So because of a particular art assignment that was impossible to fulfill in my own apartment (lack of hallways) or at school (everything is closed on Sunday) I opted to take a trip over to my mother's humble abode for this adventure. The short of this is that I recommend sitting as centered as possible while drawing a hallway otherwise things will start looking as if they belong in the haunted mansion; warped and crooked does not a successful perspective assignment make.
The long of it is, I was able to go to Goodwill and get a work uniform fora fraction of the cost of what it normally would cost me (black slacks and long sleeved dress shirts plus a tie do not run cheap even in the cheapest of non-second hand stores, I'm sorry). I've reached the point where there's a small selection of clothing at goodwill that fits my body type and actually looks flattering, and not like a potato sack or a collection of badly placed too-tight pieces.
When we finally reached mom's house again, I popped The Secret Garden into the VHS player to have some background noise while doing my art assignment. Since I'd just read the book I wanted to rewatch the film adaptation to see how it compared. I think I prefer the ending of the movie to the book, but I prefer the rest of the book to the other (big surprise). I just don't think the characters were as well developed (time constraints are a bitch, you know), and I really didn't get the same sense of time passing as it did in the book (there are ways to cheat that in movies, and I think they tried to, but it didn't really translate for me).
THEN I made the bold decision to watch The Little Mermaid.
Let me just say that once you've taken a number of women's study courses and classes in analyzing stories/literature, your life is never the same. As soon as I started watching this lovely little Disney movie, my brain immediately started analyzing what it was saying about female sexuality. Let me explain:
When it comes down to it, Ariel is essentially a very sweet, pure (though slightly rebellious), and virginal young girl. She has an attraction for something she's not supposed to have (read that however you like), and in her first sighting of her prince, it's all downhill from there. (I think it's hilarious that there are fireworks that attract her to the boat; hey Ariel, when you first met Eric, were there any... sparks?) But of course her father, in trying to protect her, goes overboard and crushes all her hopes and dreams of "getting some" (I think it's important that her attraction for Eric is "inappropriate," because while in the film it's probably just that she wants to spend forever and ever with him, it's still taboo, which in OUR society, could be a symbol for sex. And keep in mind that Ariel is around the age where hormones are absolutely out of control.)
So then, enter Ursula. I have to say, she's one of my favorite villains in a Disney movie. Now, what does Ursula represent? Unrestrained, uninhibited female sexuality and its carnal desire for hedonistic sex. Let's just go over her appearance for starters: she is VERY voluptuous, and the fact that she's part octopus (I assume, I've never actually counted her tentacles) means the way she moves is very fluid and sexual (not to mention she's got a lot of suckers. Yeah, I went there). She has thick, red lips, a mole, and blonde hair (um, Marylin Monroe on acid, anyone?). Then there's how Ursula acts. She is completely uninhibited (when Ariel asks her how she will get the prince to fall in love with her without a voice, Ursula says to rely on her looks and body language. Watch that clip; if the way she "says" body language doesn't strike you as slightly stripperish, I don't know what rock you've been living under.)
There's even an element of Ursula hitting on Ariel. Don't get me started on the symbolism of Ms. Tentacles taking away Ariel's voice (I don't think popping cherries would have the same effect in this context). In addition, it's as if Ursula wants to live her sex life through Ariel, because of her beauty.
Anyway, so Ariel is transformed into a human. I was watching this part and I suddenly realized "Oh my god, she's spreading her legs." While mermaids have this seductive appeal to them (at least to the sailor part of the population), they're not really well built for sexual activity in terms of human anatomy. But of course, since Ariel wants to be human, bam. She gets legs and the parts that fit between them. Instant sex machine.
Let's go back to Ursula for a second. I think the fact that she wants power is important. Part of me is "you go girl!" and the other part of me wants to look at how she's going about her pursuits, and what that says about how some men feel about women's power of seduction. Ursula really is using her female wiles to try and rule over the ocean; she practically seduces Ariel, and then turns herself into a human to seduce Eric (hypnotize, whatever) when things don't go according to plan.
If she wasn't a villain in this movie, I want to stress that these actions would not be considered as sneaky and bad. She's looking out for herself and getting what she wants. But since she IS a villain, her seductive sexual schemes are associated with "bad." She's corrupted and perverted Ariel, and it isn't until after the girl goes back to being a mermaid that things turn out right, and her father can transform her into a human with less evil and sexual intentions and connotations.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Reflections on Isabella di Morro
For my gender interpretation in Italian literature class, we're in the process of studying female poets of the Renaissance (in Italy, obviously). Part of our homework for the quarter is to keep a journal of our reflections and analysis as we read the assigned material. For today we're reading Isabella di Morro.
If you're not familiar with her, she was a noble woman in southern Italy, born approximately in 1520. Her father was banished because at the time there were conflicts between France and Emperor Charles V (he ruled over Spain and dominated Southern Italy) over Italian land and territory. Isabella's father had aligned with France, and therefore Emperor Charles V banished him.
After this Isabella was left with her "cruel" brothers who didn't understand her. They isolated her from any social contact, so she literally saw practically no one. But, through her tutor, she developed a literary relationship with a Spanish nobleman. But of course her brothers found out, murdered the tutor, murdered her nobleman friend, and beat Isabella to death to "cleanse" the family honor.
Isabella left 13 poems, which considering her lifestyle and how young she was, it's remarkable she left anything. I almost can't bear the tragic story of her life. Her life and example to me so embodies poetry and the definition of it that it's almost overwhelming, both to hear her story and read her poetry. I have to wonder how her poetry was even discovered and published given her dire, isolated circumstances! Were they sent to her friend, or somehow kept safe from her brothers' wrath?
I find Isabella to be a remarkably special case among the female writers we've studied as of yet. Her poems are so open and frank about her circumstances, and also peel away at the underlying strength of this remarkable girl. To be that isolated and confined I would gather could lead to two different scenarios: going out of one's mind and committing suicide, or becoming absolutely subservient to her brothers.
One curious think I noticed: in her Canzone II, near the end in the second to last stanza, I read these lines as if she doesn't blame her brothers for their behavior. While she's aware that she doesn't deserve the treatment she's getting, she blames fate and fortune for what her brothers are doing, as if they have been driven mad by the poverty fate has left them in. “And quenched in them will be the noble spirit Left by our ancestors down to these days.” The choice of the word quenched (assuming that the translation is accurate and the synonyms apply) is particularly important, I think. Because it means to extinguish, to squelch. It's a very violent, active word, and it fascinates me that as her brothers attempt to quench her spirit, she sees the humanity in them, and sees it not as an evil, controlling nature, but the simple circumstances of individuals who have had their spirit taken away. They are victims as she is, not simply the people who inflict their will upon to her.
I have to wonder what was going through her head when they were beating her to death.
It could be argued that her views about her brothers were passive and weak. Maybe that she didn't give them enough responsibility for their actions. But in her poetry, I find a humble understanding of human nature, and disregard for free will. That fortune leads people to places they cannot always help, and therefore, like her, they must deal with and suffer the consequences as best they can. Part of why she was able to survive all of this WAS because of her naivete as a young girl, and her idealism of her family. While in reality her father couldn't have cared less about her, and her brothers eventually murdered her, she was able to keep a sense of self through this childlike coping mechanism: a fantasy of what the world was.
If you're not familiar with her, she was a noble woman in southern Italy, born approximately in 1520. Her father was banished because at the time there were conflicts between France and Emperor Charles V (he ruled over Spain and dominated Southern Italy) over Italian land and territory. Isabella's father had aligned with France, and therefore Emperor Charles V banished him.
After this Isabella was left with her "cruel" brothers who didn't understand her. They isolated her from any social contact, so she literally saw practically no one. But, through her tutor, she developed a literary relationship with a Spanish nobleman. But of course her brothers found out, murdered the tutor, murdered her nobleman friend, and beat Isabella to death to "cleanse" the family honor.
Isabella left 13 poems, which considering her lifestyle and how young she was, it's remarkable she left anything. I almost can't bear the tragic story of her life. Her life and example to me so embodies poetry and the definition of it that it's almost overwhelming, both to hear her story and read her poetry. I have to wonder how her poetry was even discovered and published given her dire, isolated circumstances! Were they sent to her friend, or somehow kept safe from her brothers' wrath?
I find Isabella to be a remarkably special case among the female writers we've studied as of yet. Her poems are so open and frank about her circumstances, and also peel away at the underlying strength of this remarkable girl. To be that isolated and confined I would gather could lead to two different scenarios: going out of one's mind and committing suicide, or becoming absolutely subservient to her brothers.
One curious think I noticed: in her Canzone II, near the end in the second to last stanza, I read these lines as if she doesn't blame her brothers for their behavior. While she's aware that she doesn't deserve the treatment she's getting, she blames fate and fortune for what her brothers are doing, as if they have been driven mad by the poverty fate has left them in. “And quenched in them will be the noble spirit Left by our ancestors down to these days.” The choice of the word quenched (assuming that the translation is accurate and the synonyms apply) is particularly important, I think. Because it means to extinguish, to squelch. It's a very violent, active word, and it fascinates me that as her brothers attempt to quench her spirit, she sees the humanity in them, and sees it not as an evil, controlling nature, but the simple circumstances of individuals who have had their spirit taken away. They are victims as she is, not simply the people who inflict their will upon to her.
I have to wonder what was going through her head when they were beating her to death.
It could be argued that her views about her brothers were passive and weak. Maybe that she didn't give them enough responsibility for their actions. But in her poetry, I find a humble understanding of human nature, and disregard for free will. That fortune leads people to places they cannot always help, and therefore, like her, they must deal with and suffer the consequences as best they can. Part of why she was able to survive all of this WAS because of her naivete as a young girl, and her idealism of her family. While in reality her father couldn't have cared less about her, and her brothers eventually murdered her, she was able to keep a sense of self through this childlike coping mechanism: a fantasy of what the world was.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The world really does seem like Wonderland
I know it's been a while
But fuck it anyway.
Poetry is born from death of some form, of any form, we know, we know.
I wrote poetry for the first time in weeks. Maybe months.
I'd forgotten that feeling of emptiness combined with solace.
Things change, but one thing remains the same: the fact that every now and again, you're reminded that you don't know everything, that even though you think you're okay with the fact you can't control everything, you're not. That you've got a ways to go. That you don't know exactly how to feel, or what you want to do, and even though you may feel like you're the only one struggling with it, you're not.
School is fine, even the part where I feel like a wandering, aimless puppy going from place to place, not really sure what kind of dog it wants to be when it grows up. It knows what it likes, but is distractable enough to fail to apply itself for an extended period of time on any one thing.
I'm having to learn how to train the puppy.
Everything looked so beautiful in the rain yesterday. Everything is more interesting. All the texture changes. Cars look like they have translucent chicken pox, buildings leak rain stains on their outsides, and people look like funny shaped seals in their raincoats and ponchos slicked with water.
It feels like I'm lacking inspiration for what I want to do, but perhaps I can find a certain spark of sorts in this Wonderland-esque sense of being completely turned upside down.
But fuck it anyway.
Poetry is born from death of some form, of any form, we know, we know.
I wrote poetry for the first time in weeks. Maybe months.
I'd forgotten that feeling of emptiness combined with solace.
Things change, but one thing remains the same: the fact that every now and again, you're reminded that you don't know everything, that even though you think you're okay with the fact you can't control everything, you're not. That you've got a ways to go. That you don't know exactly how to feel, or what you want to do, and even though you may feel like you're the only one struggling with it, you're not.
School is fine, even the part where I feel like a wandering, aimless puppy going from place to place, not really sure what kind of dog it wants to be when it grows up. It knows what it likes, but is distractable enough to fail to apply itself for an extended period of time on any one thing.
I'm having to learn how to train the puppy.
Everything looked so beautiful in the rain yesterday. Everything is more interesting. All the texture changes. Cars look like they have translucent chicken pox, buildings leak rain stains on their outsides, and people look like funny shaped seals in their raincoats and ponchos slicked with water.
It feels like I'm lacking inspiration for what I want to do, but perhaps I can find a certain spark of sorts in this Wonderland-esque sense of being completely turned upside down.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
I drew cookie monster's portrait and got hired in a matter of 48 hours.
Good god. Talk about a whirlwind week. I don't think the whole pms factor really helped that much, but besides one or two low points things have been surprisingly smooth.
So! School. School started. (Duh.) Even though I'd made the decision to take fun classes, you never really know how a class is going to turn out until you've actually sat in it a few times. So in order:
Drawing: You seriously don't realize how much skill you've lapsed on until you revisit the basics. Like every single other drawing class I've taken, my profs (it's co-taught by a man and a woman) use the Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain book for most of their beginning exercises. The vase/face, upsidedown drawings, etc. Which, so far, is totally what I need. I've spent a long time not diligently practicing and drawing so I haven't improved and grown as much as I could have. Not to say that I wasted time, because I learned other stuff outside of art, but now that I'm rediscovering art as a passion and a possible future, I really need to buckle down and start drawing regularly. Which means doing the simple stuff. I did the cookie monster's portrait upside down in charcoal on Wednesday. Let's just say that the fur detail nearly killed me.
Hindustani Ensemble: Can't really say how this one is going to go yet, because I've only been to one class. The woman who leads it appears to be very sweet and wonderful. We did a bunch of exercises (vocal ones, obviously) and started learning an entire piece, which was rather overwhelming for two hours (after walking in late I might add; my art profs thought the class ended 10 minutes later than it actually did. Oops.) I have high hopes though!
Children's Literature: I seriously love the fact that I get to take a class that requires me reading kid's books. That is entirely awesome. We're currently reading folk and fairy tales as a foundation to look at themes in other children's books (since, let's face it, not all fairy tales were meant for kids). Also, my teacher is quite attractive and funny. And well dressed. I'm kind of in love with her shoes.
Gender and Interpretation (Through Italian Literature, I assume): You know how there are some teachers who just can't help but give boring lectures? Even if they use power point with pretty pictures, you can't help but feel your eyes slowly start to close... Well, the prof for this class is the complete opposite. She is frickin' rad. She's an older-ish (50s? 60s? I can't tell.) Italian woman who speaks like the best goddamn story teller in the world. Passionate about what she does and teaches about, makes 1 hour feel like 20 to 30 minutes, I am in love with it so far. Making an Italian Renaissance writer appear this interesting is always a plus, especially considering he's a bit of a misogynistic fucktard.
The other thing that's been weighing on me is the whole job issue. Basically I've been trying to find a work study job so I can (duh) collect the work study portion of my financial aid. Without it I wouldn't be able to pay for all the basic needs and therefore would have to get a loan.
So I applied for a variety of work study positions (as well as looking for a job outside of the school), and the only one I got a call back for was a dishwasher job. Not my most favourite choice, but I needed the money, so I decided to go ahead and go to the interview. (Besides, these kinds of positions can be stepping stones for future jobs in food elsewhere.)
On Tuesday at 2 o'clock, I trekked over to where the interview was. It took me forever to find it (mostly because I had no idea where it was, other than the fact that the building was somewhere to the right of the ARC). I was the fifth person (who was currently there) to be interviewed. I heard the woman tell a couple people that they'd received a shitton of applications (I'm paraphrasing, obviously), and that they would call back if you were hired.
So here's me sitting there thinking, “So maybe I won't get the job anyway...?”
Then it's my turn. The woman noted that I had a passion for art (I think the work as an Art Tech at Sierra College, being Head of the Art Department in retail, and working for the art gallery gave it away). I laughed, “Yes, that's one out of the many.”
And so she went on to ask the questions on the form. After she had finished she inquired if I would be interested in applying for other locations. I asked what she meant, specifically. She told me that there was a position available in catering, which was handled out of the MU. I gave an enthusiastic “Sure!” because it sounded a hell of a lot more fun than dishwashing in a dining hall for the dorms. She filled out a little form with another interview time on it. I'd be meeting with someone else on Thursday at 2.
Fast forward two days (meaning, today). I got to where she specified I should be, but no one was there. I wandered around a bit, before someone asked me if I needed help. I got passed around until a guy said that they actually wanted me downstairs in sales. (Never woulda found it.)
Once I finally got there, I waited for ten to fifteen minutes and then, interview time! The most prominent thing I remember about the environment were the purple office chairs (random tidbit of useless knowledge for you). Seriously, they were bright purple. It was awesome. I met with a guy and he asked me the rest of the questions on this application thing (I think it may have been the same one from the first interview). Things like “What would you do to maintain a safe work environment,” “What do you enjoy most about working” (I think), “Think of a time when you received poor service at a restaurant; what would you have done differently?” and he asked me a separate question about how I would handle the intensive physical labor side of the job (since you're serving for 45 minutes and cleaning/setting up for 6 hours).
He hired me on the spot. I had to take some paperwork back to the original woman and tomorrow I'll be meeting with someone else (hopefully) to verify that I can legally work in the state, etc. Then I'll go through orientation, and then hopefully start working.
Also, vegan pancakes and yoga to Abbey Road make the BEST start to a morning. Just thought I'd let you know that. :)
So! School. School started. (Duh.) Even though I'd made the decision to take fun classes, you never really know how a class is going to turn out until you've actually sat in it a few times. So in order:
Drawing: You seriously don't realize how much skill you've lapsed on until you revisit the basics. Like every single other drawing class I've taken, my profs (it's co-taught by a man and a woman) use the Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain book for most of their beginning exercises. The vase/face, upsidedown drawings, etc. Which, so far, is totally what I need. I've spent a long time not diligently practicing and drawing so I haven't improved and grown as much as I could have. Not to say that I wasted time, because I learned other stuff outside of art, but now that I'm rediscovering art as a passion and a possible future, I really need to buckle down and start drawing regularly. Which means doing the simple stuff. I did the cookie monster's portrait upside down in charcoal on Wednesday. Let's just say that the fur detail nearly killed me.
Hindustani Ensemble: Can't really say how this one is going to go yet, because I've only been to one class. The woman who leads it appears to be very sweet and wonderful. We did a bunch of exercises (vocal ones, obviously) and started learning an entire piece, which was rather overwhelming for two hours (after walking in late I might add; my art profs thought the class ended 10 minutes later than it actually did. Oops.) I have high hopes though!
Children's Literature: I seriously love the fact that I get to take a class that requires me reading kid's books. That is entirely awesome. We're currently reading folk and fairy tales as a foundation to look at themes in other children's books (since, let's face it, not all fairy tales were meant for kids). Also, my teacher is quite attractive and funny. And well dressed. I'm kind of in love with her shoes.
Gender and Interpretation (Through Italian Literature, I assume): You know how there are some teachers who just can't help but give boring lectures? Even if they use power point with pretty pictures, you can't help but feel your eyes slowly start to close... Well, the prof for this class is the complete opposite. She is frickin' rad. She's an older-ish (50s? 60s? I can't tell.) Italian woman who speaks like the best goddamn story teller in the world. Passionate about what she does and teaches about, makes 1 hour feel like 20 to 30 minutes, I am in love with it so far. Making an Italian Renaissance writer appear this interesting is always a plus, especially considering he's a bit of a misogynistic fucktard.
The other thing that's been weighing on me is the whole job issue. Basically I've been trying to find a work study job so I can (duh) collect the work study portion of my financial aid. Without it I wouldn't be able to pay for all the basic needs and therefore would have to get a loan.
So I applied for a variety of work study positions (as well as looking for a job outside of the school), and the only one I got a call back for was a dishwasher job. Not my most favourite choice, but I needed the money, so I decided to go ahead and go to the interview. (Besides, these kinds of positions can be stepping stones for future jobs in food elsewhere.)
On Tuesday at 2 o'clock, I trekked over to where the interview was. It took me forever to find it (mostly because I had no idea where it was, other than the fact that the building was somewhere to the right of the ARC). I was the fifth person (who was currently there) to be interviewed. I heard the woman tell a couple people that they'd received a shitton of applications (I'm paraphrasing, obviously), and that they would call back if you were hired.
So here's me sitting there thinking, “So maybe I won't get the job anyway...?”
Then it's my turn. The woman noted that I had a passion for art (I think the work as an Art Tech at Sierra College, being Head of the Art Department in retail, and working for the art gallery gave it away). I laughed, “Yes, that's one out of the many.”
And so she went on to ask the questions on the form. After she had finished she inquired if I would be interested in applying for other locations. I asked what she meant, specifically. She told me that there was a position available in catering, which was handled out of the MU. I gave an enthusiastic “Sure!” because it sounded a hell of a lot more fun than dishwashing in a dining hall for the dorms. She filled out a little form with another interview time on it. I'd be meeting with someone else on Thursday at 2.
Fast forward two days (meaning, today). I got to where she specified I should be, but no one was there. I wandered around a bit, before someone asked me if I needed help. I got passed around until a guy said that they actually wanted me downstairs in sales. (Never woulda found it.)
Once I finally got there, I waited for ten to fifteen minutes and then, interview time! The most prominent thing I remember about the environment were the purple office chairs (random tidbit of useless knowledge for you). Seriously, they were bright purple. It was awesome. I met with a guy and he asked me the rest of the questions on this application thing (I think it may have been the same one from the first interview). Things like “What would you do to maintain a safe work environment,” “What do you enjoy most about working” (I think), “Think of a time when you received poor service at a restaurant; what would you have done differently?” and he asked me a separate question about how I would handle the intensive physical labor side of the job (since you're serving for 45 minutes and cleaning/setting up for 6 hours).
He hired me on the spot. I had to take some paperwork back to the original woman and tomorrow I'll be meeting with someone else (hopefully) to verify that I can legally work in the state, etc. Then I'll go through orientation, and then hopefully start working.
Also, vegan pancakes and yoga to Abbey Road make the BEST start to a morning. Just thought I'd let you know that. :)
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