Huh, so.

The class is over.

Weird.

It's odd. When I first started, I was all freaked out, with the screenplay and then eight posts a week and essays, oh my!

But this has been a really fun class. It's nice to read everyone's opinion, and not having lectures is always fun. :) I really enjoyed this, and it was nice for my last semester. Maybe, if I get bored, I'll take more. Maybe. :D

To keep this literature-y, there were a lot of works we read in a short amount of time. Some of them, I never want to touch again. Others, I really want to go and re-read, because I don't really feel like I got most of the meat in there, you know? But I think that this compressed time really helped me understand a lot of the works, because they were all fresh in mind, so comparisions were easy.

I approve. *nods*

I don't know if I'll keep this blog up (I have a Facebook and a Livejournal, too, and that's just a lot of stuff), but I'd like to. Don't expect anything deep. Maybe witty. Definitely rambly. :) But I'm deep like a puddle.

Mrs. Dalloway

I always want to spell that "Dolloway". Huh. I'm weird.

This is an interesting novel. It was a little harder to read than most stream-of-consciousness because we jump from character a LOT. But it's still fun and a very interesting read. It takes a little longer than, oh, Pride and Prejudice, but still. It's fun.

When youuuuuuuuuuuuu were young.....

Okay, so everytime I read the title of W.B. Yeat's poem "When You Are Old"? I can't help but think of the Killers' Song, "When You Were Young." Messages are completely, totally different, but that's what I think about.

Yes, I know, I need help.

Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I really like this poem. I like how it addresses the permanence of true, real love, not just the frippery that we normally associate with love poems. I like how it didn't gloss over the hardships and how love isn't always kind, sometimes it really hurts and it's difficult to get through, but the reward is so great when you do.

I really liked this.

Meh.

I wasn't really crazy about the poems for this week.

Well, that's a lie. I dug the one about the merman, because wow, let me tell you about all my issues with religion.

But I shan't. That would be rude.

I don't know. I'm crazy stressed about a whole bunch of junk going on, I don't have a lot to say this week.

Sorry. :(

Braiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiins................

Oh, wait, sorry.

That's a zombie. Wrong genre.

So, I had to read Frankenstein. And, I am almost (almost) ashamed to admit this, but I have never actually read it before. I saw the movie many, many, many moons ago, but I never sat down and read the book. Even after the Byron episode of Highlander, where Byron was the "inspiration" for Frankenstein.

Yes, I am a dork. Hello, it was hilarious.

It's weird, but in all the movies I've seen, the creation of the monster has always been the culmination of Frankenstein's work, and in the book, the actual work isn't that important. Really, nothing is said about how it was done, as if Shelley was afraid that if she put too many details, some idiot would get it in their head to do something...less than wise.

It almost seems as if this is a criticism on the Enlightenment movement (why did I almost type "movies"?), as if she's saying, "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

It could also be her way of dealing with her grief, however, because I think she lost her beloved daughter before this. Speaking as someone who's lost a loved one...I almost wish there was something I could do to bring my father back. But I can't. That's not my prerogative. And I think this book was sort of her way to sit back and realize that her daughter was gone and to bring her back...while not only being impossible, would also be wrong.

Or she had way too much absinthe. I know what went down at those shindigs.

When We Two Parted

I don't know if any of ya'll ever watched Highlander (yes, I know, the epitome of TV cheesiness, but SWORDS, PEOPLE. SWORDS!), but they had an episode centered around Byron. He was Immortal, and sort of...crazy, really. Of course, I think to be artistic, you sort of have to be a little unhinged. Not that I know personally...*shifty eyes*

Anyways. I was reading When We Two Parted by Byron, and I was sort of struck by the anonymity. Before I found out it was written for a woman, it was almost as if the narrator was talking about a same-sex relationship. As someone in my class pointed out, you don't really know if the narrator is a man or a woman, and that sort of throws the entire relationship into question. Granted, most of this might be colored by that episode of Highlander, because it was rife with deep and delicious subtext.

But I thought the lack of definition was really interesting, because there's so many questions. Who was in love with you. Why did it end? Was there a chance someone could have found out, and the lover stopped out of fear? Was the lover simply using the narrator?

It's very thought-provoking, but still very sad, because I definitely think a funeral is involved somewhere, and I'm not good with those anymore.

The Garden of Love

Right, so, we had to read this poem for class.

Let me just say, wow, thank you, William Blake, for expressing exactly how I feel about religion. Do I classify myself as a Christian? Yes. I may be going through more than a few issues with that personal relationship, but whatever. I still believe the dear and fluffy lord. But that doesn't change the fact that I, personally, feel smothered by organized religion. It seems like it's nothing but rules and doom'n'gloom. "YOU MUST DO THIS OR YOU WILL NEVER BE SAVED."

I don't agree. And Blake really seemed to illustrate that for me.

Right, so, I have no idea what I'm doing here...

...but, really, that's not unusual.

I guess we'll see how this goes.