Thursday, August 26, 2010

Eggplant Fries

I have way too much time on my hands. Way too much.



I don’t start school for another couple of weeks, so I am left to my own devices during the day. Good for me, bad for my parents. I have been volunteering to make dinner for the past week giving me something to do for the day. Look up recipes, see what we have in the refrigerator, and make something for human consumption. It’s been fun.



But, we are all paying for it. The first night, I made a mean summer veggie pizza with homemade tomato sauce, summer squash, onion, mushrooms, and a ton of cheese. The next night, I steamed an artichoke and made some garlic butter for dipping while Dad barbecued some tri-tip. The night after, I made Eggplant Parmigiana and so on went the week. By the time Sunday came rolling around, Mom was begging for something less rich. I could tell she was right (I was feeling a bit sick myself after all the butter we had eaten…) so I began to comply until got home grown vegetables from a family friend.




Eggplant, tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash –the standard summer garden. The eggplant was the softest, and needed to be used first. I was all out of eggplant recipes (all I knew how to make was Parmigiana), so thank goodness for the power of Google!




This was the first site that popped up and had the best variety of recipes: http://www.eggplantrecipes.net



And the first thing to catch my eye was the Eggplant French Fries. It makes the softest, most tender eggplant I have ever tried. Stinking good!

Ingredients:
A large eggplant or 2 medium eggplants
Salt
Pepper
1/2 cup milk
1 egg
Flour (gluten free if needed)
Cornmeal (or G-free Breadcrumbs)
Canola oil

Prep:
Cut up eggplant into thin strips and steam for 20-30 minutes.
Mix egg and milk together. Once the eggplant is done dip it in the batter.
Mix the flour, breadcrumbs/cornmeal, salt, and pepper. After the eggplant is dipped, dredge in the flour mixture.
Fry in hot canola oil for three minutes or until golden brown. Eat hot.

Enjoy!!!! It is a tasty treat. 

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Intro the blog

As you may see in the earlier posts, this was a class assignment for AP Literature in my senior year. We were required to blog on ideas, books, and articles brought to us in class. Now that it is no longer required, I feel like continuing writing online for fun.

So here we are. I should tell you, I'm interested in many things so it might end up here eventually, but I'm primarily focusing on my favorites-reading, knitting, and cooking. I started knitting when I was twelve-and-half after my mother bought me a teach-yourself-how kit. Cooking is a recent favorite; I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease (a severe allergy to Gluten), so it was practical to learn how to avoid eating wheat, barley, and rye. It's been pretty fun learning some new tricks in the kitchen. Reading has been a life long hobby--I love love love new books! It's a family obsession...

But that's enough. Hopefully this blog is enjoyable for all and please do comment. :)

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Done done done done done done done done done....

Always Together—No Matter What
“A long marriage is two people trying to dance a duet and two solos at the same time”
~Anne Taylor Flemming

Without individuality and a united goal, a marriage cannot work for long; it is often difficult to balance one over the other, and often compromise between two people can impair their relationship and personality. “A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning” and “Conjoined” both examine inseparable lovers in crisis, separation in physical realm and connection in the spiritual, through metaphor and analogy and find two differing conclusions—happiness to never separate in spirit versus the need to escape the physical bonds holding lovers together .
In Donne’s “A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning” diction, analogies, and metaphors of death and true love creates a couple with ever-lasting love. The narrator speaking to his spouse wants no tears to be shed after parting from each other’s physical state(“valediction” means farewell, and “Forbidden Mourning” means grief is not to be publicized.). The diction used to describe an honorable man’s passing (“mildly”, “whisper their souls to go”, “no noise”) to set an example of how to part without a show; to have “tear-floods” and “sigh-tempests” would disgrace their love to allow “the laity” (common people) to know of their love—something which the average “sublunary” lover could not understand. They are below the heavens, where as these lovers are above them; the loved shared between the narrator and his significant other is spiritual as well as physical. When death seeks to separate average lovers from each other, they “cannot admit/Absence, because it doth remove/Those things that elemented it” meaning the physical state fuels the average man’s love, and when death robs the lovers of this, they cannot claim to miss their love because it was only a physical love, a love of a body not soul. But the narrator and his mistress “Care less, eyes, lips, and hand to miss” because their love, like the movement of heavenly bodies, is not just earthly. It expands to the heavens. The analogy of “two souls…which are one” calls to the western ideology that when to separate people marry, they become of one body and soul. These two lovers can never truly be separated—they are always connected, because they are of the same soul: When he must leave “endure not yet/A breach, but an expansion/Like gold to airy thinness beat.” Gold, the highest valued metal, can stretch and stay connected even when very thin, just like the souls of soul-mates. The last three stanzas are an extended metaphor of a geometrical compass swinging around, creating a perfect circle, the fixed foot being the significant other, and the moving foot being the narrator, traveling and coming home back to his loved one. The circle symbolizes the continuous promise a couple makes to each other and its unbroken nature; the narrator promises to always come home because his fixed point is his wife. “Valediction” is about the impossible nature of truly separating two soul mates.
Within “Conjoined,” the author makes analogies between freakish beings and a marriage. The poem describes the lack of individuality and space in the lovers’ marriage. The first image Minty presents is of “The onion in my cupboard, a monster, actually/two joined under one transparent skin”; by using the word monster, the reader derives ugliness from a conjoined onion. This in comparison to a marriage appears to be a contradiction because a perfect marriage is not ugly. However, in this poem, marriage became disgusting and unnatural. The transparent skin the couple finds themselves under constrains them, forcing them to rely on each other to the point that the two “[become] flat and deformed/where [they] pressed and grew against the other”. They are no longer two imperfect (and single) people, but a mutated and distorted form of themselves and as a marriage. They cannot be who they once were, or could have been, because marriage is compromise between two partners, and this forced them to become less of themselves and more reliant on the other.
She continues with “An accident, like the two headed calf rooted/in one body, fighting to suck at its mother’s teats”; the accident of the two headed calf is coupled with the accident to the marriage between the two lovers—the constraints of marriage cause more stress and tension and worry than if a person remained single with only one person to look out for, the self. The calf struggles for food and survival much like this married couple; fighting among themselves for what the individual wants rather than what they as a couple need. Minty takes this abstract conjoined life between two lower life forms to real people: “or like those other freaks, Chang and End, the twins/joined at the chest by skin and muscle, doomed/ to live, even make love, together for sixty years.” This documented case of Siamese twins makes their relationship all the more terrible—the twins who lived together, ate together, slept together, and could never separate due to potential death of one twin, resemble the narrator’s feeling towards her own marriage. It is an unbearable to be with the same person for over a length of time, and the twins were together for 60 years before they died together and fathered twenty-one children. This unusual relationship between brothers horrifies the narrator because she too feels the need for space in her relationship, but does not know how to achieve it: “Do you feel the skin that binds us/together as we move, heavy in this house?” It is confining this marriage, similar to the onion’s and Chang’s and Eng’s connection, that prevents growth in the narrator and her partner. There is no space to redevelop the individuality within their relationship. The heavy movement is the reluctance to acknowledge the issues in their union and address them. “To sever the muscle could free one,/but might kill the other” meaning that an end to their long standing (but flawed) relationship could cure the ailments of one, but permanently harm the other after separating. This could be if one was oblivious to the problems within the relationship: “Ah but men/don’t slice onions in the kitchen, seldom see/what it invisible.” Minty’s statement refers to the idea that men do not cook (and must stay out of the kitchen) and do no cry (an onion when cut releases chemicals causing one to cry to flush the eyes). Also, men are often times oblivious to the small details and miss the importance of something special (like an anniversary); this unconsciousness causes grief and makes the relationship’s problems seem invisible and insignificant. On a final note, Minty ends with the inevitable—“We cannot escape each other”—that their problems probably will not be address and both partners will fester in a relationship going nowhere, if not backwards. “Conjoined” is a pessimistic viewpoint on long-term relationships because partners may be more attentive to the needs of the couple over the need of individual freedom.
The poems contrast greatly because of the imagery of the heavens and spiritual connection, while the other is forced into physical contact with no room for individuality—one soul versus two unique beings pressing and suffocating the other. Although the poems examine similar subjects, “Conjoined” exposes the need to have space and individuality in a marriage, while “A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning” is a romantic marriage where individuality is impossible because once married a couple is of one body and soul. They both use similar techniques (metaphors) to convey their contradictory viewpoints; through them, the reader can see the difference between the two presented relationships—one romanticized, the other tortured.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

O'Brien Criticism

Okay. What an article...

So what I could glean from this criticism was that O'Brien's The Things they Carried is a postmodern work, but does not seek to change the reader's opinion of the war. Neilson's argument is based off of the lack of Vietnamese culture and humanization of the Vietcong soldiers as well as the limited scope of his narrative. O'Brien focuses on the writing truth but in postmodernism, the truth varies so much from person to person-it becomes almost worthless to attempt to dictate it.

The common theme in each individual story is finding truth and how to write it for an audience that cannot understand the strain, the horror, and fear all veteran's from Vietnam experienced. It doesn't matter how or what you tell the audience or if the stories actually happened: "a thing may happen and be a total lie; another thing may not happen and be truer than the truth." As long as a story feels real, and can maintain some amount of reality "normal" people can grasp, it is more true than the truth itself. "The Sweetheart of Song Tra Bong" (although could have really happened at one point, or even contain some grain of truth) creates so much disbelief within this reader and turns reality on top of its head. But the stories of Kiowa's death, although conflicting on some parts, form a bigger and better truth because it is more believable and real to see a good friend die in a shit hole, than bringing a girl from home into a war zone and seeing her transform into a war goddess. The same goes for "How To Tell A True War Story": the death of a good friend is very believable, but slaughter of a water buffalo in a cruel and gruesome manner provides some disbelief. There is no such thing as a true war story- "be skeptical" if you do believe in one, because truth in a war zone cannot exist with certainty.

Now back to Neilson. O'Brein's narrative is only on the soldiers' and the devastation they felt with the deaths of their men and the constant strain of the war zone on them; however, Neilson argues that to be ab effective Vietnam novel, O'Brien should have focused on the devastation the caused and the real pain they felt in return. But because he accepts the theories and pillars of postmodernism, O'Brien's best grasp of the truth and pain of Vietnam is from his own experience and a separate entity from generalizations of the war. He himself cannot understand the amount of devastation caused in Vietnam, and therefore cannot rewrite the prevailing perception of the Vietnam war, and does not try to. Postmodernism teaches us that the truth exists in many forms, so the truth of Vietnam is different for everyone; for some it is the uprising of the youth in our country, or an example of the terrible foreign policy out country can implement, or even the pain Vietnam continues to suffer from. Neilson's argument that O'Brien's book does not seek to change the view point of the masses of Americans (which in hindsight is true) but it cannot because of its postmodern structure and form.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Beginning Themes

So... Themes of "The Things They Carried" thus far...

Well, as we all know (or will find), Mr. O'Brien's novel/collection/memoir is an anti-war piece that exposes the uselessness of the black-and-white standard so many seek to still implement today; the enemy is bad, looks different from us, and is across a clear line, a division between the good guys (us) and the bad guys (them). The theory behind the usage of us verses them is to create that certain distinction, much like checkers or chess, the color opposite of your own is the bad guy; there is no blood, no real hardship when a piece is lost, no war smell, and safety behind the rules of the game-you can only move a certain way with this piece during a turn and no one in reality gets hurt. But in O'Brien's novel, every decent rule in checkers is turned around inside-out, and nothing can remain true.

In "Enemies" and "Friends", the tension between the two men changes the rules of the game-the enemy classically is never some one a solider fights along with, and a friend is never worried about his friend killing him when he says not to; however, the roles of enemy and friend are contorted. A real friend is some one who feels relief after hearing his buddy died in mid-air, so he wouldn't have to kill him after all, and enemies are all around. There is so much grey area in the two terms in O'Brien's eyes-there are no longer the clear cut boundaries of good and evil in war.

The lack of an honest truth and clear reason why people at war is also highly present. In "Spin" and "On the Rainy River" O'Brien struggles to form an honest truth about his feeling towards the Vietnam and an honest picture of a war without meaning. In "Spin" only fragments of the war stick with him, stories without a beginning, middle, or end, but snippets of everyday and terrifying moments: Checkers, death of a so-called "enemy," death of Kiowa, death of an innocent puppy, and the need for absolution. In "On the Rainy River," anger for not having the courage to shed the expectations of his family and community and the close-minded attitudes of that same community resonate through the fear of facing something a young person should not-the immanent threat of death in a war that he himself finds immoral and senseless.

So in general, O'Brien=anti-war. And the novel exposes his views on the subject matter. I'm done.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

The End of Postmodernism.

Well. We all have spent a semester on Postmodernism, and I am positive most of us have highly different opinions on the matter.

I understand Postmodernism best as described by Lyotard--the death of the unifying Grand Narrative and the diversity afforded by numerous micronarratives. Because of this variety of narrative, the world is "a carnival of colorful and contradictory "(151) view points. It makes for a more interesting place to live and see; however, the world can no longer be unified under one common "truth". Each discourse has its own truth, and since an individual has several discourses, and individual holds several truths as unifying truth; with the individual fragmented by several discourse, the world is too because of its reflection of the multitude of individuals.

The fragmentation of the world's unifying "truth" leads to Derrida's deconstruction of the center of narrative. Because so many different views on the central truth exist in society, there is an absent center in the global society. No longer can we look only to God, but many look to the environment, the Hindu gods, Allah, and other figures for guidance and meaning in life. Society today no longer has the luxury of knowing what the exact truth is, but must tip-toe around every one's beliefs as well as their own. Today's world lacks one "origin, a Truth, an Ideal Form, a Fixed Point" (100) in narrative and in life. So, fragmentation is all too normal because there are a plethora of centers leading to the center of centers--nothing.

Also, the deconstruction of the perfect and undistinguishable is very noticeable in architecture. Gone is the day of international styled buildings, where they all look the same city to city; today is the world of functional art, where beauty meets the everyday wear and tear. “Down with the Universal!” (86) and in with the unique.

Postmodernism is the end of the idealistic unified world under democracy, Marxism, or Socialism. Instead, the world must cope with the fact the world is a wider, more diverse place that cannot be completely homogenized. Societies can merge and cross-pollinate (it is inevitable because of today’s mass technology—the internet) but they remain distinctive and separate from each other. Lyotard and Derrida both describe the end of one unified world, and creation, or realization, of the beauty of the fragmentation in our global community.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Prewite on Maus

So..... I'm really tired and this is gonna be horrible. Bear with me. We all know how bad studying for an Olson test can be....


I believe I want to explore the metaphor of race and the symbolism of the two pictures the author gives us (his father and his older brother). The reaction of the reader to seeing the temporary masks on the character's faces and not distinguish between mouse and man is interesting. Is he attempting to give the reader an alternate view of a human being? Or perhaps showing the reader there is more to everyone besides their external shell? Hmmm... That and the pictures of the author's father and brother's faces provides a reality check to the reader; it forces me to really imagine the truth behind the stories and what happened to the survivors and to those who never made it. Art's brother never made it out, and he was left to suffer and ideal brother's shadow, because he never grew old. And yet his father calls him by his dead brother's name before the reader is shown his headstone. Seeing Art's father jolts the reader out of a fairy tale setting, where there was little grey between good and evil, to a place where defining good and evil is impossible to do. For every argument, there is an equally good counterargument, and nothing is clear anymore.

I would love to include something about postmodern architecture and it's representation of society. It is its own symbolism--one of chaos, imperfection, and great beauty in the world. It is very close to the novel, because human nature cannot always be transplanted and be at home wherever it goes, unlike the international style of building. Some people, like the author's father, are still fish out of water when taken out of context and out of the place they lived in. He cannot move from the past because the past creates his character and essence of humanity (even though he is a racist...). Like buildings, people become rooted and accustomed to their culture and way of survival, even when it looks weird when one picks up trash along the street and saying what they could use it for. Or perhaps a little of Scott McCloud and how the reader is placing themselves in the story when comics are simply drawn, and projecting their own beliefs, ideas, and opinions on someone own work.

Yup. See you next time folks with more sleep.