couldn't repeat either of the jokes you referenced within your blog post speaks to the reasons that teachers don't usually joke around with classes. Not only are they older, but their responsibility is to educate and enrich, and do so professionally, versus crack jokes.
I do like funny teachers, and I think humor can be a good tool in explanation as soon as providing relief, but there is a line.

Metacognition: Poetry

I recently wrote a poem for class. It was a fine poem reflecting on thoughts about a made up incident about something partially founded in reality with traces of a deeper meaning. Despite the poem's poignancy, I found, as Mr. Allen forewarned, the process to be very rewarding and interesting.
The process consisted of working through my work with Mr. Allen's guidance. Adjusting word usage, context, order, and meaning according to his advise, and my own sensibilities. Throughout, I tried to manage word efficiency and rhythm with the necessity of managing meaning. I did this by rewriting and rewriting phrases, as well as editing specific word order and location to maximize efficacy.
What I found surprising about my method of work was how, despite approaching the problem with a goal and rough idea of hwo to work through issues, my ability revise the poem came down to thinking, trying, and re-thinking individual phrases. Is there a better way?

Best of Week: Clothes and Status

I don't quite remember who said it, but at some point during our 3 day long discussion of King Lear, somebody pointed out that as Edgar recovers from the lowest lows to redemption in the second half of the play, his clothes progressively get nicer. This is a tool Shakespeare uses to not only physically show us Edgar's recovery, but also allow Edgar a way to recover his full dignity in all senses.
That makes me think about a couple of things. First is how the clothes I wear reflect on me, my personality, and status. Obviously, I'm a king compared to a man in rags, but more intricately, does my clothing choice actually reveal something about who I am? If it does, let's hope it's positive. In any case, I know that when I choose clothes it's because I want to give off a certain image, if not fit in with a certain social group. More interesting is that in spite of this different circumstances, vacation or home, football or debate, call for different clothes, meaning we all do shape our appearance around our objectives.
This is interesting to me, and something I'll keep in mind when I observe people, and when I get dressed.

Connection: King Lear and Saturday Night Live

In King Lear there's a Fool. On SNL, there are a bunch of fools. In King Lear there's King Lear. On SNL, there are a bunch of fools. In King Lear there's Kent. On SNL, there are a bunch of fools. In King Lear there's Gloucester. On SNL, there are a bunch of fools.
I wonder which is in need of a straight man?
It seems that Shakespeare can so easily master the combination of comedy and drama, straight men and jokesters. He does this to such an effect that each joke gets that much funnier, even though the deliverer becomes predictable, the style and method are so well-suited and intrinsic to the plot and drama the punch lines are that much sweeter.
Saturday Night Live's take is obviously different. It's a comedy show. Then again, it's not always funny with every attempt. Types of humor can get old, skits can fall flat, and, by the end of the night, it seems like they really have nothing left to say.
Maybe SNL can learn from Shakespeare. The one who is funny every time can help at the one who tries to be funny every time. SNL could benefit from if not having moments of high drama and tragedy then better mixing the flavors, pace, and punch lines to make you feel like your not watching the same bad joke over and over.
SNL might try to do this, and probably does to some extent on a skit to skit basis. But week to week is another story. 5 flavors repeated is just as bad 1 all the time. You know they're trying, but realize how sad the attempts are. Instead, maybe SNL should focus on really developing a few sketches, or angles. Better yet, they just be funny.