What did you learn from writing this piece?
What I learned from this piece is that I actually feel uncomfortable writing in first person. It feels easier, as far as composition is concerned-I usually can write faster in first person, but I feel like my writing is much less formal and polished. I had the unique experience of writing both my fables in first person, since I wrote my first fable without knowing that we would be required to write our second fable only in first person. I chose to write my first fable in first person just as a challenge, since I never write anything in first person, always in third person. It’s definitely a completely different experience. Also, both the stories that I’ve told in my fables were personal anecdotes (so it made sense for me to write these in first person). So ultimately what I’ve learned from writing this piece is that I don’t really enjoy or think that my work is of the same quality when I write in first person.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Writing Assignment #4
The Worse Plane Ride Ever
I love flying on planes. I have never been afraid of plane rides due to a fear of heights, small spaces, strange people, airlines’ incompetent tendencies, or any other reasons why people dislike flying. So when I was at the airport on the first day of the new year of 2007, awaiting my flight that would whisk me away to Rome for the next three months, I felt no anxiety whatsoever. I had always had the best experiences on all of my previous flights. I had been especially fortunate to have such enjoyable flights when I previously traveled with British Airways; which is why I made sure to book my ticket with them – so I could assure myself the best possible conditions for such a long flight across the Atlantic Ocean.
At 6:15 pm I boarded, what would end up being, the fatefully horrible flight (my good luck with flights was bound to come to an end at some time, right?). I quickly found my seat, anxious to commence yet another wonderful trip far up in the sky. As I sat down I noticed that I was seated next to a family of three – a mother, young daughter, and even younger son, but my attention was diverted from the ones who would be sitting next to me for the next ten hours when I noticed that my television screen was not working. Everyone else around me had television screens that were flashing images of green and blue and white, while mine hopelessly sat there with a lame black screen. I flagged down the next flight attendant that I saw and proceeded to tell her of my problem. She informed me that the flight was completely full which didn’t allow her to give me another seat and that all the consolation she had to offer me was a comment card. Upon hearing the situation the mother I had previously noticed sitting three seats down from me offered to switch me seats. Not able to speak much English she just gestured as if to say “it doesn’t matter” when I showed my expression of surprise and questioned the certainty of her offer. She conveyed to me that all she wanted to do was sleep and she was fine so long as her two children had a functioning television to keep them occupied on the long flight. So we made the switch and I had a working television for the flight I had so looked forward to.
From then on the flight seemed to continue on just fine. I was very excited to watch a couple of movies I hadn’t seen before and sleep a couple hours before transferring planes in London. Half way through my first movie I began to become very drowsy. It was beginning to be late at night and I had stayed up very late the night before packing and bringing in the new year. So I started to drift off to sleep, but just then the young boy, who had been so peacefully sleeping beforehand, woke up and was immediately upset about something. His mother couldn’t seem to do anything that would comfort and, more importantly, silence the child. He cried for what seemed like forever. Finally, I offered him a lollipop I had tucked away in my carry on. This worked as a solution, but only temporarily. He eventually went back to sleep after comforting his pallet with my delicious red lollipop and visions of Shrek on his t.v. screen. But without fail he would wake up ever hour it seemed, thus waking me up with his fits of wailing. The even greater problem at hand with my seating situation is that ever time he was asleep and I myself was attempting to fall into a slumber, his sister who was sitting next to me would manage to elbow me in the side as soon as I had just dozed off into an inevitably impossible sleep. This is the pattern I experienced for the whole duration of my not so wonderful flight on British Airways. And the child’s crying only managed to get worse when we were landing.
I was so happy to get off of my flight. I felt like I had been released from a jail cell of airline torture. I couldn’t believe how badly my flight ended up being. Now, instead of fearing the flying portion of my flights I knew that I was going to forever fear little children, with their incessant crying, screaming, intrusive motion, and corruption of everything I “enjoyed” about flying. Trying to shake off my horrible flight I focused on getting my luggage and moving onward to the Eternal City with a bunch of my new friends. We all waited and one by one, everyone’s bags arrived on the baggage claim track, except mine. After watching everyone, aside from me, reclaim their suitcases my program director told me is was time for me to face the fact that my luggage had been delayed or lost. I went and waited to speak with the man in charge of the lost/delayed baggage, who only spoke Italian. Luckily, my program director’s friend who was traveling us was able to speak for me and figure out what the problem was. The airline had somehow not managed to get my baggage on the right flight. This was good because it meant that my luggage wasn’t lost, but it did most unfortunately mean that I would be without my things until late the next day.
After I had my delayed baggage claim and delivery for the next day all arranged, I set off with my fellow program attendees on the bus that we had arranged to take us into Rome. The drive into Rome was an adventure in itself, with all the dazzling sites of the city at night. The visions of the Tiber River or the Piazza Venezia, illuminated at night, were just enough to wet my thirst for the Rome I had dreamt about for the past several months. We got to our hotel, ate some dinner, and then immediately got some much needed rest. The thought about sleeping in the same clothes I had been traveling in for the past eighteen hours was most unpleasant, but I was so tired that nothing was going to ruin this opportunity to finally sleep.
The next day, we set off for the Rome Center well rested and exhilarated. We made it to our apartments in the Campo de Fiori, after putting down a deposit for our keys and as well as our apartment. I definitely felt saddened to be going to my new apartment without my things, but I tried to take comfort in the assurance that my bags were supposed to show up around 1:30 in the afternoon. Sure enough they were at the Rome Center when I went back that afternoon. I immediately inspected my bags hoping that everything would be just as I had left it when I checked them in Seattle. Unfortunately, I discovered that a perfume of mine had been stolen from my belongings, but I was glad to get my things back as opposed to them being lost, that I was able to move on from this loss and enjoy what had been safely returned to me.
I love flying on planes. I have never been afraid of plane rides due to a fear of heights, small spaces, strange people, airlines’ incompetent tendencies, or any other reasons why people dislike flying. So when I was at the airport on the first day of the new year of 2007, awaiting my flight that would whisk me away to Rome for the next three months, I felt no anxiety whatsoever. I had always had the best experiences on all of my previous flights. I had been especially fortunate to have such enjoyable flights when I previously traveled with British Airways; which is why I made sure to book my ticket with them – so I could assure myself the best possible conditions for such a long flight across the Atlantic Ocean.
At 6:15 pm I boarded, what would end up being, the fatefully horrible flight (my good luck with flights was bound to come to an end at some time, right?). I quickly found my seat, anxious to commence yet another wonderful trip far up in the sky. As I sat down I noticed that I was seated next to a family of three – a mother, young daughter, and even younger son, but my attention was diverted from the ones who would be sitting next to me for the next ten hours when I noticed that my television screen was not working. Everyone else around me had television screens that were flashing images of green and blue and white, while mine hopelessly sat there with a lame black screen. I flagged down the next flight attendant that I saw and proceeded to tell her of my problem. She informed me that the flight was completely full which didn’t allow her to give me another seat and that all the consolation she had to offer me was a comment card. Upon hearing the situation the mother I had previously noticed sitting three seats down from me offered to switch me seats. Not able to speak much English she just gestured as if to say “it doesn’t matter” when I showed my expression of surprise and questioned the certainty of her offer. She conveyed to me that all she wanted to do was sleep and she was fine so long as her two children had a functioning television to keep them occupied on the long flight. So we made the switch and I had a working television for the flight I had so looked forward to.
From then on the flight seemed to continue on just fine. I was very excited to watch a couple of movies I hadn’t seen before and sleep a couple hours before transferring planes in London. Half way through my first movie I began to become very drowsy. It was beginning to be late at night and I had stayed up very late the night before packing and bringing in the new year. So I started to drift off to sleep, but just then the young boy, who had been so peacefully sleeping beforehand, woke up and was immediately upset about something. His mother couldn’t seem to do anything that would comfort and, more importantly, silence the child. He cried for what seemed like forever. Finally, I offered him a lollipop I had tucked away in my carry on. This worked as a solution, but only temporarily. He eventually went back to sleep after comforting his pallet with my delicious red lollipop and visions of Shrek on his t.v. screen. But without fail he would wake up ever hour it seemed, thus waking me up with his fits of wailing. The even greater problem at hand with my seating situation is that ever time he was asleep and I myself was attempting to fall into a slumber, his sister who was sitting next to me would manage to elbow me in the side as soon as I had just dozed off into an inevitably impossible sleep. This is the pattern I experienced for the whole duration of my not so wonderful flight on British Airways. And the child’s crying only managed to get worse when we were landing.
I was so happy to get off of my flight. I felt like I had been released from a jail cell of airline torture. I couldn’t believe how badly my flight ended up being. Now, instead of fearing the flying portion of my flights I knew that I was going to forever fear little children, with their incessant crying, screaming, intrusive motion, and corruption of everything I “enjoyed” about flying. Trying to shake off my horrible flight I focused on getting my luggage and moving onward to the Eternal City with a bunch of my new friends. We all waited and one by one, everyone’s bags arrived on the baggage claim track, except mine. After watching everyone, aside from me, reclaim their suitcases my program director told me is was time for me to face the fact that my luggage had been delayed or lost. I went and waited to speak with the man in charge of the lost/delayed baggage, who only spoke Italian. Luckily, my program director’s friend who was traveling us was able to speak for me and figure out what the problem was. The airline had somehow not managed to get my baggage on the right flight. This was good because it meant that my luggage wasn’t lost, but it did most unfortunately mean that I would be without my things until late the next day.
After I had my delayed baggage claim and delivery for the next day all arranged, I set off with my fellow program attendees on the bus that we had arranged to take us into Rome. The drive into Rome was an adventure in itself, with all the dazzling sites of the city at night. The visions of the Tiber River or the Piazza Venezia, illuminated at night, were just enough to wet my thirst for the Rome I had dreamt about for the past several months. We got to our hotel, ate some dinner, and then immediately got some much needed rest. The thought about sleeping in the same clothes I had been traveling in for the past eighteen hours was most unpleasant, but I was so tired that nothing was going to ruin this opportunity to finally sleep.
The next day, we set off for the Rome Center well rested and exhilarated. We made it to our apartments in the Campo de Fiori, after putting down a deposit for our keys and as well as our apartment. I definitely felt saddened to be going to my new apartment without my things, but I tried to take comfort in the assurance that my bags were supposed to show up around 1:30 in the afternoon. Sure enough they were at the Rome Center when I went back that afternoon. I immediately inspected my bags hoping that everything would be just as I had left it when I checked them in Seattle. Unfortunately, I discovered that a perfume of mine had been stolen from my belongings, but I was glad to get my things back as opposed to them being lost, that I was able to move on from this loss and enjoy what had been safely returned to me.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Writing Journal-Assignment 3
My process simply involved recalling a certain Roman shopping trip that had happened recently; I definitely thought it seemed like the perfect anecdote for the fable formula. The moral is “good things come to those who wait and preserve in times of trial.” Believe me, searching for the right pair of boots is a trying endeavor. I don’t know how much of a surprise my reversal is. I think the reader can sense it building to a sort of “happily ever after” type of ending. It’s cliché, but I think it works. I didn’t actually return to Machiavelli’s text during the writing process. I just tried to follow the formula that we learned during our in class exercise. The most challenging part of the assignment, for me, was maintaining a certain element of surprise. I really liked how Machiavelli’s story had lots of twists in the plot. I would like to better emulate that if I were to write another fable. I think writing this story will help me to think/construct about my action points better in my next piece.
Writing Assignment #3
Quest for the perfect pairs of boots
This week a quest of mine finally came to an end. This quest was my search to find the perfect pair of boots. Black, leather, knee-high, rounded-toe, low heel, hard sole, size ten (or size 41 while in Italy) - these were the necessary qualities if my criteria of perfection were to be satisfied. This quest had begun five years ago when my former pair of perfect boots was compelled to retire due to an extensive amount of usage and their failing status of fashion. Ever since then, my longing and hunt for a new pair was an ongoing journey, expedition, or “quest” to find my new pair of perfect boots. At not point, during this quest did I want to settle for a pair that was less opulent and ideal than what I had conjured up in my desires; however, a lack of success often made me think I would inevitably be forced to compromise or completely forego my impossibly selective, but perfectly crafted image of my ideal boots. Nevertheless, all my fears of a failed quest were ended on a fateful Friday.
At approximately one in the afternoon, after a deliciously satisfying meal of Chinese food, I set out on yet another expedition that would hopefully bring my quest to its completion. The sun shone brightly as if it were my beacon of divine guidance; its rays of gold illuminated the promising shops that lined this particular street of shoppers’ hopes and dreams. And for some reason I felt more encouraged than usual. I felt the predisposed feelings of failure and incompletion dissipate, while the sense of invigorated excitement and thrilling optimism flowed throughout my entire body. I knew that there were many stores waiting for my surveying eye and the chances of a triumphant find were high than usual.
As Paige and I began walking I literally feel my euros burning a whole in wallet. We entered our first store, hoping a serious conquest of might occur. My eyes quickly scanned the merchandise waiting behind the protective glass windows. Brown, pointed-toe, high-heels, synthetic materials - I felt my heart sink. Without delay, Paige and I took our leave of that particular store, concluding that it was not here that we would find my boots. We stepped out of the store with our heads hanging a little lower than before we visited the store.
Even though our shopping ambitions had been slightly injured, we trudged forward on the street that promised us so much possibility. We went from store, to store, to store, and had no luck. Each time we left another store unsuccessful I could not help, but apologize to my shopping partner profusely that she had to endure my extremely picky nature. We had already passed half of the afternoon, searching in everyday store we passed that had any sort of shoe display. Eventually, we arrived at a store called, Blue Fly. As I stepped in I was awed by the metallic, futuristic grey walls. I could feel the clerk’s glance continuously locked on me while I browsed the selection of merchandise. Neither Paige nor I seemed to be able to find a pair of boots that would fulfill the daunting criteria I had strictly crystallized.
Then, out of nowhere that I had foreseen, a hidden nook of shelves with more boots appeared. My elation was only spurred on more when I saw them – the boots that I thought would bring it all to an end. I took them into my hands and rubbed the ravenous black leather. They had all the qualities I wanted in my perfect boots, except that they didn’t have a solid sole (which was the one criterion I was willing to compromise). But, regrettably I saw the price tag, and they cost much more than I was ready to pay on a pair that had a flawed quality (the sole). I made a mental note that I could always come back to this store if I should become weak in my quest, and choose of pair that was not ideal.
Thus, the quest continued and we forced our weary selves to finish shopping in all the shops on that street. Our eyes had glazed over into a zombie like state. The shoes and stores had blended into blur of sights and places. I no longer remembered what we had seen or could comprehend exactly what we were looking at. Eventually, we came to the end of the extensive road of shoppers’ dreams and sadly had not concluded with success. Exhausted, our bodies propelled us homeward bound so that we might relieve ourselves from one of the longest days of shopping. I consoled myself with thoughts of some day finding my, what seemed to be imaginary, perfect pair of boots. “Good things come to those who wait, right?” I told, yet questioned myself. As we neared the Campo de’ Fiori, I had vague glimmer of hope come to mind. I remembered a certain shoe store a friend had told me about. I turned to Paige with a sheepish and concerned look in my eye and proceeded to ask her if we might make one more stop. All the while thinking how we would just be adding insult to our shopping injuries. I did not expect success, but I knew that I had to give any possible option a go.
We tiredly and quickly surveyed the selection for anything that might resemble this pair of boots that I had sought out for so long. Again, I still did not see anything that could intrigue my desire to purchase. Paige seemed to be having some luck in finding a pair of boots that were to her liking. I took a seat to rest my feet that were crying out to me in desperation. Waiting patiently for my fellow shopper to test out her find, I still browsed with my eyes in order to pass the time. The next thing I knew I saw them – the boots, my boots! I could only see the toe peeking out from atop a high self that I had not seen until just then. The clerk brought them down to the ground, I slipped my foot into the first boot, and it was as if I was Cinderella sliding on her long, lost glass slipper. I had finally found my perfect pair of boots; they were black, leather, rounded at the toe, had a hard (not rubbery) sole, and were as size 41. I walked around just a little bit to make sure they were a good fit, but I already knew that my quest was finally at its end. My patience for more than five years had paid off. I had found the best pair Italian boots a shopper could ever want; at last, my waiting and efforts had been completely validated.
This week a quest of mine finally came to an end. This quest was my search to find the perfect pair of boots. Black, leather, knee-high, rounded-toe, low heel, hard sole, size ten (or size 41 while in Italy) - these were the necessary qualities if my criteria of perfection were to be satisfied. This quest had begun five years ago when my former pair of perfect boots was compelled to retire due to an extensive amount of usage and their failing status of fashion. Ever since then, my longing and hunt for a new pair was an ongoing journey, expedition, or “quest” to find my new pair of perfect boots. At not point, during this quest did I want to settle for a pair that was less opulent and ideal than what I had conjured up in my desires; however, a lack of success often made me think I would inevitably be forced to compromise or completely forego my impossibly selective, but perfectly crafted image of my ideal boots. Nevertheless, all my fears of a failed quest were ended on a fateful Friday.
At approximately one in the afternoon, after a deliciously satisfying meal of Chinese food, I set out on yet another expedition that would hopefully bring my quest to its completion. The sun shone brightly as if it were my beacon of divine guidance; its rays of gold illuminated the promising shops that lined this particular street of shoppers’ hopes and dreams. And for some reason I felt more encouraged than usual. I felt the predisposed feelings of failure and incompletion dissipate, while the sense of invigorated excitement and thrilling optimism flowed throughout my entire body. I knew that there were many stores waiting for my surveying eye and the chances of a triumphant find were high than usual.
As Paige and I began walking I literally feel my euros burning a whole in wallet. We entered our first store, hoping a serious conquest of might occur. My eyes quickly scanned the merchandise waiting behind the protective glass windows. Brown, pointed-toe, high-heels, synthetic materials - I felt my heart sink. Without delay, Paige and I took our leave of that particular store, concluding that it was not here that we would find my boots. We stepped out of the store with our heads hanging a little lower than before we visited the store.
Even though our shopping ambitions had been slightly injured, we trudged forward on the street that promised us so much possibility. We went from store, to store, to store, and had no luck. Each time we left another store unsuccessful I could not help, but apologize to my shopping partner profusely that she had to endure my extremely picky nature. We had already passed half of the afternoon, searching in everyday store we passed that had any sort of shoe display. Eventually, we arrived at a store called, Blue Fly. As I stepped in I was awed by the metallic, futuristic grey walls. I could feel the clerk’s glance continuously locked on me while I browsed the selection of merchandise. Neither Paige nor I seemed to be able to find a pair of boots that would fulfill the daunting criteria I had strictly crystallized.
Then, out of nowhere that I had foreseen, a hidden nook of shelves with more boots appeared. My elation was only spurred on more when I saw them – the boots that I thought would bring it all to an end. I took them into my hands and rubbed the ravenous black leather. They had all the qualities I wanted in my perfect boots, except that they didn’t have a solid sole (which was the one criterion I was willing to compromise). But, regrettably I saw the price tag, and they cost much more than I was ready to pay on a pair that had a flawed quality (the sole). I made a mental note that I could always come back to this store if I should become weak in my quest, and choose of pair that was not ideal.
Thus, the quest continued and we forced our weary selves to finish shopping in all the shops on that street. Our eyes had glazed over into a zombie like state. The shoes and stores had blended into blur of sights and places. I no longer remembered what we had seen or could comprehend exactly what we were looking at. Eventually, we came to the end of the extensive road of shoppers’ dreams and sadly had not concluded with success. Exhausted, our bodies propelled us homeward bound so that we might relieve ourselves from one of the longest days of shopping. I consoled myself with thoughts of some day finding my, what seemed to be imaginary, perfect pair of boots. “Good things come to those who wait, right?” I told, yet questioned myself. As we neared the Campo de’ Fiori, I had vague glimmer of hope come to mind. I remembered a certain shoe store a friend had told me about. I turned to Paige with a sheepish and concerned look in my eye and proceeded to ask her if we might make one more stop. All the while thinking how we would just be adding insult to our shopping injuries. I did not expect success, but I knew that I had to give any possible option a go.
We tiredly and quickly surveyed the selection for anything that might resemble this pair of boots that I had sought out for so long. Again, I still did not see anything that could intrigue my desire to purchase. Paige seemed to be having some luck in finding a pair of boots that were to her liking. I took a seat to rest my feet that were crying out to me in desperation. Waiting patiently for my fellow shopper to test out her find, I still browsed with my eyes in order to pass the time. The next thing I knew I saw them – the boots, my boots! I could only see the toe peeking out from atop a high self that I had not seen until just then. The clerk brought them down to the ground, I slipped my foot into the first boot, and it was as if I was Cinderella sliding on her long, lost glass slipper. I had finally found my perfect pair of boots; they were black, leather, rounded at the toe, had a hard (not rubbery) sole, and were as size 41. I walked around just a little bit to make sure they were a good fit, but I already knew that my quest was finally at its end. My patience for more than five years had paid off. I had found the best pair Italian boots a shopper could ever want; at last, my waiting and efforts had been completely validated.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Reading Journal-Assignment 3
In Machiavelli’s “The Devil Who Took a Wife” the set up for the story includes the use of standard European “three context elements.” For example, the wife, Onesta, chosen by Roderigo (the devil) has three sisters and three brothers. Also, Machiavelli uses three possessed girls to propel the fable’s plot. In my opinion, the “turning point” in the story is when we read of Roderigo’s financial troubles (caused by the extravagant lifestyle he was living and his brothers-in-law who squandered his investments) that quickly compel him to run away. From that point, Roderigo makes a deal with a man, named Gianmatteo, which stimulates the rest of the story. Some general core “actions” of the main character consists of: Roderigo running away from his problem of his debt and his wife, who was making him mad; making a deal with Gianmatteo to make him a rich man in return for saving his life; Roderigo possessing two girls to fulfill his promise to Gianmatteo. Gianmatteo being forced to come exorcise the third girl and risking his life could most likely be considered the “reversal” in the story. The “resolution” is that Gianmatteo manages to save his own life by tricking Roderigo out of the third girl’s body. This happens because Roderigo returns to Hell in order to avoid the alternative of being forced to live with his wife again. As far as I can tell, the “moral” that Machiavelli is trying to convey is this: women do in facet make men’s lives miserable and everything will work out fine for the person who is upright and keep’s his vow. I particularly like the ending of Machiavelli’s piece because I think the way in which Gianmatteo succeeds over Roderigo is very humorous (scares him back to Hell with the thought of his wife). I thought the various twists in plot were entertaining and organized in a nice way for the reader. The one think I didn’t like is Machiavelli’s concept (if he’s being sincere) that women are responsible for the miserable qualities of men’s lives. However, I tend to think that this is more of a satire, rather than Machiavelli’s actual opinion of the relationship between men and women.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Writing Journal-Assignment 2
To preface, I wanted to disclose that I find myself thinking about my family, although not out of homesickness, since being in Rome. Thoughts of home (Seattle) and family tend to provide a lot of inspiration for my creative works. I think it’s the unique dynamic of being abroad for an extended amount of time. I chose to write about these specific characters or "gods" because they were all so diverse and they reminded me of people in my own family. I did find it very challenging to employ a metaphor in a myth. I could think of tons of present day truths that I might like to write about, but no characters that would fit the storyline. Then I would choose characters that I really wanted to write about, but then no present day truth was fitting enough. Having to convey a truth metaphorically felt like a real challenge to me. I expect the combination of dialogue and narrative to enable a sort of humor within this piece. I thought the dialogue was funny, simply because it might remind readers of an instance of bickering with a sibling. Starting the composition of my myth was by far the most difficult part of the assignment.
Writing Assignment #2
Family: Can’t Live With Them, Can’t Live Without Them
Once upon a present-day time there lived an average Greek family. There was a father, named Zeus, a mother, named Hera, a older son, named Ares, an older sister, named Aphrodite, a younger son, named Apollo, and a younger daughter, named Medusa. This family loved to take road trips together, however, family feuding always erupted in such close quarters due the drawn out periods of time in the mini van and sibling rivalry. Here is a story of one such trip...
The family was off to a great start on this particular road trip to Yellowstone, in the great state of Montana. They already had two hours of driving under way and John Travolta fans, Zeus and Hera were enthusiastically, but very poorly, belting their favorite “Grease Lighting” medley in the front seats of their rustic Toyota Chariot.
“Grease Lighting, Go Grease Lighting” sang Zeus and Hera.
“Are we there yet?” shouted Apollo frantically in attempt to get them to stop singing.
Apollo was always particularly offended by his parents’ ear cringing singing, being the god of music that he was.
Soon, the apparent tranquility of the family’s happy car ride would dissipate entirely once the real quarreling between the siblings was unleashed.
“What!” screeched Medusa. “I thought he was in love with me.”
Medusa had yet again found out that one of her boyfriends had betrayed her for the love of her sister, Aphrodite, the most beautiful girl at their high school.
“Oh my god, I didn’t know that the two of you were together,” Aphrodite claimed in her most angelic tone.
“Oh, when we get back Eros is going to be tasting some serious limestone.”
“Don’t turn him into stone, Medusa. You’re just jealous that all the boys like me, instead of you. Maybe they would like you better if you wore your hair differently, cause dreadlocks were so 1990’s.”
“Dad,” whined Medusa. “Why did Aphrodite have to be so beautiful? Couldn’t you have shared the wealth just a little?”
“Sweetie, don’t be upset, the other guys will be head over heels for you; when you’re older that is. If any of those boys lay a hand on you...I’ll strike them dead,” said declared doting father, Zeus.
“Stop it,” screamed Apollo, who was getting fed up with Ares trying to strike up a slapping fight, as usual. “Mom, dad, make him stop.”
“Ok, I think it’s time for a pit stop,” Hera, said as she gave her husband a very insistent nudge.
The family then pulled off at the next gas station to fuel up and grab some snacks, which would hopefully silence the kids for a while longer.
Being the curious younger brother, Apollo had wandering off into the rural forest that was just beyond the gas station. He was admiring the beautiful sunlight that was peering through the tall fir tress when a band of armed gypsies jumped out and began to encircle him. Fearing for his life and not wanting them to steal his delicious treats, Apollo cried out for help.
Medusa and Aphrodite were at Apollo’s rescue in the next split second. Medusa flashed her eyes at some of the men and they were immediately turned to stone. Some of the others merely saw Aphrodite’s beautiful face and were paralyzed.
Some of the gypsies persisted with their weapons, so Ares defeated them with one swing of his sword like a true warrior. But the ones that Ares didn’t manage to kill, were instantaneously burnt to a crisp when Zeus arrived with his thunderbolts for the rescue of his son.
Once all the gypsies had been conquered, the family safely reconvened at their mini van. Everyone embraced each other in a congratulatory hug. It was at this moment, that they individually pondered, as they had before, just how wonderful it was that they had one another should any of them have a need.
Once upon a present-day time there lived an average Greek family. There was a father, named Zeus, a mother, named Hera, a older son, named Ares, an older sister, named Aphrodite, a younger son, named Apollo, and a younger daughter, named Medusa. This family loved to take road trips together, however, family feuding always erupted in such close quarters due the drawn out periods of time in the mini van and sibling rivalry. Here is a story of one such trip...
The family was off to a great start on this particular road trip to Yellowstone, in the great state of Montana. They already had two hours of driving under way and John Travolta fans, Zeus and Hera were enthusiastically, but very poorly, belting their favorite “Grease Lighting” medley in the front seats of their rustic Toyota Chariot.
“Grease Lighting, Go Grease Lighting” sang Zeus and Hera.
“Are we there yet?” shouted Apollo frantically in attempt to get them to stop singing.
Apollo was always particularly offended by his parents’ ear cringing singing, being the god of music that he was.
Soon, the apparent tranquility of the family’s happy car ride would dissipate entirely once the real quarreling between the siblings was unleashed.
“What!” screeched Medusa. “I thought he was in love with me.”
Medusa had yet again found out that one of her boyfriends had betrayed her for the love of her sister, Aphrodite, the most beautiful girl at their high school.
“Oh my god, I didn’t know that the two of you were together,” Aphrodite claimed in her most angelic tone.
“Oh, when we get back Eros is going to be tasting some serious limestone.”
“Don’t turn him into stone, Medusa. You’re just jealous that all the boys like me, instead of you. Maybe they would like you better if you wore your hair differently, cause dreadlocks were so 1990’s.”
“Dad,” whined Medusa. “Why did Aphrodite have to be so beautiful? Couldn’t you have shared the wealth just a little?”
“Sweetie, don’t be upset, the other guys will be head over heels for you; when you’re older that is. If any of those boys lay a hand on you...I’ll strike them dead,” said declared doting father, Zeus.
“Stop it,” screamed Apollo, who was getting fed up with Ares trying to strike up a slapping fight, as usual. “Mom, dad, make him stop.”
“Ok, I think it’s time for a pit stop,” Hera, said as she gave her husband a very insistent nudge.
The family then pulled off at the next gas station to fuel up and grab some snacks, which would hopefully silence the kids for a while longer.
Being the curious younger brother, Apollo had wandering off into the rural forest that was just beyond the gas station. He was admiring the beautiful sunlight that was peering through the tall fir tress when a band of armed gypsies jumped out and began to encircle him. Fearing for his life and not wanting them to steal his delicious treats, Apollo cried out for help.
Medusa and Aphrodite were at Apollo’s rescue in the next split second. Medusa flashed her eyes at some of the men and they were immediately turned to stone. Some of the others merely saw Aphrodite’s beautiful face and were paralyzed.
Some of the gypsies persisted with their weapons, so Ares defeated them with one swing of his sword like a true warrior. But the ones that Ares didn’t manage to kill, were instantaneously burnt to a crisp when Zeus arrived with his thunderbolts for the rescue of his son.
Once all the gypsies had been conquered, the family safely reconvened at their mini van. Everyone embraced each other in a congratulatory hug. It was at this moment, that they individually pondered, as they had before, just how wonderful it was that they had one another should any of them have a need.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Reading Journal-Assignment 2
Ovid’s Metamorphoses has a very clear theme of transformation, in comparison to Calvino’s Invisible Cities. In Metamorphoses the dynamic on the heavens and earth is constantly changing, with a progressive decline to evil (Golden Age, Age of Silver, Age of Bronze, and Iron Age) that causes the gods to kill off almost all humans, to gods falling in love with people (Apollo and Daphne). In Invisible Cities transformation occurs more through the characters’ and readers’ perception. Usually when a person visits a city their thoughts and memories become confused and mixed, due to the contrasting characteristics of the city of the non-existence of the city. The intangibility of the city compels a certain transformation in thought, memory, or understanding.
All in all the gods seem to be really controlling and trouble me with their exploitive treatment of humans. The sentence that embodies what I disliked most about the god-human relationship was when Pyrrha “was still uncertain,/ And [Deucalion] by no means sure, and both distrustful/ Of that command from Heaven” (p. 971).
Metamorphoses seems to echo or resemble a lot of different mythical works to me. It immediately reminded me of Milton’s Paradise Lost because of the way they both retell or implement parts of the Bible’s creation story. I just recently took a course on the “Bible as Literature,” so I made a lot of connections with Ovid’s work and the Bible. Lines as subtle as “there were no judges,” are a nod to the judges that upheld justice and were figures of morality as written in the Bible’s book of Judges (p. 964). A more blatant connection that could be made between Metamorphoses and the Bible is the story of the flood. Not only is Ovid incorporating biblical elements, but there is also a close resemblance to Greek myths; which makes sense considering the epic Greek poems, like Homer’s Illiad and Odyssey would have been dominant influences for Ovid.
In general, Ovid’s tone is disconnected and almost aloof. It seems like he’s just recording stories that he knows, not ones he’s passionate about. Without fluid transitions between the stories, Metamorphoses lacks a cohesiveness that would, I think, illustrate the author’s personal attachment to the work’s creation.
The versions of the Demeter/Persephone myth are different because one is written as verse and one is written as prose. In one King Pluto is given a name and in the other he’s not. Also, Persephone is represented as younger and more naïve than in the other.
All in all the gods seem to be really controlling and trouble me with their exploitive treatment of humans. The sentence that embodies what I disliked most about the god-human relationship was when Pyrrha “was still uncertain,/ And [Deucalion] by no means sure, and both distrustful/ Of that command from Heaven” (p. 971).
Metamorphoses seems to echo or resemble a lot of different mythical works to me. It immediately reminded me of Milton’s Paradise Lost because of the way they both retell or implement parts of the Bible’s creation story. I just recently took a course on the “Bible as Literature,” so I made a lot of connections with Ovid’s work and the Bible. Lines as subtle as “there were no judges,” are a nod to the judges that upheld justice and were figures of morality as written in the Bible’s book of Judges (p. 964). A more blatant connection that could be made between Metamorphoses and the Bible is the story of the flood. Not only is Ovid incorporating biblical elements, but there is also a close resemblance to Greek myths; which makes sense considering the epic Greek poems, like Homer’s Illiad and Odyssey would have been dominant influences for Ovid.
In general, Ovid’s tone is disconnected and almost aloof. It seems like he’s just recording stories that he knows, not ones he’s passionate about. Without fluid transitions between the stories, Metamorphoses lacks a cohesiveness that would, I think, illustrate the author’s personal attachment to the work’s creation.
The versions of the Demeter/Persephone myth are different because one is written as verse and one is written as prose. In one King Pluto is given a name and in the other he’s not. Also, Persephone is represented as younger and more naïve than in the other.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Writing Journal-Assignment 1
The theme of the first city, “having faith is believing in something you cannot see,” was easiest for me to implement into a story. I think this is because of the way I personally think about a lot of things in life. I am not the kind of person who always has to see something or someone physically to believe in them. This is probably most exemplified in my belief in God, the supreme ruler of the universe and my creator.
It was definitely easier and more enjoyable for me to create an invisible city centralized around a specific theme. I tend to think of things in life in themes anyway and I’m a fairly organized person who likes to think of things categorically or in groupings. It just felt natural to compose a story that is trying to convey a central idea/theme.
The most difficult part of the assignment for me was making sure I used the right imagery and diction choices to accurately illustrate what I was thinking. I am a sort of a novice when it comes to purely creative writing and I tended to focus on the artistic/symbolic elements of the story which relies heavily on the best word choices.
Some of the time I enjoyed the way Calvino used language and sometimes I did not enjoy it. I did not like the he used language to throw off the reader’s linear reading of the story, but I did like how he would contradictory ideas within the same story.
When writing I just did whatever would get my stories’ point across. I did not really think of whether I was sounding like Calvino or not. However, I did notice myself using one of my favorite styles of his, which was the contrasting elements and ideas to convey one thought.
So far, Rome does seem like an imaginary city to me. That is because I will experience certain themes that I pulled from his “Invisible Cities.” I think Rome possesses themes and qualities such as “unforgettable imagery,” “constantly being inconstant,” “fellowship,” and elements of “contradictory enjoyment.” These are all feelings I’ve experienced in Rome during my first and they themes I citied from Calvino’s work. If I had to choose a theme to write about in regards to Rome it would probably be “mysticism.”
It was definitely easier and more enjoyable for me to create an invisible city centralized around a specific theme. I tend to think of things in life in themes anyway and I’m a fairly organized person who likes to think of things categorically or in groupings. It just felt natural to compose a story that is trying to convey a central idea/theme.
The most difficult part of the assignment for me was making sure I used the right imagery and diction choices to accurately illustrate what I was thinking. I am a sort of a novice when it comes to purely creative writing and I tended to focus on the artistic/symbolic elements of the story which relies heavily on the best word choices.
Some of the time I enjoyed the way Calvino used language and sometimes I did not enjoy it. I did not like the he used language to throw off the reader’s linear reading of the story, but I did like how he would contradictory ideas within the same story.
When writing I just did whatever would get my stories’ point across. I did not really think of whether I was sounding like Calvino or not. However, I did notice myself using one of my favorite styles of his, which was the contrasting elements and ideas to convey one thought.
So far, Rome does seem like an imaginary city to me. That is because I will experience certain themes that I pulled from his “Invisible Cities.” I think Rome possesses themes and qualities such as “unforgettable imagery,” “constantly being inconstant,” “fellowship,” and elements of “contradictory enjoyment.” These are all feelings I’ve experienced in Rome during my first and they themes I citied from Calvino’s work. If I had to choose a theme to write about in regards to Rome it would probably be “mysticism.”
Writing Assignment #1
Invisible City 1
Theme: Having faith is believing in something you cannot see
I know a city, the city of Revery. It is the “dreamed-of city” where “desires are already memories.” I visit this city because it resides in the deepest crevices of my mind, where memories are stored and visions of things I have yet to experience are conjured up. It is a place more real than any other area I have visited by placing one foot in front of the other upon its land of reality. Revery is a place I can see any time without having captured it as my own using camera lenses and memory cards. Some people tell me that they know this city of mine and have visited it for themselves, but I know that they could never know it as well myself, someone who has never been there in the flesh. My mind tells me of its beauties and wonders. I can smell the familiar, which are actually the unknown fragrances of my favorite flowers that grow in the fields by my favorite downtown promenade. I feel the warmth of family and friends as their love embraces me in a place I call home.
How can this place be my home if I have yet to step foot in it? It is real because I know this city within my memories. Did I visit it once upon a dream? I’m sure I did not. In a place that is dark to others who cannot or will not see, there is light that illuminates my cherished city. The utmost contentment derives from my city of Revery. My fire of desire burns brightly for me and me alone. However, your fire of contentment burns there too. One day you will fall in love with a place like that of the one I love. On that day you will not come to this place, but it will come to you. For arrival to the city of Revery is inevitable. Everyone finds it eventually and the darkness turns into an unimaginable light that comforts and guides you. It is here you will see the romantic and timeless bridges where I walk over the cooling waters of enjoyment. But when you get there the waters will not be water as you have imagined and desired it. They will be as they will be.
Invisible City 2
Theme: Where there is good, there is always bad
I once went to a city that I had been looking forward to visiting for quite some time. I can tell you what I went there to do, but I cannot remember when it was that I went and I will tell you why. The streets were lined with magnificent shops where the figures are courteous and even though I had just met these vessels, they each seemed like they were friends I had never remembered having before then. I guess this was because they were trying to pass on their most sensational objects of value, and in exchange I was to give them some small token of mine that was seen as valuable to everyone. I walked away from each store feeling more and more delighted with my new possessions. My native society had always taught me that I was suppose to obtain all the possessions I could, preferably the most expensive items I could get, and then I would be happy.
What happened next continues to perplex me even now. I saw up in the distance of the avenue of promised happiness, a cluster of purple, black, and green with rays of sunlight bouncing off it perimeters. As I continued to approach closer, I realized that this object was in fact another vessel like the ones who had helped me in the stores. But there was something different about this lumpy object that seemed to have placed itself on the pavement. I noticed that it wore a tattered purple cloth resembling something that was probably once a sweatshirt, and a pair of jeans that were so soiled that what I had seen as black was actually the color blue covered in the harshness of their city. Just as I was noticing its shredded blanket of green and grey, the vessel suddenly shot up from a lying down position. It looked startled that it had apparently neglected his task of holding out a dirty and worn paper cup.
Then something happened which has removed any sense of time during that visit to the city. Our eyes met and there was an exchange of “glances like lines that connect one figure with another and draw arrows, stars, triangles.” Instantly I felt connected to this person. I wondered why he was lying on the ground, whether he had a home in this city, and if he didn’t why he had not yet left for somewhere better. “Did an outside not exist?” Did he find happiness in this city as I had, or did he just endure its elements of cruelty that were so evident in their eyes? By being in this place, would I just become another vessel, which ignores someone and their happiness in order to maintain my own happiness? I could no longer remember who I was, where I was headed, or when I existing at the moment that I truly saw this fallen vessel. I do, however, remember that this city was called Bifold.
Invisible City 3
Theme: Illusionary reality and identity
I have been to a city, called Bloom, where an area is inhabited solely by people of the same age. All these people are bright, glowy, eager, naïve, and knowledgeable, innovative, yet traditional. These people all conform to a predestined agenda of growing in their knowledge, but this usually makes them cling even more tightly to what they already know. When they are done with their day of expanding their minds, they expand their movement and flock to the youthful dancing of the midnight sanctuary.
Dancing with such vigor and grace, they get to believe that they are free from predestination and responsibility; however, this ideal can only be upheld temporarily through the cool, crisp dawn. As the moon settles in for bed and dusk approaches the city ambitiously, everyone re-establishes their mask, which they had removed for the night’s liberating festivities and are compelled to wear during the day. Why do these people wear the masks? No one can remember why, but rarely does anyone sincerely challenge the obligatory adornment of his or her mask.
All day they try to shine through their masks, while at the same time using their mask as a shield from the city and its inhabitants. For they know that they must either “erase the city or be erased by it.” Maybe they wear their mask so that the city does not wear down their true identity lurking behind this inanimate façade; or maybe the city has already won in erasing their identities by forcing them to wear a mask, causing the citizens to assume a foreign self. Are these people bright and eager because they wear the mask or are they that way no matter what they wear? The mask allows their youthfulness to sear through, but it denies the sincere relations they truly desire. They wish to be enlightened of one another’s identity during the daytime and not the darkness of the night, but they also wonder how things would be changed and/or worsened without the presence of their masks in Bloom.
Invisible City 4
No Theme
My favorite city in the world is called Home. It is there that I will find everything that I need. I seek my dearest Home when I am in need of the enrapturing company of my family. My family alone provides me with a necessary love and comfort, which every person longs for. They can also vex me to the utmost, but I find that no other city’s people are able to vex me more and still remain infinitely redeemable. Member of my family are the only people that I have met who can irritate and madden me the most, but be able to negate that entirely with our unique and unmatched bond. You may wonder who these people are that I call family and if they exist in any other city than that which I call Home. The answer is that they do not reside anywhere else except Home. For it is where my family is that Home exists, and where Home is that my family does as well.
I have known these people called family for as long as I have lived. I first visited Home during my first day of my life. Truly, throughout my lifetime I have been to many other cities outside of Home, but no matter where I go my cherished Home is always there for my return. Home is a city that can move just as readily as I move from city, but I never have a hard time finding my way back to this city. There is an invisible essence that makes it so I will never lose my way. I am endlessly connected to my given and chosen people, called family. I will go where they go and they will go where I go. Wherever I am, Home is there. Wherever they are, Home is there.
Theme: Having faith is believing in something you cannot see
I know a city, the city of Revery. It is the “dreamed-of city” where “desires are already memories.” I visit this city because it resides in the deepest crevices of my mind, where memories are stored and visions of things I have yet to experience are conjured up. It is a place more real than any other area I have visited by placing one foot in front of the other upon its land of reality. Revery is a place I can see any time without having captured it as my own using camera lenses and memory cards. Some people tell me that they know this city of mine and have visited it for themselves, but I know that they could never know it as well myself, someone who has never been there in the flesh. My mind tells me of its beauties and wonders. I can smell the familiar, which are actually the unknown fragrances of my favorite flowers that grow in the fields by my favorite downtown promenade. I feel the warmth of family and friends as their love embraces me in a place I call home.
How can this place be my home if I have yet to step foot in it? It is real because I know this city within my memories. Did I visit it once upon a dream? I’m sure I did not. In a place that is dark to others who cannot or will not see, there is light that illuminates my cherished city. The utmost contentment derives from my city of Revery. My fire of desire burns brightly for me and me alone. However, your fire of contentment burns there too. One day you will fall in love with a place like that of the one I love. On that day you will not come to this place, but it will come to you. For arrival to the city of Revery is inevitable. Everyone finds it eventually and the darkness turns into an unimaginable light that comforts and guides you. It is here you will see the romantic and timeless bridges where I walk over the cooling waters of enjoyment. But when you get there the waters will not be water as you have imagined and desired it. They will be as they will be.
Invisible City 2
Theme: Where there is good, there is always bad
I once went to a city that I had been looking forward to visiting for quite some time. I can tell you what I went there to do, but I cannot remember when it was that I went and I will tell you why. The streets were lined with magnificent shops where the figures are courteous and even though I had just met these vessels, they each seemed like they were friends I had never remembered having before then. I guess this was because they were trying to pass on their most sensational objects of value, and in exchange I was to give them some small token of mine that was seen as valuable to everyone. I walked away from each store feeling more and more delighted with my new possessions. My native society had always taught me that I was suppose to obtain all the possessions I could, preferably the most expensive items I could get, and then I would be happy.
What happened next continues to perplex me even now. I saw up in the distance of the avenue of promised happiness, a cluster of purple, black, and green with rays of sunlight bouncing off it perimeters. As I continued to approach closer, I realized that this object was in fact another vessel like the ones who had helped me in the stores. But there was something different about this lumpy object that seemed to have placed itself on the pavement. I noticed that it wore a tattered purple cloth resembling something that was probably once a sweatshirt, and a pair of jeans that were so soiled that what I had seen as black was actually the color blue covered in the harshness of their city. Just as I was noticing its shredded blanket of green and grey, the vessel suddenly shot up from a lying down position. It looked startled that it had apparently neglected his task of holding out a dirty and worn paper cup.
Then something happened which has removed any sense of time during that visit to the city. Our eyes met and there was an exchange of “glances like lines that connect one figure with another and draw arrows, stars, triangles.” Instantly I felt connected to this person. I wondered why he was lying on the ground, whether he had a home in this city, and if he didn’t why he had not yet left for somewhere better. “Did an outside not exist?” Did he find happiness in this city as I had, or did he just endure its elements of cruelty that were so evident in their eyes? By being in this place, would I just become another vessel, which ignores someone and their happiness in order to maintain my own happiness? I could no longer remember who I was, where I was headed, or when I existing at the moment that I truly saw this fallen vessel. I do, however, remember that this city was called Bifold.
Invisible City 3
Theme: Illusionary reality and identity
I have been to a city, called Bloom, where an area is inhabited solely by people of the same age. All these people are bright, glowy, eager, naïve, and knowledgeable, innovative, yet traditional. These people all conform to a predestined agenda of growing in their knowledge, but this usually makes them cling even more tightly to what they already know. When they are done with their day of expanding their minds, they expand their movement and flock to the youthful dancing of the midnight sanctuary.
Dancing with such vigor and grace, they get to believe that they are free from predestination and responsibility; however, this ideal can only be upheld temporarily through the cool, crisp dawn. As the moon settles in for bed and dusk approaches the city ambitiously, everyone re-establishes their mask, which they had removed for the night’s liberating festivities and are compelled to wear during the day. Why do these people wear the masks? No one can remember why, but rarely does anyone sincerely challenge the obligatory adornment of his or her mask.
All day they try to shine through their masks, while at the same time using their mask as a shield from the city and its inhabitants. For they know that they must either “erase the city or be erased by it.” Maybe they wear their mask so that the city does not wear down their true identity lurking behind this inanimate façade; or maybe the city has already won in erasing their identities by forcing them to wear a mask, causing the citizens to assume a foreign self. Are these people bright and eager because they wear the mask or are they that way no matter what they wear? The mask allows their youthfulness to sear through, but it denies the sincere relations they truly desire. They wish to be enlightened of one another’s identity during the daytime and not the darkness of the night, but they also wonder how things would be changed and/or worsened without the presence of their masks in Bloom.
Invisible City 4
No Theme
My favorite city in the world is called Home. It is there that I will find everything that I need. I seek my dearest Home when I am in need of the enrapturing company of my family. My family alone provides me with a necessary love and comfort, which every person longs for. They can also vex me to the utmost, but I find that no other city’s people are able to vex me more and still remain infinitely redeemable. Member of my family are the only people that I have met who can irritate and madden me the most, but be able to negate that entirely with our unique and unmatched bond. You may wonder who these people are that I call family and if they exist in any other city than that which I call Home. The answer is that they do not reside anywhere else except Home. For it is where my family is that Home exists, and where Home is that my family does as well.
I have known these people called family for as long as I have lived. I first visited Home during my first day of my life. Truly, throughout my lifetime I have been to many other cities outside of Home, but no matter where I go my cherished Home is always there for my return. Home is a city that can move just as readily as I move from city, but I never have a hard time finding my way back to this city. There is an invisible essence that makes it so I will never lose my way. I am endlessly connected to my given and chosen people, called family. I will go where they go and they will go where I go. Wherever I am, Home is there. Wherever they are, Home is there.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Reading Journal-Assignment 1
Calvino’s Invisible Cities
Name of the city:
a. favorite phrases or passages from stories
b. theme/s I thought the city represented
1. Diomira:
a. “silver domes,” “crystal theater,” “multicolored lamps”
b. déjà vu and contentment
2. Isidora:
a. “wild regions,” “spiral staircases,” “spiral seashells,” “city of his dreams,” “dreamed-of city,” “desires are already memories”
b. reminiscent
3. Dorothea:
a. “girls of each quarter marry youths of other quarters”
b. logistics and realizing truths
4. Zaira:
a. “relationships between the measurements of its space and the events of its past”
b. concept of identity
5. Anastasia:
a. “one morning your desires waken all at once and surround you”
b. contradictory enjoyment
6. Tamara:
a. “In the shape that chance and wind give clouds, you are already intent on recognizing figures”
b. illusionary reality/identity
7. Zora:
a. “a city that no one, having seen it, can forget”
b. unforgettable imagery
8. Despina:
a. “already he sees himself at the head of a long caravan taking him away from the desert of the sea”
b. escapism
9. Zirma:
a. “Memory is redundant: it repeats signs so that the city can begin to exist.”
b. mind over matter
10. Isaura:
a. “an invisible landscape conditions the visible one”
b. yin and yang
11. Maurilia:
a. “It is pointless to ask whether the new ones are better or worse than the old, since there is no connection between them, just as the old post cards do not depict Maurilia as it was, but a different city which, by chance, was called Maurilia, like this one.”
b. constantly inconstant
12. Fedora:
a. “every inhabitant visits it, chooses the city corresponds to his desires”
b. predestination and idealism
13. Zoe:
a. “The man who is traveling and does not yet know the city awaiting him...wonders what the palace will be like, the barracks, the mill, the theater, the bazaar.”
b. reality vs. make-believe
14. Zenobia:
a. “those in which desires either erase the city or are erased by it.”
b. subliminal messaging/brain washing
15. Euphemia:
a. “the city where memory is traded at every solstice and at every quinox.”
b. fellowship
16. Zobeide:
a. “the pursued woman”
b. trying to capture the unobtainable
17. Hypatia:
a. “the alphabetical order of vanished alphabets” “there is no language without deceit”
b. confusion and uncertainty
18. Armilla:
a. “it has nothing that makes it seem a city”
b. lacking according to criteria that constitutes a “city,” but not unfilled in being enjoyed and utilized
19. Chloe:
a. “seeking other eyes, never stopping” “an exchange of glances like lines that connect one figure with another and draw arrows, stars, triangles” “without a word exchanged”
b. the power of visual contact with one another
20. Valdrada:
a. “the one Valdrada...the other Valdrada” “inhabitants know that each of their actions is, at once, that action and its mirror-image”
b. prevention through symmetry
21. Olivia:
a. “there is always someone who busts out laughing in the darkness” “Falsehood is never in words; it is in things.”
b. the power of speech and destruction of our commodities
22. Sophronia:
a. “two half-cities” “the half-Sophronia”
b. amusement is temporary
23. Eutropia:
a. “the traveler sees not one city but many”
b. all dynamics come together to make a whole
24. Zemrude:
a. “You cannot say that one aspect of the city is truer than the other”
b. wanting one and not the other counterpart
25. Agulaura:
a. “what was bizarre has become usual, what seemed normal is now an oddity”
b. stereotypes, false reputation, and identity
26. Octavia:
a. “the spider-web city”
b. the entangled design does not assure indefinite existence
27. Ersilia:
a. “relationship of blood”
b. manipulation of each other leads to our own destruction/downfall
28. Baucis:
a. “Nothing of the city touches the earth except those long flamingo legs on which it rests”
b. alienation/solitude causes distain towards others
29. Leandra:
a. “unable to tell them apart”
b. dual, contradictory ownership
30. Melania:
a. “you find the same dialogue still going on”
b. perpetual tradition
31. Esmeralda:
a. “tortuous optional routes”
b. mix and matching with similar dynamics creates unique and diverse lives
32. Phyllis:
a. “at every point the city offers surprises to your view” “Your footsteps follow not what is outside the eyes, but what is within, buried, erased.”
b. false reality, not seeing what is actually there
33. Pyrrha:
a. “obviously the name means this and could mean nothing but this.” “names that bear with them a figure or a fragment or glimmer of an imagined figure”
b. does a label or imagined identity makes something real?
34. Adelma:
a. “If Adelma is a real city, inhabited by living people, I need only continue looking at them and the resemblances will dissolve”
b. the mind and imagination is more powerful and real than the truth of reality is
35. Eudoxia:
a. “all of Eudoxia’s confusion...is evident in the incomplete perspective you grasp” “It is easy to get lost in Eudoxia”
b. the city will corrupt the proper functions of your mind and the universe is confusing and alluring as this city is
36. Moriana:
a. “its alabaster gates transparent in the sunlight” “dancing girls with silvery scales swim beneath the medusa-shaped chandeliers.” “rusting sheet metal, sackcloth, planks bristling with spikes, pipes black with soot”
b. where there is absolute beauty there is disgusting monstrosities
37. Clarice:
a. “almost nothing was lost of Clarice’s former splendor; it was all there, merely arranged in a different order” “ancient Clarices, fragmentary and dead.”
b. change is necessary in order to achieve restoration to the original form
38. Eusapia:
a. “make the leap from life to death less abrupt”
b. everyone is connected because of one ideal
39. Beersheba:
a. “if the terrestrial Beersheba will take the celestial one as its model the two cities will become one.”
b. change/the city can only truly be itself by departing from itself
40. Leonia:
a. “The city of Leonia refashions itself every day”
b. full fledged materialism and consumer over-dose
41. Irene:
a. “they wonder if it would be pleasant or unpleasant to be in Irene that evening”
b. things look and are anticipated differently when they are far away or into the future, than they do in actuality
42. Argia:
a. “it has earth instead of air”
b. having faith is believing in something you cannot see
43. Thelka:
a. “So that its destruction cannot begin”
b. what is created is inevitably destroyed
44. Trude:
a. “but you will arrive at another Trude, absolutely the same, detail by detail”
b. every place/setting is essential the same
45. Olinda:
a. “you may find somewhere a point no bigger that the head of a pin”
b. retaining the same qualities that the original had and learning something new upon every examination
46. Laudomia:
a. “every city has as its side another city whose inhabitants are called by the same names”
b. every stage of life has to make room for the other
47. Perinthia:
a. “cripples, dwarfs, hunchbacks, obese men, bearded women”
b. seclusion from others and lack of diversity has consequences and produces the most negative of results
48. Procopia:
a. “Each year, as soon as I entered the room, I raised the curtain and counted more faces”
b. things are not always as they first appear
49. Raissa:
a. “life is not happy” “In the morning you wake from one bad dream and another begins” “the unhappy city contains a happy city unaware of its own existence”
b. where there is good there is always bad
50. Andria:
a. “painstakingly regimented” “Each change implies a sequence of other changes”
b. planned change and uncontrollable change are both necessary
51. Cecilia:
a. “Cities have no name for me”
b. everything has some distinguishing quality
52. Mazoria:
a. “It is time for the century of the rat to end and the century of the swallow to begin”
b. there is harmony in relationship to one another, even throughout change
53. Penthesilea:
a. “city’s midst of still outside it” “vague spaces” “does an outside exist?”
b. are some things truly inescapable?
54. Theodora:
a. “gave birth to a tougher progeny”
b. changing who controls the power
55. Berenice:
a. “the unjust city” “the hidden Berenice, the city of the just”
b. good vs. evil
The narrator/s: Marco Polo (first person) and the author (third person)
Historical significance: Marco Polo was Venetian, who was very well traveled and introduced the Europeans to the Orient; he is someone who is see as a very well-traveled person. Contemporary author, Calvino makes a good choice by using this historical figure to tell these stories because Polo is a believable and credible source considering his background and knowledge of the world.
Person/point of view author uses to tell tales and why: Calvino creates a very dynamic and layered story by switching the book’s narrator from the omniscient author to Marco Polo. The reader gets a look into the Marco Polo’s and Kublai Khan’s take on the stories and their discussion in a much more engaged style.
Name of the city:
a. favorite phrases or passages from stories
b. theme/s I thought the city represented
1. Diomira:
a. “silver domes,” “crystal theater,” “multicolored lamps”
b. déjà vu and contentment
2. Isidora:
a. “wild regions,” “spiral staircases,” “spiral seashells,” “city of his dreams,” “dreamed-of city,” “desires are already memories”
b. reminiscent
3. Dorothea:
a. “girls of each quarter marry youths of other quarters”
b. logistics and realizing truths
4. Zaira:
a. “relationships between the measurements of its space and the events of its past”
b. concept of identity
5. Anastasia:
a. “one morning your desires waken all at once and surround you”
b. contradictory enjoyment
6. Tamara:
a. “In the shape that chance and wind give clouds, you are already intent on recognizing figures”
b. illusionary reality/identity
7. Zora:
a. “a city that no one, having seen it, can forget”
b. unforgettable imagery
8. Despina:
a. “already he sees himself at the head of a long caravan taking him away from the desert of the sea”
b. escapism
9. Zirma:
a. “Memory is redundant: it repeats signs so that the city can begin to exist.”
b. mind over matter
10. Isaura:
a. “an invisible landscape conditions the visible one”
b. yin and yang
11. Maurilia:
a. “It is pointless to ask whether the new ones are better or worse than the old, since there is no connection between them, just as the old post cards do not depict Maurilia as it was, but a different city which, by chance, was called Maurilia, like this one.”
b. constantly inconstant
12. Fedora:
a. “every inhabitant visits it, chooses the city corresponds to his desires”
b. predestination and idealism
13. Zoe:
a. “The man who is traveling and does not yet know the city awaiting him...wonders what the palace will be like, the barracks, the mill, the theater, the bazaar.”
b. reality vs. make-believe
14. Zenobia:
a. “those in which desires either erase the city or are erased by it.”
b. subliminal messaging/brain washing
15. Euphemia:
a. “the city where memory is traded at every solstice and at every quinox.”
b. fellowship
16. Zobeide:
a. “the pursued woman”
b. trying to capture the unobtainable
17. Hypatia:
a. “the alphabetical order of vanished alphabets” “there is no language without deceit”
b. confusion and uncertainty
18. Armilla:
a. “it has nothing that makes it seem a city”
b. lacking according to criteria that constitutes a “city,” but not unfilled in being enjoyed and utilized
19. Chloe:
a. “seeking other eyes, never stopping” “an exchange of glances like lines that connect one figure with another and draw arrows, stars, triangles” “without a word exchanged”
b. the power of visual contact with one another
20. Valdrada:
a. “the one Valdrada...the other Valdrada” “inhabitants know that each of their actions is, at once, that action and its mirror-image”
b. prevention through symmetry
21. Olivia:
a. “there is always someone who busts out laughing in the darkness” “Falsehood is never in words; it is in things.”
b. the power of speech and destruction of our commodities
22. Sophronia:
a. “two half-cities” “the half-Sophronia”
b. amusement is temporary
23. Eutropia:
a. “the traveler sees not one city but many”
b. all dynamics come together to make a whole
24. Zemrude:
a. “You cannot say that one aspect of the city is truer than the other”
b. wanting one and not the other counterpart
25. Agulaura:
a. “what was bizarre has become usual, what seemed normal is now an oddity”
b. stereotypes, false reputation, and identity
26. Octavia:
a. “the spider-web city”
b. the entangled design does not assure indefinite existence
27. Ersilia:
a. “relationship of blood”
b. manipulation of each other leads to our own destruction/downfall
28. Baucis:
a. “Nothing of the city touches the earth except those long flamingo legs on which it rests”
b. alienation/solitude causes distain towards others
29. Leandra:
a. “unable to tell them apart”
b. dual, contradictory ownership
30. Melania:
a. “you find the same dialogue still going on”
b. perpetual tradition
31. Esmeralda:
a. “tortuous optional routes”
b. mix and matching with similar dynamics creates unique and diverse lives
32. Phyllis:
a. “at every point the city offers surprises to your view” “Your footsteps follow not what is outside the eyes, but what is within, buried, erased.”
b. false reality, not seeing what is actually there
33. Pyrrha:
a. “obviously the name means this and could mean nothing but this.” “names that bear with them a figure or a fragment or glimmer of an imagined figure”
b. does a label or imagined identity makes something real?
34. Adelma:
a. “If Adelma is a real city, inhabited by living people, I need only continue looking at them and the resemblances will dissolve”
b. the mind and imagination is more powerful and real than the truth of reality is
35. Eudoxia:
a. “all of Eudoxia’s confusion...is evident in the incomplete perspective you grasp” “It is easy to get lost in Eudoxia”
b. the city will corrupt the proper functions of your mind and the universe is confusing and alluring as this city is
36. Moriana:
a. “its alabaster gates transparent in the sunlight” “dancing girls with silvery scales swim beneath the medusa-shaped chandeliers.” “rusting sheet metal, sackcloth, planks bristling with spikes, pipes black with soot”
b. where there is absolute beauty there is disgusting monstrosities
37. Clarice:
a. “almost nothing was lost of Clarice’s former splendor; it was all there, merely arranged in a different order” “ancient Clarices, fragmentary and dead.”
b. change is necessary in order to achieve restoration to the original form
38. Eusapia:
a. “make the leap from life to death less abrupt”
b. everyone is connected because of one ideal
39. Beersheba:
a. “if the terrestrial Beersheba will take the celestial one as its model the two cities will become one.”
b. change/the city can only truly be itself by departing from itself
40. Leonia:
a. “The city of Leonia refashions itself every day”
b. full fledged materialism and consumer over-dose
41. Irene:
a. “they wonder if it would be pleasant or unpleasant to be in Irene that evening”
b. things look and are anticipated differently when they are far away or into the future, than they do in actuality
42. Argia:
a. “it has earth instead of air”
b. having faith is believing in something you cannot see
43. Thelka:
a. “So that its destruction cannot begin”
b. what is created is inevitably destroyed
44. Trude:
a. “but you will arrive at another Trude, absolutely the same, detail by detail”
b. every place/setting is essential the same
45. Olinda:
a. “you may find somewhere a point no bigger that the head of a pin”
b. retaining the same qualities that the original had and learning something new upon every examination
46. Laudomia:
a. “every city has as its side another city whose inhabitants are called by the same names”
b. every stage of life has to make room for the other
47. Perinthia:
a. “cripples, dwarfs, hunchbacks, obese men, bearded women”
b. seclusion from others and lack of diversity has consequences and produces the most negative of results
48. Procopia:
a. “Each year, as soon as I entered the room, I raised the curtain and counted more faces”
b. things are not always as they first appear
49. Raissa:
a. “life is not happy” “In the morning you wake from one bad dream and another begins” “the unhappy city contains a happy city unaware of its own existence”
b. where there is good there is always bad
50. Andria:
a. “painstakingly regimented” “Each change implies a sequence of other changes”
b. planned change and uncontrollable change are both necessary
51. Cecilia:
a. “Cities have no name for me”
b. everything has some distinguishing quality
52. Mazoria:
a. “It is time for the century of the rat to end and the century of the swallow to begin”
b. there is harmony in relationship to one another, even throughout change
53. Penthesilea:
a. “city’s midst of still outside it” “vague spaces” “does an outside exist?”
b. are some things truly inescapable?
54. Theodora:
a. “gave birth to a tougher progeny”
b. changing who controls the power
55. Berenice:
a. “the unjust city” “the hidden Berenice, the city of the just”
b. good vs. evil
The narrator/s: Marco Polo (first person) and the author (third person)
Historical significance: Marco Polo was Venetian, who was very well traveled and introduced the Europeans to the Orient; he is someone who is see as a very well-traveled person. Contemporary author, Calvino makes a good choice by using this historical figure to tell these stories because Polo is a believable and credible source considering his background and knowledge of the world.
Person/point of view author uses to tell tales and why: Calvino creates a very dynamic and layered story by switching the book’s narrator from the omniscient author to Marco Polo. The reader gets a look into the Marco Polo’s and Kublai Khan’s take on the stories and their discussion in a much more engaged style.
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