A Doll's First Thoughts

Researching A Doll's House the night prior to reading has, quite frankly, messed with my interpretation a bit. I feel I'm constantly searching for what makes this play so controversial and feminist--or perhaps I'm just a bad controversial feminist.

The play itself is enjoyable thus far, save for having to hear Will and Rachel refer to each other in sickly sweet pet names. Nora (played by Rachel, if you didn't catch that part) alone is an interesting character--intelligent then careless, determined then flighty. Her flirtations are interesting, albeit annoying, but they're integral to the plot, I'm sure.

It keeps reminding me of Clue, the board game/movie. I consistently expect a murder followed by Mrs. Linde's accusations, Mr. Krogstad's blackmail threats, and Nora's romantic plays of heroism (when, of course, we all know the maid did it). I know logically that is unlikely to happen, but it would offer a fun twist.

At this point, I like the book, and we're just far enough into the story where I'm sure it's about to become even more interesting...

East of Excitement

I have mixed emotions about East of Eden thus far. I enjoyed the detailed imagery of the first chapter everyone seems to loathe and the sincere sentiment in the opening letter. I'm a sap for heartfelt anecdotes, so I really appreciated the box story. Also, I believe many people fear losing their memories, so Steinbeck's mention of characters forgetting both good times and bad struck home in my mind.

However, I am not enthralled quite yet. The hype intrigues me, but this isn't a gripping introduction. There are several elements of the writing I have particularly liked, but I wish I had some sense of plot.

I'm sure it's not five hundred pages worth of flowers, though. I'll be patient.

Final thoughts

I'm braindead. I believe I've mentioned the fact that I've been short on time at least four times in the past two hours, and that's stupid. You don't care; you care that you're short on time and that you're wasting time repeating how you have no time, and how that's stupid, too.

Have a good vacation, enjoy your free time. Students, try not to stress over applications and school and time. Teacher, try not to stress over grading and supervisors and time. Anyone else, try to find something better to do than read a random classroom blog.

I feel this has nothing to do with English, but it has every reason to be discussed. I have completed the last first semester of high school, and already I can't count the number of times my mother has cried. Yes, time is short, but it's also gone. Lots of it. So, might as well make the best of what we have left.

Let the break begin.

quick rant

Throughout high school, I set my sights on Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I was going to be a great engineer and do great, incredible things. I was told time and time again I wouldn't make it. My own best friend shirked any mention of MIT to hide her obvious doubt in my capabilities. Aptitude tests pushed me towards customer service and international business, telling me I didn't have the mind of a mathematician. I was determined to prove them wrong.

Thursday, my early application was deferred to regular admissions. Basically, I wasn't good enough this round.

What is so upsetting was my contentment; I told all who asked I would be pushed back. There was no burning fire of rage and anger; inside, the voices of disbelief and pessimism whispered cooly, "You knew this was coming. Why get ruffled up about it?"


Hey, Doubt: shut up. If MIT doesn't want me, fine. I don't need MIT, but, more than anything, I don't need you.

book bindings and heartstrings

I miss reading. Even though it hasn't been a long separation, I yearn for the company of a good book, one that will sweep me away to a distant life. I wish I read quicker so I may experience everything; I wish I had an uncanny talent for selecting good books so I may at least experience the best of everything.

I wonder what a person's favorite book says about their character. If you like daring heroes, are you brave, relishing the valiant qualities you hold so dearly, or are you cowardly, clinging to stories in order to fill what you lack? If you favor fantasy, is your imagination blossoming or fed by the mind of another?

Soon, I might scavenge the family bookshelves to find a work I've not yet read. Maybe I'll discover something new in myself, something exciting and wonderful!
Or maybe I'll just enjoy a good story.

Author/Character Connection

My favorite essay I've ever written was about a homeless girl who uses sexuality as her redemption. Even though I was on a time crunch, I had fun stepping into a completely separate personality. The narrator is a young partier who uses sex and sarcasm as means of escaping homelessness and desparity. The author is an upper middle-class virgin nerd who has no fear of ever falling into such an unfortunate state. The best part was how easy it felt to slip into character.

When approached with the prompt, I was excited and clueless; how was I supposed to have any idea how to write from the point of view of a homeless person? I considered many options: suicide, generational poverty, begging. No, that wasn't what I was looking for. After a weekend of contemplation, I settled on a character unlike any I'd ever heard of but something that seemed so logical: a young woman, too proud and stupid to call home, who uses her femininity to her greatest advantage. Now, I'm far from that girl, but her vulnerability was universal, showing the subtle connections all humans have in common if we took the time to dig for it.

People always say write what you know--it's more authentic. I say write what you don't--it shows the authenticity you wouldn't expect.

Facebook envy

I wish I was Facebook.

Everyone would skip class to come hang out with me.
Everyone would tell me their problems,
and it's only official if it comes through me.
My games wouldn't have to be fun;
people would still want to play anyway.
I would always be invited to the coolest events.
I'd have an ongoing stream of photo memories, never to be forgotten.
You're only cool if you're my friend;
you're even cooler if you snuck behind your parents back to do so.
You're bound to like me sooner or later,
and we'd always have lots of common interests.
I'd know every language,
and I'd travel the world on a daily basis.
I could change time zones to fit my need,
and I could endorse whatever I wanted.

If I was Facebook,
this would be a note, not a blog.