The End

Movie endings:
- Slumdog Millionaire - Salim finally repents for all of his sins - his taking advantage of his brother's love interest, his running away and selling his morals in order to work for the mob just to make money - he undoes it all by distracting the gang members who would have gone after Latika by allowing them to shoot him, appropriately, in a bathtub full of money. This way, Jamal can still have his happy ending with Latika after winning the game, representing the end of a thusfar terrible life, and a beginning to a new, peaceful one.

I'm not crying, you're crying.  Shut up.

- Legally Blonde - Elle wins her case on without Callahan, the boss who sexually harassed her, succeeding completely on her own smarts, independence, and power of deduction, with only a little help from Emmett, the guy who actually treats her well. She decides that she does not need Warner, and the film ends with her making a speech at her Harvard law school commencement, with a promising future ahead of her. The best part? She ditches the navy blue suit and wins her case in a hot pink dress, without ever betraying the confidentiality of sisterhood that her client Brooke depended on from her.

QUEEN.

- Donnie Darko - This movie is so great because you can have hour long conversations just exchanging interpretations of it - I've done it. In the end, Donnie allows himself to be killed by a jet engine falling through his roof in order to seal a wormhole and prevent a series of terrible events that would eventually lead to the destruction of the universe itself. If you haven't seen this movie, watch it but don't judge it until you've seen it a good five times. There's a lot to take in.

Very spooky but not a horror film I promise. 

I don't watch scary movies.

- Les Miserables - The main antagonist (I refuse to call Javert a villain) has escaped with his life after being captured by Jean Valjean, the man he was chasing for so many years, and cannot reconcile that his ultimate rival, the man he wants to desperately to catch and punish, showed him kindness and humanity. Should Jean Valjean actually be a good person, Javert's entire life's work trying to catch him for breaking parole would have been a waste. Therefore, Javert cannot exist in the world of Jean Valjean, but he cannot kill him as Valjean showed him mercy. Therefore, Javert decides to take his own life. All the other character's plots have endings too (most of them just die), but this is the ending to Les Mis that I consider truly genius. Valjean could not have killed Javert as he is a good man, and Javert could not have killed Valjean as Valjean has shown him mercy, yet Javert can physically not reconcile them both existing in the same world, so the ending is surprising when you first see it, but makes so much sense once you see it.

Credit to the good people over at Hark! A Vagrant for this. 

Book endings:
- The Poisonwood Bible - I remember reading this in a Starbucks and crying. It really tied everything together in a way that provided resolution for an earlier death in the book (no spoilers because you all need to read it) as well as leaving us with a sense of satisfaction about where each character ends up. I can still hear my English teacher reading us the last passage aloud because it was so powerful and we all needed to hear it a second time.

- Harry Potter - Um, duh. Voldemort dies human, not like a God or a supernatural being, he falls like a mortal, defeated finally understanding what Harry has that he doesn't. Every character has shown their true colors, and cheesy epilogue aside, there are no loose ends left untied and in no way did Rowling betray her fans by cheaping out on the ending of this phenomenal series. You can tell it was all truly planned from the beginning.

*Breathes heavily*

- A Series of Unfortunate Events - SPOILER ALERT: This ending was, admittedly, a little corny as well, what with Count Olaf having his final act be of goodness and bravery for the sake of the children, but the series maintained its cleverness and relevance throughout the series, something that is difficult to keep up in quality over thirteen books. "The End," was all around not disappointing, wrapping up many of the mysteries that we'd been wondering about literally from the prologue of the first book (Those Beatrice notes always kill me), but still leaving us interested and curious enough to come up with some of our own interpretations of some things left more intentionally vague by and about the narrator/author/character that Daniel Handler created for this series.

Best endings from stuff we've read:
-Interpreter of Maladies: "Sexy" - I may be biased because it's one of my favorite stories ever, but I really loved the conclusion of the affair that resulted from the self-respect that Miranda gains by the end. Of course this is prompted by the honest comments of the young child, and I would never claim that someone lacked self respect based on any of their sexual decisions, but seemed as though Miranda's relationship revolved around motives of attention and validation that in the end were really unhealthy, and her coming to terms with that and breaking it off herself, not because it was "wrong" or wasn't working, but just because she didn't feel good about it anymore, which honestly is how most relationships end in real life.

- "The Thing Around Your Neck" - Going along with the theme of healthy endings to relationships, "The Thing Around Your Neck" presented a character who really grew a sense of autonomy throughout the process of getting her footing in a new land. While she initially felt security from the Afro-file that she was dating, and found safety in that relationship even if did make her uncomfortable at times, when she was faced with the task of going back to Nigeria to mourn with her family, she made a decision about her relationship that was based solely on what made her feel comfortable. Again, this truly is the way most relationships end in real life. Many stories portray endings of relationships as dramatic break-ups accompanied by explosive arguments and messy after bits, but this is really an honest depiction of a choice between two conflicting interests- your lover and your cultural stability - and the narrator simply chose what made her feel most grounded.

While thematic similarities can be found between these selections, I tried to choose diverse works in order to show that I truly don't believe there are any rules or formulas for "good" endings. Sometimes I like happy endings just like anyone, but sometimes they don't thematically make sense. For example, "The Bell Jar" is my absolute favorite book, but I was let down with the ending because it was too happy for the point where it seemed contrived and untrue to how Plath truly felt in order to make the book's darkness palatable. I truly believe the only thing that makes a good ending across the board is that it makes sense. If it's happy or sad, case closed or open ended, as long as it makes sense with the narrative and concludes the story in a consistent way that conveys the message of the work, it's a good ending in my mind. The only thing it can't be is tacked on just to have something to wrap it up. It should feel natural and intentional, just as any other part of the story.

"At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey." 

- Lemony Snicket

Cheating Upwards

             The New York Magazine article "Cheating Upwards" makes use of narrative in order to further push its message. Its argument is primarily that while cheating is a very serious issue that warrants severe punishment, students' lack of moral integrity is not solely to blame for its prevalence. The use of following a case study of Nayeem Ahsan, a bright, talented, and seemingly well-meaning student illustrates that all cheaters are not faceless scumbags who can't hack it on their own. In fact, it is often smart students that are caught of large scale cheating, as they are the ones with the cleverness and resources, as well as an understanding of the system, to be both able and compelled to cheat. Nayeem himself wanted to help other students because he felt that he had the academic skills to excel in school, but that it wasn't fair that others had to be subjected to a system that didn't play to their strengths and have their whole lives determined by that when they were just as deserving of success as he. By using Nayeem's personal narrative, the reader gets a feeling for sympathy for kids who must muddle through an increasingly competitive system that attempts to pit students against one another to determine their future, and causes us to be understanding of students that choose instead to take on a role of allyship. However, Nayeem's story also demonstrates that even those who are well-intentioned and bright can turn out to be rule breakers and perhaps not understand the weight of their choices, no matter their intentions, giving us a feeling of the prevalence of the epidemic of cheating. Additionally, it forewarns younger readers that even the brightest can be caught and face the consequences. In short, this narrative encourages us to be understanding of the cheating epidemic, but cautious of our own roles in it.

Nayim Ahsan is not to be confused with Julian Assange (pictured), who 

was also not very good at keeping answers to himself. Hey oh!

             I remembered this essay well from the first time I read it, as I placed a great significance on my performance on the piece of writing. I figured that it was my first piece of real college writing ever and I needed to really put my best foot forward. I had no idea it would matter so little in the grand scheme of things, but I did read it carefully and worked very hard to craft a good argument. Therefore, re-reading the piece was not a significantly enlightening experience. I didn't really take away anything from it that I didn't the first time, and as argumentative, thesis-driven paper writing is my strongest and favorite form of writing (or assignment of any kind) I stand by my original work on the piece and don't feel that if i wrote the essay for the first time now instead of then it would really be any different.

Behold, the Starbucks on Forbes and Shady where I wrote this essay and 

every other essay from my junior and senior year of high school.

Blogging vs Academic Writing

             I have maintained a blog on Tumblr for about three years now - it is generally for personal matters and issues that are important to me, specifically human and animal rights and anything under the umbrella of social justice. I find it to be a good release for me as I find support and like minded people through my interactions. When I make the occasional personal post about my struggles, I receive condolences or concerns that I might not be comfortable receiving from people I'm close to in real life.
Tumblr has been a great outlet for me to discover new people, art, music, and form opinions on issues important to me. However, that is the purpose that blogging serves for me: Leisure and learning outside of academia. In contrast to the New York Times article, I staunchly believe that blogging has no place in academia.
           Academic writing, that which is thesis-driven, makes an argument, and convinces audiences (even if that audience is just one professor) of our claim is an art form in and of itself that is entirely separate from the introspective world of blogging. It allows us to evaluate our own positions and bring them into conversation with other pieces of work in order to make a convincing argument that hopefully no one else in the world has made. I find that incredibly liberating and powerful and although many of my peers would most likely disagree with my fondness for the academic paper, I find it to be the most valuable form of writing. Granted, I have no talent for creative writing and therefore find much more freedom in structure, and I understand that I differ in this way from many of my classmates. I believe that a blog can be helpful in hashing out thoughts and if the academic world believes it is beneficial to use in conjunction with academic writing, so be it. I, however, do not want to be a part of an education system that uses a blog as a basis for actual grading. I don't believe that it's a fair representation of true writing ability, as blogging is a form of social media, a platform through which I personally feel comfortable using lazy sentence structure and omitting a few punctuation marks.
If blogging is the future of neo-liberal hippie dippie academia, I believe that the quality of writing in students will go down significantly. It already shocks me that 80% of high school students never had to write a 15 page paper. All of a sudden I am very grateful for my high school forcing me to practice these strict writing regiments.

Thanks, Winchester. 

            I really don't mean to sound like a pretentious student against any kind of progressivism in the realm of academic writing. I am simply a firm defender of the academic paper, as I believe it teaches a kind of writing that is different and more easily and fairly grade-able than a blog. Blogs are too subjective, to open ended, too right brained, and I don't think that grades based on blogging will be accurate reflections of a students writing ability, nor that they will encourage or challenge students to improve their caliber of writing. If blogs are to be employed in tandem with academic writing, fine, although I'm still against it as I already maintain a blog and find posting blogs on specific academic topics at will kind of grating. In fact, I would actually argue that blogging for school doesn't make academic writing more fun, it just makes blogging less fun. I mean, I would hated it if I was expected to tweet on demand about a certain topic, so required blogging just sort of makes me less interested in blogging, which I previously just thought of as a therapeutic and somewhat frivolous hobby.

24 - open topic

I have always had a special connection with Northwestern University. My mom's best friend lives 5 minutes from the campus, so we would go there often as kids, as my mom lived in Chicago for 10 years. It was the first college campus (besides Pitt and CMU which are in my neighborhood and don't count) that I ever really looked at, even though I was way too young to be thinking about college. It was kind of always my dream. Then junior year happened and I started thinking about colleges and I was still afraid of planes and didn't have time to drive to Evanston, and I didn't have the grades anyway, and I just never really planned on applying. In retrospect, I think this was a really great thing. Even if I had gotten in it would have been too far from home and it would have been too hard for me, but most likely I would have gotten rejected and it would break that spiritual bond I have with NU. It's my school-away-from-school, and being there this weekend really made me feel connected and grounded in Evanston. Two of my best friends from high school are sophomores there and my ex boyfriend with whom I'm really close goes as well, so hopefully there will be many more visits in my future, and even though it sucks that I don't go there, my decision to not apply shields me from any bitterness or remorse I might have toward them. It's a beautiful, special place and even though it's very different from Michigan and I definitely don't think of it as better than Michigan in any way, I'll always kind of think of NU as a welcoming and peaceful place.

Go Wildcats.

Blogs we like

The best blog posts tend to be the ones that are short enough to keep you into the blog and want to read another - really long posts tend to exhaust you so that you just want to go back to mindless activity (not that they aren't valuable once in a while, but not all the time), but long enough to engage you and get you to think about something. I tend to gravitate toward those in our class that use humor or personal narratives in order to reach broader messages. Cory makes good use of triviality as a means to a broader statement, such as his "static" post, or one that stuck with me from the beginning of the year about how Michigan is not yet home despite doing all the things that one does at home here. As far as making the personal inviting to the public, this is something that sort of has to be well-written and nuanced in order for it to work. If you want people to read your blog, self-pity and too much information is probably not a great idea. To be honest, most people probably don't care about your personal life to any degree, let alone enough to read a long wallowing blog post. However, personal stories and feelings can be really interesting if well written and attempting to get at a broader point or theme. A great example of this is Cellik's blog, which uses a mix of formal and colloquial syntax in order to convey a broader theme, such as pride in one's roots, or attitudes about the monotony of going to college where you're from. These perspectives are not just "this thing happened to be today and I feel blank," which are very tedious and individualistic events happening to someone you don't really know, but rather these personal blog posts allow for introspection and get at broader implications that we all can relate to, which make them much more profound and interesting to read.
The only preference I have for the styles of the blog is something clean and preferably reflective of the blogger's personality, but really the only thing that matters is little clutter that makes for easy scrolling and post finding. I can't think of an image to put with this blog post.... Todaloo.

I wrote a thing about a pretty stranger

            The girl sitting across from me at Starbucks has nothing but her laptop and her iphone on the table in front of her. The lighted apple on the back of her computer appears lavender through the gray laptop case, almost the same color as her faded cardigan. She has dark eyes and several gold bracelets around her right wrist. Her perfectly threaded brow is furrowed intently whether she’s looking at her phone or her computer – she alternates between the two. She has shiny dark hair parted to the right and often looks away from her computer or phone with a calculating or even confused look, as though working on a very hard problem. She has gorgeous skin, and appears to have some sort of south asian background. As I’m typing, a dark boy with a rust colored beanie comes to meet her and sits across from her at the small table. He hands her a drink and her lips purse as she takes a sip as though it is not her ideal drink. She then explains that she is trying to memorize a story. The two begin to engage in very sporadic small talk as they work on their individual assignments. He has never heard of Jane Eyre. This kind of grosses her out.

             

            Lena’s right leg absent mindedly vibrated as she waited, checking her phone every few seconds between attempting to memorize her lines. Her French partner was already fifteen minutes late and if they didn’t rehearse she knew she would not get out of the C range in this French class that she probably shouldn’t have tested into in the first place. Lena recalled the only time previously she had rehearsed with Jake, and was not looking forward to today’s sequel to the encounter.

            After another five minutes of anxiously preparing for the “date,” as Jake had grossly called it, she saw him descending the stairs, carrying a two beverages. She eagerly took the one he extended to her, grateful despite herself for free caffeine, but her brows immediately joined in disgust as she tasted grainy chocolate.

            “What is it?” She asked.

            “Peppermint  mocha,” Jake replied with that half smile that followed the curve of his chin strap facial hair. “What, you don’t like it?”

            “No it’s fine. It’s just… strong. It’s a lot. I usually get something more coffee based.”

            Silence. Lena turned back to her computer, indicating to Jake that she needed another minute to go over her lines. Feeling the silence weighing on her, she said, not looking away from her computer, “So do you come here often?”

            Jake replied to unhearing ears, as Lena had no interest in Jake’s spare time activities.

            More silence. Jake had not so much as touched his drink. “So do you wanna get started?” suggested Jake.

            “Yeah, fine, sure.”

            Lena cleared her throat and took one last glance over the format, knowing that Jake was unlikely to have prepared thoroughly enough, and she might have to cover for him. “Go ahead.”

            “La semaine dermiere, je suis allée au Chicago pour –“

            “Á Chicago,” Lena interrupted.

            “What?”
            “It should be á Chicago because it’s a city. That’s the preposition.”

            “Oh.”

            “Go on.”

            “Je suis allée Á Chicago pour la match de football americain contre Northwestern et Michigan.”

            Prepared, Lena replied, “Oh, qui a gagné?”

            “Shouldn’t it be ‘ce qui?’”

            “What?”
            “It should be ‘ce qui’ because there’s no noun preceding the relative pronoun.”

            Lena exhaled sharply, frustrated at his correctness. He was so lazy yet somehow he did better on the exams. Tense, Lena glowered over at Jake, who merely shrugged his shoulders. For some inexplicable reason, Lena’s face was getting hot and she felt a lump in her throat.
            “Everything okay?” Asked Jake.

            “I just don’t get why I can’t fucking GET this relative pronoun thing. I’m in calc three for engineering and I can’t fucking figure out the difference between ‘qui’ and ‘ce qui?’ What the fuck is wrong with me?”

            “Whoa whoa, baby, calm down, it’s okay, it’s all cool,” cooed Jake, rubbing her arm.

            Lena jumped violently and knocked over her drink.

            “Don’t touch me, don’t call me that, please don’t touch me.”

            “Can you calm down? You’re making a scene,” replied Jake, not removing his hand from her shoulder.

            “Can you not touch me? Can you please not touch me?”

            “I’m trying to help you, I’m afraid you’re gonna go crazy,” explained Jake, still not raising his voice even a decibel.

            Lena was frustrated by his calmness. Why did she hate him? Why was she getting so upset over a French grammatical error? Why did she feel so threatened by him?

            “You spilled your drink. Let me get you another one.”

            “I don’t want another drink! I don’t want your gross chocolate abomination!”

            “Then drink mine.”

While I was initially attracted to the "Bookslut" blog, for obvious reasons, I found that one dense and unimaginative, and had little to do with actual sluts (a term, by the way, which I only approve of when used in the context of a deep understanding of intersectionality and exclusionary implications of that term toward women of color). At any rate, I struggled to find a blog that I felt like I would actually visit because I don't really care about people's reviews of books or articles. That's what twitter is for. The reason review blogs are so boring is because you can literally get a review from people you care about in 140 characters or less so why would you trust a stranger's 500 word discussion of the "themes" that you don't care about? I just want to know how much nudity I'm going to have to white knuckle through if I watch it with my mom. Isn't that what's really helpful in a review?
Anyway, the blog I settled on is GalleyCat. This blog is interesting because it doesn't seem to be focused specifically on literature. For example, they have a post that's just the trailer to Angelina Jolie's upcoming movie, "Maleficent" which looks incredibly dope. The blog links frequently to sources that are appealing to me, such as the Huffington Post, and makes use of multimedia to tie its literary agenda in with pop culture that is relevant and interesting to me, a vapid blonde teenage white girl. Apart from its connections to pop culture, it also brings many issues outside of the writing world into conversation with writing and issues that affect writers. It writes about music, politics (its most recent post being on the NSA), social media, and hotspots for writers and make them all relevant to its reading base, which is presumably comprised of writers or writing enthusiasts. One thing that also drew me to this blog was the format - it is clean, aesthetic, and easy to navigate, making clear concise posts which titles that let me know whether or not I want to read the post. I'm into the micro-post format because I'm a teenager and technology has melted my brain and my attention span and I have nails to paint and boys to lure into my underwater lair.
All in all, one of the better literary blogs in all of the literary blogs I've perused in my lifetime, which now officially consists of, like, nine. All of which I clicked on for this assignment.

This is my blogging face. Do I look like I'm ready to read a fucking essay on the

 use of the color green in Mrs. Dalloway? It's a blog for Pete's sake.

Pittsburgh is the protagonist in the story of my life.

The most immediate change I noticed about myself was the increase in hometown pride I acquired since I left Pittsburgh - which is actually shocking considering the amount of hometown pride I had before. The combination of actually being away from home, the Pirates going to the playoffs for the first time in 21 years, the Steelers not being broadcast on television, and not being surrounded by anyone that knew Pittsburgh is the best city in the entire world (it's true, I could prove that shit in a lab), made subtle changes in me, like suddenly getting upset when I had to miss a hockey game, as well as large scale ones in the form of homesickness. I never went to camp as a kid, and had never spent more than two weeks away from home. I hate traveling and generally opted to spend most of my breaks in Pittsburgh. I've never moved houses - when my parents got divorced I stayed with my mom in the house in which I grew up, and I've never changed schools - I went to Winchester Thurston from kindergarten until graduation. Therefore, I've known little change in my life and had no conception of what the homesickness would be like. It often manifests itself into a physical illness where I feel exhausted and unable to get out of bed. There are crying spells, headaches, and severe anxiety that accompany being away from home for the first time in my life, and it's difficult to explain to teachers that I can't go to class or do my assignment because I saw a picture of the Fort Pitt tunnel and needed to take a couple of hours to myself. All of my anxiety about college was focused on making friends and keeping up with classes, and I had no emotional preparation for missing Pittsburgh. I think what people don't understand is that I don't miss my parents, or my friends, or even my cat, to the extent that I miss the city itself. 

Although my cat is a close second

That place is my rock, my home. And I think one of the biggest changes I've made in college that has been a product of all this is that now I know once I finish school (I plan to go to grad school, wherever that may be), I'll be returning to Pittsburgh to settle down for good. Going into college even just a couple months ago I had this sense of "My life is starting now. I could end up anywhere," and that was terrifying and not a feeling I loved, but now all of that is gone. Of course there are variables - I might fall in love with someone not from Pittsburgh (if I could ever get over that major character flaw), I might not be able to find sufficient work in Pittsburgh or be offered a job somewhere else, but for now it's nice to imagine that after 8 years of doing whatever I need to do to reach my goal, I'm going back to the city. My brother graduates college this year and he's moving back to Pittsburgh immediately after for his job. I know that this doesn't sound like a huge character change, but every part of me has been influenced by my love of home, and I genuinely believe that my feelings about Pittsburgh and its role in my life and future is the biggest change that I have discovered in myself since coming to college.

Do yourself a favor and google this skyline

Duck Season

In the last few years, a photographic phenomenon enacted predominantly by young females has emerged: the duckface.

Before I get to anything too political here, let me explain to you the psychology behind the duckface. Girls like to look pretty in pictures - after all, presumably if a photo is being taken it is likely to be viewed by others, and with the number of social media sites to which a photo is likely to be posted, it could be seen by potentially hundreds of people. People whose opinions we care about. So understandably, we want to look attractive. Nothing wrong there. Generally candids are not the best way to go with this goal in mind, so a pose must be chosen (a smile being the go to). However, what if the subject or subjects of the photo are at a party or very casual setting, at which it would look odd or uncomfortable to pose a smile? For example, if I’m laying in bed with my glasses on just after a shower and want to send the message “Just chilling at home,” it might look a little odd for me to slap on a big cheesy grin. But if this snapchat is being sent someone with whom I’m not necessarily comfortable seeing me at my worst, I don’t want to pull a big face either. So I purse my lips for a casual silly face, that doesn’t contort any other part of my face, so I can still look cute and somewhat candid.

So was born the duckface.

Now if it seems odd to you that I just wrote a paragraph explaining why many girls put on a specific face in photos, it is. And herein lies the purpose of this piece.

So why is the duckface such a big deal? How on earth could the face that girls choose to make in a photo that is neither obscene nor offensive, disgusting nor demeaning, have any possible effect on other people? This can’t possibly cause any real controversy, right?

oh

oh dear

oh my. Well we wouldn’t want to look “retatrded” would we?

No, the duckface has risen to fame as an instant pass to ridicule and demean any girl who should dare participate in the degrading and idiotic act of…. Making a face in a photo????

Let’s examine the duckface backlash for a minute. What do these images in particular have in common? Well first of all, they’re all hideously cruel, and are using a face that a girl is making as an excuse to very personally attack them. Secondly, they all assume that the duckface is made exclusively for male consumption, and that how a woman appears in any given photo is for male pleasure.

On top of these clearly over-the-top images, duckface hate is everywhere. One of my favorite pastimes when I am winding down before bed is browsing Imgur, an image sharing website. A constant presence is the imposition that if a girl in an image is making a duckface, she is instantly ridiculed. A not uncommon comment is “The only acceptable duckface,” in reference to any image that actually has a duck in it, stating that duckfaces are not only unattractive, they are unacceptable. 

So are these people leading the crusade against duckfaces just Internet randoms - the same ones perhaps that frequent sadistic sub reddits and leave those incoherent and nasty youtube comments for no reason that we all hate? 

Unfortunately no. I recently saw this post from an ex boyfriend, a self proclaimed feminist:

And upon tweeting about my dismay over the war on duckface and how absurd I find the whole thing, I received this reply, from a progressive, liberal, intelligent, friend of mine:

The duckface is one of the few issues that no one talks about in the context of a feminist issue, it’s exempt from even self proclaimed feminists like these friends of mine to see as something worth concern. The truth is, the act of restricting duckfacing itself is not the issue, as duckfacing itself is not an essential part of female life, but it is a glaring example of a bigger problem. 

The duckfacing fiasco illuminates a huge part of female oppression perfectly:

Men have taken something that have nothing to do with them, and forbidden women to do it because they don’t like it.

I can speak from personal experience in saying that every time I make a duckface in a photo it is not to look hot for men, and even if it were, couldn’t they just ignore it? Why do they have to forbid me to do it all together, lest I be inviting people to call me a an idiot, a whore, or some misspelled version of an offensive term like “retarded?” 

The answer is simple: Because they can. Because they don’t enjoy looking at photos that they don’t personally find attractive, and so those photos shouldn’t exist. Because they as a group in society have the power to make women believe that they are actually doing something wrong by making a certain face in a photo. 

Think about how powerful the patriarchy is: They can take something as non-offensive and ordinary as making a face in a photo, and actually cause men and women alike to believe that his face is an indication of stupidity, promiscuity, low self esteem, or any number of negative qualities that have nothing to do with the face you make in a photo.

Let me repeat that. Men have decided that the face that women make in a picture is an indication of their intelligence.

And that if you make this face, you are opening yourself up to be a target of public ridicule.

Well I’m not buying it.

The face you make in a photograph doesn’t have to be for the benefit of anyone but you. If someone doesn’t like how you look in a photo, guess what? It’s their job to move on from it, because it’s really not a huge inconvenience for someone to not like the way someone looks in a facebook photo. 

It is not your job to look good for everyone in every photo on the internet. 

And just like how if someone doesn’t like your hair, your makeup, your boobs, your clothes, or anything else you choose to put on or do with your body, it’s their issue, and not yours. 

And let me let you in on a little secret: The face a girl makes in a photograph (hold on to your hats folks) has nothing to do with (and i know this is a difficult concept) her intelligence, (wow amazing) her decision making abilities (shocking), her self esteem (what how could that be), or literally anything about her besides what she looks like in that photo. Yep, it’s true. 

And the fact that I have to explain that to anyone is downright tragic. 

So I leave you with my very own strong, independent duckface.

Quack quack ladies, and happy duckfacing!

Moviez

To me, the only qualification for a great movie is that it entertains me and that it's probably about girls. I find that movies about white boys have gotten really unoriginal because they're always the same types of conflicts. Good movies about women are so much more subversive because every type of woman has not been played out. Men in movies are so flawed and well written and diverse in personality. Women always fit specific archetypes that don't reflect real women at all, so when a good movie (one written by a woman generally) is about a woman it's so refreshing to see women that actually resemble women in real life. To me, a great movie, much like a great book, is one that introduces a premise or conflict that causes or allows you to think about something that you've never thought about before and leaves an impression on you that shapes your future worldview.
Examples of these types of great movies are Legally Blonde and the Bling Ring, which show feminine, flawed women who have all kinds of complicated relationships with other women, that really taught me things about what it means to be female facing conflicts such as the criminal justice system - a central theme in both movies that is generally not associated with "chick flicks" (a term I personally resent). Other films that beautifully represent complicated and diverse women learning from and influencing each other are Girl, Interrupted and Disney's Atlantis.

Badass/Role model/Personal hero

I also find that extremely bizarre movies that still manage to connect with accomplish best what movies are supposed to do; take you to another world in order to teach you about the one you're in. Examples of this include Moulin Rouge!, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Donnie Darko, and Being John Malkovich. All are highly unrealistic, dramatic, and exaggerated, yet I always walk away from them having gleaned a new message or something to think about that I can apply to reflection on my own life.

More like "Eternal Heartbreak of the Emotionally Unstable 15-year-old Who Was Not Ready for this Movie"

(P.S. Shout out to Slumdog Millionaire and Anchorman for being two of my favorite movies that don't fit into any of these categories).

Bob Dylan

When I was a kid and my parents were married my whole family would go on road trips up to our house in Charlevoix, Michigan. I’m from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and including rest stops for two kids and a dog, it took about 10 hours to get up there. Though my brother and I have been best friends since we were little, we did fight like siblings obviously on occasion, and when you’re in a Subaru sadan for 10 hours with a big smelly dog between you, things can get a little restless. Whenever we would start to act out, whine, or prove unable to entertain ourselves, instead of the classic “I will turn this car around” or “don’t make me come back there!” that I’ve seen on sitcoms, my father would just start singing Bob Dylan in his best impression. Not only do all Bob Dylan impressions sound like little more than a low whine when anyone does them, but my father is certifiably tone deaf. Like, he cannot distinguish between two tones.

            Through operational conditioning, I learned to associate Bob Dylan with punishment, as soon as my father would start to sing “Memphis Blues” whatever actions my brother and I were doing would immediately cease before he even finished saying “Oh, Mama.” Last summer, however, I was on the megabus and my ipod had died, so I resorted to using spotify on my phone, and this was before I had premium, so all that was available to me were the radio stations. I settled on the Counting Crows station as I thought that best encompassed my music taste (what can I say? 90s alternative folk rock is my passion), and after flipping through a couple Matchbox Twenty and R.E.M. tracks, “Like a Rolling Stone” by Bob Dylan came on. This is Bob Dylan?! I thought, in absolute disbelief. This is great! The artist I had so actively avoided was blowing my mind on that dingy megabus. I added the song to a playlist and listened to it regularly, and a few weeks later I ventured cautiously into more of Bob Dylan’s repetoire, but it wasn’t until I found “Hurricane” that I realized what I had been missing my whole life. “Hurricane” is one of those songs that you check how much time is left and pray that it’s at least 6 more minutes (which is great because the song is 8 minutes long), that you wish you’d lost your virginity to, that you can’t listen to enough. I know consider myself an avid fan of Bob Dylan and now have even learned to associate the memories of my dad singing “Memphis Blues” with happy times with my full family.

What a babe

Ending of Purple Hibiscus

I read the end of Purple Hibiscus in an entirely too public space on the third floor of the psych department in East Hall. It wasn’t the best place to be sobbing over a book but that was the spot I’d chosen to do my homework for the day. The ending of the book brought up so many parallels that had been running throughout to my favorite book The Poisonwood Bible, which I remember finishing in a starbucks, sobbing openly over  my frappuccino around this time last year.

            It may just be the homesickness or the loneliness of college, but there was something about being here, 400 miles from my hometown, that made the final scenes of saying goodbye to family and the prospect of never seeing the (unrequited) love of your life again that made this so hard for me. At the end of the book, the family is just Kambili, her mother, and her brother, just like my family, and that made me miss my mommy and brother even more, and made me decide to go home this weekend for no reason. Sometimes you just need it.

            As far as the ending of the book itself, I thought it was fitting. I was glad to see that the mother had not in fact been passively accepting the abuse of Eugene, but rather taking action to end it for herself and her children all this time. While I don’t condone murder in general, I do support defense of your life and your children if you have been physically or sexually abused, and if that means killing your husband, so be it. Although I know that Eugene did a lot for the liberation of Nigerian people I cannot feel empathy for him. Any man that chooses to use his power for violence and manipulation forfeits all autonomy of his life and deserves what he gets. As far as Jaja accepting the punishment, it was disturbing and a little upsetting but not unexpected. I was okay with everything that happened and honestly I was less focused on Jaja and more focused on Kambili’s reaction to her Aunt and cousins leaving for America, as well as Father Amadi, as she describes their letters. I feel deeply for Kambili and empathize with her losing those who made her feel safe and loved, as well as her uncertainty about the future given all of this change in a very short amount of time.

I mean, how could you not get misty eyed reading a book about everything you love changing or leaving when you get to take pictures like this when you go home?!

Post 14 - Essay Topics?

Safe Topic: The foils of Ifeoma and Amaka to Mama and Kambili respectively, and comparing and contrasting their relationships within those units and to each other. How Adichie develops the relationships between each combination of these characters (Kambili to each of them, as well as Ifeoma to Mama) and how that changes the scope of Kambili’s outlooks and attitudes and her way of approaching conflict and her nuclear family. Are these relationships symbiotic or are there more clear influences? How does Adichie use structure and diction to draw parallels between these character units and how does she show that they intersect? Why are they important relationships in the story? How does the relationships being completely independent from men shape their nature?

Likely: How does Kambili’s relationship with religion reflects her relationship with her father. Her father and Father Amaldi can both represent different aspects of religion and I would include an analysis of how her relationship with these two men and her motivations/attitudes surrounding them reflect that of her relationship and attitudes about religion. What influence does religion have on her life? Which man symbolizes how religion has affected/treated her? What does this say about Kambili’s future in the Catholic church and is Adichie intentionally setting us up to make this prediction? Finally, does Kambili’s relationship with religion seem organic or is it forced? Is it out of fear that she loves Jesus? How does this relate to her father and what can we learn about how she feels about her father from what we know about her view on religion, or vice versa?

Risky topic: Comparing the character development of Jaja to Kambili. While Jaja’s influences are more internal – discovering things that he likes, feelings that were simply triggered by external forces such as being taken out of his family unit and particularly away from his father, Kambili’s development comes from very external factors – who she meets and interacts with and learns from when she travels to Nsukka. How does Jaja’s development help us to understand his behavior/acting out at the beginning of the novel? How is the novel setting us up to predict how these developments will manifest themselves? Do Jaja and Kambili act as foils for each other?

Lucky Number 13

“You have become Father Amadi’s sweetheart,” she said. Her tone was the same light tone she had used with Obiora. She could not possibly know how painfully my heart lurched. “He was really worried when you were sick. He talked about you so much. And, amam, it wasn’t just priestly concern.”

            “What did he say?”

            Amaka turned to study my eager face. “You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

            “Crush” was mild. It did not come close to what I felt, how I felt, but I said, “Yes.”

            “Like every other girl on campus.”

            I tightened my grip on the railings. I knew Amaka would not tell me more unless I asked. She wanted me to speak out more, after all. “What do you mean?” I asked.

            “Oh all the girls in church have crushes on him. Even some of the married women. People have crushes on priests all the time, you know. It’s exciting to have to deal with God as a rival.” Amaka ran her hand over the railings, smearing the water droplets. “You’re different. I’ve never heard him talk about anyone like that. He said you never laugh. How shy you are although he knows there’s a lot going on in your head. He insisted on driving Mom to Enugu to see you. I told him he sounded like a person whose wife was sick.”

            “I was happy that he came to the hospital,” I said. It felt easy saying that, letting the words roll off my tongue. Amaka’s eyes still bored into me.

            “It was Uncle Eugone who did that to you, okwia?” she asked.

            I let go of the railings, suddenly needing to ease myself. Nobody had asked, not even the doctor at the hospital or Father Benedict. I did not know what Papa had told them. Or if he had even told them anything. “Did Aunty Ifeoma tell you?” I asked.

            “No, but I guessed so.”

            “Yes. It was him,” I said, and then headed for the toilet. I did not turn to see Amaka’s reaction.

- Pages 219-220

I chose this passage in particular because it is the moment where we truly see the culmination of the growth that has been happening in Amaka and Kambili's relationship. What started out as a scornful one-sided rivalry has flourished into Kambili's first real female friend, who respects her and thinks of her as an equal, with whom she can confide and discuss serious matters, but who also includes her in gossip, boy talk, and all of the teenage girl things that Kambili never had. As Amaka shows these signs of inclusion or even affection, Kambili not only grows more confident - "She wanted me to speak out, after all" - but also her stutter and nerves about speaking to her cousin (or anyone) disappear. For the first time, instead of preceding an interaction with "I wanted to say" or following it up with "I wish I had said," Kambili's feelings about her conversation with Amaka are that "the words roll[ed] off [her] tongue." This distinct difference in diction choice from Adichi contrasts the effective repetition she has used in Kambili's interaction to demonstrate her shyness and often regret as a consequence of said shyness. The use of the conversation about Father Amadi and crushes - something that Kambili has not only never discussed before, but never even really experienced - to establish trust between the two characters and to demonstrate to the reader that a barrier has been broken down between Amaka and Kambili, that Kambili has become grounded enough for Amaka, and Amaka in turn has become humanized enough for Kambili, works well in juxtaposition with the conversation about Kambili's father and how she ended up in the hospital. Kambili is no longer afraid to betray her father and be truthful about his deeds with Amaka. Her fear of her father was shattered when she defended the painting of her grandfather, and as it was Amaka's painting in the first place that gave her this strength, it is only fitting that Kambili's act of honesty about her father's deeds occurs prompted by Amaka as well. 

Amaka Character Analysis

              The character that sticks out to me most in my reading of Purple Hibiscus is Amaka, Auntie Ifeoma’s outspoking daughter, and a seemingly endless source of anxiety for Kimbili. Amaka and Ifeoma serve as foils for Kimbili and her mother, showing a different side of the domestic woman in this culture – perhaps what Kimbili’s family dynamic would have been more like had her Papa not been around, or had been different. Amaka is a teenage girl that mirrors more closely what we as Americans are used to thinking of as teenage girls – they wear makeup and jewelry, look at magazines, and dress more freely – though their behavior in no way displays that they wish to be American. In fact, in contrast to Kimbili and her family, Amaka is sharply opposed to longing for white culture, adamantly proud of her culture, which she demonstrates in many ways, including her choice in listening to traditional music, which she believes more authentic and meaningful, and unashamedly singing in Igbo during prayer. Kimbili, being reflective of everything her father says and does, does show disdain and shame for her heritage and culture, which her father tries to hide as much as possible. Though her Papa is a man of integrity, as demonstrated by his newspaper, he has parlayed a sense of embarrassment of anything that is non-western in the way they live their lives and practice their religion. One of the reasons Amaka makes Kimbili so uncomfortable is because she is the first to make Kimbili aware of how her family uses her privilege to shun their roots – or even make Kimbili aware of how privileged she is in the first place. Although Amaka is often rude in the way she shames Kimbili for her advantages, she is doing important work – privilege, in this case somewhat extreme class privilege, is something that the people who have it must be aware of, especially if they can use that power to help others, which Kimbili’s family pointedly does not.

            As lazy as it is to draw my comparison between two Adichie characters, Amaka reminds me most closely of the narrator/protagonist from “The Thing Around Your Neck,” who demonstrates what national pride genuinely looks like outside of the context of your country. Africans are often made to believe that they have every reason to assimilate and be ashamed of where they are from – that they should be grateful for any opportunity. The narrator of this story and Amaka share that they understand they have no reason to be ashamed, that their culture is their own, and it is not to be looked down upon or appropriated by anyone, black or white. I like to think that the narrator in “The Thing Around Your Neck” is what Amaka would be like grown up, if she lived outside of Africa, though hopefully doing something more for social justice like she dreams of.

Differences Reading Novels vs. Short Stories

    

I feel like novels are much more low pressure to read than short stories, because in short stories you have to immediately, from the get go, start looking for themes, symbols, motifs, etc., because there isn’t time to waste in short stories. I always feel somewhat pressured reading short stories to latch on to what the author is going for very quickly, whereas in a novel I have time to sink in and settle into the story, as the author has ample time to establish characters, write beautifully just for the sake of writing, describe, and delve into various ideas that may not be essential to the plot, but are lovely to read and important to the overall style of the book. In this way, my strategy for reading novels involves more immersion, and trying to connect myself to the story, rather than picking it apart in a literary manner. This novel in particular, like many of Adichie’s short stories, involves an element of learning about an unfamiliar culture. My ignorance really started showing when I went into the book thinking that because I was an expert on the Poisonwood Bible that I would have some sort of prior knowledge, despite the two books taking place in completely different African cultures, between which there is little to no overlap. Therefore throughout this novel I am simply trying to absorb as much as I can, and try to work through it that way instead of picking it apart AP lit style. That will surely come later, but it’s much harder to do with a large work than short stories, where it is possible to analyze the literary choices in one sitting.

Adichie Comparative Post

The stories “Tomorrow Is Too Far,” “The Thing Around Your Neck,” and “Cell One” all demonstrate one of my favorite things to see in a story – a woman (of color) standing up for herself and demonstrating her right to take up space just the same as a man does. The terminology “Take up space” is one that is used in feminist discourse often – women develop eating disorders at much higher rates of men because they feel their body does not have  a right to take up as much space, they often sit with their legs crossed and arms folded while often men slouch in their chairs with their knees far apart, and I found it interesting that Adichie actually used this phrase in “Tomorrow Is Too Far.” The other two aforementioned stories also demonstrate the idea of women asserting their right to be heard and take up space. In “Cell One” the protagonist acts out against what she believes is a waste of time, energy, and resources, and breaks her parents’ car’s windshield which is wholeheartedly badass and something we don’t see a lot from young women of color in stories unless they’re being portrayed in the context of “The Angry Black Woman” trope, which Adichie’s characters seldom are. In “The Thing Around Your Neck,” Adichie’s character is sufficiently creeped out by her borderline stalker, and although she proceeds (with caution) into the relationship, she never surrenders her inhibitions and falls unequivocally in love with him. She keeps her walls up against his suspicious attitude and narcissism, and in the end refuses to make a commitment to a man she does not believe she can share all parts of her life with. It’s wonderful to see women that can be involved in passionate, romantic love stories, but not let it define them, and understand that their autonomy, their background, and so many other parts of themselves are more important than their relationship, and actively vocalize it, and that theme is present in several in Adichie’s stories.

The Nigerian Political System - An Informal Explanation

Ok so basically the Nigerian political system is a Federal Republic with a bicameral legislature that's actually modeled after the United States. This essentially means it doesn't have a monarch and that is has branches of government, legislative (a senate and a house), judicial (which in Nigeria is called the National Assembly, and is headed by the Supreme Court of Nigeria), and the executive, headed by the president (who is elected), in order to balance power, just like the US. One of the big differences is that the Nigerian president is the head of the government and the state, as well as this thing they have called a multi-party system, which means that more than one party can gain control of the government either independently or working as a coalition. This is probably the biggest difference between Nigeria and the US and actually makes Nigeria kind of idiosyncratic because it's like super uncommon for presidential governments to have multi party systems.

This is the current president, Goodluck Jonathan. That's right, HIS NAME IS GOODLUCK.

The common laws are super similar to Britain and Wales because of the history of British imperialism (ahem, I mean, influence), but they have their own Constitution and everything called the Constitution of Nigeria that created the framework for all their laws and stuff. Another difference though between Nigeria and the US is that Nigeria actually has four different common law practices and which ones are in place kind of depend on where you live, and most people abide by a mix of all of them.

• English Law is what's followed in England and Wales and all those countries (duh)
• Common Law is the law developed by the Nigerian court system
• Customary Law is based on the customary practices of Nigerian natives, incorporated and manifested into law.
• Sharia law is a different set entirely, but it's only used in the northern part.

The only other key differences between the US and Nigeria are the number of members in the house and Senate, which is obvious because Nigeria has 39 territories instead of 50 states. Also, all senate and house members have four year terms, and exactly like the US the president has four year terms, renewable once. 

So many similarities between the US and Nigeria!

I hope you learned the basics of the Nigerian political system!

http://www.commonwealthofnations.org/sectors-nigeria/government/government_ministries/

http://www.onlinenigeria.com/government/

There Is Nothing Wrong with Representation for the Sake of Representation

"When I was nine years old," Goldberg says, "Star Trek came on, and I looked at it and I went screaming through the house, 'Come here, mum, everybody, come quick, come quick -- there's a black lady on television and she ain't no maid!'" - Whoopi Goldberg 

Nichelle Nichols was a groundbreaking development in diversity in popular television when she starred in "Star Trek" in 1966

I thought of this quote immediately when I saw Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Ted Talk about her heavily western-influenced writing. Adichie, despite being completely unfamiliar with white western culture, wrote almost exclusively about from its perspective in her early writing, because she simply was not aware that there was room for black African protagonists and perspective in literature. Her feeling of being excluded in full from an entire art form may feel extreme to us "progressives," but her experience is not at all uncommon even in our culture.
The theme of my blog, if you can't tell already, is representation and its importance in writing. I've decided to use this blog post to clarify exactly what that means to me, and why it fits in a writing blog.

                                      
                        Representation changed cinema for the better when it inspired Whoopi Goldberg to pursue acting

To me, representation means finding characters like me in the media I consume. Whether that means their religion, gender, sexual orientation, or simply worldview or personality is similar to mine, can all count as part of that representation. I am very lucky because as a white person, I get to turn on the TV or go to the movies and see people that look like me almost everywhere. However, as a woman that has actual real feelings (and even more than one at a time!), it does get a little repetitive seeing the women that are represented in most media. There are notable exceptions of course, though many of the heroines regarded to break the stereotypes about women in media are few and far between, and even they have major shortcomings, as many were written by men, (re: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Veronica Mars, etc). So if I as an abled bodied white woman have trouble finding characters I can truly connect to, I can't possibly imagine what women of color go through to achieve that end.
Representation matters, particularly in literature, when the reader is free to imagine characters however they like, because it gives writers the chance to create anyone they want, and possibly give a lot of hope to young people in minority groups that don't have many people that are like them that they can aspire to be. Books that are taught in schools are overwhelmingly about or by straight white men, and no offense to straight white men, but I think I've had enough of your perspective. I've really got it. I don't need any more. I've never read a book in school about a queer woman of color, but that's the perspective most people so desperately need because it's the one we've seen the least of. Movies and television are overwhelmingly about straight white men, and I think people have really grasped that demographic, being constantly surrounded by it for - well - ever. It's not that every straight white man is the same and that I can't possibly learn anything from a different straight white man, it's just that I really think specific focus on groups outside of that demographic is way more necessary than reading another "classic" that teaches us about literature, but won't really make any difference in the lives of someone like Adichie - that won't in any way contribute to our wholeness as readers and people.
When Adichie found representation through African novels and stories, she was able to write from what she knew and really express herself and grow into the writer that she is today. Had she not found that representation, she would have continued to feel alienated and isolated from the world that she wanted to join because she was a good writer and it was what she liked to do from a young age. What I'm saying with all this is that while it's important to teach "Moby Dick" and "Of Mice and Men," it's only so important because we've decided that these books are the classics, and if we don't read them we'll feel out of the loop when people discuss "Great Literature." but the truth is, "Great Literature," doesn't really have black people that aren't slaves or maids. It doesn't even really have women that aren't love interests or relatives to the protagonists, and if they are, they're horrendously two dimensional, because they're written by men (Tess of the D'Urbervilles anyone?). Perhaps it's time to shift the emphasis from studying "Great Literature" just because we have to, to studying actually good and diverse books that will broaden our perspectives and make room for more queer people, more women, more people of color, in the field of writing.
In the words of Hillary Clinton, "It's hard to imagine yourself as something you don't see."

             

Notecards

"I'm here to paint selfies and fuck the patriarchy and I'm all out of paint."

"I don’t give a shit what the world thinks. I was born a bitch, I was born a painter, I was born fucked. But I was happy in my way. You did not understand what I am. I am love. I am pleasure, I am essence, I am an idiot, I am an alcoholic, I am tenacious. I am; simply I am…You are a shit." - Frieda Kahlo

             

This is one of my favorite quotes in itself. I will never be on the intellectual level of this random guy on twitter my friend from high school retweeted one time.

Violet Baudelaire is my favorite female character ever in a book fight me

"At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey." - Lemony Snicket

And a bonus from Lemony Snicket because he is my favorite male author... 

"One can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways."

Sassy Virginia Woolf says, "Suck it, men in general."

"I detest the masculine point of view. I am bored by his heroism, virtue, and honour. I think the best these men can do is not talk about themselves anymore."- Virginia Woolf 

How long do I have to gape before I'm a writer?

At the risk ofappearing foolish, a writer sometimes needs to be able to just stand and gape at this or that thing—a sunset or an old shoe—in absolute and simple amazement."- Raymond Carver

Charles Baxter has had it up to here with your "wisdom" nonsense.

"Too often, what passes for wisdom is someone's personal prejudice masquerading as truth." - Charles Baxter

Michelle Williams can hold up my ship any time... Wait, what?

 "I want to be like water. i want to slip through fingers, but hold up a ship." - Michelle Williams

In case I ever dare try to write another story about a straight white dude.

"There are no Jack Kerouacs or Holden Caulfields for girls. Literary girls don’t take road-trips to find themselves; they take trips to find men. "Great" books, as defined by the Western canon, didn’t contain female protagonists I could admire. In fact, they barely contained female protagonists at all." - Kelsey McKinney

Orwell and Swan Posts

I understand that this might be an unpopular opinion, but I don't care what Orwell thinks about writing as an art form. Just because someone uses big words doesn't inherently make them circumlocutious (a word which I'm sure Orwell, and apparently google, disapproves of, as it is most certainly a correctly spelled word though still has the infamous red underline). Furthermore, his harsh, judgmental, almost bored holier-than-thou tone and sweeping generalizations lend absolutely nothing to his argument and only give grounds to indefensible strawmen. He just sounds like the incredibly privileged conspiracy theorist who was in the right place at the right time that he is. I won't apologize for my harsh language choice, as it mirrors the style of Orwell's sacred opinion on writing. He speaks from absolutely no credibility, as being a professional writer gives you absolutely zero authority to say what is and is not good writing, as writing is incredibly multifaceted and there are certainly no two great works of literature that follow the same formula, and in writing there really are no true rules. Grammar itself is not a set in stone code, as some of the most famous writers in literature often make stylistic choices to ignore it (as much as e.e. cummings is not my cup of tea, there's no denying he's made his mark on the history of poetry). The real nail in the coffin in this piece of writing (after finally moving on from him calling the word "romantic" completely meaningless, and the word "objective" pretentious), when he asked, in reference to his spiel about metaphors, "What is a rift, for instance?" as if that's something that not every literate 12-year-old knows the answer to. In short, I gleaned nothing from this passage and am tired of overprivileged white guys telling me how to write which is an objectively ridiculous concept.

Note: In the post above I have taken special care to include at least one dying metaphor, meaningless word, pretentious word, and verbal false limb, and I'd be shocked if anyone even noticed, let alone wrote off the entire paragraph because I apparently broke every rule of holy Orwellian literature.

Conversely, the Gopen and Swan article actually make strides in analyzing the impact certain types of scientific writing have on the reader. Knowing extremely little about science (it was always my worst subject), and even less about scientific writing (why write about science when you could write about magic or feminism?) I feel that from this article I actually learned information I may not have thought about before about this unfamiliar genre of writing. Specifically, it drew parallels and made connections between reading and interpreting science and more traditional writing. As an extremely language oriented person, this piece even made me feel a little more comfortable with the idea of scientific reading, displaying it as something not completely foreign and inscrutable to us mathematically challenged learners, which I personally found very valuable.