"The Tell-Tale Heart" Analysis

The two big questions that Edgar Allen Poe leaves the reader with: Did the narrator really kill the old man that he claimed to have loved? Is the narrator actually a madman?

He (assuming the narrator is a man) starts off admitting that he is "nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous" but denies that he is crazy, much too defensively, in my opinion. He is determined to convince the reader of this, especially when he says that his condition "sharpened his senses, not destroyed, not dulled them", and when he explains that it was the old man's eye that drove him to kill the man, it made the murder seem even less reasonable.

The narrator goes into great detail of his meticulous actions that lead up to the murder. He emphasizes his patience and care when he gradually makes his way into the old man's room, watching him sleep for eight nights, each night at the same time. These details, however, are not descriptive in the appearance his surroundings, but more in the manner of how his actions are carried out. The murder itself is very simple and quick. He describes his "wise precautions" afterwards, when he hides the body beneath the floorboards of the old man's room. I believe the narrator mistakens his paranoia for cleverness and intellect. He has a distorted view of his surroundings, having multiple hallucinations in Poe's short story. At the very end it becomes very obvious that the narrator is quite indeed mad when he sits down with the police officers and beings to hear a faint ticking sound that grows louder and louder. He starts becoming agitated; he believes the ticking was coming from underneath them, from the dead-man's heart. Likely it was his own heartbeat he was hearing. He became violent; he wondered why the policemen could not hear what he was hearing. Finally he confesses by saying "'Villains! Dissemble no more! I admit the deed!--tear up the planks!--here, here!--it is the beating of his hideous heart!'"

Of course, the narrator being a madman, this could have possibly been a hallucination in itself. I like to think that Mr. Poe intended it to be that way, so the reader can decide for his/herself. Though the last line does somewhat imply that a man had died that night, the narrator's nervous self keeps truth a mystery, all the while Mr.Poe questioning what exactly IS sanity and what is not.

"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." — Les Brown

The familiar blue of the night sky was beginning to fall on the city. Warm summer air gently brushed past my bare arms and legs as I stepped onto the sidewalk outside of my grandparents' house. I looked down Poplar Avenue. There was a baseball game going on at the park. All around the field stood cheering clutters of parents here and there, shouting words of encouragement to their children. Wouldn't that just pressure them even more? I thought. The sound of the ball digging into a mitt. "STRIKE!" I heard someone yell.

                                                                                                                                      

The metal gate rang as my mom pulled it shut. We began our daily stroll after dinner in silence, taking in all that summer still had left to offer while it lasted. The sky grew darker, and no one noticed as the tall lamps illuminated the street. It was only when the mosquitoes decided to begin their nocturnal hunt for blood that people saw the tiny frantic specks in the light of the lamps, and realized it was getting late.

My mom broke our silence. "Ah, summer is coming to an end. School is going to start soon," she commented in Chinese. I nodded and muttered a "Mhmm..." hoping that she took the hint. She didn't.

"What have you accomplished this summer?" again in Chinese, this time looking me in the eye. I shrugged. "I worked....um, I hung out with my friends..."

"Have you done any schoolwork?" Her eyes stayed as they were.

What? I knew I probably should have done something educational this summer, but it was summer. I spend about nine months in school. I don't see how that still is not enough.

"I didn't have any."

We were now making our way around the park. Teenagers, parents, grandparents, toddlers, were all there, running around, chatting, enjoying themselves. I wanted to run there to see if I could find someone I knew. The park had many regular visitors. You're bound to run into someone.

The entrance to the Hill, as everyone calls it, was just a short walk across 29th street from park. It lived up to its name: grassy and green, and not at all flat. At the top of the hill there was a little island of concrete where you get the best view of the sunset in the neighborhood. I decided I wanted to go there. Then I realized it would only prolong this conversation.

"Why didn't you look for some practice work? How are you going to catch up with the others?"

I knew by "others" she had specific people in mind.

I thought back to the time when all I did was for the sake of satisfying my mother's high expectations. I was to be the girl that was good at everything, the perfect little Asian, a future doctor or lawyer, something that is well respected and pays well. Whether it was out of a change in my thinking or laziness, or both, I no longer wanted to live that way. I decided that I wanted to find my own path, a focus, and work from there. I did not want to conform to what others wanted me to be. I felt that I would get more out of life if I went about it not aiming for perfection and towards a goal that I didn't have any interest in accomplishing. I had learned to accept being mediocre (or at least a non-perfectionist) and not expect what is completely and obviously out of my limits.

I didn't reply. After a short silence, my mother pushed on. "What do you plan to study in college?"

I took a deep breathe. It had rained the day before, and there was still a slight hint of the damp, sweet-smelling air lingering around us. It calmed me. "I don't know, Mom."

She'd asked me this question countless times, not that I tried to count; I knew this question would keep coming until I reached college. There was my focus in piano, but it wasn't what I wanted to study and do for a living. I thought back to the people I saw at the park. Why couldn't I just live simple lives like they did?

We went down the hill and exited onto Halsted Street. The whoosh of slowing evening traffic ironically complimented the peaceful summer night. The passing lights flashed by one by one and glittered in the distance, as if to make up for the missing stars in the city sky.

The moon was out though, the observer of the night. I stared at it, taking in the beauty of its bright, flawlessly round form, wondering how something so beautiful can exist from so far away and look no less stunning millions of miles away.

Deciding that it would be better to hurry home before the mosquitoes began to attack, we turned in the middle of the block at an alley right next to the edge of the baseball field

"Maybe"

I decided to do my analysis on the song "Maybe" by Kelly Clarkson. I sang this song (well part of it...) on the last day before spring break at the Night of Noise, which was an open-mic event held to give a voice to those in the LGBT community, for those who don't know about it. I did it mostly out of wanting to sing, however to respect the meaning behind the event, I decided it would be best to choose a song that had some kind of relevance to the whole point of it. So as a last minute decision, I chose this song, but I did it purely based of emotions that I thought could be applied to this specific situation. I thought it would only be appropriate to really look at the song and think about it, perhaps even figure out why I felt it was a good song to sing that night. The lyrics:

I'm strong
But I break
I'm stubborn
And I make plenty of mistakes
Yeah I'm hard
And life with me is never easy
To figure out, to love
I'm jaded but oh so lovely
All you have to do is hold me
And you'll know and you'll see just how sweet it can be
If you'll trust me, love me, let me
Maybe, maybe

Someday
When we're at the same place
When we're on the same road
When it's OK to hold my hand
Without feeling lost
Without all the excuses
When it's just because you love me, you let me, you need me
Then maybe, maybe
All you have to do is hold me
And you'll know and you'll see just how sweet it can be
If you'll trust me, love me, let me
Maybe, maybe

I'm confusing as hell
I'm north and south
And I'll probably never have it all figured out
But what I know is I wasn't meant to walk this world without you
And I promise I'll try
Yeah I'm gonna try to give you every little part of me
Every single detail you missed with your eyes
Then maybe
Maybe, yeah maybe

One day
We'll meet again and you'll need me, you'll see me completely
Every little bit
Oh yeah maybe you'll love me, you'll love me then

I don't want to be tough
And I don't want to be proud
I don't need to be fixed and I certainly don't need to be found
I'm not lost
I need to be loved
I just need to be loved
I just want to be loved by you and I won't stop 'cause I believe
That maybe, yeah maybe
Maybe, yeah maybe

I should know better than to touch the fire twice
But I'm thinking maybe, yeah maybe you might

Maybe, love maybe

The first verse sounds a lot of like a confession, giving in to the inevitability of human imperfection. The speaker admits she (using "she" since the singer is female) is far from perfect, that she can still break, make mistakes and she mentions how difficult she can be, but she still believes that she can be loved despite her flaws if a person chooses to accept them and take her for who she is ("All you have to do is hold me, and you'll know and you'll see just how sweet it can be if you'll trust me, love me, let me, maybe..").

The entire second verse is somewhat like hopeful thinking of the time that she and the person who she is singing to will come to terms with one another ("when we're at the same place, when we're on the same road, when it's ok to hold my hand") Though it may seem like the song is being sung to a lover, I believe when she says "trust me, love me, let me, maybe" she is singing to someone who disapproves of her for some unspecified reason (one of her imperfections), and this is her saying, "Maybe if you gave me a chance, you would understand me and my reasons why, and you would learn to love me [accept me]."

At the bridge, the speaker says, "But what I know is I wasn't meant to walk this world without you" hints that the person this song is directed to is important to her in some way. Also, when she says, "Yeah I'm gonna try to give you every little part of me, every single detail you missed with your eyes, then maybe, maybe, yeah maybe" she is saying that there's more to her than the flaws that the person she is addressing can't seem to embrace. Finally towards the end the lines, "I don't need to be fixed and I certainly don't need to be found, I'm not lost, I need to be loved" mean that these flaws aren't necessarily wrong and they just make the speaker who she is, and she just wants to be loved for being herself.

The entire song in general is about asking to be accepted and loved. It's probably for that reason that I decided to sing this at the Night of Noise.

On the reservation.....

....the sky is the best we've got. The land is red, may it be from our history of bloody suffering that still haunts us now, or just the weather as they say, I don't know. It is red where there should be green from the money we get from the government. It's so barren and dull I'm amazed I'm still here. The shoddy little "houses" dot the scarlet landscape, each having its own arbitrary and unique shape; they're the only things ornamenting the land.

There's no room for a chance at life, even with the all open space we have that seems to only end only with the sky. Many already have given up and made their way to the heavens against God's will because they can't seem to find a way around this struggle. The poverty and lack of opportunity deprived people of their spirit and desire to live on. The hate from the outside world. So much conflict....

I want to be one of the red mountains because they are so close to the large expanse of blue above. Maybe I will find my way to the sky too.

Propaganda 2011

prop·a·gan·da

1. information, ideas, or rumors deliberately spread widely to help or harm a person, group, movement, institution, nation, etc.

 

2.  the deliberate spreading of such information, rumors, etc.

 

3. the particular doctrines or principles propagated by an organization or movement.

 

"Propaganda" is usually applied to political matters. But with this definition, wouldn't most of what we encounter be considered propaganda?

 

All the advertisements on TV, on billboards, on the bus, on the train; the magazines with their "miracle weight loss" guides and the fads of the season. The internet that has EVERYTHING you're looking for. They all have some sort of direction, or message they want to get to people who see them. 

I would have to say that even the things we are taught to be "good" or "bad", that is also a form of propaganda. There's the common logic (?) we're all expected to know and understand, but I feel that these basic ideas we are taught shape the way we see other more complex, and perhaps more controversial topics of the world, which is the more direct and obvious form of propaganda. 

So pretty much, everything is propaganda in its own way. 

Just want to put it out there: I despise politics.

 

"Black Boy" Response

Best book of the year, hands down. The plot is honest, frank, understandable and flows, and there are certain points made in the book that readers can easily relate to.

I really like Wright's style of writing. In general, it uses simple words and sentence structures to convey some very complex ideas, and a significant amount of it is delivered through dialogue. I also feel that he is trying to speak out about his opinions through his experiences. I think that he does a great job at it, because these experiences he goes through in his life time are put together nicely and timed well. Nothing ever drags on for too long, but I am still able to get a clear picture and idea of what is going on.

Reading about his origins and life as a child, and then comparing that to how he turned out is really impressive and admirable. He grew up in an abusive household under extremely religious and strict authority. His education was broken and it was quite a while before he became literate, yet he ended up writing a book as great as this one. This was probably what stuck out to me the most. I am a fairly realistic person, but this book has me thinking that maybe passion and perseverance can get you places in life.

Hungry For Attention: Is young Richard alone in his cravings?

In the first chapter of Black Boy by Richard Wright, he reminisces a few memorable experiences, many of which, if not all, expressing a certain hunger for something. There was the literal hunger, when he asks his mother for food, but there was also the hunger for attention at the beginning of the book when he sets the house on fire, as well as a hunger to entertain himself. There was a hunger to learn, a hunger to rebel. 

Everyone wants something. It's why there's so much greed and suffering in the world. They may be entirely different from Richard's; they may be as complex as his desire for attention or as simplistic as his hunger for food. But there is no one in the world that is completely satisfied with what they have. It's just human nature. The cravings of the other characters of the book, such as his mother's and his brother's, are hinted at to prove this, although they are not as obvious as Richard's.

So no, Richard isn't alone in his cravings.

"On Being Mexican American" Response

I feel I can somewhat relate to Mendoza's experience. I was born in the US, just like him, but I was born Chinese, as he had said he was born Mexican. However, I did grow up in China where my native culture is strongest. At that age, things like race, culture, ethnicity, labels in general, none of those really mattered to me. I wasn't particularly aware that I was Chinese. I simply lived the way I was taught to.
It was when I moved back here and started school that I began to notice certain things. My class (with the exception of kindergarten to about third grade) was made up of a majority of African Americans and Hispanics. I suppose I always knew I was different, but it became more apparent and obvious as teachers talked about ideas like diversity and tolerance, the like, and even the small things like the different ways people talked that I picked up too brought it to surface. Both Mendoza and I learned of our biological identities through schooling.
Unlike Mendoza though (since I'm much younger than him), I became 'aglocized' when I came to Whitney Young, so even before I was a teenager. My class was much more diverse than what I was accustomed to, and it took some time to adapt. But I did. An old friend of mine would always tell me every time she sees me, "You've changed a lot. I don't know you anymore." Of course, we still love each other, and she didn't mean anything bad by that, but I can see what she means even on my own. The crazy arguments I get into with my mother are solid evidence of this (what they are about I will leave out of this).
The line that stuck out to me the most in this piece was, "We need to decide once and for all who we are and stop trying to be what we are not." I believe in a balance that we must all find as well. This was very wise of him to say. I hope I find mine.

King Still King?

 In "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, he discusses his ideas of a nonviolent campaign to bring about the "tension" to surface, so negociation would be possible, why breaking the law in doing so is not contradictory nor wrong because of the "two types of laws: just and unjust", that "groups tend to be more immoral than individuals", among others. I believe these beliefs still stand very true today, but not quite in the context they are used.

2011. Internet, phones, TV, all very efficient means of communication to help people learn about one another. The Civil Rights Movement is over, and immigration had increase more and more over the years. The United States has never been more diverse. Racism and prejudice obviously still exists, but it is illegal on paper, and it is not an every day aspect of our lives. There is no longer a need for any protest because we are all llegally equal. However, King's ideas can still be applied to other fields that have not seen the improvement or progress wanted. An example of a nonviolent effort would be the Walk-Out from last year. It was brought up in class yesterday. It was peaceful, although unlawful. In the end it did make a difference, because many of the teachers who were supposed to leave never did.

So I guess King really is still King.

Response to "Children of the Sea"

I didn't expect to enjoy it at all. I usually don't find required reading for classes entertaining or fun at all, just busywork to pass the course. However, this excerpt was an exception. It was captivating and interesting from the very beginning. Though not straightforwardly stated, the situation in the story became very clear and was easy to understand and interpret. I like that in the writing I read: creative wording and description, a good balance of plot and detail, etc.

They say that writing reveals more about the author than they want or expect. I noticed that Danticat used simple sentences in general throughout the entire piece, for both parts. They were simple, but expressed complex and deep ideas and thoughts. I sensed a vague, dark feeling from her words too. Hmm. Maybe it was because she compared the man's experience on board to those of the slaves all those years ago? I wonder what she's like. Probably a history person who's proud of her roots? (I suppose get some of this from the other article we read.)

I'd like to end this blog by saying I really thought "Children of the Sea" was a great start to this unit. :D

Music Review

The first thing that popped into my mind was the original work on Youtube that I'd come across. It was pretty difficult choosing which song I wanted share, because there's so much good stuff that people come up with!!!

In the beginning I was going to talk about a medley that I found by Sam Tsui and Kurt Schneider (found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WoNdr0AbttI They've got a few others you should check out too.) of some of Lady Gaga's big hits. (For those who don't know, a medley is pretty much just a mix up of songs -- yes, I have talked to people about this who didn't know what it was.) But then I remembered a girl I found a while back and how much I loved the messages and simplicity of her songs.

I might be my love for really good acoustic guitar playing, her voice or lyrics with meaning and creative  and clever wording, but this song really stuck out to me when I first heard it. The song is called "Common, Simple, Beautiful Ways" by Jennifer Chung. You can easily tell it was written and sung beautifully from her heart.

I read a little about her on her website. She grew up in the bay area in Korea and was raised by a single mother, a Korean dancer, who took care of her and her brother. Because of her situation, she was really close to her mom who still a big influence in her life. This song pretty much tells her story and expresses how much her home and her roots mean to her.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. :)

Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eg3l79KR4U&feature=related

Jay Gatsby and Nick Carroway

Yes, actually I do think their relationship is pretty fraudulent. I bet it if weren't for Nick's connections to Daisy, Gatsby would never have gone out of his way to officially invite Nick over to one his extravagant parties. After all, the whole purpose of his everyone-is-welcome parties are in hope of seeing Daisy among the unfamiliar crowd. He tries so hard to make Nick comfortable around him and like him so that he'd do him that favor of inviting Daisy over for tea too.....it just seems like the kind of effort you'd put into someone you aren't very close to, to put up a good image. With others like friends and family, usually people are much more relaxed and unguarded around them. (At least that's the case with me.) The fact that Gatsby constantly calls Nick "old sport" makes it even more like he's really trying hard to create maybe even a temporary "relationship" to use his relations for his own benefit. Now that I think about it, Nick is always calling him Gatsby in the book, years after they'd known each other. They aren't very far apart in age, so it's not that much of a respect issue. That might actually be the reason why I keep calling him Gatsby myself. At first when I heard the topic of the week, I had no idea who Jay was for the longest time. Anyway that's that.

A Winter Poem

The year's first snow fall

Starts with a single, lonely snowflake

Dancing on its own, the sky its ballroom and 

The wind its music.

Then a companion of his soon follows, and then many more

Make their way to the already wet ground to

Finish their performance and leave their audience

With an enormous white blanket,

Speechless and awe-struck.

-Happy Winter!

Thankful for A Classmate

Thanksgiving is the time of the year when Americans get together with their familes and stuff themselves with homemade goodness, then afterwards make the New Year's resolution to lose the weight they gained from all that turkey, which of course, we all know, never happens. I did nothing of the sort, with the exception of stuffing myself. My grandmother wasn't home, and my parents were too lazy to cook, so we went out to eat in Chinatown for both brunch and dinner, their excuse being that the only open restaurants on Thanksgiving were in Chinatown. (I don't know how true it really is but I know they only went because they're not too open to new foods.)

This being an American holiday, I felt that it was only right to do at least something American to observe it. That is where this blog comes in, a little "tribute" (would that be a good word?) to my good friend Kennedy Baldwin. 
I met her in seventh grade, when we first became academic center students (also referred to as "ackies" within the school). It wasn't until our second year as ackies that we started to talk. And now that we have more classes together, we got to spend much more time with each other this year. She's great to talk to about pretty much anything, and her sense of humor is amazing. Hanging out after school with a girl like Kennedy is especially fun. :D
There are others that I am thankful for to be in the same American Literature class as me (like Mia) however I was only allowed to mention one person (too late :P). There are people outside of the class I am really thankful for too, but I suppose they're just going to have to figure it out without me directly telling them, "I am thankful for you." 
Have a nice holiday everyone!

I Am a Plow

This is the first time that I am truly lost when I start a blog. When I first heard the topic, I pictured a tractor, which I suppose is the modern version of the classic plow. I actually had to look it up on google to make sure I knew what it was and its purpose. So here it goes:

I am a plow, a simple machine with a great purpose. I am under-appreciated by all the mouths I've fed, erased from the image of a farmer working with his land, and replaced by the oh-so-mighty tractor. The dust continues to collect on my hundred-year-old painted surface, the metallic red lacking its prior luster. I'm always kept in the dark of the very back of the farmhouse, only rarely catching a glimpse of the faded outside world of my imagination when my owner searches through the pile of abandoned junk (such as myself) at the far, rear end of the cramped room. I miss the everday feel of my owner's hands, and the sigh of satisfaction at the end of a good day's work. 

I am a plow, and I miss the days. 

A Direction the Class Needs

First quarter of the 2010-2011 school year had just come to an end, so I guess that would be the reason for this topic and its amazing timing.
For any class in general, I believe that it should do these few things at the least, such as give the students a general idea of basics, help students decide whether they'd like to work in a profession that involves that kind of work, and teach them something they can use in life one way or another (speaking skills, simple math when shopping, etc).
I'd also like to point out: Why is it we focus so much on the past? Is it perhaps because we don't really know what's in store for the future? I can understand the whole "learning from your mistakes" thing, but it feels like it's all we do in school, just learn about history, the past. In order to keep moving on, we're going to have to stop sticking to what already happened that we can't change, and maybe apply what we learn from history to what we can shape to our liking, the future. 
In this class...I actually quite like the way it's going. The discussions are great, and there's not usually too much homework, but I think it can work more on the moving forward thing. The books we read are all pretty old and are set several hundred years ago. However the weekly blogging assignments is definitely an interesting way to teach, and in way, it does move us forward, or at least keeps us up to date, since nowadays everything goes around through the internet. I just wish school didn't always make us read old books.

Modern Day Slavery

Yeah, actually it does exist. In other parts of the world, especially the developing regions, slavery still affects many lives, more than I think most of us can imagine. Don't get me wrong though. It happens in the U.S. too. Ha, you probably thought the Civil War all those years ago was the end of it. Not true. In fact, in all of human history, it is now that we have the most slaves.

Just google it. Slaves today aren't in situations too different from those long ago. They're put through forced, hard labor and mental, physical and emotional abuse with little or no pay at all. Specifically in the U.S., most slaves are domestic or sex slaves, and a significant number of them are very young. I think the only real differences between slavery then and now is the curtain modern society provides to the overwhelming majority of us from this, the culture (of not having ownership of a slave to be normal and morally correct) and the race factor that is not incorporated.

Another form of modern day slavery, that's not too obvious, but still, in my opinion, slavery, is our parents' control of our lives. I feel their presence in our lives is pretty forceful sometimes. But that's more of a personal thing, a story for another time :)

Modern Day Puritan America

America, circa 1700, in the small town of Salem, Massachusetts where the Puritan community thrives. There, above a crowd of murmuring mystery figures, stands a beautiful young woman, with a small bundle in her arms, hugged closely to her chest, on which there is a skillfully embroidered “A” in a red as deep as blood.

Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote about this in The Scarlet Letter. This was one of the first scenes, when Hester Pynne, the girl, is labeled an adulterer in public. Her punishment was to stand in front of a crowd to let everyone know of her crime, and wear the “A” always to remind all who come across her, including herself, of her sin.

It is somewhat ironic, that in The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne writes with a negative light on the Puritans, despite being from a family of them. It is said that he was ashamed of his family’s involvement in the notorious witchcraft trials, as his ancestor John Hathorne was one of the judges, that he changed his name.

These people who lived and governed themselves by the Bible that he writes about are the roots of today’s America. Yet why is it so different now? I’m not sure myself, but you know, when you look closely, you can still see hints of the original strict customs of the Puritans lingering in our society. Correction: religious views DOMINATE our morals and values. Think about issues like abortion and gay marriage. There’s so much heated debate on topics because the people who are not in favor of them are against them for religious reasons. Funny, because there are also so many things that people get away with that still go against religious teachings.

The Moment I Knew I Was American?

I think one of the saddest things in life is human stubborness. Narrow mindsets especially bother me, like the really really religious beliefs (no offence to anyone who is religious) that are really really extreme. It's good to stand for what you believe in, but I firmly believe that it's also healthy to step back a little every once in a while and look at the big picture from different angles. Your personal viewpoint may be right, but there might be a better one that you're missing because someone else's idea just isn't good enough for you. This applies to all opinions and beliefs, not just the religious ones. Miscommunication or the lack of it also stems from this stubborness. Say for example, if I'm really mad at my mom and decide not to return any of her calls, and one of them happen to be about my brother getting hurt, by the time I do find out it will only look like I didn't care, and the situation would only get worse from there. In the Crucible, the same thing happened, but to the point where people had to die and still didn't make that much of a difference.
It's so depressing. :( People need to learn not just to look, but to see, and not just hear, but to listen as well.