Pages of Life

Adventures in the Iliad: The First Two Books

2011-08-06T00:40:00.000-07:00

From August 4, 2011
Location: Anthem, Arizona
Condition: Determined (Okay, striving to be determined)

I have long since returned to my quiet life in Arizona, and yet the Iliad has not yet become as central of a focus as it needs to be in order to complete the task at hand. I will admit: I should have begun reading it earlier.

And yet, my goal is to finish. I'm very dedicated to goals, especially those that I know are valuable to my future. From what I've heard from current Torrey students, having completed the reading of the Iliad largely determines my quantity (and probably quality) of sleep during Torrientation.

Sleep is a strong motivator. When I think of putting Homer down in favor of another book (or perhaps a movie), I remind myself of the need to sleep well during my first week at Biola...who knows when I will sleep that much once classes start...

Certain things help sustain me through the ugly transition between carefree summer and legitimate learning. In all seriousness, prayer is the main aid. I know God has led me to Biola, and to Torrey as well, and I want to use my time in college wisely.
God also created cocoa beans, which are made into chocolate, and for which I am quite grateful. Becoming a member of the Torrey community before I even set foot on campus, through the Torrey Class of 2015 Facebook page, largely contributes to my determination as well- from these people have come encouragement and laughter, and most importantly a sense of unity. As difficult as it may be to fight procrastination's grasp, the Iliad represents the beginning of my life at Biola- a life that I greatly anticipate.

I must admit that, upon reading the Iliad, there are things one learns about oneself that are quite astonishing. For instance, I have begun to notice how often I calculate the number of pages I have yet to read- and, sadly, have observed the fact that doing so will not magically make the reading quicker. My notes have also taken a rather surprising turn- I see myself altering portions in my notebook when I find an answer to a question previously proposed, or an addition to one still waiting for resolution. And, at some points, I find I have buried myself so deeply in the Iliad that I read more efficiently, with less mental complaints and a deeper understanding of why Homer's works are classics.

The Iliad still pulls me down a long and winding road, dense with figurative language and immense detail, with lists and accounts that elapse multiple pages. The Iliad remains a challenge to my summer-steeped brain, but I believe there may yet be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Adventures in the Iliad: Introduction

2011-08-03T18:15:00.000-07:00

From July 17th, 2011
Location: Daytona Beach, Florida
Condition: Semi-Panicked

It is summer. I am in a condo, approximately a five minute walk to the nearest ocean, with family and food and various means of entertainment.
I am reading.
It is not on account of the aforementioned entertainment that I am reading. I am reading because I have homework.
Homework. The word is taboo even though I am no longer in high school. Still unaccepted- I am not supposed to be doing homework. It is summer!
And yet, I have plunged headfirst- quite irresponsibly, actually- into Homer's Iliad, and am nearing the end of the forty-three page introduction as I write this. The journey begun with much trepidation, for I was not aware of what expectations I was approaching, or meeting, or failing to meet. We are required to keep a notebook, which sounds simple enough. Yet as I sat down to begin my notebook I remembered quite vividly being the girl whose notebook- or annotations, etc- was always wildly overdone, and met with disbelief. Why would that girl put so much time into her notebook? What possessed her to annotate so extensively? At times I believed I was one of three people in my class period who could claim to have read the material at all. So I sat at the table, in the condo by the beach, with a bright pink notebook in front of me that had suddenly become very intimidating. I stared at it, then at the Iliad, then at the ceiling, hoping that some sort of revelation would come to me regarding the protocol for such a thing. The question was not "how do I handle homework in the summer?" Nor was it a qualm about the Iliad, for I had loved reading Homer in high school. But perhaps that was just it: I could not look at any of this in any context except that of high school; and high school, by default, had become something I believed myself to be far beyond. Now, looking at the assignment before me, I realized that I saw it through the lens of my high school experience- so there the change must begin.
Alright, easy enough. I would resolve to see my assignment as it really was: college work. But that was not much of an improvement, because college work is ever more intimidating than high school work. What does a good reporter do to get the whole picture? Research. So I visited the Torrey Honors Institute (THI) website to review the guidelines for the notebook. Thinking I would not remember them later, I taped them to the inside of my notebook so I could refer back to them at any time during my note-taking process.
The time came to actually begin the book, and so I began. I flipped the first few pages, past copyrights and title pages and acknowledgements and contents, and came to a rather lengthy introduction. Forty-three pages, to be exact. I stopped cold. Introductions were tiresome enigmas that I learned to dislike at an early age. When I was younger, I developed my now rather acute thirst for reading, and so when I began a book, I read straight through the introduction and then got into the actual text. It didn't take but a few novels to reveal the hidden horror of introductions: they spoil the book. While eloquent, and intellectual, and very useful in hindsight, introductions give much information about the book that the author wished to keep a surprise until the reader came to the point of revelation. I learned, for instance, from reading the introduction to Sense and Sensibility (my favorite novel), that Willoughby is a dirty, selfish crook, and that Edward Ferrars never marries Lucy Steele. (By the way, to anyone who hasn't read S&S, I apologize). I was so heartbroken that these truths had been revealed before Austen intended them to, that my attitude turned strictly against introductions.
Thus I sat, staring at Richmond Lattimore's introduction to the Iliad with a mixture of displeasure and hesitation. Besides my past encounters with introductions, I recalled that they had never significantly aided me in high school (sorry Mr. Hickman!). So why should I read this introduction?
College work...oh yes, I was doing college work. I was attempting to read a foundational text, translated from Greek to English, for an Honors College in which I am blessed to be a member. Whether or not I liked it, I was going to read that introduction.

The Road Not Taken

2011-07-12T21:35:00.000-07:00

I've always admired people who knew exactly what they wanted; to have a resolute decision and know that it is right- that is something that, with me, has always been easier said than done.
In the pool tonight after dinner, we met a man who told us that it took him thirty years to know what he wanted: to join the Coast Guard. As he tells it, he says he was on a boat about 35 miles off of the Florida shore, and the boat began to sink. Another boat nearby saved him and his fellow passengers, and although it wasn't the most heroic rescue, he thanked God for it. And it led to an epiphany. He wanted to save people from drowning, as he might have had not the other boat been nearby.
Excited to fulfill his dream, he went to enlist in the Coast Guard. Apparently to be in the Coast Guard, one must enlist before his or her 27th birthday. He was thirty.

Stories like these tend to fire up the rusty, semi-functional gears in my brain and make me evaluate what I want in life. After all, I need to know what I'm going to do, or else it might be too late. The hard part, though, is that life does not work this way- at least not for most people. We may plan our entire lives, but end up on a completely different path than we ever expected. We may be called to do something extraordinary- or quite ordinary- when we never expected to be called at all. As I've been reading in McCullough's excellent book, John Adams, sometimes a common, unsuspecting man ends up forging a new nation.
The cure for this unpredictable life we lead is simple: trust in God to lead you in the direction you are meant for. I've learned firsthand that the worst mistake we can make is to think that we have it all figured out- indeed, that we control it, that mysterious stuff that constitutes our future.

The poem "The Road Not Taken" comes to mind (see below). It hails the peculiarities of life that render us traveling down roads we never could have asked for or imagined.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20

Dream- know what you want to do. But always remember who is in control.

"The Dash"

2011-04-24T16:17:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite teachers taught our class a lesson last week, and in some cases I think a few of us became inspired to live differently.

He showed us a video (link below) called “The Dash,” which brings to attention a crucial question in life: how will we live our years- the “dash” between the day we are born and the day we die?

Peter has advice regarding this question. In 1 Peter, he begins by exclaiming “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead…therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in his body is done with sin. As a result, he does not live the rest of his earthly life for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God” (1:3, 4:1-2). There is little mystery in this: Peter urges us to live our lives for Christ.

Before we delve into the many ways in which to live for Christ, let’s look at how Christ lived his life. We have very few glimpses into his childhood, but we know he was a gentle and conscientious young Jew, who possessed exceptional knowledge of the Scriptures and always asked probing questions to Pharisees, teachers of the law, and common people alike. He taught people as he travelled, picking up twelve disciples and many followers, and healed every person he came into contact with. Then, as we celebrate this weekend, he shared the Last Supper before we was condemned, crucified, and resurrected.

Kind of a hard act to follow…

Although impossible for humans to imitate completely, Jesus’ use of his “dash” serves to compel us to live each day better than the one which preceded it. One of the challenges of this is that our time on earth is finite, and we do not know exactly how finite until it is too late. Peter comments on this as well, instructing us: “Do not forget this one thing, dear friends: with the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:8-9).

Thank you, Jesus, for using your dash in a way that saved us all.

How will you live your dash?

Link: "The Dash" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsY6UrFIsNs

Awareness

2011-01-09T21:17:00.001-08:00

There’s a cheesiness inherent in writing any January blog post concerning “New Year’s Resolutions,” especially as I believe they are a pitiful sham or, at best, a half-baked attempt on the part of an usually well-meaning individual to make him or her self do something which he or she had not the gumption to do when it actually became necessary (say, in March or August). However, regardless of this truth, there is a lesson in Ezekiel 22 that should be implemented in each of our lives this year and for the years following- whether you choose to add this to your list of Resolutions is a matter entirely of choice.*

The title of chapter 22 seems intimidating when first caught by the eye; entitled “Jerusalem’s Sins,” it indeed describes the severe disobedience of the people and the grim consequences of such actions. Phrases such as “O city that brings on herself doom by shedding blood in her midst” (verse three) and “I will gather you and I will blow on you with my fiery wrath” (verse twenty-one) add serious layers, effectively conveying the gravity of the people’s sins to the reader. Perhaps some context will help here- in fact, forsaking context is one of the main reasons why people often misread the Bible. The book of Ezekiel was written by the prophet, Ezekiel, and the preceding chapters explain in more detail the ways in which the people have enraged God. While the chapter is permeated by a descriptive account of these sins and their ramifications, the ending two verses are particularly notable because they offer a solution that the people could have taken to prevent this divine wrath. Verse 30 reads (and the LORD is speaking here): “I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none.” A few interesting points appear in these mere thirty-seven words. One is the fact that God says he looked for “a man,” which, if interpreted in accordance with English grammatical standards, means “one man.” I cannot recall the last time I read about a great ruler or even a millionaire or CEO change the expected course of action based upon the fortitude of one person. Those who doubt God’s benevolence need look no further, as it is apparent here. God did not want to punish the people arbitrarily or because he derived some sick enjoyment from it, but because there was not a single person among them who could honestly claim innocence in the situation. Another point is that God speaks of this man building up a wall and standing before him in the gap on behalf of the land. Read over once, this may be missed, but taking another look, the reader envisages a tall brick wall with a courageous person standing atop it saying “God, I know you have every right to destroy this town, but I am wondering if you could please reconsider, based upon the fact that I have not done anything wrong, and that maybe, if given the chance, I could be used by You to help some of my neighbors do right again.” One righteous person could have bridged the gap between God’s wrath and the sinful people.

The word “gap” recalls an interesting phrase in my mind: “Mind the Gap.” A primarily British saying (as far as I have heard), it refers to the Tube (the British Subway train system) and the fact that if one does not “mind the gap” when boarding, one may easily slip and step onto the tracks, causing a very perilous situation. The gap is a danger to the passengers, but it must be crossed in order to enter or exit the train. Indulge me for a moment while I stretch this thought:

Our lives on earth are the gap. On one side we have sin, which is all we have until we decide to follow God; on the other side, we have either a) eternal life, a reward for following his Word and helping to further his kingdom, or b) eternal hell, a punishment for either not following him or turning our backs on him after first joining him. We live in sin until we accept salvation from God- in effect, bridging the gap. If one mere person in Jerusalem had correctly bridged this gap, God’s wrath would not have burned against the people, for he would have used this person to restore them to himself once more.

Perhaps the best way to bridge the gap is to be aware of the necessity of it. Awareness is a powerful tool for change. The mother of Christine Green, the 9-year-old killed in the Saturday Tuscon shooting, expressed her desire for us to be aware of the incredible danger of people like Loughner (the gunman), who is both medically imbalanced and mentally deranged. In our own lives we must be aware, but also in the larger context of our society- one that is rapidly degrading. There is no specified time or place for this; it is an ongoing cause that must be taken up by all of us. While you are making your New Year’s Resolutions, or re-working them from the past week, or whatever it may be, add “being aware of ways to bridge the gap” to your list. Pray about it, and God will show you how you can implement it.

*As a sidenote, I apologize if I offended anybody who is in favor of New Year’s Resolutions. For some they are powerful motivators, and for others, quite ineffective. I guess it is what you make of it.

Jessica Schildt's Issue Paper. Nov 2010

2010-11-15T15:50:00.000-08:00

Merriam-Webster defines “deficit” as “an excess of expenditure over revenue.” In layman’s terms, this means spending more money than is generated. There is a clear division between liberal and conservative ideologies concerning the deficit. Inevitably, a citizen’s political ideology has enormous bearing upon his or her view of the deficit and the means of solving it. Recent and future policy will definitely include decisions concerning the deficit and deficit spending, as it is an issue heavily debated at present. For instance, deciding whether or not to extend the tax cuts implemented by former president George W. Bush is a current debacle that largely involves the two differing ideas of solving the deficit. Understanding the different solution that each side proposes is essential to cultivating a clear picture of the twenty-first century deficit.

Liberal citizens tend to promote maintaining or even increasing money to welfare programs, regardless of the size of the deficit; contrarily, conservative citizens are inclined to support tax cuts as a means to stimulate business. “The budget debate that is expected to dominate Congress next year” (politico.com) offers an accurate illustration of the opposing remedies; the Democrats in Congress are “resisting any cuts in Social Security benefits” (politicos.com) whereas the Republicans believe in adopting “fiscal restraint” and “capping [federal] spending” (heritage.com). Edward Lazear, an economist, explicates a solution that returns “spending closer to 2008 levels, then limiting spending in the future” (heritage.com). He asserts that the liberal argument “rests on the flawed premise that we can reduce the deficit only by increasing taxes, as if high levels of spending are a given…Americans don’t have to choose between an enormous deficit or high taxes” (heritage.com). The difference lies in each party’s plans for where to allocate the citizens’ tax dollars. Liberal proponents aim to extend this money to welfare and other government programs, as described by House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s reaction to the Bowles-Simpson plan (2010); Pelosi condemned the plan, declaring that the plan must protect “economic security” by preserving welfare programs designed for dependents such as the elderly, “who are counting on the bedrock promises of Social Security and Medicare” (Politico.com). Plans such as these are certain to fuel the major dialogue in Congress for the next few weeks, as the Bush tax cuts will soon expire, and the Congress will be forced to form a consensus regarding solving the deficit.

The deficit consumes 53.5% of the national GDP, according to the CIA World Factbook estimates from 2009. It remains a contentious subject in Congress because of the varying methods of solving it. Each side will confront the task of prioritizing the programs that revenue must be allocated towards, which is an enormous task. Americans are dependent upon the decision of Congress, as each year the deficit rises. According to a recent Gallup poll, terrorism and the “federal government debt” are tied at forty percent as issues that Americans believe are “extremely serious” (heritage.gallup.com); indeed, a citizen is ignorant if he or she discounts the deficit as an imaginary malady.

Remembering September 11th

2010-09-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

I was in third grade on the day that "the world stopped turning." It began as a normal day for me- but then again, it began as a normal day for all of us, right?- and we lived in a modest home in New River, AZ. I walked down our hallway into the living room, and I noticed that the volume of the television was turned very low. Dad must not have been interested in the other news that day. I ate breakfast and found my backpack, and I was stuffing my lunch into it when Dad looked at the TV, squinted, reached for the volume, and turned it up, muttering something.
"What is it, Dad?"
He didn't answer me.
"Daddy, what is it?"
"The World Trade Center has been destroyed."
I had no idea what anything in that sentence meant except the concept of destruction, and even on that count I was a bit fuzzy.
"So is it really bad?" I asked.
"Yeah, Jessie, it's really bad."
I accepted this and drove to school. But what had happened on the TV had affected everybody at school. The principals put together an assembly that lasted for almost the entire morning, where we sang patriotic songs like "Proud to be an American" and "The Star-Spangled Banner." The flag was halfway down the flagpole, which we learned was in respect to those who were suffering. And since I attended a charter school, we had a prayer as well as a moment of siilence.

I wish I could say that when 9/11 occurred, I knew the full gravity of the disaster. I wish I had been older so that I could understand the situation.

Since every school I attended since 9/11 (both public and private) held a similar ceremony on its anniversary, I did not know what had happened except that the World Trade Centers had been hit by an airplane piloted by terrorists, that something had happened to the Pentagon, and that the plane landed in Pennsylvania.

I have one person to thank for finally insisting that my generation know the facts as well as the aftermath: my sophomore World History teacher. Our class had taken too much time presenting our projects, so we were already behind, but still we learned about 9/11. We learned that the terrorists were present on more than one plane, and that the passengers on one of them overpowered the terrorists and landed the plane in Pennsylvania. We learned that the entire collapse of the towers was a matter of hours, but that the ash cloud that resulted remained for weeks. We learned that the people in New York had no idea what was happening, and we watched a documentary with footage shot by firefighters who had been elsewhere on that day but had come to help. We learned that the terrorists' plan was much more extensive, involving the Pentagon and the White House.
All of this we learned, and when I remembered that day in third grade, it seemed like I was thinking of two different events. Physically, that is where I had been on 9/11. But mentally, I had not experienced it until Thursday, September 11, 2008.
Thank you, Ms. P, for making us attempt to comprehend the situation. It always seems to exhaust you to teach us about 9/11, but it is a service that I don't believe anyone else could provide as well as you do.

There is a reason that everybody remembers where they were, what they were doing, on 9/11. When something so catastrophic happens, we as Americans feel the need to be united. We remember the event because it made an unprecedented impact upon the way we live. Few events have changed our country and our globe as much as 9/11. Remember this today.

If you want to hear a very inspiring song about 9/11, below is a link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nj9Fa6IFM8Q&ob=av2e

Airports

2010-06-01T17:22:00.000-07:00

Have you ever spent a significant amount of time in an airport? I sincerely hope not, for your sake. Airports have many uses, and they have enabled us to make important strides as humans, but they are definitely squeaky wheels in the machine of American civilization.

Airports are not altogether evil, but rather a necessary evil. They allow us to travel safely (for the most part) from one destination to another, and often a lot of space occupies the area between these. Air travel allows families to connect in the event of an emergency. It allows soldiers to come home from war much more quickly. It helps missionaries and medical aides fly to places such as Haiti, Chili, China, the Gulf of Mexico, and now Louisiana, where natural disasters have plagued the denizens there. It allows our leaders to meet with their counterparts in the rest of the world and decide on foreign and domestic affairs.

This is not to say that the system is without its flaws, be them large or small. Most airlines, for example, charge extra money for each checked bag. This is collected when the traveler reaches the counter in the terminal. However, if the traveler in question is an unaccompanied minor without a credit card, how is he or she to pay this fee? Why do airlines not establish different procedures for unaccompanied minors so that if no credit card is available, the minors are still able to board their flight? Air ports are also often confusing; there are endless lists of rules and regulations that must be followed, even concerning water bottles taken on the plane by a traveler before the security checkpoint.

Obviously the tragedy of 9/11 and numerous other attempted attacks have caused this to occur. Because of the selfish and harmful desires of a few, many people must deal with the obstacles inevitable in airports. The airport system as it is (at least in Arizona) is definitely far from perfect, but this simply aides us in learning a lesson about life: many things are imperfect. A list of these things would surely never end, and if it did by some chance, it would absorb far too many pages for a humble blog post such as this one. Many parallels between airports and life can be drawn- the workers in airports compared to angels and, well, not angels; the security checkpoints compared to tests and trials; the safety speech before take-off compared to school. But I digress. The point of the matter is that airports, in a funny and eclectic way, represent the difficulties and triumphs of life. Things appear great in the beginning; then there are bumps (and sometimes chasms) in the road; then the journey continues up and down, up and down, until you realize that the best way to make it through is to rely upon God and family and friends, and to realize that life is about enduring and enjoying the journey. And in the end, there is a reward waiting for us. In the case of life, this is heaven. In the case of the airport, this is a Starbucks (after the security checkpoint, of course).

Lullaby

2010-04-04T20:01:00.000-07:00

“Someday we’ll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on; they never die- that’s how you and I will be” (“Lullaby,” Billy Joel).

Sometimes, reading God’s words is like being sung a sweet lullaby. The letters printed neatly on the page mean more than normal- as in, not divine- words do. You all know me, and you know that I love words. But there is a huge difference between the words of God and the words of man. It is just like the difference between reading a lullaby and having one sung to you.

Someday all of us will be gone, but God’s word endures. “Heaven and earth will pass away,” Jesus said to his disciples, “but my words will never pass away” (Luke 21:33).

Neither will his promise to us pass away. The promise that our sins would be atoned for, a promise secured by Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, has been handed down and revered for ages- and for good reason, for it is the only way that we are saved. Theoretically, we would never catch ourselves taking that promise for granted. And yet, we are imperfect and sinful, and we forget sometimes that the reason we can have such a strong relationship with our Father is because he relinquished His son for us to be cleansed.

Today, let us recall all of the moments when it seemed like there was nothing left for us. Let us ponder upon every hardship, every illness, and every trial- let us remember how faithful God was in those times. When we were afraid, we trusted in Him, and He lifted us up again. When our sin consumed us and we had nowhere to turn, God did not avoid us, but instead sought us out. Perhaps some of us are experiencing times like these right now; perhaps we have just come out of them. Regardless, we have the ability to bring these things to God and Jesus, and they carry us through them. Instead of our sinful nature forever separating us from God, Jesus gave his life to make us closer to Him. I cannot fathom a more selfless sacrifice. Today- and every day- is His day. Let us be thankful for the lullaby of God’s word and the never-ending salvation that comes from Jesus’ sacrifice.

“Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby, then in your heart there will always be a part of me…” (“Lullaby,” Billy Joel). God’s love dries our tears, and although we don’t deserve it, we are always in His heart. In the same way He loves us, let us love one another. How else do we spread the lullaby of God, except by emulating his Greatest Command?

PS- This song has inexpressible meaning for my father and I, and I am grateful to all who read this post because it means I have the opportunity to share it with you. Here is the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dcnd55tLCv8 . It’s also called “Goodnight, My Angel,” which I think is a very fitting title.

Overwhelmed

2010-03-20T09:39:00.000-07:00

My family recently brought me to a Brazilian steakhouse while we were visiting my grandmother in Denver, Colorado. Whether one eats meat or refrains, the amount of choices at this restaurant was absolutely incredible.

Structured to be more of a dining experience than a standard dinner, this restaurant seemed primarily to achieve

a) complete fulfillment of hunger for the customer (every dish was perpetually refilled, until earnest requests to stop were made), and

b) endless choices presented to the customer (waiters basically ran laps around the rooms, holding serving platters and tempting the customer with every morsel imaginable).

The only word that can describe this picture is overwhelming. Food surrounded me, accompanied by mouth-watering descriptions of each dish. No request went unnoticed; indeed, the waiters were practically omnipresent- they sensed that my mother or I was about to sit down, and pulled out and pushed in our chairs for us every single time. I never saw my water glass sink below half-full; within seconds another waiter would appear to replenish it.

As I sat eating and marveling at this perfectly oiled machine working before me, I realized that this restaurant is a lot like life. Every day we are faced with choices, both trivial and earth-shattering, that are pending. Should I expect this to come along, and prepare for it? Should I predict the consequences of choosing that? What will happen if I choose this? Will there be enough room if I do? How will this choice affect other people? Do I need to compensate for making this decision? Does this decision sadden or glorify God?

And yet, the Sunday-school lesson on choices is not my aim here. We all know that every choice we make matters, and that we need to be able to make the right choices or we will not go far in life. The new idea that dawned on me during this dinner is that of cooperation. My family had been to this restaurant before, and knew how to navigate successfully through the thick waters of choices. I learned when to save room for one dish and how to make the most of another. I learned that mint jelly actually is good on pork- in moderation. I learned how to politely persuade the attentive waiters that I would survive without another dish of polenta. All these lessons I could not have created and utilized on my own- I highly doubt I would have been able to develop even two of them on my own.

God wants us to learn the same lesson in our walk with Him. Heaven and earth know that we cannot make every right decision on our own, and in all honesty, we cannot make most right decisions on our own. It is through His help that we prosper and become people who “have it together.” This does not- and cannot- mean that we are never overwhelmed. On the contrary, taking God into account can sometimes overwhelm us even more in the short run. However, when we ask Him to help us make our choices, we accumulate strength and become shining examples to others. “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31) When God is for us- and thankfully for us, he always is- then we “become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which [we] shine like stars in the universe as [we] hold out the word of life…” (Philippians 2:15-16)

Let us do this together, and see what God has in store for us!

Stop This Train

2009-12-21T21:29:00.000-08:00

“Stop This Train”
Time, one of the only constants in our lives, never seems to work exactly how we want it to. It’s often either too fast or too slow; those in-between moments seem to be the most remembered because they are “just right.”
I walked into AP US History one day, laughing with a close friend, and sat down. Our teacher greeted us and then talked about our homework. Then she stopped, looked around, and allowed a slight smile to creep onto her face. She seemed almost incredulous as she said, “Class, we have seven weeks left of the semester.”
I stopped, drew in a breath. Had I heard her correctly? This is why you need to get more sleep, I said to myself. You’re going crazy.
The rest of the class seemed to have the same reaction as I, in varying intensities. Ms. D nodded, and that same incredulous smile became a proud one.
It’s easy to become concerned when one is given a quantity of something. Seven weeks, forty-nine days total (respectively), thirty-five school days (approximately), 1,176 total hours (roughly). Then another semester, which could move even faster than the last one…summer will follow this, and we all know that summer usually speeds by. And after summer, what happens? We’ll join the ranks of high school students once more (minus a beloved friend, who will have graduated).
“Seems like nothing is black and white anymore/ Shades of grey and I feel a weight over my shoulder/ It’s kind of tough getting older…” (Colbie Caillat)
“Stop this train/ I want to get off and go home again/ I can’t take the speed it’s going in/ I know I can’t/ But honestly, won’t someone stop this train?” (John Mayer)**
“We must use time as a tool, not as a crutch.” (John F. Kennedy)
Needless to say, I felt the full shock of her statement (and perhaps more of a shock than was intended, since I am inclined to sentimentality). To me, the speed at which my life’s train was moving seemed dangerously akin to light speed. And as I know from watching Star Wars IV and V (for the first time) last weekend, there’s no turning back after one reaches light speed.
Time is the problem in this situation. I feel as though I do not have enough of it anymore. (On a quick side note, this is amusing to me because for the first sixteen-or so-years of my life, I was constantly anxious to “get older”).
So what is the solution? As of right now, when this realization is still fresh in my mind, I have determined to make the most of my time left at home, for I know “there is a time for everything” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). No matter how much I want to “stop this train” and freeze time, it will still go at the same speed. I can’t change that, so I need to accept it. (Those of you who know me well must be laughing right now, because you know that I have a difficult time accepting the fact that some things cannot be changed).
“Had a talk with my old man/ Said, ‘help me understand’/ He said ‘turn sixty-eight, you renegotiate/ don’t stop this train/ don’t for a minute change the place you’re in/ and don’t think I couldn’t ever understand…I’ve tried my hand….honestly, we’ll never stop this train.’”
I listened to this (and read the lyrics) and thought that it was something my own dad would say. It’s good advice, however formidable. Plus, the future is still something to look forward to. Just because I don’t want to leave the comfort of the present does not necessarily mean that the future will be awful. “Jesus looked at them and said, 'With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26), and I know he is right. John F. Kennedy (quoted above) is also right: we need to use time as an opportunity.
Remind yourself with me: this train of life is moving at this speed for a reason. God has wonderful things planned for us, each at its appointed time, even though we do not always like that or understand it.
“’Cause now I see, I’ll never stop this train…” (John Mayer)
** I selected this song as the frame of this blog post because it really resonated with me. I do not know what John Mayer is like (what his beliefs are), and I have heard a lot of mixed answers to this question. So here’s my disclaimer: I like the song, and am not familiar enough with the singer to make a decision on that front. Thank you in advance to my readers for understanding this. Here’s the link to the song if you want to listen to it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5BTzNX5OMN4
- Jessica S.

Dad's Theory of "The Human Condition"

2009-10-22T16:20:00.000-07:00

Reading in Ecclesiastes last night, I came across a verse in chapter five that reminded me of something my dad has often referred to as “the human condition.” He likes to tell me that the suffering, happiness, sadness, joy, etc that all humans have to endure is part of this human condition, this cycle of life that all of humanity observes in some concentration.

“Then I realized,” writes Solomon in verse eighteen, “that it is good and proper for a man to eat and drink, and to find satisfaction in his toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given him- for this is his lot.” I read this and thought of Dad’s theory.

“Why do things happen the way they do, dad?”

“Well dolly, it’s just the raw human condition. We’ve all got our lot, and we need to do what we can to make the best of it.”

An answer like that usually confuses a child, subdues a middle school student, and causes reflection in a teenager. I’ve been reflecting more upon it lately.

Dad’s answer aligns with a poem that I adore by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; it is called “A Psalm of Life.” One stanza reads “Not enjoyment, and not sorrow/ Is our destined end or way; / But to act, that each tomorrow/ Find us farther than to-day.” I always think of dad when I read this. To me, Longfellow wants us to realize that life is not the same unless it possesses emotion, whether good, bad, or somewhere in between.

Another example that comes to mind is Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley, which I read for Language Arts last year. Although I did not enjoy the book very much, I thought it very effective for this reason. In the novel, the inhabitants of earth do not know what love is. They confuse romantic love with lust, and the notion of a loving family horrifies them. Thus, one of Huxley’s major arguments is that feelings and emotions (in any form) are necessary to a meaningful life.

Of course, Jane Austen has something wise to say upon this subject, and she even takes it a little further. She writes in Mansfield Park that "there will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere." Austen does not only state dad's theory of the human condition, but also declares that we can overcome the "little rubs and disappointments" that it encompasses.

Longfellow’s poem “The Rainy Day” drives this point home. The last stanza says “Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; / Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; / Thy fate is the common fate of all, / Into each life some rain must fall, / Some days must be dark and dreary.”
And so, as one may conclude, this truth is simple. We should all believe it and apply it to our lives. So why do we refuse to do this? Helen Keller knows the answer. She once said that “people do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant.”

And she is correct. The conclusion is that our highs and lows, joys and woes are usually not revolutionary in the grand scheme of things. We are not alone in our suffering, and neither are we solitary in our happiness. All of humanity experiences these things; as dad would say, it is the human condition.

I’m not going to pretend that I like seeing the world this way, because truthfully, it forces me to put life in perspective. When I know that my problems are not as huge as I’d thought they were, I can no longer declare that my suffering is the worst, that I am the only victim. As humans, we like to be the victims because it frees us from blame (at least temporarily). So although I’ve learned this lesson from my dad, and I know it is valuable and true, I won’t always want to apply it to my life. I’m not asking anybody else to do so either. Perhaps together we can take baby steps, accepting that what we must endure (whether pleasant or unpleasant) is what we’re meant to endure, and that it defines us as humans. My hope is that we help each other in this acceptance, so that “each tomorrow fined us farther than to-day.”

Thank you Dad, for helping me grow even when I don’t necessarily want to.

A thought for my readers: what lessons do people or situations teach you?

Angels

2009-09-12T12:28:00.000-07:00

One of my earliest memories of youth group is hearing our youth minister tell us in no uncertain terms that “when you become a Christian, life doesn’t automatically become easier.” In fact, he used to say with conviction, it often gets harder.
I always used to wonder, “but isn’t that obvious, since life in and of itself is usually hard?”
Now, as I grow older, I realize that what he said was very true. When I became a Christian, my life changed. I had new responsibilities to myself, I had to make more time for reading my Bible and praying regularly. I felt (although this may not be true) like I had a higher moral code to live up to.
And yet, slowly I began seeing how all of my worries, fears, and stress dissolved when I thrust them upon God; the limitless help God offers became known to me, at least partially.
I saw my life through different eyes. Situations turning out for the better, after all of my anxiety about them…were my prayers and the prayers of others able to be so effective? People coming into my life at a time when (although I did not know this) I needed them most. Similarly, people leaving my life at what seemed like the wrong time, and then my later understanding that I had done all I could for them.
When I was a child, sleep evaded me. I hated it and tried every measure I could think of to push it from my life. Why would I want to sleep? What if I missed something important? I also frequently experienced terrible nightmares, so when I was young I was afraid to sleep.
To relax me and coax me into sleeping, my mom would tell me that God sent angels to watch over me each night, and they took turns making sure I was safe. She elaborated about how they looked, talked, everything; then when my dad came in to tuck me in, he and I would say a prayer for all of the “angels” in my life.
I’ve always found it amusing to wonder if some of the people in my life are angels sent to help me through. As I write this, I see how incredibly egotistical I sound, but readers please, bear with me a little longer.
Perhaps it’s just the wonder of God working in my life through people that instilled this notion in my head. Maybe I just like to play Author and give specific purposes to all of the characters in the story of my life. But I have to wonder if those that have helped me the most are really just human beings, like everybody else, or if they are something more.
Life has become hard recently. I thank God that I forwent trying to keep my problems to myself; I immediately told my closest friends and asked them to pray. I utilized every medium possible for this task- phone, Faceboook, texting, and actual face-to-face conversation. The latter has helped me the most. I recently told a few friends about my problem, and as I was standing on the sidewalk, listening to their encouragement and insight, tears discovered that they could flow through my eyes quite easily. These, and all of the others who helped me so far, were my angels. I took notice of how they looked, talked, everything; for a moment, they were there just for me, and I knew that this feeling of complete comfort and safety would not pass. The lyrics of “Lean on Me” rang in my mind, and I felt the burdens of life melt from my shoulders.
Days later, when I am beyond the emotional overflow that I experienced that night, I look back and see how completely God’s presence was in that situation. The Lord had (has) done great things for me, and I am filled with joy. Third Day writes accurately that “I caught a glimpse of Your splendor/ In the corner of my eye/ The most beautiful thing I've ever seen/ And it was like a flash of lightning/ Reflected off the sky/ And I know I'll never be the same…”
Whether they really are angels, or simply wonderful human beings, I do not know. Perhaps Helen Keller is right, saying that “when we do the best that we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or in the life of another.” A close friend once told me that “life isn’t for the faint of heart,” and I know this to be true. But I would also add that life isn’t meant to be endured alone. We need God, and we need those He sends to help us. Life may not become easier when one becomes a Christian, but I know that it opens doors that were otherwise impossible to breach.
And so this is my prayer for the angels in my life: that they realize how important they are in my life, and in the lives of others; that they never lose sight of God and the comfort he provides; and finally, that they ask for help when they need it, so they can experience the feeling of blessed relief that I have.

The Electronic Age of Deprivation

2009-07-31T11:24:00.000-07:00

As I am to leave later this afternoon for California I thought I’d write a blog post before my return, which will inevitably bring last-minute distractions such as homework, meetings, and preparations for school. Time is more fleeting than ever it seems, especially as the summer comes to a close. But that is another subject for another post.

The death of letter-writing as a major form of communication has been sorrowful for me ever since I began watching its decline as a little girl. My grandmother and I have been writing letters to each other for as long as I can remember. She always picked a blank card with pretty designs, or a nice piece of stationary to write upon. Her distinctly twentieth-century script was a puzzle for me, fascinating in and of itself; I put conscious effort towards focusing on the sentences, because I was unused to seeing any style except print, and they were sometimes difficult to decipher. Anything and everything could be discussed in a letter, and I spent hours deliberating over what I would say. I had to afford her as much clarity as I could, because with letters one cannot ask for explanation except in the next letter. She took to sending me newspaper clippings of stories or advertisements that she thought I might enjoy reading; perhaps this contributes to my love of newspapers/magazines, etc,. Saving her letters and reading them over again is definitely one of the largest reasons why I mourn the quick dissolution of letter-writing. Why not take these treasures out again on a rainy day, when a bright bit of sunshine is imperative to getting through the storm?

I woke up at five o’clock this morning to go out to breakfast with my mom and brother, since this is the last time I will see my mom for about a week. For whatever reason I could not go back to sleep once I returned, so I loaded in the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice in the DVD player. To those of you who haven’t seen it or read the book, you should! And also, I promise I will not spoil things for you. All I mean to accomplish by this seemingly irrelevant side note is to remark that in that era, writing letters was more than a form of communication. It was our Facebook, Myspace, and Twitter. It was the only chance to record one’s feelings down on paper, on something palpable that could be passed around or announced to family and friends. Letters could convey deep sentiments to a close companion, or confuse others with vague statements and clever word choice. Of course they had their cons; information was not received immediately, which made emergencies far more anxiety-ridden. Shortages of paper, ink, or time could also pose some challenges for the writer. But in my mind, the benefits of these letters were far more important than the implications of them. As with my grandmother’s letters, they were a surprise to read. Unlike emails or texts, each one could be different and special.

It is entirely possible, given the hour of my rising this morning, that I am run away with my sentiments about letters. I’m not afraid to admit this to my readers, but I do believe that my case is valid. Call letter-writing an art form, a diverse and interesting form of communication, or a valued element of history. Whatever name it goes by, I hope this practice is at least partially revived, so my children can experience this same wonder throughout their lives.

Fantasy That Held My Attention

2009-07-04T22:27:00.000-07:00

As a rule, I have distanced myself from the fantasy genre, mostly because I have not read very many fantasy books that caught (and held) my interest. The plots seemed to all run together; no longer could I distinguish the books as individuals. Also, the epic heroes/heroines seemed far from characters that I could relate to and “root for.” While usually well-written and intelligent, I opted instead for classic fiction, where I could be assured diversity.
So, when recommended that I read The Diamond Throne by David Eddings, I had my doubts about whether it would be worth my time. I had similar feelings about the first book of the Twilight series, by Stephanie Meyer, which was recommended to me as well.

Why did they hold my attention?

However, both of these disproved my reservations about fantasy books. They shared, I discovered, four distinct elements that other fantasy books lacked: suspense, likeable characters, frequent and major plot changes, and frequent changes of setting.

Suspense is crucial to many stories, and especially to those in the fantasy genre. It helps set the tone and mood, so that the reader can vividly feel the tension that the characters are experiencing. In The Diamond Throne, Eddings uses suspense very often, and the pace of the novel rapidly increases as the story continues. Similarly, in Meyer’s novel, suspense creates a haunting feel, as though the situations will be disrupted at any moment. Both of these help the reader feel as though a sense of extreme imminence exists.

In my experience, classic fiction novels (such as those of Austen, Dickens, and Forster) largely rely upon likeable characters. The protagonists of these antique treasures stay with the reader long after the last page has been absorbed, because they are relatable. The reader has compassion upon them, and wants them to succeed in everything. Sometimes, these characters feel like actual people, and a sort of friendship begins between the reader and the character. The fantasy genre has led me to many characters that are too perfect; perhaps I simply have bad luck in selecting books in this genre, but either way, I am left unsatisfied. In both Eddings’ and Meyer’s books, though, I met characters who I have come to care very much about. Whether I am worried over the welfare of Sparhawk and Sephrenia, or I share deep sympathy for Bella Swan, the characters seem like real people with real flaws. I berate them for their mistakes and I rejoice in their triumphs. I can easily see their personalities staying in my mind for years to come.

Nobody who knows me well can misunderstand me when I state that Jane Austen in my favorite author. However, I have noticed that her novels lack the constant plot changes that fantasy books offer. As opposed to lengthy, deep intellectual commentary (common in Austen’s novels), fantasy books regularly introduce major plot changes that keep the story moving. I have heard fantasy dubbed “light reading” because it is mostly devoid of the themes/assertions that make books weigh heavily upon the mind. Instead of dwelling upon a few cumulative circumstances, these books are always initiating new developments; instead of trying to prove a larger truth, they are telling a tale. In both The Diamond Throne and Twilight, swift plot change is normal. Therefore, the reader seldom finds his or her self wishing that some parts are omitted; in this case, the books can even end too suddenly.

Classic fiction can be known for its detailed descriptions of setting. In fantasy books, however, setting change is also quite frequent. I believe that this compensates for the lack of commentary; it varies the content of the book. Since fantasy is usually composed of dialogue and plot development, the setting descriptions (though they may be brief) offer a contrast for the reader. When reading about a new setting the reader can take a break from the circumstances and happenings in the characters lives, and simply breathe. Thus the contrast is a welcome one.

I think these four central elements contributed to my overall pleasure in reading The Diamond Throne and Twilight. Without them, they would be like the other fantasy novels I’ve read: dull and predictable.
While these books were not perfect, I definitely enjoyed them and believe they were worth my time. I found myself upset when they ended, because they each belong to a series, and I didn’t have the next book readily available for either. For other bibliophiles like myself, who especially enjoy classic literature, I would recommend trying a fantasy book or two. The chances are high that they will surpass your expectations.

Five Reasons Readers Love Francie Nolan

2009-06-01T15:34:00.000-07:00

Francie Nolan, the child protagonist of Betty Smith’s classic, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, has been beloved by readers since the novel debuted in 1943.
For over sixty years, this “imaginative, alert, resourceful child” has captured the hearts of every person who gets to know her. I finished Book One of the novel, and I have easily found five concrete reasons to adore this admirable heroine.
1. She is an avid reader, and a proud bibliophile. Francie anticipates Saturdays for many reasons, especially since on that day she checks out two books from the local library. “The library was an old shabby place," Smith writes, but “Francie thought it was beautiful” (20). Smith explains that Francie thinks the library contains every book ever written, and Francie intends to read every book the library can offer her. As any serious reader would do, Francie begins her literary quest at the A’s, and works her way down from there. The journey is long, and “she had to admit that some of the B’s had been hard going. But Francie was a reader” (20), and she would not be stopped. Such commitment to and love of reading is exceptional in one so young.
2. She is an obedient daughter and a generally complaisant person. Personally, I am amazed that Francie is so agreeable when I look at her childhood in poverty-stricken Brooklyn. Francie always obeys her mother, working hard to please others. Her father, Johnny Nolan, is introduced to the reader in Book One. Smith says that “his children did not know that they were supposed to be ashamed of him” (32), but that Francie adores her father. As he catches a trolley to go to a job, instances which are few and far between for the alchoholic Johnny Nolan, Francie thinks that “no man had ever looked so gallant as her father” (36). Reason tells us that she has evidence enough to question her father’s behavior. But she doesn’t think of him any differently; instead, this respectful child loves her father unconditionally.
3. She has the ability to bear annoying situations/people. On Saturday, the subject of most of Book One’s chapters, Francie must complete many errands for her mother, and these try her patience. For example, in chapter one, her mother sends her to get the week’s bread from Losher’s. There, she observes a poor elderly man, and panics when she realizes that one day she will be old too. Smith details Francie’s childish fear of growing old, but the reader sympathizes with the poor girl nonetheless. She also has to deal with being teased by hypocritical boys in the morning, fighting over bread with another girl at Losher's, being cursed at by one butcher, and having to withstand the horrible puns of another butcher.
4. She is determined to be content. Francie is a dreamer, like her father, and she has goals that she wants to reach. But she also finds ways to make herself content, even when everything seems to be coming apart. She has a routine for reading, which makes her happy; she reads one book per day, and treats herself to two on Saturday. When “nothing tasted good” to Francie, “that was big pickle time” (43). On those days, she takes a penny to buy a pickle, which she doesn’t actually eat. Instead, Francie just enjoys the juice and nibbles on it. She realizes how valuable time with her family is, and loves listening to her parents’ voices at night. Francie’s determination to live a contented life symbolizes the Tree of Heaven that Smith describes in the first chapter: “no matter where its seed fell, it made a tree which struggled to reach the sky…the Tree of Heaven flourished” (3,4).
5. She has a sense of humor. Whether unconsciously or not, Francie’s sense of humor manifests itself in her thoughts and words. A product of the stereotypical Brooklyn childhood, Francie has familiar notions about others that she regards as legitimate aphorisms. She thinks about the differences between her neighbor, Flossie, and her Aunt Sissy in regards to men: “the difference was that Flossie Gladis was starved about men and Sissy was healthily hungry about them. And what a difference that made” (28). Through Francie’s visits to see Flossie’s dancing costumes, Smith shows a comical truth, that “poor people have a great passion for huge quantities of things” (39). Francie remembers her thoughts about old age (see reason number three), and regards the poor, old man at Losher's as having “obscene feet” (41). Her ways of thinking make readers laugh, and they are cleverly mixed with Smith’s penetrating realities about life in early twentieth-century Brooklyn.

Dissatisfaction with Where Angels Fear to Tread

2009-05-25T21:56:00.000-07:00

I hate to give a book an unsatisfactory rating, but after reading Where Angels Fear to Tread I have concluded that it is not the best of E.M. Forster's works.

As I was reading the first half of the novel, I did not know what to make of the main character, Lilia. She seemed foolish and flightly, impulsive and ignorant. I was not quite able to sympathize with her, because I felt she had brought her unhappy marriage upon herself. I was not angry with her character either; honestly, I didn't really understand why she was a main character at all. Interestingly enough, she died in childbirth before I could really form any solid opinions. This event puzzled me more exceedingly, however; what was Forster's motive behind the new main character, Philip Herriton? Philip was indifferent to the world, it seemed. He didn't take chances, and he always expected to fail because he never tried. Forster suggests that he did this to avoid pain and disappointment, but these conclusions were told to the reader by the character himself; there was little room to infer for oneself. I did like Philip much more than Lilia, because he was a relatable character and I had the pleasure of watching him change and develop throughout the novel.

Still, Philip did not really engage my attention until I read of his interest in Caroline Abbott, whom I believed had great potential as a character. I witnessed Philip's subtle observations of Caroline's character, and hoped that the novel would redeem itself by seeing them married. Perhaps Caroline would change Philip, I thought. Maybe he would become a more likeable, passionate character instead of the uninterested, apathetic man he was so far.

I read of these people's troubles, their thoughts, and their hopes (or at least Philips'). I laughed at the absurdity of Philip's ridiculous, unreasonable sister, Harriet. I hoped that the few touching moments between Philip and Caroline would amount to something, and found myself beginning to expect a happy, tolerable ending.

BAM! Forster surprised me, which is not uncommon of him. I read plenty of surprises in one of his other novels, A Room With A View, and I really enjoyed them. This surprise, however, had not the same effect. Instead of love between the admirable Caroline and the impressively changed Philip, as I had hoped (and expected), I read the last two pages and found that Caroline was in love with somebody else.

The reasons Forster gave for this unlikely attraction are unclear to me. As I am a girl, I know how often we can fall for someone based on appearances, assertions, or other equally silly "reasons." But this was absolutely irksome. Forster had taken the pains of making Philip a character worthy of Caroline, and then decided his reader must be content with the fact that he (Philip) was still not passionate enough to attract her.

Although I think E.M. Forster an excellent writer, his first novel did not satisfy me. I didn't follow many of his conclusions, and those that I understood were explicit rather than implicit. I think Forster could have justified his reasons for the ending, but only if he had explained his motives more completely and provided more background information. My copy is only 117 pages, and I think a good story could have been made if the quantity and (sadly) quality was increased.

So, for those who have read the book: what do you think? Did you feel as if Forster explained himself fully? Of the two novels, (A Room With A View and Where Angels Fear to Tread) which did you like better?

For those who haven't read the book: Why do you think authors fail to explain their motives to the readers? Is it easier to "tell" the reader something than to "show" it to them? Can books still be successes if they rely more on telling than showing?

Frankenstein's Theme of the Consequences of Carelessness and Cruelty

2009-05-21T22:15:00.000-07:00

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein overflows with profound themes that force the reader to second-guess the compassion often attributed to humanity. Indeed, one of the major themes of the novel is the inevitable, often terrible, consequence of carelessness and cruelty.

"Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me." Doctor Frankenstein, about whom the book mostly revolves, believed these thoughts as a young scientist, dreaming of discovering the means of giving inanimate matter life. No thoughts of the doctor's are spent upon the effects of his future success; he sees no possibility of danger or error. The reader wonders: does the doctor ever consider, while he is making the monster, to make it beautiful instead of ugly? Is he so blinded by the prospect of fame that he fails to notice the need for improvement upon a "sight tremendous and abhorred?"
Merriam Webster defines carelessness as "a free from care; untroubled; indifferent; unconcerned; not taking care." It is quite a pity that the doctor was so utterly unconcerned with consequences that he neglected to construct a creature that would be accepted by the human race. Because as much as we would all love to deny it, humanity is generally incredibly vain. Reading Frankenstein has compelled me to believe that vanity is one of humanity's greatest flaws. Hardly do moderately ugly things (or persons) become accepted; imagine how awful it was for the monster to be considered the most detestable, grotesque creature ever shunned by humanity. His heartbreak must have been unbearable. If Dr. Frankenstein had thought beyond his ambitions of fame and recognition to provide for the life he was creating, the novel's central conflict, that of the monster's unparalleled loneliness because of his appearance, would not have existed.
Cruelty follows the creation of the monster almost immediately, and many may assert that the act of creation was cruel as well., since the monster was created without regard to its future happiness. From the monster's narrative, we learn many of the details of his early life. He learns to adore the DeLacey family; yes, the doctor (and the reader) realizes, this creature has the capacity to love. Yet he is met with extreme cruelty, even from these supposed "best" of people. They enter the house and find him gruesome and threatening, rejecting him violently. Here Shelley makes us wonder whether the monster's later vicious crimes (the murders of William, Clerval, and Elizabeth and the framing of Justine) are somewhat understandable. Murder is never the right option, but after the DeLaceys cast him off as detestable scum, one can only imagine that he will be angry. His anger is justified to many readers, although his outlet for this anger (murder) is not.

So my question to the reader (of Frankenstein and of this humble blog post) is this: are these crimes equally terrible? Carelessness created a monster who was hated by those he loved, as well as his creator. Cruelty fueled the monster's anger towards humanity, and perhaps played a part in his impulsive birth.
What do you think? Comments are welcome!

Potential Summer Blog/ My First Post!

2009-05-20T22:45:00.000-07:00

I was geniunely disappointed when I discovered the lack of summer AP English homework. I had looked forward to writing essays, answering questions, and analyzing literature in preparation for the class next year. The homework, however, is limited to reading two books, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and Into the Wild. No summaries, notes, or essays are required. In the wake of this blow, I thought I'd look into creating some type of weekly online blog (hopefully on Facebook, which most of my friends and family use) so that I could practice my writing over the summer. I'm still debating this, as I have a long list of books that I plan on reading, and I want to start studying for the SAT this summer. I also quite enjoy sleeping :-) Since I'm new to "blogging," the question remains in my mind: what exactly is the purpose of a blog?

In pursuit of the answer, I looked up "blog" in the dictionary, and my results are as follows:
n. A weblog.intr.v. blogged, blog·ging, blogs
To write entries in, add material to, or maintain a weblog.[(we)blog.]blog·ger n.

Perhaps it is unusual for a blogger to ask questions of her readers, but in the spirit of individuality I will anyways. Should I start a weekly summer blog?