The Imaginary Invalid

"I attended Southeastern’s production of The Imaginary Invalid and watched the entire play."

I really enjoyed this comedy. The actors did an amazing job Thursday night as well as the dancers although, I found them to be a little scary…Lol

Throughout the play I though how difficult being an actor must be (at least for me). I think it would be a fun experience but also scary because you have to play your part well enough for the audience to fully understand the role you are playing. I know that they have to practice time and time again until they get it right, but I’m sure they still feel somewhat nervous before a performance.

My favorite character in the play would have to be the maid, Toinette. Her thick, Spanish, accent made me laugh so much (I’m Hispanic too, so it’s okay). The reason why I found her to be so funny is because sometimes I use the same thick accent to talk to my roommate who is definitely not Spanish. I was able to relate to Toinette’s dramatic, hostile, crazy, but most importantly loving and caring attitude she had towards Angelique. Although she might be a little crazy, her priority was to make sure Angelique was happy. Just goes to show that being a little crazy may not be such a bad thing. Actually, it may seem weird saying this but, I think it may be better to be crazy than being normal. If you’re considered “crazy” you may be more willing to try things you might not have done because of what people will think or say. But being “crazy” you may force you to get out of your comfort zone and do crazy things. People will just think you’re crazy, that’s it! Okay, okay…I realize this post is crazy in itself so I’m going to stop now. I guess my point to all of this is: the play was really, the dancers a little creepy but performed well, and don’t be afraid to be called crazy at times because being crazy may not be that bad.

Blogging

I have found blogging to be a great way of expressing my thoughts. It has definitely been very helpful for me just to express what I’m thinking thought I may not know what my point is. It has helped me come to a conclusion or get a better feel of what my thoughts are leading me towards. Sometimes, I may not come to a sure conclusion but that’s okay too.
The discussions we have in class usually have a great influence on what I write in my blog. During our discussion I am able to see the same piece of literature through a variety of perspectives. It’s truly amazing to see how many different views are presented through our discussions. I have gained so much from just discussing literature within our small groups. I am not the best with comprehending poetry so thoroughly discussing or simply listening to the different views already helps me get a better feel for it.
The activities we have done in class really expand our understanding of the literature we are reading. The house of cards, painting, and small discussions have been beneficial to our understanding or interpretation of what we are talking about. At least, it has been for me. These are great and effective strategies to use in any classroom. It not only engages students but also helps them build a stronger foundation for what is being taught. The style of teaching is not just teacher-centered but student-centered. Some kinesthetic learning is very effective to engage student participation.

"I went to the Lakeview, Roselawn and Tiger Flowers cemetery complex for this fieldtrip, and I stayed there for at least 40 minutes"

It really was an interesting and very different experience for me. I mean, its not everyday I go and read in the cemetery. What I enjoyed the most would have to be how peaceful I felt as I was there. Though I could clearly hear the sound of traffic and busy streets, I was overwhelmed by how serene it was. So many times we get so caught up in our busy schedules and crazy fast-pace lifestyles that we forget to take time to simply sit in silence; embracing the stillness around us. I know I definitely have to do that more often (maybe not in the cemetery, but someplace where I can just sit and listen to the stillness which surrounds me).

“Too often we resist ambiguity”

Why do we resist ambiguity? Why are we so afraid of not knowing, not having a clear view of what is to come? I’ve realized that often we tend to seek for a sure answer; we want to know how, what, where, when, and why. And when we don’t have the secure answer of what will happen next we automatically go into panic mode. We feel as if a grand piano is being pushed out of a balcony and we are standing in the exact place where the piano will land.

Not knowing isn’t necessarily a bad thing, at least I don’t think it is. So then why are we so afraid of being in a place where we don’t have all the answers? As my thoughts run on and on I begin to wonder whether not knowing might actually be better than knowing. When you don’t know something you are much more wiling to ask for help. When you already know, there is no point to ask for help. I feel as though not knowing somehow keeps us humble. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think we should just conform in not knowing and thus becoming lazy. Absolutely not! I do think that because we don’t know everything we are much more willing and open to receive what is shared, spoken, and/or taught. Whether it’s bad or good we are at least willing to hear both sides and come to a final conclusion, whereas if we already knew we might not have consider both sides and who knows what we might have missed.

Throughout life we will face various situations where we won’t have all the answers but what’s important is just as is stated in How to Read Poetry, “The issue is our reaction…We have to give up our material attitude, which makes us want to posses the poem. We have to cultivate a new mindset, a new practice of enjoying the inconclusive”.

We need to be ready to embrace ambiguity whenever we’re faced with it. Especially as Christians whose trust is set upon the Creator who he alone knows what is and what is to come.

I drew this picture during the class discussion of "The Traveling Poem" by Naomi Shihab Nye. It was also after Prof. Corrigan peeled, cut, and passed a piece of the onion to each one of us. I found the poem to be very creative. The discussion we had in class really expanded my thoughts of the poem. Someone commented how the onion was just as a person and all the burdens one carries. As the knife enters the onion it falls apart, just as in one's life when we carry so many burdens it just takes one cur and we all fall apart and our history is then revelaed. The truth is exposed, and we can then be free. We no longer have to hold everything in and pretend everything is okay but instead we can move foward.

Give yourself

“Return to me with all your heart…and render your heart and not your garments/” Render our hearts and not our garments? Are there times were we simply render our garments and forget to render our hearts? What does it mean to render our hearts? What does it mean to render our garments? Does that apply simply to our spiritual life or to our physical life as well? Is this word for the people of Israel or is it being said to me even now? As I read and reread through this piece of literature I find myself seeking for ways in which I can apply this to my personal life. I realized that to render may also mean to give. In other words, God says to give me your heart and not your garments. But what exactly does that mean?
There are many times that we feel the need to prove ourselves to those around us. We think that in order to be in with the crowd we need to meet the standards the world around us has determined. For example, the kid who has the crooked nose, though he is very intelligent he feels the pressure of society that says, “if you don’t look like the picture we’ve painted then you aren’t worth much.” The beautiful blonde hair and green eyed girl whose dream is to be a doctor is later crushed by the world around her that tells her it is her nature is to be a model and nothing else. Let’s just be honest, in the end what matters is what people think about you and nothing else. Wrong! We all work so hard to try to fit into the perfect mold the world has made up but we forget to hear the call of the one who wants our hearts and nothing else.
Render our hearts and not our garments. Render your mind, body, soul, and spirit. Render your time, render your speech, render your actions, and everything else that you are. I think that’s what God wants from us, not so much our good looks or how much money we have but just who we are. Time and time again God us to follow him wholeheartedly. He says don’t do so much just come as you are. Don’t get so carried away with praying aloud for those around you to hear but come with an open heart. Don’t feel you have to meet the standards of the world to come to me just come wholeheartedly. I feel like God is not so much interested in what we can do but what he will do through us and that’s why he says to give our hearts and not our garments.

"It is your nature"

The poem “A Work of Artifice” was a very interesting poem. When I first read it I had an idea of what it was about but I wasn’t entirely sure. After re-reading it a couple of times and the reading the explanation of what the poem was about I felt I understood what the poem is about. Marge Piercy wrote this poem in reference to the oppression of women. Women are represented by the bonsai tree and men are the gardeners.

Reading commentaries and opinions of what others thought about this poem I noticed that majority were very much alike. Women are the bonsai trees and man is the gardener who constantly prunes the tree so that it won’t grow to its full potential. It is man who feels the need to be in control at all times merely giving if any, room for women to explore beyond their reach. Women are captive to the will of men. Men are the ones to blame. It is their fault why women are viewed as domestic and weak.

Others believe that if women are being treated in such manner it is because they choose to be. Women allow themselves to be torn apart by others; they allow themselves to be treated as a lesser human being. Women allow themselves to be used, and many times they place themselves in situations knowing the outcome. Everyone has the ability to choose to be in whatever state of mind and being they find themselves in. Why then do women continually play the role of the victim and claim they have every right of the misconstrued idea that it is man who made them the way they are; men are to blame.

While those two thoughts are most common and yeah, that poem was written a long time ago, I find myself thinking about the lives of those who have unwillingly been taken captive? For example, the child who is unwillingly placed on stage for all to see her beauty as her innocence is being trampled on. The women who are continually told they are useless, believing it is their nature to be domestic and weak. The young man who has been pruned to be nine inches instead of having the opportunity grow eight feet tall because supposedly that’s all he’s capable of achieving. Would the gardener explain that to be their nature as well?

A House of Cards

During times of pain and torture we usually tend to look for a way out… because really, who likes pain? We rush to solutions, quick fixes, and easy remedies; we want out fast. When a quick solution is nowhere to be found we then panic. We cry out longing for someone or something to come and remove that which is causing so much pain. Our cries become stronger and stronger as so does the pain until it seems unbearable. All that is heard is a yearning to be found and rescued. We long for answers, solutions, and explanations. We want to understand or at least know the purpose of our pain. Our cries become so overwhelming which then, “deafen you to hear the voice you hope to here”-C.S.Lewis. Everything seems opaque; a blur because we cry out without taking time to listen.

How many times have I found myself in that same place? Not due to grief but because of my own self-righteousness. I think I have all the answers, I know what to do when times get tough, I’ve heard other’s experiences-I can handle it, or so I think. There are times when my words sometimes get the best of me. I am too quick to speak that I leave no room to listen. I rush to conclusions and quick solutions, while my voice overpowers what I am in search of. While reading A Grief Observed, I realized that my house of cards needs to be broken constantly. Otherwise, if I’m not careful I’ll end up on my high-horse thinking I have all the answers when in reality, who does? I have learned the importance of being still and acknowledging who God is; taking time to listen instead of always doing the questioning. May it be in those times of pain and grief that I might be found humble and willing to listen. Setting aside any preconceived thoughts and beliefs in order to receive what is being given and to listen with an open mind and heart to what is being spoken. May my house always be shaken so that I might remember to be quiet and listen.