A Mousetrap

I had never read anything of Virginia Woolf's before this class, and I was pleasantly surprised by her writing. I actually really enjoyed reading her work. I think what I favored most was her ability to pick one subject/object and expand on it in as much depth as the subject would allow. She comes to very profound conclusions in her work based on the smallest of objects: in the essays we read, a pencil and a moth. She is able to make grand conjectures about empathy and death from subjects that at first seem unimportant to the reader. A few things I noticed about her work are:

• Narrowly focused beginnings; more general life observation to end
• Favoring lengthier sentences
• Lush words
• The ability to be in the story without over-inserting herself 

The following is my attempt at emulating Virginia Woolf.


"A Mousetrap"

We set the mousetrap in the corner of the hallway, where I thought it be best out of toe's harm, because it seemed, being that my roommates might forget its existence, that danger was eminent if the trap was placed in a busy space. The trap was small, barely the size of my hand, I was astounded that a trivial piece of plastic could hold the ability to maim with the quickest of strokes. The mousetrap looked anything but ruthless in the dirty corner of the apartment, where feet rarely walked, but its deadly force would be surprising to an unsuspecting mouse that wandered upon an enticing dollop of peanut butter, who thought that a marvelous dinner would follow its grand plan to covet the treasure.

I imagined the dreadful moment when I, myself, would find that mouse, lifeless, lonely, and cold on the floor. I speculated that the discovery would occur at an unpredicted, unfortunate time; I would be joyful, and in a moment I would be faced with a murder I plotted but never believed would materialize. And life can be unexpected at the worst times, for even the littlest creatures. Doom will befall us when our hearts are light, and those hearts will suddenly be crushed because nothing satisfactory or even wonderful can truly last forever, at least not consistently. I would find a bag and transform it into a coffin; pick up the dead mouse at an arms length with the plastic, and bury the mouse in the trash, along with the spoils it never possessed.

________________

As an aside, I must add that I am currently in the midst of ridding a tiny fourth roommate, who so kindly squeaked and clawed at the wall above my bed for an hour and a half on Sunday night. I hope that the mouse leaves the premises before it decides to venture into our actual apartment rather than staying in the walls, as I don't want to deal with a poor, deceased animal.

I'm not afraid of Virginia Woolf. I may not write as eloquently about creatures and grand themes as she, but I can try.

"Short Takes" #5

"What Sacagawea Means to Me" by Sherman Alexie

I thought that this piece was kind of brilliant. It brought so many truths to light, in my opinion. What was most interesting to me was the feel of the piece, which itself mirrored the essay's topic: contradiction. Alexie delves into American culture and colonization, and he also touches on the great and terrible things that our nation has done or endured because of contradictions. I say that the essay felt contradictory because he talks about serious, sometimes solemn topics but he manages to keep a humorous air about the piece, which I admired.

For example, Alexie rattles off several often forgotten members of the Louis and Clark journey, like a slave and several men who were unpaid and unmentioned historically. He then continues with an anecdote about a dog: "It's even the story of Seaman, the domesticated Newfoundland dog who must have been a welcome and friendly presence who survived the risk of becoming supper during one lean time or another" (135).

In all of the pain and suffering colonization and American culture in general has caused, it has also triumphed. Our nation and its people are a contradiction, and in the conclusion, Alexie brings the focus back in a very astute manner. He says that he is Sacagaewa; based on his heritage, he is innately a contradiction.

This piece was very short but very powerful and thought invoking for me. I recommend it.



This week I also read:
"Clean Slate" by Joanna McNaney

"Short Takes" #4

"Muskgrass Chara" by Kathleen Dean Moore

I just can't seem to get away from smells. Since Diane Ackerman entered my life, I am acutely aware of anything and everything having to do with smell. I'm not sure what happened; maybe she brainwashed me. This week, I read "Muskgrass Chara," which I randomly turned to in "Short Takes." That's kind of the pattern I've been following: read whatever I open the book up to. Interestingly, her first sentence was "I used to love all smells" (104). My immediate response was oh god and an eye-roll. Not that again. But, I gave Moore a chance, and I actually found the piece, though very short, to be strangely comforting. 

The essay takes you through her relationship with scent. She begins the piece by explaining that she'd always loved smells – even what some might consider to be gross, like a fishery. She then talks about how, when her father was sick, he had a "terror of odors," and she seems to associate that with a fear of growing old or incapable. She says that her father "became more and more body" until that, too, began to deteriorate. Her relationship with smells changes there, at least from my reading of the essay. She obsesses over smells in her own house when her children come back to visit, trying to mask certain scents, hoping that they do not think that the house smells old. Moore finishes the piece with an anecdote about a trip she takes on the water every October, where she smells Chara, an algae, which her father apparently would have known the exact name for. I think that the way she ends the piece was beautiful because she ties in what she'd been talking about, smell and her father, with something more personal. She seems to focus on time and aging earlier in the essay, and she says that when she smells the Chara, she is reaching the point where "night is covering the day." 

To me, the story has a flow of a sunrise to sunset, where we see the meat of her ideas in the middle of the "day." Ending the story with a smell that she finds peace and comfort in and returns to every year was very appropriate. She closes the essay and thus "ends the day" there. 

I liked the short essay, and I know that was a lot of words about it, but to be honest, it wasn't my favorite so far. It just took me a while to make sense of it.


This week I also read:
"Opposite of South" by Sven Birkerts

His name is Sven, which is cool, so if you can't decide what to read, give that a shot if for no other reason than his sweet Latvian name.

My #Life in Tweets

This post was inspired by an in-class writing exercise my fellow classmates were given on Wednesday. I was extremely jealous that I didn't get to participate, because I love the idea of trying to express thoughts in 140 characters or less (that's why I have an actual Twitter). It can be really difficult to do! 

I'm going to try my best to pull things out of my memory bank for each year, but I can't guarantee that they are memories of my own or memories that have been retold to me. For some of the years, I may not remember anything, so you may see a really lame Tweet for those... but then again, we all have lame Tweets sometimes (#lonely #bored, anyone? Yeah, you know those Tweets). 

Also, the Tweets from 2010-present are really Tweets that I posted on my Twitter account. Real life, baby (sidenote: as I looked back through my Tweets, I realized how embarassing and stupid some were... I may have to do some damage control on those). Finally, the Twitter handle I use here is not my actual Twitter handle.

My #Life in Tweets

1992:
@angelaignasky: Finally out of the womb. Thank god, I was sick of eating oranges. #MomWentOverboard #NowIHateOranges

1993:
@angelaignasky: 1st bday party cancelled, guys. Who does this #blizzard think he is? I'm the star of the show today. #FreezaAllTheFood #LeaveTheCake 

1994:
@angelaignasky: Just spent the day with @VictoriaD at Idlewild Park. Rode Mr. Roger's trolly 100x in a row. Went 2 a #party with @KingFriday! pic.twitter

1995:
@angelaignasky: Mom is getting FAT! She's waddling like a penguin and looks like she ate a watermelon. #IsThatMean #WhatIsHappening

1996:
@angelaignasky: It's a boy! His name is Adam. I'm a big sister! #LoveMyBabyBrother I brought him a gift. #BestSisterEver

1997:
@angelaignasky: Just made Adam get married to my Ariel doll. Dad put him in his baptism outfit. It was a legit ceremony. #HappilyEverAfter


1998:
@angelaignasky: Just met a girl in my 1st grade class wearing a #SpiceGirls shirt and a high ponytail. She seems #Mean. 


1999:
@angelaignasky: WHOA! Beauty and the Beast just walked out of the woods across the street and into my birthday party! My parents rule! #BeOurGuest


2000:
@angelaignasky: Decided that I don't want to be part of the #PopularGroup anymore. #HideMe


2001:
@angelaignasky: I don't understand what is going on. Teachers are acting weird, and half the class left school early. #WheresMyMom #WhatAmIMissing


2002:
@angelaignasky: My mom is coming in to today to teach the #JuniorAchievement lessons. #Embarrassing #5thGradeProbz


2003:
@angelaignasky: 6th grade #ActivityNight! First real dance. What should I wear?! #SoExcited


2004:
@angelaignasky: OMG! He gave me his hoodie to wear at the #Football game tonight. #Crush #MarryMe


2005:
@angelaignasky: Ditched again so she can hang out with her boyfriend. #Ugh #FriendsFirst 


2006:
@angelaignasky: First day of high school. Hopefully I have friends in my classes...#BigKid #EFHS


2007:
@angelaignasky: Watching a marathon of #GhostAdventures and #MostHaunted until it's time to hand out candy. And eat some. #ILoveHalloween


2008:
@angelaignasky: Woke up to my aunt telling me to look outside at my birthday surprise. I GOT MY #FIRSTCAR!!! 1989 Toyota Camry #InLove


2009:
@angelaignasky: Getting into the limo for prom with @EmilySantory and the group! #BFFs #DanceTheNightAway pic.twitter

2010:
@angelaignasky: Only four days left, and my stomach is twisting more than a pretzel.  


2011:
@angelaignasky: Just got the worst news ever. The Dixie Stampede in Myrtle Beach is no more. My childhood is erased.


2012:
@angelaignasky: How many days in a row can you eat sweet potatoes before you start to look like one? Cause I'm going on 6. #Oops


2013:
@angelaignasky: I took the plunge and made a #HealthyLiving #Blog. Check out my intro post! bit.ly

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A few clarifications:

• Idlewild Park is a kid's theme park in PA.
• Interestingly enough, the girl who wore a Spice Girls shirt in 1st grade ended up becoming one of my best friends. 
• My parents got family friends to dress up as Beauty and the Beast for one of my birthday parties. They told me their castle was in the woods across the street. I totally bought it.
• Junior Achievement was a really boring school-mandated program, but my mom did put a lot of effort into it, which I now appreciate.
• I do in fact have an '89 Camry. His name is Norm.
• The (real) Tweet from 2010 is about heading to college.
• Sweet potatoes are a gift from heaven.
• I really did just start a healthy living blog. It's something I've wanted to do for a while. 

That's all I've got for you now... I'm not Twitter professional, but I can try (and I do, nearly every day with the most boring Tweets imaginable). 

Response to "Once a Tramp, Always..."

I think that "Once a Tramp, Always..." by M.F.K. Fisher was an excellent supplement reading to the senses book by Diane Ackerman. I found several instances where Fisher describes using all of his senses to enjoy the food he was experiencing. He mentions potato chips, which may or may not be an odd coincidence (as I recall Dave said in class this week that there are no such things as coincidences, but... moving on), and he describes eating them: They wer uneven in both thickness and color, probably made by a new apprentice in the hotel kitchen, and almost surely they smelled faintly of either chicken or fish, for that was always the case there... They were ineffable. I am still nourished by them" (548). 

The piece made me think about situations where I have been gluttonous with my food experiences, and Fisher touches on the notion that it is hard to enjoy something when you are so aware of the richness or extravagance of the situation. However, I took comfort in the fact that he mentioned that simple things can be enjoyed similarly, perhaps with a touch of elegance, as when he dined on mashed potatoes with catsup from special dishes. 

I was also impressed by the title, as I was first unsure of what the piece would be about (obviously my initial reaction was a tramp). It was about a tramp, but in a different sense of the word, and I appreciated the mention of Twain's writing, "A Tramp Abroad." I thought that the piece was end-capped nicely with that nod, and overall I really enjoyed the essay.

"Do Re Mi" Fa So over that music

Forewarning: This prompt's goal was to get me to talk about a song or some music that I have ambivalent feelings toward.


I'm just going to say it. When I was a junior in high school, I played Maria in our school's production of  "The Sound of Music."

That is not something that I usually like to openly share, and I'm sure it doesn't come across that way since I just blurted it out in cyberspace where it will stay forever. Let me take you back a few steps though, because as the musical tells us the beginning is "a very good place to start."

"Do Re Mi" Fa So over that music

I started singing in second grade when Mrs. Oaks, my bubbly, blonde music teacher, suggested that I audition for a professional children's chorus. I was accepted, and the next five years were some of the most frustrating and fulfilling I've ever experienced. I discovered that singing takes a lot of discipline and the competition is fierce. I also realized that I am, in fact, not the best singer – although I can sing. And I was completely fine with that. Singing was a hobby, not my life.

When I entered high school, I participated in the musicals every year. I was always itching for the program to grow, though, because the musicals we performed were not 'favorites.' Junior year, it seemed my wish was granted, and soon the hills of southwestern Pennsylvania would be "alive with 'The Sound of Music.'"

I auditioned, not thinking much of it; I was satisfied to just be a participant. When I found my name on the cast list, though, the role next to it read: "Maria." I could have died right then and there. How would I ever sing so many songs on stage by myself in front of huge audiences? The lights would glare in my face, and I anticipated sweaty armpits just thinking of all the notes I wouldn't hit. Wasn't Maria supposed to be a soprano? I was an alto! 

Over the next few months, friends, family, and directors comforted my fears and encouraged me to give the part my all. What you must understand, though, is that I loved "The Sound of Music," and I didn't think I was doing the show justice. I lacked confidence in myself, and perhaps that is where some of my ambivalent feelings for the show spurn from. Furthermore, it got really hard to love the crescendos that once gave me goosebumps after hearing the same songs every day for several months. One song in particular, though, really got my... goat.

If you've ever seen the musical, you're familiar with "The Lonely Goatherd," a playful song in which Maria and the kids put on a puppet show for their father. Before playing the role myself, I loved that song. It was upbeat, silly, and included yodeling. You can't deny yodeling.

But, oh, you can. Try yodeling for yourself once, and tell me repeatedly yodeling wouldn't be tiring. Try yodeling, while your director yells and spits commands at you and the other kids on stage. Try yodeling after, in your first show of the series, you forget lines before the song starts. 

I say that I have a love/hate relationship with that song, and the musical in general, because I still love the charm of the show, and no matter how many years participating in that show took off my life, it's a classic. I will watch it, but I cringe when someone mentions my playing Maria. Oh, and never ask me to sing the goat song. Your request would be met with an eye roll and a loud, "NO."

-------

After that show, I learned that I'm no Julie Andrews or Maria Von Trapp... but I tried. And I don't plan on trying that one ever again. 

"Short Takes" #3

"The Old Country" by Peter Balakian

The author began this story describing his grandmother through Yankee baseball. They watched every game together and are enemies of the White Sox. Their loyalty to the Yankees was pledged ritually by watching the games on TV, anticipating Yankees World Series games come October, and cheering on Mickey Mantle to break the home run record. The piece was filled with the grandmother's actions, which gave you a clear sense of who she was without explicitly stating facts. For example, the author wrote: "And when he sent one out of the park, my grandmother would sat "Outta here," and dish into the crystal bowl of pistachios on the coffee table. Splitting the shells with her thumbnails, she would pass me the salty green nuts so that we could celebrate with our teeth" (266). As the author aged, he watched the games with his friends, but his grandmother steadily continued without him. 

The focus then switched to the Cuban Missile crisis and how it worried his entire family. One night, he secretly watched his grandmother perform an odd ritual, speaking Armenian, her native language, asking God to watch over them. She pulled out a tobacco pipe and smoked. The ritual left the author unsettled, and when he asked his mother about it, she said that in 'the old country' older women would smoke because they had wisdom. 

The story ended with the author questioning what exactly 'the old country' meant to him and his family. They did not showcase the old country in their house, and yet it was ever present because of the grandmother. I enjoyed this story because it questions heritage and trust, and the explanations of characters through action worked exceptionally well. I also enjoyed the contrast of happy times through American baseball with the difficulty of the Cuban Missile crisis. I definitely recommend this short story to the rest of the class!

This week I also read:
"The Khan Men of Agra" by Pamela Michael