Thursday, November 29, 2012

Blog Eight: Emily Dickinson

I am pretty darn excited about this blog, because I loved reading Emily Dickinson. Nerdy? Yeah.


Before I even get into some of what Emily wrote, im going to reflect on my impressions of her.

She was a recluse. She didn't get out much and probably didn't talk to people very much either. One thing I generally find to be true about most quiet people, is that if they aren't saying much, there is a high possibility that they are thinking and observing A LOT. That's why I love reading works from such people. It's so interesting seeing what they saw.

I can be really quiet.. I watch a lot though. In the most non- sketchy way possible. ---Well, sometimes it might be a little creepy ha, but I have innocent intentions!--- I notice things about people and human nature that I think Emily saw too so there were many things that she wrote that I identified with.


Article on Introverts that I read a few months ago.
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,2105432,00.html



Ok. Now that I have psycho analyzed both Emily Dickinson and myself, I can move onto the actual writing.

"After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
The stiff Heart questions ‘was   it He, that bore,’
And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?" (from 372) 
                                                                        Emptiness
There should so be a song about that. This happens to me very frequently. When something hurts so bad, or you're terrified, and you lose it. Then, you just get really still and you can't feel anything. Kids today call it being numb, Emily described that feeling like this, "The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –".  You're just dead inside.

"The Heart asks Pleasure – first-
And then – excuse from Pain-
And then – those little Anodynes
That deaden suffering-" (from 588)

We really think we can have or do whatever we want and not be subjected to the consequences. We want all the pleasure, with no ill side effects. Ha. Ah, ignorance. We always end up trying to deaden the suffering we cause ourselves though.

"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading - treading - till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through -" (from 340) 

Depression. It scrapes along your mind so much sometimes, that you feel like your sense is about to split. 

Wow. I feel a little emotionally spent after dwelling on all of this, haha. As sad as some of these things are, that's probably why they are so great. She writes about very powerful emotions.



Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Blog Seven: Song of Myself - Whitman

     I was a little disappointed with Walt Whitman, truthfully. There were many things that he said that were pretty, and even some things that I thought were good worldviews, but on the whole I think he was a little full of it. 

     From reading the intro I learned that there were several instances where he pushed his writing to be publicly recognized. Fame. That is a direct contradiction to the impressions he gives about worldly success and notoriety in "Song of Myself". He claims that he is who he is (which he states is absolutely dreamy) and that he is also a part of everyone else and vice versa. He is satisfied with simply lying in the field and no one ever choosing to recognize him (he says).  His actions speak otherwise. 

When I read his works I kinda get this feeling that as he was lying somewhere, he would just let himself feel as if he was melting into his surroundings, and becoming one with everything. I wonder if that was his way of coping with an identity crisis. I can't figure out who I am, so I'l just be part of everyone and everyone will be part of me. That way life seems fair. ---- Maybe that was a source of his worldview. That is all speculation of course. 

     I wonder if he was kinda like a hippie...? I'm inclined to think so. Peace and love, dude.

     He writes well, I think. Even when I didn't agree with what he was saying I felt like I could feel what he wanted me to feel as I read.

There have been many times when I feel that I need to give props to someone for being bold enough to introduce a different, controversial way of thinking, even if I  don't like a lot of it. I think there were probably quite a few other people that must have felt this way about Whitman during his lifetime. Quite possibly that's one reason that he is considered a classic. Another reason, of course has to that some of his words and ideas are so lovely, that they flow like music. 

"A child said What is grass? fetching it to me with full hands; how could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.... And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon
         out of their mothers' laps,
And here you are the mothers' laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for
         nothing.


I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and
         women..." 


There's a reason he is classic. 


Monday, November 5, 2012

Blog Six: Harriet Jacobs

I was going to write about Fanny Fern and indulge in a little man-hating, but I changed my mind. I decided to write about how much I admire this lady instead. 

As I was reading her story, I was feeling shock at many of the things she experienced, but I was also learning every single life lesson I could glean. 



If I had been in her shoes, I'm afraid I might have turned out to be an absolute loony toon. Crazy. Can you imagine the amount of spiritual and mental stamina she had to possess to survive what she did? How could you get through having your family, whether blood or not, ripped away from you (family plays a hug part in most peoples identity)? Sexual slavery (which is how I viewed the positions she was put in)? You don't own yourself. You're not a person, you're property. Oh, and then you have to lay in a hole for seven years (approx.) and think about it. After your mental health has been strangled by all of that, you spend the next few years just surviving. 

She managed to preserve herself and not only survive, but make a free life for herself AND her children. Then had the courage to write it all out; the good and the bad parts of herself and everything that happened to her.

When you feel like your life is a massive train wreck, you just need to keep surviving like this dear lady did.  

 "But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me." 

1 Corinthians 15:10