the translation.

for all of you math buffs, no, it is not the sliding of something around in a plane keeping orientation the same and all. (bad joke, sorry.)

i really liked this story, surprisingly. the opening was a little weird and it took me a bit to follow and understand it, but i ultimately got it. which is really good. i don't think i've done enough analysis of the short while i read it to say anything about  joyce carol oates's personal style, but i think i agree with what she's saying--the fact that if we go to a foreign country with a translator, the translator becomes one of our senses. depending on who our translator is, we will have a good or bad experience, as shown by oliver's story.

the translation is a short story about a middle-aged man named oliver who goes to russia. i'm thinking that this takes place during the time period where russia is still the ussr because there's some underlying tension between oliver and the setting (though not exactly man versus nature...) as he seems amazed that people can be living so well behind the iron curtain. (this comes with the disclaimer from before, i don't know if this is soviet russia. actually, JK he said it was central europe. so somewhere in the ussr but not soviet russia.) oliver is first taken through the city by his first translator, liebert. liebert becomes oliver's mouthpiece and also his method of perceiving other people through their questions and the dialogue that happens between the oliver and his surroundings. oliver eventually meets a woman named alisa who he thinks he falls in love with. however, once oliver's translator is switched, the magic of the city vanishes, and everything (including alisa) is drab, uninteresting, hypocritical, and all sorts of other Things Made of Bad. now, for the analysis. that's the hard part. :(

ze swimmer. ;)

to all of you who know my secrets, this one was a fun one. well... at least the title was, hahahaha. :) (you know who you are~)

i liked this story. even though ned was kinduva delusional person who crashed random people's yards to swim in their pools (i'm in your yard, swimmin' in yo' pool). also, crash their parties. i really liked how cheever didn't just give us all there was to know about ned as the story opened--the reader gradually learns more and more about the character until we can finally figure out what happened in the end. that's why i love stories! they're like mysteries and i love mysteries so much. maybe that's why i like psych and bones question mark? the ending was kinda sad too. also, i was questioning reality the more that i learned about ned OHNOINCEPTIONATTACKAHHHHHHHH and yeah. zat is all.

silver water, and communism.

so far, as of this moment (11:00 pm), i have only read silver water. i loved it. maybe because i love stories about the crazies, or maybe because i am one myself question mark.

agh2o (see what i did there? i'm definitely a dork.):
i'm not sure i really got why rose went crazy slash how she was crazy. she just seemed to not have any limitations on what she said slash did, thereby making her crazy only to society. also, bloom uses amazing metaphors, like the gold and silver voices, etc. i really super liked it! now, to address pov. 1st person. i'm not sure what else i'm supposed to say about pov... really. also, time passage on 78 is really really All Sorts of Wonderful. "watched the stars fade... and when they were invisible" and i was like oh my goodness, i wish i could write this goodly (that's not a word).

now, for communism. jay kay, communist.
(can't think of anything witty):
umm... what a weird story. i didn't like it. told from 1st person again, don't know what to do with that.

reflections on girl. why is there no boy? muse:human

so, girl. (SO, GURRRRRRRL.)
no, but this was an interesting story. it was from a "teacher" point of view, telling a girl how to be a girl. kinda. which was just hilarious to read because kincaid was constantly like "don't be a slut like i know you wanna be" and i'm just over here laughing my head off. 'scuse me, i'm a boy. write a story for me please? :) in other words, i liked this one.

muse:
as i stare at his retreating figure, i finally feel some trace of regret. but not much, just a sliver. the wind blows my hair, and some strands flow across my eyes. i hate it when that happens. he's finally out of sight, but i think i can still see him from my vantage point up here on this beautiful hill. this beautiful hill that i'm going to hate for the rest of my life, simply because every time i come here, it'll remind me of what happened here. who knows, later, it might make me cry or smile, but for now it makes me angry. and sad. and all sorts of other emotions, but that's for another time. but... to risk my heart and put it on the line. that's not being stupid is it? isn't it just the same as just living, just being human?

musica, and oh my goodness. oh, and how to become a writer and also a bit of you're ugly, too.

so addressing oh em gee first:
i stayed away from the blog the entire weekend! well... more like since friday. which is easily explainable really... i had internship and then got home, ate dinner, and then went to youth group. and then saturday i... actually did a whole lot of nothing and maybe some chem (and by some, i mean like none at all, for those who are super curious) but yeah. and then today, i went to work, got home and then cleaned my room for my new desk (yay! now while i don't have a new computer, it sure as heck seems like i have a new one.) and then finally started on my homework... blog, whatever. i should do hw. really.

musicas. yes. mui importante. (that's about the extent of my spanish knowledge, don't get your hopes up.) brooke fraser has a new single (well... relatively new) called "something in the water." it's really country-esque and i'm kinda addicted to it (diane can testify to this) and then taylor swift's album is coming out this month and it's just All Sorts of Awesome. really.

how to become a writer was just All Sorts of Hilarious and it was great. lorrie moore has just an amazing style and i love it because it's hilarious in a snarky way, and she's just really really great. and then you're ugly, too has some great lines. i think i texted them to kayla, and they were just really great non-sequiturs... as follows:

• i swear, if this fucking xerox machine breaks on me one more time, i'm going to slit my wrists.
• a painting like that, it just makes you shit. 

and yeah. :) i haven't finished reading it yet, so no spoilers plx. okay. i shall go study for psych now. D:

a temporary matter (of life and death?)

wow.
that's all i have to say about this story. (in case you can't hear my tone of voice through the typed characters, i like this story.)
lahiri is so talented at crafting settings, it's a little ridiculous. now i couldn't picture the characters, but that's not the focus of the story. until baltimore was mentioned, i pictured shukumar and shoba living somewhere in new york city, in more of the suburb-ish areas in a house just like the one from the stuart little movie. i could picture it all, and it was thanks to all the tiny details and nuances of setting that lahiri chose to include. it was pretty freaking amazing.

also, lahiri did a really good job at describing her characters--the way shoba sleeps, the way that shukumar knows how his wife looks like even in the dark... it was done extremely well. i'm thinking that one of the reasons why i liked all these details so much is because that's what i want in a significant other (which makes perfect sense)--i want someone who can tell how i'm feeling not by what i say but by my eyes, i want someone who just knows me inside and out (don't go places with that comment).

the darkness in the story was used so well to just show secrecy... and even when the lights went back on, shukumar and shoba still felt the need to confide to each other their final secrets in the dark. and i guess sometimes we need that separation, whether it's over the internet, through the phone, or just sitting together in the dark.

reflections on jealous husband the parrot, and muse:fallen

so. this is also another one of my favorite stories that we've read so far! mainly because i could imagine the bird doing all of these things, and it brings back bittersweet memories.

butler did an amazing job of putting things into the bird's point of view--and now it makes me want to write a story from the point of view of a pet. it'd be really interesting to do, as well as just plain fun.

favorite lines:

• "i flap my wings and i squawk and i fluff up and i slick down and i throw seed and i attack that dangly toy as if it was the guy's balls, but it does no good." (i can just picture a parrot doing this. and while we would think that the parrot was only restless and wanting to play, this gives insight on what might've been going on in the animal's mind. it's quite funny, actually. the throwing seed part made me laugh because i remember one time we tried to feed my bird lettuce. he kicked it.)
• "even though i know there is something between me and that place where i can be free of all these feelings, i will fly. i will throw myself again and again there. pretty bird. bad bird. good night." (this was my favorite but not in like a happy way or anything! it just made me heartbroken that the narrator could do nothing really to express his love for his wife. additionally, i can relate to this because sometimes life just hurts too much and i just want things to just go away so i can live in peace. or die in peace. whichever one, really.)

muse:

he had decided that morning that everything he did would be to impress her, the girl of his dreams. he could explain math problems to her, share insight in english class, the list went on and on. and last of all, before she left, she would see him getting into his car and drive away like the cool, mature person that he was. 

he didn't expect it to all backfire. the insight-she had seen it already. she didn't even pay attention when he opened his mouth, letting loose the new knowledge that he thought was so revolutionary. but it didn't stop there. math problems-he couldn't even begin to explain them. he knew the concept, but he didn't really know it. so when questions arose for her, all he could do was blink in frustration at feeling so helpless. after school had brought about even more failures-he couldn't even catch her eye, summon the courage to talk, walk the same direction as her, look in her direction without feeling failure. and as he swung the car door shut in the parking lot, he didn't see her waiting on the sidewalk as she usually did. he slumped in his seat. his hopes were dashed, he was crestfallen. but tomorrow was another day, another try, another time to just build up that courage to talk to her. just to fix things up.

brownies, cookies, and muse:tgif

so.
i must say that this story has been my favorite so far. in a few words: they're ridiculous little kids, allowed to pass the harshest of judgments while suffering almost nothing. i think that was probably one of the points that drew me in to this story. it was the story of the stereotypical gang of girls. there were the leaders (arnetta and octavia), the reject (janice), the quiet one (daphne), the goodie-two-shoes (laurel, or snot). it was just so hilarious to read this story and just picture this group of small, rowdy girls thinking i'm gonna beat them up! and it just made me laugh a bunch.
favorite lines:

• "...looking all around them like tourists determined to be dazzled." ("dazzle" is just a hilarious word to me simply because stephmeyer has made it so.)
• "...and often these belts would become nature lessons in and of themselves. 'see... this one's made entirely from the feathers of baby pigeons.'" (great only because i thought she was trying to be hippie-like... but then realized that she wasn't. what kind of hippie would wear a belt made of baby pigeons?!)
• "...all we ever do with Nature is find some twigs and say something like, 'wow, this fell from a tree.'" (this just sounds so little kid! i love it! i can also just picture her saying this. i'm pretty sure i'd be that snarky.)
• "...and octavia would hotly whisper, 'mama,' in a way that meant: please don't talk about our problems in front of everyone please shut up." (why are they so snarky? why do i love them so much?!)
• "...but everyone except me hated the song so much that they sang it like a maudlin record..." (don't even know what a maudlin record is, but knowing how kids can sing unenthusiastically, this is just hilarious.)
• "'i'll brush my teeth two times if i don't have to sing 'the doughnut-'" (it just shows how much they don't want to sing it! oh little kids. you are so hilarious, snarky, and just overall hilarious. why can't you be like that in real life.)

and now a muse. :) inspired by last friday night (tgif) by katy perry. don't worry, it's not trashy. really.

muse:

it had been the wildest party in the history of wild parties. they had pulled up, loud and rowdy in front of a friend's house, ready for loud music, dancing, all sorts of teenage happenings. they weren't disappointed. some flailed their arms wildly, others danced like their lives depended on it. the world was them, and nothing but them. moving as a collective group, they had danced their hearts out into the early hours of the morning. then, they had run to the park just to relish the freedom of the open air, the softness of the grass beneath their feet, the silvery touch of the moonlight, the splash of water. and as the frenzy faded, they found themselves laying beneath the stars, watching as an occasional cloud would block out the beautiful mess of sparkling sugar sprinkled all across the heavens. it was friday, the end of the week, the end of another day, the start of the weekend, the start of something new. homework was a distant obstacle to be faced sunday night. it was friday, it was friends, it was. tgif.

reflections on nilda, and muse:up against

nilda was a very interesting story. it was a rather interesting perspective of the author's brother's past relationship with the title character. juniot diaz has such a unique style. he insists on not using quotation marks, period, and he keeps the full sense of his coarse childhood intact. which, while i was trying not to cringe at the overly used obscenities every other second word, just drew me in and made the story that much truer. i really think that if diaz had censored all of that out, it wouldn't have been truth to him--and then would have been less of a story for the reader. life is uncensored, so why shouldn't writing, right?

additionally, diaz's memory seems a bit abridged. it's implied that his brother passes away, but it's never explicitly said. which leaves some holes for the reader, and i personally was wondering what happened to all the characters.

now, stepping out of those shoes, time for real life. kinda.
it seems that a year's worth of drama has been squeezed into the first two weeks of school, culminating in a fight that ended in angry words and tears. i was quick to respond, and was surprised that nobody else did. okay, i agree that we shouldn't get involved too heavily in people's problems, but if someone is crying is it too much to ask to comfort them?

muse:
it had been relatively silent, before. just a few laughs breaking the quiet of the library. but tensions began to rise, and everyone could feel it in the air. the giggles began to spread further apart, the quiet began to take over, and voices began to grow louder and louder, arguing about the proper role of leaders and who should take what role, culminating in a tearful exclamation.

he had noticed and jumped down from his perch on a bookshelf to comfort her. that seemed his job, to make people laugh, and to pick up broken pieces. he seemed to have the infinite caring capacity that every mother hen envied, as he raced towards his friend. he took her in his arms, creating a shelter. angry words continued to fly, and he tried to take the shots for her. anything to keep her safe, to keep her fragility from showing. suddenly, he became aware of the overwhelming silence along with the stunning amount of indifference from the bystanders. some sat huddled in a corner, others sat at their computers staring blankly at the screens. she cried out again, her voice breaking. the arguers stopped, looking at her. the boy's face betrayed a sliver of something, and he instantly gave in to her wishes. the girl, angrier, stared coldly at her opponent before shrugging off the burden. he murmured reassurances, and withdrew his arms. she looked up, quietly thanking him. and just like that, as he turned around, order was restored. the strangling quality of the air was gone, replaced by something lighter. but as he walked away, he felt that same choke-hold on his heart. he stopped in his tracks and collapsed.

a&p... how 'bout b&r? and muse:already gone

just finished reading a&p.
this was another thing like hemingway's, making a story out of the mundane. however, updike's story seemed to flow a little bit better to me. the descriptions were very vivid, so the scene unfolded rather smoothly in my mind. going back to our discussion yesterday on who exactly were the characters, it seems that sammy (the narrator), stokesie, lengel, "queenie," and the girls. i consider "big tall goony-goony" (best impromptu name ever) a character even though she didn't talk, as she was part of queenie's group. the girls seemed to not be as much separate characters as much as queenie's minions, so they were very minor characters.
additionally. i shall never view vanilla ice cream the same ever again.

muse:
she had wanted to be with him for the longest time. he was her crush, after all. being a hormonal teenager, the world revolved around him and all he did. she would get flutters in her chest every time he looked at her, smiled that crooked smile and mumbled a shy "hi." every time she hung up after a phone call with him, she would fall into a blissful reverie. so when they finally came together, she thought she would be happy.

she was so wrong.

two days in, and their first fight. it was over something trivial and stupid, but it still broke her heart. that night, there was no phone call, no dreaming, just emptiness. the next day, though, they continued on as if it never happened. from then on, that was how they existed. teasing until tears, lather, rinse, and repeat.
even after their first kiss, the cycle continued. but she was already so deep, she didn't want to get out. so when he finally decided to end things then and there, she refused.

"no," she had argued. "we can make it through. we love each other, we can make it!"
he only shook his head before turning around.
"i love you so much. i love you so much that i want what's best for you. and what's best for you is life without me in it."
and as his footsteps echoed through the empty school hallway, she knew that as he left, so did her heart.

review of belle starr and muse:wrecked

the second day of the class!

reading "the man who knew belle starr" was... kinda painful. i tried to figure out why i disliked the story so much... and i think it was these things that drove me crazy.

• belle starr didn't seem to be a believable character. though she lived for adventure and whatnot, i just couldn't comprehend any of her actions really. our discussion today in class really helped to enlighten me on her behavior. after i figured out why she acted the way she did, i was able to chip in to the conversation.
• i guess the characters themselves seemed rather flat. though mcrae could be considered a dynamic character since he underwent such a dramatic change in the story, i really disliked his characterization. 
• the plot was... mundane, with the little twist of belle starr being who she was. 
• details... bausch did a good job with them. he really did. i was able to picture everything as i read it. i still didn't like the story overall. 
• short clipped dialog. though that's how conversations go actually in real life, it still didn't quite come across that well for me. mcrae was scared, sure, but... i just didn't like it. maybe i don't like western stories?
• the ending. mcrae changed. but how he changed was completely unclear. bausch just made it seem like he just... changed. he wasn't mcrae anymore. but then who was he? and how did he change?

okay! those are all the points.

time for a short. inspired by lake adventures today. :) kinda. ish. along with just life in general. all involved know who they are.

muse:

the first thought through his mind was, "i'm going to die." he'd never thought that anyone could do this to him. he had gathered so many people around him, guarded himself with so many faces to keep the ship afloat. but one by one the masks dissolved, turning the boat into a single plank. and he was left drowning in a deep, cold,  bluish-gray ocean in the middle of nowhere, where no one would find him. "maybe she was right," he thought. "maybe i am just a shipwreck." and with that, the driftwood sank, leaving him to tread water. a few breathless moments later, and the voice continued filling his ears with the memory. "i don't think i have the capacity to deal with you." he covered his ears and let out a cry. he was really going to die. as the waves continued to pound relentlessly against his gradually tiring body, he made up his mind. gathering resolve, he held his breath, closed his eyes, and ducked beneath the waves. "because maybe," he thinks, "maybe she's better off without me."