C.A. Jensen

Thanks. Giving.

2011-12-07T16:13:00.001Z

I have now spent, the American Holiday,Thanksgiving in two different countries on two different continents. After a few weeks of routine Alex and I received a MUCH needed break in our trip to Hong Kong for Thanksgiving. We joked, since it is just the two of us in Jiangmen, that he misses guys and I miss girls. So we were ecstatic when we arrived at the stanley house, after getting a little lost and being two hours late, and found Tim and Wang Wei. It was as if we had never left.

Thursday boasted one of the best Thanksgivings I have had yet. In the morning Geoff, Rachel and I went down to the beach. I swam in the South China Sea on Thanksgiving morning! We spent the day being lazy-- talking to other guests at the house while Mayra and some of the guys played American football. Then we all got ready and set of in a mini-bus to the Jockey club in Happy Valley Hong Kong. The dinner was amazing full of all different kinds of food--including turkey, smoked salmon, oysters, duck, fish, mac and cheese, ice cream etc. etc. It was heaven. Afterwards we set off to enjoy Lan Kwai Fong. Maybe, after three months of no hard liquor, a little too much fun--especially on ladies night. Not to mention it was also Rachel’s 23rd birthday.

Friday morning was lazy. The morning spent at the beach. Then SHOPPING in Hong Kong where I found my beloved digestives that will always remind me of Ireland. Then on to H&M where I only had an hour to get my shopping fix in. I was successful with the help of my fellow Mary Knollers. Then, of course, on to a Variety Show put on by all of the Mary Knoll students in Hong Kong to raise money for Mary Knoll. The show was amazing complete with singing, dancing, skits, Kung Fu and Tae Kwon Do. It was hilarious.

This time we stayed in talked, laughed and ate. For all too soon we were all leaving on Saturday. We said our goodbyes and started back to Jiangmen, but not before I could get my Starbucks fix. As I have told students the purpose of Thanksgiving is int he name. It is a holiday to Give Thanks. I am truly thankful for all of you in my life. Really I cannot tell you in words how much it means to me when I see you read my blog, or send me a quick hello in emails, Facebook or Skype. It has been wonderful and I know that without my friends and family I would not be able to have this great experience. I love all of you.

Now. Hopefully. My next post will not be a month away.

Same old. Same old.

2011-12-07T15:35:00.001Z

Mundane. No, I do not like to admit it but sometimes I find myself in a rut. The explanation being I have now lived in China for three months and a state of “normalcy” has set in. I go to work, I eat, I nap, I go to restaurants, and the occasional outing to a park or shopping mall. I have a routine that is busy but not devoid of free time. I do not write as much as I should, which is evident in my sporadic blog posts, or even as much as I would like. It seems my perpetual procrastination has followed me from College. I have come to realize that not all of you know my schedule.

Monday: I have class from 10am to 11:40am. At 2:30pm I meet with my “tutor” unfortunately I do not think he will really tutor me. I think he would rather improve his English. Then at 4:00pm I head over to Tim’s apartment, on the way I stop for some jiao zi to save for lunch the next day. Then Tim and I learn Cantonese cooking from Yin (a Chinese-English Teacher I have mentioned before). Finally, Jelly, yes Jelly, comes over for an hour of English.

Tuesday: I have class at 8am(Sophomore Non-English Majors) and 10am (Freshmen English Majors). Then, I am sad and embarrassed to confess, Alex and I go for McDonald’s. What can I say it is much better in China than it is in the states and it is something different to eat. That is one thing I did not realize. The Chinese eat Chinese food and not much else. Of course they try other foods-- just as we do. However those “other foods” never become a regular like our Mexican food or Italian food does.

Then, if it is not cancelled for lack of a practice space I go to a Jazz and Hip-Hop dance class from 2:30pm to 5pm. It is instructed by one of my friends Pinki who, I must say, should quit her Accounting Major and become a dancer/choreographer instead. Pinki and I usually go to Dinner after then my night is free.

Oh, actually now I will meet with my new Chinese (Mandarin) tutor. Yes. It is three months in. I go on vacation in a month and I am just figuring this out now.

Wednesday: I have class at 10am (Sophomore Non English Majors-- this is probably my most difficult class) and then 2:30pm (Sophomore English Majors).

Thursday: I have two more classes one at 8am then another at 10am. Then it is, technically, my weekend. I usually go out with Yin or another friend. We walk around Jiangmen or go shopping.

Friday: Is my one free day. Usually it fills up with errands, Skype dates or outings with Yin. But then us foreigners gather at Tim’s for Happy Hour where we have Pot Luck or go out to dinner.

Saturday: A mostly free day. Except, in the morning, Alex and I help with the kids for two hours. (from 9am to 11:20) Oh, and now, at 3pm, I meet with my new Chinese tutor again.

Sunday: I have my last class of the week from 8:30am to 10:10. After this I usually got o my coffee house substitute TCBY. Grab a cup of Colombian coffee and a scoop of coffee ice cream. Hunker down and revise some writing or read. After this is planning for the next week. At 5pm Alex Tim and I have mass and go to dinner.

Thus a week has passed and nothing is new. As I have told students, “same old, same old.” Yet, you never know, one day some students may just invite you to climb Guifeng mountain. The mountain you have waited for three months to climb and-- for lack of a better cliche, you just haven’t gotten around to climbing. So life is great here in little old Jiangmen. My home.

Side Note: My black board handwriting looks better. And who knew a container of instant Folgers coffee could smell so good. Thanks Melissa and Stephanie!

18 hours at a Chinese Hot Spring. . . .

2011-11-06T15:59:00.000Z

Two weeks ago I rescheduled my Thursday afternoon class so I could go to a Hot Spring in Zhongshan. I went with Yin, YIn’s father-in-law, a man who I have not had an actual conversation with--obviously because he does not know English, and his girlfriend. Apparently the two of them like the Hot Spring. . . . a lot. I call Yin’s father-in-law Grandpa because, around me, he has never been referred to by any other name. But, frankly, he reminds me a little of Grandpa J. The four of us caught the city bus at 2:45pm and began our three hour journey for hot water, sleeping rooms, locker rooms, and unlimited food.

The journey included two points where we got off our bus and switched to a new one. We traversed busy streets to get to the new bus stop to be picked up. This included a turn in the wrong direction, cars dodged and many questions to passersby for help on where exactly the next bus would be. Needless to say I quickly learned each Chinese city can be new and just as confusing to the Chinese navigating it as it is to the western traveller. We were dropped off at the end of a dirt road. Fish farms lined either side and as we walked to the Hot Spring Resort.

Once we waited for a few minutes. We had to wait because we could only be at the Hot Spring for a total of 18 hours. We arrived a little early to be able to insure three meals within those 18 hours. We waited so we would be able to enjoy dinner (that night), breakfast and lunch before we had to leave: by 1pm the next day. Minutes passed, the staff, complete with Hawaiian shirts and cowboy hats, gave each of us a bracelet-- to be worn at all times. It was the key to you locker too.

Off to the locker rooms then straight to the chinese buffet. I was ecstatic to find unlimited coffee. It was a little too sweet but I will take what I can get. We stuffed ourselves full and then stuffed ourselves into our swimsuits (best idea of my life) to begin the Hot Spring extravaganza! The heat is unbearable at first. As you slide your body into the pool it becomes okay and then, eventually, relaxing. I was a little disappointed to find, instead of natural basins, different man-made pools the resort pumped hot spring water into. The pools were jacuzzi-like and lined with stones. Patrons are not suppose to stay in any Hot Spring/Jacuzzi for more than 15 minutes and we did not. We basically tried every different pool except for the ones you have to pay extra for. For example, one pool housed a school of fish that would, after you step into the pool, swarm and nibble at your skin-- a form of acupuncture I was told.

My favorite was the salt sauna. Yin and I took turns. I massaged her back then she did mine to exfoliate our skin. The salt seeped into our skin as if we were cured meat. The salt melted fast and our sweat dripped from our skin as if we were melting. We exited the sauna and jumped into another hot spring pool to rinse off our new skin. Smooth: like a baby.

The sleep arrangements are a whole other story. Yin and I, after a midnight snack of cafe and bean paste filled rice balls, moseyed on over to the sleep room. One room. Full of about 50 chinese people all in there own reclining chairs. There were two left calling our names. Each reclining chair foldout into a bed. You are allotted one towel and one pillow. Everyone’s chairs come equipped with its own TV, headphones and moveable table. It was not that bad-- just a huge Chinese sleepover with about 48 other strangers. I was thankful for my ipod though. Public service announcement: snoring is common, no mater where you are.

After a night of great sleep, for me, and restless sleep for Yin (she did not have an ipod). We finished our Hot spring day with breakfast. Then out to the hot spring pools and then back in for lunch and off we travelled back to Jiangmen. The ride back was less chaotic. Grandpa, Girlfriend and I even got a nap in and Yin gave me my first taste of Hershey’s chocolate in two months. I do not even like the stuff in America but was happy, so happy, to taste it in China

On a more recent note. . . . I had my first experience giving oral finals the first week back after the hot spring. I now know what my teachers went through. I think giving the Final is more exhausting than taking it. To follow it up our first week with a new group of students was this last week. This second group seemed less difficult than the first and perhaps it was because of confidence from my minute amount of experience.

Tidbits

It is so easy to fall into a routine no matter where you live. I still remember, as if it was last week, running out of my room into the living room where my college roommates were hanging out and writing papers. “I am going to China.” I told them. Some days, I find, I forget that this is China and then, suddenly, it will occur to me. . . . I AM IN CHINA.

Your feet will never be completely clean here.

Motorbikes (Mopeds) are the popular mode of transportation here. In fact, I have seen whole families (the most a family of four) all on the same motorbike. The largest feat I have seen yet was three freshmen riding on one bicycle.

It baffles me but the Chinese buy and sell MANY t-shirts with english phrases/words on them. MInd you, most Chinese do not know what the words mean or what they imply. Also, sometimes, even the words do not make sense. The best t-shirts so far: “I am not easy but we can discuss it.” Wore by a fellow teacher’s student. One of my students even had a tee shirt on that said Vodka complete with a picture of a glass of vodka.

Typhoon. Always Rainy in Guilin.

2011-10-14T09:24:00.000+01:00

An American in China: the Chinese sleeper bus is one mode of transportation everyone should experience. . . . at least once.

Alex and I set out on a vacation to Guilin this past week. We received the first through the seventh of October off for National Day. We decided to stay in Guilin from the 30th of September through the 6th of October. How were we to make this journey? Sleeper bus. A sleeper bus is a common mode of transportation here. Basically, it is a coach bus with three rows of bunch beds instead of seats. So you have to lay down most of your journey. With very little Chinese in our heads and survival chinese, written by William, in my notebook we set off on our journey.

William, like the father figure he is to us followed us on to the bus to make sure we were settled in for our journey. We started to load the bus when Chinese was yelled at us from all angles. Apparently no shoes are allowed to be worn on the sleeper bus at any time. So, you must take off your shoes as you enter and place them in a plastic bag then, of course, put them back on before you exit the bus. Alex and I grabbed our top bunks by imitating monkeys to climb up. Or, should I say, I imitated a monkey as Alex is tall enough to lift himself in. (Riding on the top bunch can only be liked to an amusement park ride-- especially on the bumpy country roads) We said our goodbyes and thank yous to William and thought him gone when all of a sudden he rushed on to the bus to tell us the ride would not be 6 to 7 hours, like we were originally told, but 12 hours with no bathroom on the bus.

Thus began our adventure.

I should say the bus stopped promptly every two to three hours to allow us to walk around go to the bathroom and eat. This is where I found out one of my students was on the bus with me. I also mastered the squatters. A squatter is the Chinese toilet. Basically, a hole in the ground you squat over. In all honesty it is okay and makes sense if you think about it. But cleanliness in roadside squatters is not a priority thus creating a ripe smell. However this does not damper the animal life of China. In fact, as I “sat” down in my third squatter of the trip I was greeted by a small frog jumping at the chance to share my bathroom space with me.

The trip was not too bad. We met a Senior student, Pinki, from Wuyi-- who I am sure I will become close friends with, watched some American and Chinese films(including two Jackie Chan movies), and I listened to some Mason Jennings while staring out my window and thinking to my self: you are in China, you are in China, you are in China and got some much needed sleep after my first month of teaching.

Day one involved us getting to know the city of Guilin. Our first stop was the Price City Scenic area. Which, to be honest, was kind of pointless without English translations but I learned about the examinations Chinese scholars would take from Alex’s College Chinese history course. We also climbed our first peak/hill/mini mountain: Solitary Beauty Peak. These peaks are what Guilin, Yangshuo, XingPing are famous for and is said to be the most beautiful area of China. The peak boasted great views of the city. At the first look out I hit Alex and told him we were in CHINA to which he responded, “Why are you hitting me,” and, “we have been in China for a month now.” “I know,” I told him, “but, I think it just it me.” After that tourist stop we walked along the Li River where we found Bob Cafe. A little coffee shop/restaurant we frequented during our stay. We were stopped on the street by a salesman who promised us a the beauty of the Longji(Longxi) rice terraces. After a butt load of questions Alex and I agreed to the 180 yuan(our hostel provided the same trip for 400yuan).

We met Pinki for dinner and enjoyed some shopping afterward. On the way back to the Hostel Alex and I stopped to watch the fireworks for National Day. The U.S. has nothing on China in terms of firework usage.

Day two started off bumpy with an old couple refusing to get off the bus the the rice terraces. Alex and I were forced to get off instead while we were reassured another bus would be by in five minutes. After ten minutes our hostel ran out and told us to come back into wait since it would be more like 20 minutes. In this time our hostel expected us to pack up so they could move our rooms while we were gone. So probably an hour later than we had planned we set off to the rice terraces.

On the bus we met two women, english teachers, from America who were in their second year of teaching in China. They shared our dislike for the old couple(this old couple’s defiance to not get off the bus caused the four of us to start our tours late). After we left the bus Yao women bombarded us with bracelets and scarfs reciting looka, looka and so beautiful. The Yao are a minority group in China. The women have famed long hair that they only cut once in their life (if I remember correctly, at the age of 18) and they have to wear their hair in one of three styles that indicate their relationship status. One for single, one for married, and one for widowed. To my knowledge the men have to display no such thing. As long as you ignore the major tourist attraction Longji has become you can imagine a beautiful and different way of life in China. Although us westerners, the two women we met, Alex and I, joked about the lifestyle no longer existing except for the tourist. Comments about hair weaves and modern clothing torn off to slip into the traditional dress before the tourists arrived were common fodder.

The night included an “Irish” pub with pizza and beer: much need after a long day of being a tourist.

Day three was a long day full of ups and downs. We met my students Blair and her friend Kellin (her spelling not mine) to travel to Yangshuo. We expected to rent some bikes and try to go hiking but, in my fear of missing out, Alex and I joined Blair and Kellin for a Li River “Bamboo” boat ride. The “Bamboo” is actually PVC pipe. I am glad we did it but it turned out to be a day of mostly traveling instead of exploring.

We took the bus for an hour and a half to Yangshuo. Then we took a bus to Xing Ping for and hour then we took a rickshaw type go cart for thirty minutes to get to a boat. Our driver was the slowest on the river. He hit almost ever wave spraying Alex and I and ran into multiple boats. We were cold and wet but all I could do was laugh because what else could I do and if nothing else it is now a great story. The views, I do have to say, were amazing though. A lot of my students said Guilin is beautiful and the water is so clear but I, environmental me, could not help but think the water will not stay clear for long with all of these motorized “Bamboo” boats and tourists throwing their trash in the water.

Our transportation back should have it’s own paragraph. . . . or two, so here it is:

China is overpopulated. When you visit a smaller town it only makes sense that catching a bus would become more difficult with a lot of waiting involved. When we got to Xing Ping a bus back to Yangshuo was loading. It was obvious we would not make it on to this bus but it seemed all of the people pushing to get on this bus would not make it on either. There were too many people and not enough boats. . . . or I mean, not enough seats. We watched a western couple make their own luck by opening a window in the back of the bus and climbing in. The girlfriend had a little more trouble than the boyfriend. A Chinese man was more than willing to help and proceeded to push her into the open window via her butt. This was all so hilarious until another bus rolled in and we realized we would have to do the same thing.

The stampede began but this bus decided to make it a challenge and proceeded to turn itself around. The mob of us pressed against the door, thank God for Alex in this situation,only to side step a few more feet as the bus inched forward and refused to open its doors. Finally, it opened. It was as if the bus was submerged in the Li River and we were the water rushing though a broken window. Alex and I squeezed and elbowed our way on. I turned around to reach for Kellin’s hand and pulled her in. Blair eventually made it but had to stand while Alex, Kellin and I got seats.

We separated from Blair and Kellin when we got back to Yangshuo--we had different ideas of how we wanted to spend the rest of our time. As Alex and I weaved through the crowded Yangshuo streets we, I, became thankful we did not stay in Yangshuo even if the backpacker/bars and promises of immense hiking called my name. We finally found a quiet coffee shop where I got my first mocha in a month.

An hour later we joined the line, of a million Chinese people that wound around like a snake, to get back to Guilin. Dinner, fried rice, was in the Hostel this night as we did not get back until 11pm.

Day four Alex and I decided to explore on our own, as it was probably best. We went to the Reed Flute Cave where the fake colored lighting and water pumped in to create “natural” pools could not detract from the beauty of the cave. I wanted to camp out there like the Goonies or the lost boys. It really made me feel like a kid when my Mom and Dad would take us to caves all over Indiana and South Dakota.

The after was lazy with walking around the pagodas in the city. We found a steam bun man too. Naps were had back at the hostel and after we met Pinki, again, for dinner and shopped in an “Art Gallery.” I was suckered into buying two paintings. One will definitely be a Christmas present for Mom and Dad. The night was spent with two Americans in our Hostel, here teaching English, we talked and drank beer. It was really nice to share experiences in China with people who were our own age and people who knew what we were going through. We also talked about home and futures. The topics that are so interesting when first meeting someone. I was happy to hear that the things they knew about Minnesota were Brother Ali, Atmosphere, and Garrison Keillor.

Day five was our last day in Guilin. We visited Elephant Trunk HIll and climbed some more. I love to climb. We indulged at Bob cafe; I had another mocha and Alex had a banana split. Dinner was at the Irish pub again(as Jiangmen does not have one) followed by packing for our 12 hour journey home.

It was a great and much needed trip. Did I forget to mention it rained the whole time?

Yin. Yang.

2011-10-14T06:06:00.000+01:00

In the third grade I had a Yin Yang pendant strung on a black cloth string around my neck. I wore that necklace everyday that year and never truly new what it meant. All I knew was black and white were opposites.

I consider myself a person who believes; everything is interconnected while seemingly stands all alone. I look to themes within a culture to relate to or to enrich the knowledge I have gained from each place. Yin Yang has already come up in common conversation while living in China.

These two little half circles have turned into so much more than opposites. It is in China I have finally learned what the symbol truly means. The symbol displays opposites can only exist within the presence of the other. Opposites echo in life here. Man and woman, poor and rich, elder and child, teacher and student, open-minded and close-minded. The list goes on. Differences are recognized but not dwelled upon.

Many say the US breeds straight forward people--fast talking business men or “take no crap” bosses but what I have experienced, so far, in China is the chinese are much more straight forward. Actually, they are the most straight forward people I have ever met. They are also some of the kindest people I have ever met.

Yin, the english name of a teacher I have met at Wuyi, has become a kind of mother figure to me. She is the most hilarious chinese woman I have met and the most blunt. We call each other friends but we seem more like family. At least, one day a week Yin and I go out around the town. Mainly we window shop and she introduces me to different foods but she has also showed me her hometown, right outside of Jiangmen’s city.

She has told me some of her story of how she came to be where she is today. The late Tom Wilcox must be mentioned here because he was integral for Yin’s career as a Chinese English teacher. Without his influence, he helped her study abroad in New York, I am not sure I would have loved Jiangmen as much as I do. I feel as though she is my Tom Wilcox in China. Through this relationship I have seen the Yin Yang of the poor and rich.

Yin and her family are by no means rich but they do very well for themselves in China. However, this is not what Yin was always used to. I have mentioned that she showed me her hometown and the house where she grew up. When I climbed into her old home I was hit by how far she has come in life. The house had a, basically, dirt floor. When you enter you have the shower/bathroom on your left and the kitchen on your right. For this section there was no roof because this is also where the stairs were that led to the roof where, she told me, they would set out the rice. One more step over a threshold and you are in the living room. There were three bedrooms one to the left and two to the right. The third, yin said, was rented out when her family lived there. That was her life and now it has greatly improved because of the people she has met and drive she has within herself. Yin Yang.

On our outing this past Sunday Yin and I went to the market and bought an abundance of fruit. It happened to be in an area where Yin used to live so naturally the woman selling us tangerines was someone she knew. Of course Yin could not remember her but the woman did and Jiangmen is a city of 4 million people! On greeting Yin the woman told her she has gained weight. Yin responded, “So have you.” “Yes,” said the woman, “you do not look very old though. . . . except for your gray hair.” This would be rude in America but in China it is a normal, perfectly acceptable line of questioning when saying hello to someone.

People ask me, “Are you married?” “Do you have kids?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” What an American would wait to ask someone when they first meet them the Chinese would ask right after- how are you? However my friends here and almost everyone I meet wants to help me in any way they can. I know I know--”it is only because I am a westerner”-- but when I ask students what they like about Jiangmen, most, say that the people are so nice.

A few weeks ago Alex Tim and I set out to find the elusive Red Garlic. A western restaurant where we were told we could find the best pizza in Jiangmen. It was sprinkling-- as it has been on and off for a while now. So we walked outside the north gate from campus to catch a taxi. CRASH. The sound of metal and plastic colliding with pavement invaded my ears and I could barely comprehend what happened before I followed Tim over to the commotion. A woman had braked on her moped, caught some water underneath her tire and ended up sideways on the ground-- in the middle of, probably, the busiest street in Jiangmen. Tim went to her aid along with two other Chinese students. He had to rip her raincoat to free her from the bike. The Chinese wear poncho type raincoats that cover them and their entire moped in the rain. All I could do was stand around them and kept an eye out to make sure other drivers paid attention and went around us.

Eventually the students moved her to the curb, her leg was hurt but no bleeding. Tim asked the security at the gate if they could call the police or someone to take her to the hospital but; the guard did not understand or did not want to call. We realized we did as much as we could do. So we left the woman with the two students and found a taxi. We passed the incident again, because the taxi had to circle back around, and viewed the student on the woman’s bike while the woman rode behind. He was a stranger and he did all of this for her. Yin Yang.

Tidbits.

The people of China are said to all look the same. To quote Chris Tucker in the movie Rush Hour, “All y'all’ look alike.” Yet, I have found some to remind me of family or friends back home.

Yes. The form of potty training is a cut in the pants of your child’s clothing, then taking them to the side of the street and letting them “do their business” while you cradle them between your legs (butt facing the pavement- a makeshift toilet). I did not notice this until I read John Murray's eloquent blog paragraph on the subject. Thanks John.

One Saturday, while helping a Chinese teacher in her English classroom, I wrote gray on the board-- we were talking about colors. She promptly told me I spelt it wrong. So I switched to the British English spelling of grey and moved on. I have now realized the Chinese learn British English not American English. This was also the case when I described my “pet peeve” to my students: when people throw trash on the ground. They did not understand until I changed the word trash to rubbish. (I thought you would enjoy this one Katie Johnson.) Exit signs are also marked with “Way Out,” I now refer to the bathroom as the W.C., and I have also seen signs that say “Mind Your Head.”

I see footprints in the cement sidewalks and streets every where. Maybe this is because I look down a lot-- the ground (even paved) is very uneven here. But, I swear it is as if the Chinese want to do things their own way. They will not wait for the cement to dry.

Take care. Save face.

2011-09-19T15:07:00.000+01:00

Exactly a week ago today was the Mid-Autumn Festival, or the Moon Festival. It is a grand celebration, much like the American Thanksgiving, where families gather and have a dinner together. Followed by the lighting of lanterns and the eating of Mooncakes. It is a celebration of an old fable, complete with various versions. From what I can recall it is a story of two lovers separated because of a mistake the wife made. In the end the Husband, Houyi, lives on the Sun(yang) and Chang’e, the wife, lives on the moon. Houyi visits her once a year. Hence the moon is full, bright and beautiful on the day of the Mid-Autumn festival.

For this foreign teacher the celebration meant memories with new friends and allowed three days off from teaching to do so. So it was set Sunday night Alex and I would be VIPs at a nationally televised concert by CCTV, this was the first time-ever-for it to be televised from Jiangmen, with major Chinese artists and dancers. Then, Monday night, the actual day of celebration, would be a smaller but more family/friends affair with our new friends Yin, William, June and their family as well as a few other foreigners. Alex and I would be picked up by William at 2:30 to help make sushi, pizza and dumplings and then the eating and merriment would commence.

Saturday, sometime in the afternoon Alex and I received an invitation to go to the President’s house to celebrate the moon festival at 9pm on Sunday night. When I asked if that would be right after the CCTV event; I was told no the CCTV event will be on Monday night. . . . Thus begins my first major cultural lesson in China.

It amazes me that it has already been a month here in China. I sometimes feel as if I am just getting to know the place. I guess I am in a way because every single day I learn something new wether it be a new part of the street or that the grocery store closer to my apartment, the one I have been avoiding, is actually cheaper than the one I have gone to. Yet sometimes, in certain hours of the day, I find myself jaded. At times I actually think the “American way” is the right way instead of just a different way. I find my self uncomfortable when int he attempt to embrace chinese culture. The double-booking of the Mid-Autumn Festival happens to be my first run in with this tension.

After the awareness of our double booking I set out to clear things up right away. I made countless calls and finally got a hold of Yin-- my mother figure in Jiangmen and a great friend. She informed me that my decision to turn down the CCTV event to attend my pre-planned outing to her home was very American of me. She informed me of her gratitude in my aim to keep my commitment to her but the pointed out that it was not necessary. In China it is okay to cancel things last minute and it would really “save them some face”* if I said yes to the CCTV offer.

I was defeated, to say the least, and frustrated at my stubbornness, yet happy I could go to this great opportunity. I hung up the phone and felt like the “Stupid American” when all I wanted was not to bail out on a friend. But the chinese do things differently and so do the french and so do the irish and so do the minnesotans. Sometimes I need to remind myself of this. In the end Alex and I went to both. At 2:30 we made it to Yin’s, made sushi, pizza and dumplings. We stuffed our faces, talked and laughed just in time to be picked up at 7pm and whisked away to the area where the CCTV extravaganza occurred outside.

All in all a lesson was learned and I still got a great night out of it. So take care. Save Face*. No matter how chalked my teacher’s bag gets I need to remind myself: I always have something to learn.

*For those of you who do not know-- or in other words you are me before I came to China. “Save Face” means to allow someone their dignity or to not slight them in anyway. For example, in orientation we were instructed to never yell at or “single out” a student because this would embarrass them or make them lose face.

Not Lost. Just in CHINA.

2011-09-11T05:26:00.000+01:00

If you are new to this blog: two years ago, yesterday I set out on an adventure to study and live in Ireland. I left my readers, my family and a few friends--mostly, out of the loop. From my last post in 2009 it appears as though I left for London and Paris and never returned. However, I returned from Ireland and continued on to graduate from University with a major in English and a minor in History.

Now that we got that out of the way I am typing to you from my little desk in my quaint, rough, urban apartment in Jiangmen, China. Yes, CHINA. This is what I have decided to do with my life. . . . at least for a year, teach Oral English to a LOT of University sophomores.

The journey here was long to say the least. My first week in China was spent in Hong Kong where I got to know other teachers from Mary Knoll while we all went through a somewhat tedious and sometimes helpful orientation. The air was clear(er)-- due to the Mary Knoll house’s location, the toilets western, the city crowded, and the signs--for the most part-- all translated into English. So, to say the least, Hong Kong is a VERY western city.

After a two and a half hour ferry ride, where I slept in the hopes of not throwing up from motion sickness. My new friends Fr. Tim Kilkelly, Alex Griep and I arrived in Jiangmen! My new home for the next year. We arrived on Saturday August 27th, Sunday August 28th we had our Foreign Teachers’ meeting and stated teaching on Monday. So to say that I was a little overwhelmed would be an understatement. I hated it. It was too many new things coming at me at once. Then some thoughtful words from family and friends made me realize I want to be here. To be able to do this, teach in China, for a year is an opportunity that I cannot dismiss as “no big deal.”

Now, on my fourth Saturday in China I can safely say I am falling in like, which will hopefully turn to love, with a new country, new culture and new people. Here are some of the things I have observed over the past few weeks. My students are, for the most part, eager to learn although they are extremely shy which is frustrating at times. The Chinese people I have met so far are very hospitable. However, burps and hocking loogies are not uncommon and are considered a natural cleansing. The ground is so uneven here that I always watch my step. Building will spit on you unknown liquid. . . . runoff from who knows where? At night, on campus, those things flying around are not birds they are bats. Bats in abundance. It is normal to be a part of another person’s conversation on the phone because the chinese literally yell at the person on the other side. Every time you cross the street you risk your life because the bikes/motor bikes/cars/buses will not stop for you. Friends are touchy-feely while boyfriends/girlfriends are not. And, umbrellas are used more often for sun than for rain.

These are just a few things I have learned in three weeks and I know I will learn more everyday until the day I leave. I have settled now though and I meet new friends everyday so really China has been pretty good to me.

I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane

2009-10-15T17:27:00.002+01:00

Unfortunately I have not been able to keep up with this blog as much as I would like to and now I am leaving for London and Paris and I will not be able to have contact with anyone until next Friday. But I will come back and blog about my experiences there and of course our family bonding in Portmagee, my feeling of disconnect in Dublin, and possible an experince in an Ireland doctors office. Wish me well on my travels and I will blog as soon as I can.

2009-09-22T20:31:00.005+01:00

So now we have been here going on three weeks and yet it seems like a lifetime. One thing I forgot to mention about Sunday (September 13th)is that we walked into Spiddal to go to mass. Our mass was all in Gaelic and it was hard to follow yet you would catch those moments that you would know what to do or more so what to say. Communion was a free for all and not uniform enough like we were used to. Also in true Irish fashion a funeral procession followed regular mass just as if it was everyday life and it is. Death for the Irish is just how it is.

Class started two weeks ago and let me just say that classes are long but now after having two weeks of classes under our belts it is not so bad as long as you have a cup of coffee and a digestive from time to time. JP opened up the pub Thursday night and we had our first family bonding dance party which was hilarious and so much fun.Our first excursion set of that weekend for the town of Clifden in the region of Connemara. Our first stop was Mamean, a mountain in the region of Connemara. We all climbed it at our own pace and went to different levels. Once on your own you would feel completely alone yet if you talked at the slightest shout the person on the next mountain over could hear you. So really you were not alone. We stopped off in the town of Leenane for lunch and then we went on to Clifden where we say the Nobel Prizing winning Seamus Heaney read poetry in a church. Afterwards was just suppose to be a comfortable night in the pub drinking tea and coffee while we listened to traditional music played by a world know accordion player but then we ran into some guys from Derry and got to talking with them. All in all it was a great night spent in two pubs talking and laughing and dancing. Saturday (September 19) was Connemara national Park where we climbed yet another trail on a mountain and saw some amazing views of the bay. Aughnanure Castle was our last stop. There was not much left of the castle but what we saw, what we heard and what we imagined made it a more enjoyable experience.

Sunday was our day trip into Galway where we went to mass at the Cathedral. Mass was amazing the music was just better I had not realized that I missed singing so much until the congregation joined in in song. We found a mecca in Tesco which has become our new place of groceries.Next was another week of classes followed by a night of Celebrating on Thursday September 24th for Arthur's Day in the pubs of Galway where pints were broken on every street and in every pub and we toasted Arthur at 17:59 for 250 years of Guiness. This was an ok night except for the guy who spilt half his Guiness down my back. Excursion two was to the town of Westport where we saw Ballintubber Abbey on the way a beautiful church and cemetary that has lasted through years of destruction and fightig. Next was the Foxford woolen Mills where we saw how their products are made and I indulged my self inthe purchase of a 100% Irish Lambswool scarf. Next was the house of Tom Hennigan where we were regaled with the tales of his life as a peasant in this small cottage where he lived with his family until the 1970s and we ended there with a healthy portion of tea and scones. That night we stayed in Westport and had a hostel/house all to our selves. Shannon Megan adn I went to an art exhibt and recieved a free glass of wine, way better than the 4 euro stff, and took the chance to make a print in the studio.

Now for Saturday... The climbing of Croagh Patrick is someting to be told of and experienced. It is over 700 meters to the top along with steap inclines and moving rocks under our feet. I was on my own most of the time and I would have preferred it that way it was much more rewarding reaching the top knowing I had pushed myself to do this. This is usually a pilgramage climb that is to be done bare foo, ehich three of the guys on this trip did, adn it was spirtiual. I recited the Our Father all the way up adn all the way down, along with a group of us reciting it at the top of the mountain with a few fellow climbers. It was probably the most self rewarding thing I have yet to do in my life because I did not even think that I would be able to do it let alone finish it. Going down was more scary than going up because of the incline and the moving rocks, I fell four times but only the last time left a mark as the other time I just feel in mud or dirt. I will never forget this experience and I dont think I will climb it again... but you never know. After Croagh Patrick, to let us rest, we went to the Westport Horse fair and saw the town life.

Sunday was pretty relaxed except for the regional championships of Gaelic Football where Spiddal won! It really helped fix the void that I have with not beinga ble to watch the Johnnies play football. The game is almost basketball, soccer and touch football all roled into one with hitting, pushing, kicking the ball, bouncing the ball and then finally putting the ball in the goal or through the goal posts. It was complete worth the 10 euros and it was jsut great to see the common passion we all have for orgainized sports.

Some Irish Slang!

2009-09-15T23:50:00.004+01:00

Here are slang words that I will add to over the semester!

Takeaway=Takeout
match=game
pitch=field
soccer=soccer
football=gaelic football
pub=bar
sweets=candy
biscuits=cookies
ham=bacon
to ask someone for a ride=sex
to ask someone for a lift=a car ride
crack=fun
chips=french fries
crisps=chips
hackney=cab
yankee doodle dandy=american

Home

2009-09-11T19:42:00.008+01:00

So we are finally here after months of waiting.

2 days and 8 hours earlier (ignoring time change)...

At eleven in the morning Nicole, Jessi and I set out on our journey to Ireland from Minnesota. As we landed in Milwaukee, Wisconsin we were surprise to see a larger airport for a not so popular city. As we arrived at our gate we saw that there was a plane hijacking in Mexico... that was not something we really wanted to see when we had much farther to go. The woman at the counter announced that our flight would be delayed until 4:45 so once we landed in New York we had less than two hours left to get our luggage and switch airports from La Guardia to JFK. We grabbed a cab and, just like in the movies, I said, "JFK as fast as you can please" and he did get us to Terminal 3 but we went to the side that was closed after knocking on the windows and running around someone finally told us to go to the other side we took all our baggage and booked it to the check in station. The first woman we went to of course was closed but of course she could not tell us that until we were done telling our whole story. The second woman we went to told us in a well thanks sort of way that we were very late to check our bags since we were there at 9:05 pm and our bags were to be sent off by 9. She offered no help to us and our stomachs sank while we headed to the ticketing line to book a plane for the next flight. All of a sudden another woman no an angel asked me what we needed, I quickly explained what was going on she immediately got on the phone, grabbed five tickets for our luggage she filled them out as we took the old ones off while she grabbed a cart we loaded on the luggage and then ran to security where they reassured us we would get on the plane so we should slow down, catch our breath and walk to the gate but we could not breath until all three of us were seated on the plane. After hours of waiting, with the weight of jet leg on our shoulders, in the Shannon Airport for others to arrive we set out on our grand journey.

So now a few days later we are here and settling in. We are still adjusting to smaller portions of food, who new feeding five people is so expensive, and a new environment. Thursday night we headed into Spiddal, which is a 30 minute walk, we of course ended up at the first pub we saw, Hughes, and that was where I had my first pint of Guinness in Ireland! On Friday a trip was made into Salthill and Galway to explore. Along with the beautiful ocean we found many interesting things to see and come back to along with stores to fill our every need. As well as a sighting of our first nude bather! I of course got sunburned because of the unusual weather Ireland had this weekend.

Saturday was the trip to the Aran Islands where we were to seek out Dun Aengus which Jessi, Kathleen and I did not find but we did explore old lighthouse ruins in which we frolicked as if they were an ancient playground. Saturday night was one I will never forget, after an unsuccessful trip into Spiddal a few of us partook in an Irish Wedding reception in which we were welcomed warmly.

Sunday was a trip to W.B. Yeats' house where we met our Literature professor It was too short of a trip and I could have spent days there writing poetry. We also saw the Coole park just as equally enchanting. On our way back to the cottages we stopped for a much needed Aldi run only to find out we could only use cash. But under hectic circumstances we rose above to figure everything out.

My first few days of class are still not finished but my History class was very intriguing while I found my Theology class as more of a forum to bounce ideas and questions off of our professor. Our seminar class was today and we will definitely be learning a lot but it will be worth it. Tomorrow is my literature class which should be great. An impromptu adventure into Spiddal was rewarding and also devastating as I dropped my camera and now it does not work! On Friday we get to hear Seamus Heaney read! So in preparation for this we are of course reading his poetry which is so rich and satisfying yet sort of lost and spooky. To do this reading we had a lovely poetry reading in cottage 6 and I ended to night with a glass of wine a piece of chocolate and a movie with a few of my fellow travelers. All and all a great start to the trip of a lifetime.

Redemption

2009-07-14T17:43:00.000+01:00

Who grants this thing called redemption? This is a question that has come up through the viewing of the film Boy A. This film is about a Man in England that is released into society after spending most of his life in jail for murdering a girl with his friend when they were young boys. Of course no one knows who he his and after time he gains friends, a girlfriend and a job. But his truth is let out and of course society goes after him with pitch forks and torches and he kills himself. So redemption... obviously this character gained more redemption in death than in life but why can't people gain redemption in life to. Society is plagued with criticism... we can't stop. Yet people can be redeemed and forgiven if given the chance. Society is a person quick to criticise, quick to forgive and sometimes too quick to forgive and we let our guard down. I myself thought these two boys murdered another boy and when I found out it was a girl I was more appalled than when I thought it was a boy. This just goes to show that opinions need to be taken with a grain of salt because no opinion is immune to biases. We all have stereotypes and preconceived notions of how we think people are when really we need to listen. Redemption can be granted but only with the act of remorse.

So for my life this past Friday I went to Uptown to sit wit my friend Elyse while she got her tattoo. Then on Saturday my dad, my brother and I went to the Basilica Block Party and I saw two great Minnesota bands Tapes n' Tapes and The Hold Steady, who unfortunately now live in Brooklyn. It was great to see them and feel the beat of the bands inside my chest. The greatest statement the whole night came from the frontman of The Hold Steady right before they left the stage... He said ... We are Franz Nicolay, Bobby Drake, Tad Kubler, Galen Polivika and Craig Finn and with the Father, The Son, the Holy Ghost and all of you we are the Hold Steady. It was so gratifying, I am glad I did not waste more time watching the Counting Crows than I did.

Waiting For What?

2009-06-29T15:53:00.000+01:00

I am done waiting... waiting for a job, waiting for something new, waiting for something to happen. I was going to wait until I arrived in Ireland for my semester abroad to continue this blog but I am done waiting. My summer has been fun and boring. All things were looking up at the start of this summer because I had a full time job at North Clinic but that ended quickly when I was laid off on my birthday two weeks after I came back. I never thought not having a job over the summer would be hard but it is, it plays with your mood and especially with your bank balance. Ireland looms over my head along with all of the expenses I will have there and this makes you always think about every cent spent... this can make you resentful and frustrated.

Over all though I have still been able to do some things fun such as swimming, the Rock the Garden Concert, Twins games, movies, gardening, the Walker Art Center where I saw Tomas Saraceno's exhibit Lighter Than Air and the exhibit The Quick and the Dead where a portrait of a man with piercing eyes stared back at me as if he was staring into my soul and the farmer's market in Minneapolis and I have the Basilica Block Party coming up this weekend. After all of this, after the random jobs for friends, some volunteering, constant vision therapy sessions twice a week and the almost two months of trying to find a job and receiving nibbles instead of bites I am done waiting. So I will start now and finish out my summer with some fulfillment through this blog. I want to switch gears and focus this blog on what I am doing including music, Twins Games, get togethers, concerts, books, and a little theory. So to get my feet wet here is a topic I have been muling over the past couple of weeks.

How have we come to treat mental health problems? Through my viewing of the movies Lars and the Real Girl and The Chumscrubber I hope to discuss how we treat instead of heal our loved ones with mental issues. Mental problems should be nursed with compassion and not stares of disgust and distance. America has this obsession of being fake. We will do anything to be a little less than ourselves whether it is through booze, drugs, fashion, makeup or plastic surgery. The worst part is that we don't only do it to others we, maybe even more so than others, put this pressure on ourselves. We need to let ourselves and each other be while an effort is put forth towards compassion and understanding. This is what is taught in Lars and the Real Girl.

Do not be fooled by the description of the movie where it says Lars falls n love with a sex doll that was made to his specifications because the movie Lars and the Real Girl is so much more than that. In fact when I watched this movie I could not help but think that someone with plastic surgery is more fake than Bianca. This movie teaches how a community came together to understand Lars and his relationship with Bianca. In fact through out the movie Bianca becomes more human than plastic to the community at the same time she becomes more plastic to Lars because he realizes the difference between her and the people around him, that they care for him and respond to him and she cannot. This movie is awkward but it will make you see how mental illnesses are just the same as wounds in that they need to be healed and resolved not just treated.

The Chumscrubber deals more with the pressure put on us by peers, parents and ourselves. It deals with how parents can be uncommunicative with their children. This main character Dean gets perscription drugs from his father to take instead of talking about Dean's friend Troy who he found hanging from the ceiling. Dean in the end gives up the pills because he know s he does not need them and the film ends with a telling statement from the film's narrator The Chumscrubber, a comic hero who walks around with his severed head in his hands. The Chumscrubber states, "...so I will do what I have to in this world of freaks and subhuman creatures and this time I will not be ignored. I am the Chumscrubber." The Chumscrubber chooses to be himself as I choose to let go of the job search and try to cultivate an enriched and fulfilling blog.

Space and Time in The Holder of the World.

2009-04-29T23:05:00.000+01:00

For our final blog I have decided to discuss one of the main points of the novel The Holder of the World. The main point I want to focus on is that of space and time within the context of how theorists like Juffer would approach this question. Mukherjee has the main character of the novel Beigh Masters focus on the story of the Salem Bibi (Hannah Easton). This creates many different time periods and spaces for the book to discuss and look such as Massachusetts, England and India while also switching between Hannah's time period and Beigh's. The novel is framed by Beigh's time period while in the middle the two are interwoven and it is not until the very end that these time periods enter each other with Beigh taking Venn's time retrieval machine to Hannah's time and she goes into the body of Bhagmati.

On page 255 when Hannah is speaking to her lover Raja she says that she wants him to leave and go with her back to where she is from. Raja mistakes England for Hannah's home and she replies no America but then he replies, "America, England. Fort St. George, Pondicherry."..."Same." I took this to mean that the boundaries of spaces are blended. Spaces can affect one another just as in the novel the English are in India. It is almost as if he is saying the spaces are all the same. Juffer may look at this as if these space are binaries (Mass. v.s. India) that are blended in this same since that through the intertwining of Hannah's and Beigh's stories these binaries are deconstructed.

On the final page Beigh gives the reader a final thought on time through what she thinks Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote the Scarlet Letter on. She says, "Preach! Write! Act! He wrote against the fading of the light, the dying of the old program, the distant memory of a shameful, heroic time. Time, O Time! Time to tincture the lurid colors, time for the local understudies to learn their lines, time only to touch and briefly bring alive the first letter of an alphabet of hope and of horror stretching out, and back to the uttermost shores." Just as these stories are interwoven so is time. The old can become new again and the new can become old (maybe this is why the Keats poems starts off each section). History can repeat itself and when we look back times are not that different from our own it is just that they are set in a different space.

Thanks for a great semester, have a great summer and read my blog next semester for tales from Ireland!!!!!

Random Class Topics

2009-04-16T23:20:00.000+01:00

So since our test is on Tuesday I thought I would just bring up a few different points that we talked about in class in terms of Naomi Klein, Political Strategies and Cultural tactics. So to start off we talked a lot about branding with Klein.

In today's society branding is everywhere, just as Klein points out, you are your own brand. After college or after High School you have to begin to market yourself to your possible employers. You brand yourself and sell yourself to those companies or organizations but where does that leave you now that outsourcing has begun. Are any jobs safe from this? Pregnancy is already begin outsourced, so what is next?

For my summer job I work at North Clinic. I complete there summer projects that mostly entails pulling and destroying old medical records and when we are short on workers I pull charts for doctors upstairs. This discussion has got me thinking could this job be outsourced? Certainly we are already making cuts because of the economy and eventually Obama wants us to go completely electronic with our records. Meaning that you medical file would just be on the computer ready and waiting for your doctor to pull it up instead of a medical records personnel. So the workers I work with now would be let go while a few of them would stay on to create new files and run the programs. But then how would destroying go? Would we even need to destroy? Yes we would but I am assuming the people that were kept back would be trained on this too. So I wold be out of a job also. So what is safe from outsourcing? Is it just manual labor?

Another topic we have discussed a little are the terms political strategies and cultural tactics. Cultural tactics would be the different steps and movement in a dance while the political strategies would be the overall dance and how it all comes together in that final performance. One example I thought of in discussion was the Will.I.Am music videos supporting Obama in the 2008 election. These videos were made from Obama's inspirational speeches and were essentially set to music in a very inspiring way with many celebrities singing or playing along with a couple of non celebrities in the mix too. These videos would be the cultural tactic in this case. They were the tactics to get Obama elected (which is the Political Strategy/ultimate goal) to create change for our nation. Examples are hard to find but once you do it is pretty easy to discover why they worked or why they did not work.

The recent tea bag "movement" would be an example of a tactic not working because it was not taken seriously. Point blank it was a joke. This is because the people behind this "movement" connected it to the Boston Tea Party which was a protest against taxation without representation not a protest on taxes in general. In fact the protesters do not realize that the party they are a part of is what caused the high taxes in the first place. On a lighter note it is pretty evident that you need more then just he right moment and time to have your own tactic work towards something.

Q. Our generation's music genre? A. No Name

2009-04-06T21:59:00.000+01:00

A question that was posed in class has been bothering me. It is the question of if our generation has a genre of music or not. Unfortunately we could not come up with one and then we proceeded to try to figure out why this is. We came up with some excuses such as the Internet and technology as well as laws put into place but none of these stood up to this itching question.

So I implored one of my roommates to answer the question and she brought up that our generation is not over yet and then she came up with the same logical response as we did by blaming this No Name genre on technology. But technology has always changed over the years and it will keep changing so in some ways it aids the formation of a genre but in others it does not create the creative force that makes the artist create the music. I thought of our ever present genres as the different social groups in Jr. High and High School such as the Jocks and cheerleaders, goths, populars, average kids, punk/alternative kids and the gangs. All of these groups seemed to have a certain genre of music they would listen to and these groups seemed more present in older generations then in our own. I know that in my High School there were different groups of people but all were friends with other groups or people with other groups. So maybe this is how our genres got mixed up because you started to listen to what you heard as a child on your parents' sound systems, then through Jr. High you gained a more specific focus and finally in High School and College you, along with being introduced to different types of groups you were introduced to different genres of music and therefore became a listener to all. The problem with this theory is that this more than likely happened in every generation for every person. So what has affected our genre?

Technology has affected our genre because although itunes and other download sites have made it easier to gain access to many different genres technology has not, as I said before, affected the actual music and how many people listen to it. So in this way technology has caused our Genre to have No Name. So where to go from here? Can our generation just be a No Name genre? I do not know but one of the genres that have made an impact is emo.

Emo or "emotional" music began in 2000 with Dashboard Confessional. It seems to be our generations response to grunge which was just as angsty but less subdued. Let me just say that categorizing a genre as Emo just displays a lack of originality in that all music is emotional. Further more Emo was very popular but so were a lot of other genres during this generation such as rap, hip-hop, pop, rock, and country. Another very popular genre might be the more pop rock mixture that more and more bands are coming out with such as the Killers, Coldplay and Modest Mouse. Yet with their genre conjoining who is to say that this or some other sub-type of genre will not become this generation's genre. But even then wouldn't it still be a No Name Genre because who decides what conjoins with what and what one is but the other is not? It seems as though we, as a generation, are beginning to not care what others think, we are starting the who cares attitude when it comes to genre labels and we are crossing line and making treaties.

The Secret Life of the American Teenager...

2009-03-26T20:39:00.000Z

For class tomorrow we are suppose to have an example of a single mom in a tv show, movie etc. and then compare what we think Jane Juffer and Naomi Klein would say about it. So I thought I would discuss this in my blog to see if I can fully hash it out or if I just confuse myself even more. The medium I chose is the tv show "The Secret Life of the American Teenager" inwhich a 15 yr. old girl becomes pregnant at band camp, which puts a new spin on the phrase "One night at band camp."

The first thing Juffer would recognize is that the famly Amy (the pregnant teen) comes from is not the nuclear family because her parents are getting a divorce. The family Amy will have her child in is also not a nuclear family being that Amy is not married the father of the baby (Rickie) is in the baby's life and Ben is Amy's boyfriend but not the baby's father. Not to mention all of the support from school friends and church communities willing to help Amy. Juffer would advise Amy to embrace this help that is around her be cause not every single mother has this but Amy is reluctant to accept this.

Amy struggles with the choice of adoption because she wants to have the freedoms of High School yet as Juffer has discovered that although there is very little freedom in being a single mother Amy has what Juffer purposes on page 48 that a support network wuld lessen the burden. Amy realizes this after a talk with her 13 yr. old sister Ashley who assures her that with the family and friend's help Amy can do all of the things she wants to-go to High School and then Juliard for French Horn.

Juffer also presents the theory of the "white knight" by saying that women must work to gain the freedom they desire. This point is actually really important in "the Secret Life..." because even though Ben is rich and could help out, even though this is not his kid, his father has him get a job to help out if he wants to. Amy's parents also have her get a job even though they are financially sound while Ricky gets one too to be able to do his part.

One thing Juffer brings up that I am not sure "The Secret Life..." fully addresses is what she says from pages 61-62. In this tv show things seem easier because Amy has all of these people wiling to help her but in this fact maybe that is what Juffer is talking about. By presenting this situation in such a way with Amy getting the love, support, job and help that she needs maybe "The Secret Life..." is actually doing something right by presenting an example of what should happen in this situation.

"TV has the potential to either make what's going on at home seem weird and different or to seem everyday and 'normal.' " Juffer says and "The Secret Life" seems to do this. It makes Amy's pregnancy another obstacle in the family's everyday life and they deal with it together and apart. Now here is where I get stuck because Klein talks about representation in an abstract manner. However if you look at the label of the "single mother" you see it is confing in ways like a brand might be. But here is where I got lost because "The Secret Life..." breaks this mold to the point where it might be too much. So does it stop being relateable or does "The Secret Life..." actually get families and teens talking about sex, concequences and pregnancy more so because it has become less taboo?

So connecting this to my life even though this tv show, bad acting nd all, seems to be creating a normalcy around singal mothers there still seems to be a stigma towards them. My cousin has two children by the same man and they are not together and he is not in their lives yet she still wears a ring on her finger which makes it look like she is married, now why she does this I can never be fully sure. My other cousin has been a single mom since 16 and the only way she got through it was through becoming an exotic dancer, which she still does. Does this fact lessen the demeaning stigma behind exotic dancing or just perpetuate it? I know I am raising a lot more wuestions than I am answering but I jsut thought this would be good to hash out before I bring my views and opinions into the classroom.

A Slumdog is rich?

2009-03-17T22:08:00.000Z

So this thought came to me during class today. I have spoken earlier about the arguements over the film Slumdog Millionaire. Now with Derrida fresh in my mind I wish to delve in and elaborate the arguement, that some critics have, that it is both a fairytale type love story and also a good portrayl of what India is actually like. In class we discussed the fact that Derrida invented Post- Structualism to show how binaries slide together. Slumdog Millionaire does this and this is how the movie can be both a fairy tale/love story and a real dipiction of India.

Here are some of the binaries depicted in Slumdog Millionaire; rich and poor, good guy and bad guy, fairy tale and real, and finally knowledge and lack there of. Derrida claims that literature is playful that it folds into itself and this is what Slumdog Millionaire achieves too to get a movie with both the fairy tale and the reality. Take the binary of rich and poor for example Jamal this binary is the reason we learn of Jamal's story in the first place because it is assumed a boy from the slums of India can not know the answers to questions that would be on the Who Wants to be a Millionaire? game show. However, this binary slides because it can be said that Jamal is rich not because of the money he wins in the end but because he ultimatly wins altogether his brother leaves him alone, he wins the money and Latika and Jamal are finally reunited. The fact that Latika and Jamal are finally together creates the stereotype of the typical bollywood/love story of any movie. Yet this does happen in everyday life so the line between fairy tale and real are blurred.

Another binary presented then blurred it that of the good guy bad guy which is also a stereotype within typical movie structure. But in Slumdog Millionaire it is not typical in that the good guy/bad guy is not the drug lord in their town but Jamal's own brother Salim. He perpetuates the bad guy image when he leaves Latika behind with men who will turn her into a prostitute but ultimatly Salim does this to save Jamal's eye sight. Salim is the bad guy when he shoots a guy to help Jamal get Latika back when they are older yet he then takes Latika and has sex with her against her will (because he will shoot Jamal if she does not) and against the will of his brother. Finally in the end Salim steals Latika back to take to his boss, injuring her in the process, then he helps her escape the "prison" that she is in so she can go back to Jamal. So is Salim a good guy or a bad guy the lines are blurred and the arguement could go either way. He is a bad guy but most of the actions he did with a good purpose.

One of the most prominate binaries is that of knowledge and the lack there of which is blurred in the whole of the movie. Jamal is thought to be a cheater on the game show Who Wants to be a Millionaire when really it was his life a "slumdog" that has caused him to do so well on this game. Society places wealth with knowledge and with this movie that stereotype is demystified. The binary slides because jamal is knowledgable when you would not think that he was. Jamal could even be stated as rich in that he is knowledgeable or because he is with Latika in the end. Jamal's richness does not need to be associated with the money he has won. So Slumdog Millionaire is both a fairytale/love story and a reality when you take into account the binaries that it successfully slides.

What really is the moral of The Scarlet Letter?

2009-03-09T22:28:00.000Z

This question has be asked by countless critics from around the world. However, not one of these critics will ever know the true moral of the story because Hawthorne is no longer with us. So I will purpose one last reading, using what we have talked about in class, of the moral in the story. Through my reading I have come to find that Nathaniel Hawthorne's true moral is that the A on Hester's chest stands for Allegory. The moral in this is that one story can stand for, against or stand for and against a multitude of different issues. The A itself stands for a multitude of signifiers such as, adultery, angel and able. It is also convenient that the word Allegory begins with an A.

A story can go in a myriad of different directions. The moral of the Scarlet Letter is multiple things for instance; be yourself, it cautions on revenge and this story explores the dynamics of a society. So Hawthorne messes with us to literally show us how a story can stand for many different things. Take the movie Slumdog Millionaire for example, great debate has been struck up on the question of the true point of the movie. Some critics say it is a love story others say it is a realistic depiction of life in India. But through Hawthorne's view on meaning, why not have both interpretations true? Hawthorne wants his readers to see that multiple readings can be divulged from one story and we, as readers, do not need to be tied down to one meaning even if this is what we were taught to think all our lives.

Besides our class I have learned to read like Hawthorne in a Western Lit. class I took last year taught by Shouse Tourino. We read and discussed all of the books/plays we read but in a way every English course should discuss. We took what we knew of that time period along with our life experience and the experiences of the characters and we taught each other how we read the story. We colaborated on many different ideas and we would end up coming up eith multiple ideas and topics for each book read. This experience only proved what the Scarlet Letter's moral was; A story can go in many different directions and the signifier can signify many different things.

Symbols...

2009-02-18T23:19:00.000Z

Symbols are everywhere in our lives and can mean a multitude of different things. Just act any one of my close friends and they will tell you that symbols and symbolism are my thing. In fact last semester while waiting for class to start I realized that the objects on top of my desk symbolized me in a nut shell. These objects were a notebook, a pen, a diet coke and a book. However symbols are subject to change.

Take your couch for instance it could symbolize a plethora of things. At home it signified a place to sleep to relax and be entertained. So it had good connotations. Yet in college I have found a couch to signify a desk on the weekdays when my roomates are too loud. Then on the weekends it becomes a bed for unexpected guests or a sight of entertainment for watching movies or a dinning room for eating pizza. Basically anything can mean something it just depends on the context that it is in. Take a human hand for instance...

The human hand starts out as a sign for life. A way to make a connection with someone through touch. Then it can become a way to communicate through sign language. With one hand you can count to five, with two to ten. The hand can be used as a tool, to fold to scratch or it can be used to make more symbols such as peace, I love you, rock on, hang ten, west side, east side, mid-west and blood. It can also become the symbol of a gun or an L if you want to label someone or yourself as a loser.

You can meet someone through a handshake which will urn into a symbol for you friendship. With two hands you can applaud someone which would signify that you like them while your hands cupped around your mouth can help relay the message that you dislike someone. Really a hand is a symbol of symbols. It's uses are endless just think of all of the songs including hands; "I wanto hold your hand" by The Beatles, "One hand in my pocket" by Alanis Morissette, "One hand, One Heart" from West Side Story, "Clap your hands!" by Clap your hands Say Yeah and the list goes on and on.

One symbol of the hands is untiy. It is shown through holding hands with a parent while crossing the street or a boyfriend, girlfriend, or a husband or wife. In this sense holding hands can become a diminstration for inter-racial relationships or for gay rights. This is the reason the symbol of the hand is everywhere it can mean a merriad of things. I challenge you to think of some more symbols a hand signifys...

Who is challenging ideology today?

2009-02-09T21:52:00.000Z

During class on Wednesday we listened to Public Enemy's "Don't Believe the Hype" and this song really got me to thinking Who, in Hip Hop, is challenging ideology today? Certainly most of our our mainstream Hip hop has become sicking with booty, boobs, booze and labels everywhere. Not enough fans or musicians are challenging this so it is no wonder that boys think it is cool to hang their pants down low, to have a front up all the time and to grab whatever on a woman whenever they want.

To show just a little of how this affects boys minds I will give you a list of rules, that I remember, from my Jr. High:

1. No drumming on the desks
2. No bandannas or gang signs
3.Your pants need to be pulled up at all times
4. No Do-Rags
5. Any touching that is unwanted can be construed as sexual harassment
6. No Fighting

So what today are we doing to change this outcome? Well for starters not enough. However, some are creating new boundaries. Music artists locally such as Atmosphere and Brother Ali, have original, common lyrics that do not conform to mainstream stereotypes of what Hip-Hop is assumed to be. Other mainstream artists like T.I., Lil' Wayne, Kanye West and M.I.A. are taking steps to challenge the ideology hip hop is faced with today. M.I.A. especially with her unique fashion and her rhymes about war, rape and weed leave nothing to be desired as she is not the typical mold as say a Lil' Kim would be for Hip Hop.

A video that shows these artist challenging the idea of hip hop is there performance (including Jay-Z) at the 51st Grammys where M.I.A. is in a very interesting outfit and the men (Kanye, T.I., Lil'Wayne, and Jay-Z) are all in suits. The lyrics M.I.A. raps are "No one on the corner have Swagger like us" she is proclaiming their unity in their individuality. While further lyrics proclaim, "I'm Christopher Columbus, y'all just the pilgrims." which speaks on their individuality. While this verse, rapped by T.I., calls out to his defiance that he will not follow others, he will do his own thing. He raps of using his adversity to his advantage and not brag about it (50 cent "I got shot nine times" can be used for an example of the opposite of this) so here you go here is the verse and tell me what you think of it:

You go see Weezy for the wordplay, Jeezy for the birdplay,
Kan-yeezy for diversity and me for controversy,
All my verses picture perfect only spit to serve a purpose,
You ain't living what you kicking and you worthless,
Looking from the surface it may seem that I got reason to be nervous
Then observe my work and see that my adversity was worth it,
Verses autobiographical, absolutely classical,
Last thing I'm worried 'bout is what another rapper do,
Ain't nobody hot as me... Even if they rap they ass off blast, off and have outstanding qualities, Sell alotta records I respect and salute that,
But spitting real life on hot beats... I'm the truth at...

Oh and here is the video (sorry the quality is pretty poor)

Now Who is challenging ideology today? I hope these artists have started a new popularity of speaking the truth and using their fame to fight politically and socially. So that our hip hop of booties, boobs, booze and labels can lay in rest in the cemetary.

Are we what we seem to be?

2009-02-03T04:48:00.000Z

My answer to the question posted above is... to an extent. In this blog I would like to respond to Stanley Fish's article "How to Recognize a Poem When You See One". In his article Stanley Fish argues that a "poem" consisting of just five names can be analyzed and considered a poem. I agree but I believe an invisible line is there to weed out what is acceptable and what is not. So my answer is we are what we seem to be... to an extent.

Over the weekend I went to the new movie called New in Town and despite it's bad reviews I felt New in Town was a light hearted hilarious portrayal of the mannerisms Minnesotans have. It is not Oscar worthy of course but it took the mannerisms of us Minnesotans and elevated them to a new level. At one point to ease an awkward dinner party the dad asks if anyone wants to polka and, going back to my elementary school days where I learned how to polka in gym class this comment made me laugh. The fact that the whole movie consisted of our Minnesota winter relays the fact that our winters are very long here.

Although all of these mannerisms are true they are heightened to an extent and of course they do not all apply to you but you can relate to them. So what does this say? Are all of us Minnesotans as unique as we like to think we are? Are we all these things this movie portrays?
Well yes and no everyone is unique to me because everyone has a story specific to them. However we are all connected to each other through our similarities. What I am trying to get at here is that all of the jokes and mannerisms in the movie are true and hilarious because we have all experienced these jokes and mannerisms through our own experiences or through others but there is always more to it.

Yes, this movie was a better portrayal than I thought the movie would have yet it misses a couple of things. It missed the seasons, the city, the knowledge, the music and the art that is Minnesota. When thought about, Minnesota is kind of a cult classic in this way. But maybe I just feel this way because I have lived here for 14 years. Bottom Line we are what we seem to be to an extent. I urge you to limit no one. I know it is hard and we all do it but there is always a story there, there is always more to it than that.

What is intentional?

2009-01-23T01:41:00.000Z

I have started this blog because I am required to for my Spring Semester course called Literary Theory. Which I take at the College of St. Benedict and St. John's University. Of course we have to respond to questions, theories and debates in class. However, I hope to add a little fun into it and who knows possibly continue it after this semester is over. So the question, I will answer, for this first entry is going to be, What is intentional in terms of an author? How conscious is the author of these intentions?

Words. The words are what is intended period. After the words jump off the page and fly into the reader's head it is up to that reader to make sense of it. The readers will respond to it as they want. They will speculate too but the readers can not just assume what they think to be true they must have textual evidence and a driven force behind the thoughts to back it up. After all the reader will never know what the author's thoughts were when he/she wrote them down. The reader can only know the words and their own thoughts behind the reading.

Another question to speculate would be is the author conscious of the symbols and images they create? Of course they are. Authors know what they write down what they do not know is how it will be perceived by the reader. If you were to compare say an optimistic writer and a pessimistic author there would definitely be some differences. For instance what optimistic author sees as beautiful could be completely different from what a pessimistic author sees as beautiful. The reader could then see these images in a different sense. The reader could find beauty in both authors, just one of the authors or the readers could completely disagree with the authors.

An author is like a dancer they can never truly see what the finished product will become to there audience. The author can only hope that the meaning they intended is the one that the readers see. But perhaps that is the beauty of words and dance. That they are what is and after that the audience is free to live in it, the text and the moves. Only then can they figure out the meaning and the intent for themselves.