My Final Blog

Wow, what an adventure! After tripping on the wonderful drug of Emergent Lit for the past few months, I find myself in a whole new dimension. Well not really. I'm still here. Wherever that is. But, I do feel like this class has changed me as a person. I look at everything with a new perspective. Music, Movies, Literature, Relationships, and everything in Life can be tied into this class. I'm able to find or create new meanings within various things that I encounter. I would like to thank everyone in the class for your wonderful blogging. I regret not being able to blog more than I did. After acquiring this new trait perhaps I'll keep blogging in the future. I gotta give props to my pusher man, Professor Sexson. Thank you for your great selection of material that was presented in this class. T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets has become my favorite poetry. I have become interested in Samuel Beckett as well as Salman Rushdie. Rio, you did an awesome job as the media coordinator for this class. I thought that what you did was very helpful in creating a fun and different learning experience. This type of teaching should be encouraged throughout more classes on campus. This EL 436 drug is better than anything I've tried; the high never subsides and it will last a lifetime. I'll recommend it to anyone looking.

The Informant!

This movie, directed by Steven Soderberg, was released in 2009 and stars Matt Damon. I liked the movie more than my roommate due to the influence of this class. The story told has a direct correlation to the theme of life as literature and language. Marc Whitacre is a newly appointed Vice President of a gigantic agricultural manufacturer of lysine. The opening scene has Marc walking back to his office; an inner monologue goes on as he crosses in front of an employee. He thinks, what does this guy make in a year? I don't know maybe 100K. I don't even know what he does. He is just going to sit there behind his desk wasting his life away. Marc Whitacre does not want to be that man. He starts discussions with the FBI where he tells them that his company has been price-fixing, as well as a plan to monopolize the whole industry. He tells them about there plans and relates it to a Micheal Criteon novel in which the same thing happens. They recruit him to be a somewhat spy and look into the companies doings. Marc agrees, he doesn't want to live his life out behind a desk, so he creates this exciting enticing story. The FBI finds out that Marc was lying about most of his story; and that he was embezzling the company for several millions of dollars. Marc believed that once the upper management was dissolved by the FBI that he would be the only one left and the only one capable of running the entire company. Too bad for Marc, he ends up serving time in prison. I thought that this was a good movie and the inner monologue of Marc running throughout is pretty funny. Matt Damon does a great job in portraying a real person bored with their life and deciding to create a more interesting life based on the language and fiction that they have encountered.

My List

I wanted to list out the contents of my refrigerator; however, it is filled with a lot of food and I'm not patient enough to look and record every single item. So, my list will consist of the materials found in my wallet.

Debit Card
Naked Noodle Punch Card- great pasta
Driver's License - terrible pic of me, don't ask to see it
Hastings Rental Card - don't need; Netflix
Blockbuster Rental Card - " " "
Bozeman Public Defender Business Card (Whoops)
Cold Smoke Punch Card - Hookah supplies
CVS Pharmacy Care Card - I'm accident prone
Foust Law Office Business Card - Loooong Story
Two Citations from City of Bozeman
24 Dollars in Cash
Hunter Education Completion card
Health Insurance Card
Voter Confirmation Card
Condom
Conservation License and Fishing license
Montana Motorcycle Rider Safety Card
Picture of my family when it was a family
Picture of cousins
Picture of grandmother
Picture of girl that didn't wanna go to prom with me
Picture of grandparents

Ricky Martin is Gay!!!

I know, not very surprising. He was living la Vida Loca after all. I was surprised after reading the yahoo article about his self-declaration as a "fortunate homosexual man"; I found a connection with what he had to say and Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist.

"To keep living as I did up until today would be to indirectly diminish the glow that my kids where [sic] born with. Enough is enough. This has to change. This was not supposed to happen 5 or 10 years ago, it is supposed to happen now. Today is my day, this is my time, and this is my moment,"

"These years in silence and reflection made me stronger and reminded me that acceptance has to come from within and that this kind of truth gives me the power to conquer emotions I didn't even know existed," he continued. "What will happen from now on? It doesn't matter. I can only focus on what's happening to me in this moment. The word "happiness" takes on a new meaning for me as of today."

Ricky Martin listened to his heart, his inner voice. For years he was asked whether or not he was gay. He denied and denied. Barbara Walters grilled him. The public assumed it. Through the last few years he realized that being gay is part of his Personal Legend and that he could not deny his heart anymore. Ricky Martin, like Santiago needed to listen closely to his heart and not the criticism or advice of others. And in doing so Ricky Martin feels "...very blessed to be who I am." I have a little more respect for Ricky Martin as a person, not so much for his music.

Are we Human; or, are we Dancer?

This question asked by The Killers; brings to my mind the Matrix.  Are we Dancers?  Are we just puppets chained to a rock, living a life that has already been imagined for us?  Are we running around this simulated, computerized rat race with the maze and ending already planned? 

The Matrix was created by machines, which were created by humans, to serve as a Tempest to distract the sleeping human population from awaking to the truth; their planet was completely destroyed, they were being harvested to power the machines, and the outlook was quite bleak. They needed a savior, a Neo, to show them the truth. Someone who broke from the chains and witnessed the de-fictionalized reality.  Humans were responsible for creating the Matrix, and Humans in turn, will be responsible for destroying the Matrix.  A low-brow film I watched yesterday also shows me that, Alice herself created a Matrix to hide from the reality of her situation.  

In this case, she is a young woman living in a suppressed, Aristocratic English household where every detail of her life is planned, downed the the exact time she will be engaged.  Alice's Wonderland is her escape, it is her life as fiction.   Throughout the movie she is questioned if she is the right Alice.  No one really thinks that she is the real Alice, except her. She knows she is the right Alice because it is her dream, she is the wizard behind the curtain.  She realizes that she controls her own destiny. After journeying through wonderland she returns out of her own rabbit hole,  says no to her soon to be fiancée, and ventures out to create a life for herself.

I have created meaning throughout my whole life through my experiences, stories, knowledge, and relationships.  I have questioned myself many times; asking, is this all real?  It has to be, I am Prospero.  My life has meaning because I place it there.  My own personal life is a Matrix that I have shaped and created. Its not that simple, the fictitious life that I have created must also have some sort of truth.  And that truth is that I am my own Neo. I am awakened to the fact that in reality I am asleep.  In becoming awakened you understand that you are chained to a rock; that your reality is just a computer program; the meaning of your life is socially constructed by the forces you yourself perpetuate, and you have the ability to change who you are and what life means.  Your life can become your Wonderland.

Life Stranger than Fiction

One of the tell tale signs that our lives are indeed fiction can be witnessed at a funeral.  Once the deceased is buried stories start to come out.  Everyone that feels they should, gets up and tells the rest of the congregation a meaningful story that connects the deceased to themselves.  The stories are created by the person telling them and are subjective to that person's view of the events as well as how much they liked the person that passed away.  Usually, since the person is attending the funeral, they loved, or at least liked the person, most of the stories will be heartfelt, humorous, and or meaningful.  They wish to share the stories that they have created because they don't want the deceased to be forgotten.  Attending some of my family member funerals has given me the opportunity to hear stories about my family that I had never heard before.  It gives me completely different perspective on those people, and it's hard to let them know I appreciate their stories because they are gone.  I will probably never hear the stories that were told at my grandmother's and great-grandmother's funerals again; I don't need to, I know the stories of them and those stories make them who they are to me.  

In the Four Quartets I found a passage that might relate to the theme of Life as Fiction.  

"To communicate with Mars, converse with spirits, to report the behavior of the sea monster, describe the horoscope, haruspicate or scry,  observe disease in signatures, evoke biography from the wrinkles of the palm and tragedy from the fingers..." Dry Salvages p.43

haruspicate - When one rips out the guts, and in particular the intestines, of dead animals and tells the future by looking at them.  

Scry - to look into a crystal ball

Stories and the Power they Contain

Noticing the way that Beckett uses his language and style to let us understand that he is just telling us a story makes me think about some of the stories in my life that are quite remarkable.  One of my favorite family stories has to do with my Great Grandfather.  My great grandfather was blind by the age of 18.  When he was a young child, probably around 10 or so; he, in competition with his five other siblings, took the last biscuit out from under his older brother. His older brother, appalled by this action, stabbed him in the eye with a fork!  The first time I heard this made me shiver in horror and awe for that fact that my great uncle must have been crazy or hungry as hell to stab his younger brother in the eye.  So there is my Grandfather with only one good eye left.  He's 18 years old and driving across his families homestead.  He's heading into town to celebrate his graduating from high school.  His friends are also celebrating and decide to pull a prank on him.  They lay out some barbwire on the road in order to give him a flat or two.  I don't really see the humor in this trick.  Turns out the barbwire is blown into the air, through the windshield of my grandpa's vehicle and glass explodes into the face and eyes of my grandfather.  He is now blind. This story of how my grandfather became blind always fascinated me; it increased the respect I have for him and my family.  Turns out it was all a story.

My Great Grandfather was blind. He did get his eye poked out by a fork when he was 10. Except, it was his own fault, he tripped on the floor and ploop, there goes an eye.  As for the other eye, since his depth perception was off he accidentally went through a single wire fence, smashing his windshield and driving glass into his other eye. I just learned the truth of this story from my grandfather over Christmas break. I was a little dis-heartened; but, after I think about it he was blind from 18 till he passed away and is still one of my most respected relatives.  I'm going to continue to tell the story of how he became blind the way I want.  Everyone loves and desires a good story. 

Groundhog's Day

Woke up on this fine, freezing February morning. Not at 6am though, today is one of the days I get to sleep in so I pushed my Groundhog's Day to 9am.  It started out as any other day. Phone alarm woke me up, rolled out of my bed and went to the bathroom. Showers feel exceptional when you take your time and let the sleep just drain away.  After dressing and packing my books up I headed up stairs to break my fast.  Walking up stairs and feeling all your quad and hamstring muscles firing makes me realize that my body is a precise, wonderful machine. I need to start taking better care of my temple.  Before I started cooking I called a masseuse and set up a time. Every Groundhog's day should involve a massage.  Sausage, onion, green pepper, and cheese omelet is a palate explosion that I was willing to risk. So I started to crack the egg. It slipped out of my hand, plunk, onto the floor. Ahh, so frustrating I hate cleaning up a whole raw egg, so slimy.  What is wrong with me? Why did I make such a blunder? Thinking about it for a minute, this beautiful face illuminated my mind.  Heather, a girl in one of my other classes that caught my attention.

We'd been exchanging pleasantries outside of class since the beginning of the semester and it was finally time to make a move.  After realizing what my mission was that afternoon, the walk to campus became a jubilant stroll filled with the best music my ipod has to offer. The fresh chilled breezed filled my lungs and not only lifted my spirits but lifted my feet. No one has ever called me nimble, but earlier today my feet felt light as feathers.  Today was not going to be an average Groundhog's day.

But after arriving in the Fieldhouse, it became just that.  I went and worked out, lifted the same weights, performed the same activities, talked with the same people. For those few hours everything seemed average. Well, not average because I was concentrating super hard on all I was doing, thanks Professor Sexson.  

After the routiness of my day; waking up, breakfast (minus the egg), the walk (minus the walk), my workout, and class: the deadline of my mission was fast approaching.  Class ended and just as each class previously had ended I found myself walking across campus with Heather.  We chit-chatted about the book we were reading among other everyday pleasantries. The end of the conversation was coming upon us.  Kill-switch engage.

I asked her if she would like to get dinner with me sometime. She asked when. I told her you think of an evening you'd like to go out and I'll give you a call later.  She agreed to it, said goodbye and we parted. I had a date this weekend with a beautiful girl, I'm paying extra special attention to all my activities and surroundings, everything is feeling better than it ever has and I've never been happier.

Did Puxitawny Phil see his shadow? Six more months of winter or is spring arriving? I don't even know and frankly, I don't even care. This has been by far one of the best Groundhog's Day I've ever re-lived.

1/25/10 Ben Leuber's Presentation

Wow. I feel much better about not being able to understand Finnegans Wake. His advice on not reading the book on your own terms but letting the book work on you was pretty helpful. Reading the book out loud, he said it was a sort of song,  is the way i'm going to approach Finnegans Wake. 

He also cleared up the idea of Eternal Recurrance for me. Nietzsche's quote, once he explained it, made a lot of sense. The idea that fragmented things, becoming, and strict forms, being, are all intertwined and not seprate things but the same; and that Eternal Recurrrance is the approximation of becoming and being.  

One thing that stuck with me after class was one of his last comments about Shakespeare and how when someone reads Shakespear than that person becomes a part of Shakespeare and Shakespear a part of them.  I think this is were the Eternal Recurrance theme and the theme of life as literature and fiction go hand in hand.   Anyone or anything that I have, can, or will relate to will become a part of me and I will become a part of them.  That's pretty amazing.  Everything in this Universe is a part of me. I am a part of everything in this Universe. Makes sense to me since I am physically made up of the same atoms that make up anything and everything.   Throughout the day I thought about this and it gives me hope that there can be sameness amongs all the people in the world and the world itself.  Call me optimistic, but in Vico's theory at the end of the age of humans comes the age of gods.

Wed 1/20

I really enjoyed Salman Rushdie, top of the line, great read, excellent story. The story of Haroun was filled with themes that will be discussed in this class. One of the first I noticed was Dolce Domum, home sweet home, home is where you make it. It appears that as Haroun is trying to solve the story telling problem with his father, the real reason for his loss of the gift of gab was his mother's leaving, her departure, her song stopped. Haroun must go on this journey to Kahani, go 'via negative' in order to get to the place which he desires, a complete home, a family that loves him, his Dolce Domum.

Another theme that is seen is the 20 minute lifetime, a lifetime burning in every moment. Haroun goes on this journey to Kahani and it appears that he has been away for a great deal of time but once he is awoken by Snooty Buttoo he realizes that everything that has happened only took a short while. a lifetime within the nighttime, years gone by in moments. And in connection with the 20 minute lifetime theme is the Life as Fiction and Language.

Haroun notices some sort of "Angel Fish of some variety" in the Ocean of Stories and Butt the Hoopoe tells him that they are Plentimaw Fish which Haroun didn't think existed, gone, dead, no more. Haroun realizes that "a Plentimaw Fish can be an Angel Fish as well."