Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Emotional Repsonse

I've been friends with Jonathon ever since we were eleven. Though time and space has kept us apart we have managed to stay emotionally in-tuned with each other. Just the other week I was on the phone with him, and we were laughing about some dumb joke. After the giggling was over he unexpectedly asked me "So, what's wrong?" At first I laughed and thought about asking him what he meant, but then I began to tell him anyway. I don't always call Jonathon to complain or ask for advice, and it's even more rare for me to talk to him about my relationships due to our complicated past. 
It was different this time-- he had caught me. He knows me too well and can tell when I'm pretending to be okay, and I know better than to lie to him. I began to tell him about the most recent problems in my relationship. Jonathon told me I was right to be angry, that nothing about what my boyfriend did was okay, and that what he did was "actually pretty fucked up". He made me feel a little better, made me laugh some, but didn't quite give me any consolation. Maybe I didn't feel very different because of how isolated he is from the subject matter and how little knows about my relationship (other than the bad stuff), or maybe it was simply because I was feeling alone. 
The following weekend I made a decision not to go out. My boyfriend decided he wanted some "space" so I figured I might as well lessen the chances of running into him. I didn't feel like drinking or seeing much of anyone anyways.
 My roommate, Chris, tried getting me to go out with him and his girlfriend but the last thing I wanted was the be a third-wheel. My other roommate, Michaela, suggested "If you can't sleep then come down the Silk's for after-hours. Drink's on me!" I took her up on the offer but only stayed for one drink before I felt obliged to help close down the bar. 
I sulked my way up to the front door of our dark apartment where I stood for a good minute jingling my keys around trying to find the right one. Chris must have heard me because when I opened the door he was standing in the hallway, in the dark, and in his boxers. He held his arms out to me and said "whats up?" Without a word I fell into his body, my arms wrapped tightly around him, and my tears racing down my cheek onto his neck. He didn't have to say anything more. It meant the world to me just to have him there. 

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Language & Literature as "Equipment for Living"

Tilly Warnock defends the writing process as a means for expression, and she argues that the progression of the writing process is an extension of our daily lives. Warnock uses the academic environment as an example of how we are first taught that writing should "yield [a] product" (36), and that whatever we may write is unimportant until we arrive at something profound. She suggests that daily writing is essential-- though while not everything we write may be profound-- it is simply the act and craft of writing that helps us cope and strategically communicate with people on a daily basis. This communication that is practiced through writing can help us articulate our opinions and be more persuasive in our arguments-- which as a result helps us get along with others and to consider how they will interpret what we have to say. Warnock finds this level of communication important because when focusing on the relationship between writers and readers it is commonly forgotten to recognize that writers and readers must come to terms on meaning (create meaning) because neither can be exactly certain of their claims since even evidence is inconclusive. I'm a little confused as to how she relates rhetorical proof back to every-day experiences. Sure, we argue, negotiate and converse on a daily basis, but writing allows us to revise and edit our arguments and personalities. Just because I practice persuasive writing does not mean that my spoken arguments are as accurately articulated as I would like them to be. 
Then again, as Warnock responds to Burke throughout the piece, she suggests "If getting along is our goal, as it is Burke's main motive, rather than dominating or defeating, then our rhetoric aims at identification rather than manipulation or coercion." This really makes me wonder about the intention behind rhetoric and the importance of every day writing to help shape our voice. How are we able to amplify our individual voices if we are constantly taking into consideration the interpretation of the reader? I'm not suggesting that we completely ignore how the reader will perceive our rhetoric, but it seems to me that Warnock is suggesting we write so that others can identify with our writing-- not a bad thing (in fact I think it's good), but just interesting when she is seemingly arguing against manipulation and coercion.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Reliant-Compliant (Presumed complicity assignment)

When it came to impressing our parents, Emily never set the bar very high. I'm sure our parents had high hopes for her seeing as she was always on honor roll and got into NYU; she was one of those rebellious kids who hosted huge parties when she had the house to herself and drove the car when she wasn't supposed to, and also managed to graduate high school with honors and two awards. Something happened after high school though, or maybe it began her senior year. Her rebellion turned into habit and that opportunity she had to go to NYU slipped between her fingers as she struggled with depression. Of course, being her sister, I supported any decision she made but I am also seven years younger. I looked up to her most of my life, but it didn't take long for me to wiggle into the lifestyle she exemplified.
For a thirteen year-old I had done and seen some regrettable things that even now at twenty-one can't fathom experiencing. Though I was able to make my own decisions at thirteen, I would never dream of turning down a request from my sister. I tried to dress like her, I listened to the same music as her, and I even tried to speak like her. It wasn't until one day, and I remember it so clearly, that I realized maybe she didn't look at me the same way I looked at her. I asked her to drive me to my friends house, just 20 minutes up the road, and I had no problem when she said "I need to stop by my friends house really quick, it wont take long."
She parked across the street and one house down from the front door she walked into, but since she asked me to stay in the car I couldn't even see who answered. She wouldn't tell me the persons name, and all she told me was that it would take "five minutes tops". I think about an hour went by and she wasn't answering my calls. Just as I was about to call my mom to come get me, I looked up and there she was standing by the drivers-side window. She got in and apologized for taking so long. I didn't think much about it then, but I knew something was up. I suspected she had taken some drugs, or maybe just fell asleep judging by how zoned out she was and how poorly she was driving. Ever since that day I've been a little afraid to get in the car with my sister, and ever since that day I decided never to tell my parents when I was nervous to be around her. She assumed I wouldn't tell them, and I obliged not to. She didn't even have to say anything. I just knew.

Thoughts

A lot of our readings make me uncomfortable. Not the kind of uncomfortable that makes me want to put the book down, but the kind of uncomfortable where I think to myself wow, that really hits home. I find that a lot of our discussions and our assignments help us identify things about ourselves that we have not quite thought of before or maybe not expressed aloud. In our discussions I have heard my classmates share stories that they are embarrassed to tell, but they feel comfortable enough to share because that’s simply the nature of the class. I have shared stories that I normally would not in a classroom setting, and I still cannot quite figure out exactly what this class provides that others do not which enable us as students to workshop emotions rather than ideas.
It is possible that the reason we deem this class to be an appropriate setting for sharing our feelings and experiences is due to the fact that it is called “Writing for Healing”; we are all experienced writers, learners and students. However, when I consider the occurrence of listening tents at a town festival and that any person off the street is welcome to share any story to a complete stranger I begin to wonder exactly how we as humans find a healing aspect in the act of sharing. How does this desire to understanding and engage with other people enable individuals to find tranquility or reconciliation? Could it be the collaboration of ideas or opinions? Maybe it is just the primal instinct to feel welcomed and part of some thing—a community. But what is it about the atypical classroom environment that does not always allow a structure that can be inviting? What is the classroom as a community?
Usually a classroom setting is strictly academic and a set of rules or beliefs are strategically followed. Share your opinion, but don’t share your feelings. Talk about your experiences, but now how they made you feel. Talk politics and religion, but do not talk about your political beliefs or religion. For example, I didn’t dare talk about my racist encounters in Croatia this summer while talking about immigration policies in my European Politics class but I did mention how diverse certain parts of the country are. Most classes and environments discourage the consideration of personal experience when applied to logic… So how are we as individuals inclined to tare that wall down and learn from it—make reason out of experience and feeling? I am not suggesting that we use every social interaction as an opportunity to share personal thoughts or experience; I’m advocating for the exploration of the privately inclusive environments that invite strangers to find meaning in sharing.

Think way back to show-and-tell. Kids are asked to bring in an object that they want to share with their class, and then they have to provide some information about it and explain why it is important to them. As we grow older, most people are taught that this sort of explanation is vanity or bragging. Explaining how we feel about something that is important to us gets suppressed, and this is one way we learn not to share our feelings. But is sharing our feelings really vain? If sharing our feelings were vain then how come therapy works? Sure, there is a science and expertise behind every good therapist, but how about any good friend? There are some people who feel the need to tell their closest friend everything, and then there are some people who tell everyone every personal detail of their life. Of course, the latter is most commonly associated with narcissism, but could it not also be considered as validity? When someone expresses their feelings to any one person (or many people), it could simply be for the sake of validating their existence, experience, or emotion. How else can we explain how strangers can sometimes feel comfortable sharing an intimate moment of self-realization, or how a classroom of students can connect on some level while having come from different backgrounds? I would like to look further into this.