David Sedaris Saves Christmas!

Christmas Eve is a weird holiday. I always feel like there is a obligation to spend time with family, but there are really no specifics events for this day, besides a church service in the evening. I love my family lots, but spending an entire day in their company can get a little tiresome. So normally the family attempts some strained interaction for a couple hours or so, whether it be in jigsaw puzzling or Monopoly playing, then inevitably everyone goes off on their own to read or watch TV or engage in some other solitary activity. The solitary activities are often not at all enjoyable, however, since there is always a lingering feeling of guilt over not engaging with the rest of the family. We compensate instead by all being antisocial together. Like, we all sit in the same room and read or something. Or play four individual games of Solitaire.. just kidding, it has never gotten that bad. This Christmas Eve was different though. My dad had gotten a new television for the family room (Christmas gift to... himself?) and spent a large part of the day trying to set it up, his struggle providing some amusement for the rest of the family. When everything was finally connected, Dad showed us the family some of the cool features of the TV, like the internet connection. My sister suggested we use it to watch youtube videos, a great idea in theory, but soon proved to be quite troublesome when no one could agree on what videos to watch. Christmas themed? Funny? Cat related? So many options!  After some serious contemplation on my part I remembered a David Sedaris youtube video I had watched after we read one of his short stories in AP 11. I thought the family would enjoy it too,  and we watched (well mostly listened) to a comedy reading he had performed. It was titled "6 to 8 Black Men" and focused on the Dutch Christmas traditions, and by the end of it the family had reduced to tears of laughter.  (If you have approximately 5 minutes and 54 seconds to spare, I highly recommend clicking that link!) We continued on through the entire collection of David Sedaris youtube videos, all of them amazingly funny. We spent a good hour together, laughing, overall just having a great time.  AP English has affected me greatly, of course, from improving writing ability to causing me to think deeper about literature, but my favorite part of AP English is the amount of literature Ms. Serensky has exposed us to over the years. We must have read at least fifty different authors so far, from all the poems,  the Fifty Great Essays pieces, the novels, even from the segments we read in the AP multiple choice practice. Although this is not a fact I think about very often, I greatly appreciate it when I can use my knowledge from AP English to bring my family together for an hour or two.

Dutch Santa with his helpers

An Interesting Hero

When I finished the final chapter of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest on Thursday night, I could not help but feel a twinge of sadness. I really enjoyed reading the novel, and unless I am very pleasantly surprised I will probably not like another English book as much as this one. My perceptions of the novel and its characters changed constantly as I read, which kept me intrigued and interested in the plot. Additionally, the subject of mental illness has always rather interested me. One of the main struggles in the book, as I read it, was the conflict between the individual (as seen in McMurphy, Bromden, and the other patients) and society (seen in Nurse Ratched, the hospital aides, and the government workers).  In this respect, the novel reminded my a lot of another novel I enjoyed very much, Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Rand's novel focus on the struggle between the producers of the world, like the owner of a railroad company, for example, and the government who tried to limit their productivity for "the good of society". Although the comparison of these two books is a bit of a stretch, I couldn't help but think of the controlling government in Rand's novel whenever Bromden mentioned the Combine. Another interesting fact in the parallel between these two novels is that I am, ironically, indirectly comparing mentally ill patients with the most productive members of society. In both cases the individuals possessed qualities that made them unlike the rest of society, and in both novels the government strives to control and limit these individuals' power. In both novels the role of the oppressor operates in basically the same way. In Atlas Shrugged, government bureaucrats tried to limit the influence of the producers by enacting laws that restricted their productivity and profit and they gained a sense of power in doing so. In Kesey's novel, Nurse Ratched gains her power by limiting the freedoms of the patients and through her subtle intimidation and manipulation. And in both novels, the hero of the story is not a typical societal role model. In One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, McMurphy clearly has many negative qualities, which in many cases would make him a deplorable character, but he nevertheless gains admiration from the patients and readers. In Rand's novel, the hero of the story is a man who takes the producers out of society and basically leaves the country to die so the producers can start fresh and run to government how they see fit. In both novels, the hero is not a typical hero, but instead men who stand up to the government and society for their individual freedoms. Although I am quite sad One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest has come to an end, I do not think I will ever forget the story of McMurphy and Chief Bromden.

"On Being Sane in Insane Places"

Today we started a new chapter in psychology, the last one we will read. The coveted Chapter 12, Psychological Disorders. Mr. Womack, the psych teacher, has been dangling this chapter in front of our nose for weeks now, taunting us with the intriguing "dark side" of psychology. For the AP English students in the class, the chapter has an added bonus: a better understanding of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I eagerly turned to the page marking the start of the chapter and began to read the introductory anecdote, but I quickly got caught up in the possible blog topics, so here it is! 

The introduction tells of a psychologist, David Rosenhan, who organized a group of twleve perfectly sane individuals, most of them psychologists themselves, to infiltrate various mental hospitals. They all complained upon request for admission of hearing voices, a common symptom of schizophrenia. Despite this being the only symptom they displayed or complained of, despite the fact that besides hearing the "voices," all were fully functional individuals, despite the fact there was no past history of mental disease, all twelve were quickly admitted into their respective mental hospitals. After admission, none of the experimenters complained of hearing voices again. In fact, the only "peculiar" behavior any of them exhibited was writing down daily notes of their experience. It took the pseudo-patients an average of 19 days to convince the hospital staff to release them, the longest taking two months. 

Rosenhan noted two important facts from his experiment. Firstly, none of the professional staff at the mental hospital realized that any of the patients were perfectly sane. Even upon leaving the hospital, the pseudo-patients were not labeled as normal, but as having schizophrenia "in recession". Secondly, although none of the staff realized the frauds, the other "insane" patients did. Many of the experimenters were approached by the other patients and asked if they were undercover reporters, since, clearly, they were sane. As Rosenhan comments in his reflection on the study, "The fact that the patients often recognized normality when staff did not raises important questions."

Rosenhan's study took place in 1973, about a decade or so after One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest was written. Perhaps he read Kesey's book and was inspired by McMurphy's insistence that the other patients in the ward were "'not any crazier than the average asshole on the street" (65). What if they really aren't, and the Big Nurse just refuses to accept it? How does one prove their own sanity? 

Adventures with Mr. Moor

I have noticed that two students from 8th period already blogged about our delightful substitute on Friday, so I decided to follow their example and share 6th period's experience with Mr. Moor. I initially felt a twinge of disappointment when I saw that gangly, oddly proportioned man standing in the room space normally occupied by Ms. Serensky, since I thought his presence assuredly meant we would have to struggle a grueling AP poetry analysis for the class period. My unhappiness quickly turned to joy when he informed us that class was to continue as normal and he passed out the worksheet. Unfortunately, my joy was quickly replaced by an eerie feeling of discomfort as Mr. Moor continued to talk, questioning students about the book and the definitions of literary devices. It was clear that Mr. Moor had no place in an AP English 12 classroom, but just as disturbing it seemed that he was completely unaware of this fact. Just as oblivious to the plot of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest as he was to the difference between verbal and situational irony, Mr. Moor's questions included such gems as "So this Nurse Ratched...she seems pretty nasty, right?" and "What are some of the..you know... themes of this book?" I feel like he was particularly proud of that last question, but unfortunately he was quickly shot down by the reply, "We don't talk about themes." and the conversation continued as we went around the circle discussing the implications of Cheswick's drowning. Perhaps the most infuriating aspect of Mr. Moor's demeanor was his constant need to be the center of the conversation. After anyone spoke, he would jump in with his soon-to-be-dreaded "Okay, okay" and then attempt to comment intelligently on their points (which proved quite troublesome since, as he admitted, he had never read the book). We tried in vain to keep the conversation centered around the topic at hand, but inevitably we became distracted by Mr. Moor's useless prattle, to the point where all we could really do was sit around looking incredulous. Ms. Serensky, we missed you dearly on Friday. Please don't leave us alone with Mr. Moor again.

Not Mr. Moor

Puzzled by Chief Bromden

This past reading has given the reader many more clues to Chief Bromden's psychological disorder, a fact which has previously puzzled me greatly. Bromden seems incredibly observant, insightful and intelligent, and to me did not seem to be a candidate for "more than two hundred shock treatments" or permanent residency at a mental facility (69). However, the new facts about Bromden's past reveals, in part, some of the problems that caused Bromden's mental distress. Bromden talks extensively about the "fog" in this section, something that we learn is induced not by medicine and shock treatments alone but also by choice. Bromden chose to hide in a void of apathy and disinterest under the guise of deafness rather than become involved in the lives of the other inmates, since he reveals that he is a very empathetic individual. Although a lack of empathy can lead to psychopathy or sadism, which can clearly harm society, Bromden's issue seems to cause pain to only himself. In addition to his overly empathic nature, Bromden also seems to be suffering from Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, which my psychology book defines as a delayed stress reaction to in which an individual involuntarily reexperiences emotional, cognitive, and behavioral aspects of past trauma.  Although the Bromden does not directly state his involvement in the Second World War, the reader can infer this fact since he references a battle in Anzio, where he "saw a buddy of [his] tied to a tree fifty years away...screaming for water, his face blistered in the sun," yet he was unable to help due to the enemy soldiers stationed nearby (137). The disturbing scene described and the associated guilt would haunt any sane person, and Bromden's extreme empathy could only hinder his recovery from that incident. Despite this, PTSD is not an incredibly serious mental disease to treat. It effects thousands to soldiers and catastrophe survivors, and to me certainly does not require the intense and long-lasting "care" Bromden has endured. Is there more to Bromden's mental state which Kesey has yet to reveal which would explain his "Chronic" status at the ward?

Chief Bromden looking sad in the film One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Intrigued by the Insane

While reading Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, I noticed some aspects of the novel that I thought paralleled my experience reading In Cold Blood last year. For starters, both focus on individuals suffering from mental disorders, though this fact is much less emphasized in Truman Capote's novel. Secondly, both books were hugely successful, spawning movies and grossing millions of dollars in revenue, despite the rather unpleasant subject matter. Last year in my class we discussed the reason for Capote not detailing the Clutter murder chronologically, and instead saving it for the end of the novel. We concluded that his choice in doing so built up suspense and anticipation for those juicy details from readers, making it harder for them to judge Dick and Perry for murdering the family, since the readers also have a fascination with murder (Or something like that). Anyway, I am really enjoying One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and  in my enjoyment I began to ponder why exactly I find it so interesting. What does it mean if I enjoy reading a novel about mentally diseased individuals being tormented by the evil Nurse Ratched? I know that not everyone enjoys reading our new novel as much as I do, but I would like to think that I am not alone in my opinion, based off the fact that TIME magazine rated it one of the Best English-language Novels of past century, in spite of the the irksome subject matter. Upon further inspection of this list, I noticed that a great deal of the books included focused on some of the more disturbing aspects of human nature. Some of the novels included Lolita, Lord of the Flies, On the Road, A Clockwork Orange, and Slaughterhouse-Five, any of which contains material and themes condemned by society, yet these books are some of the most influential and most read in the world. I find it curious that people, as they should, quickly condemn and punish murderers and sexual predators, yet find novels with subjects like murder and insanity interesting and thought-provoking reads. Perhaps my opinion of our new novel will change the further I read, but for now I will continue to ponder my fascination with the case of Mr. Bromden and McMurphy.

Word Vomit

One of the things I absolutely hated about AP English last year was the graded discussions. Just seeing that one was planned on the calendar filled me with a dread so unimaginable it can only be compared to what Harriet Jacobs experienced when she was locked in a closet for seven years. This is a hyperbole, I will admit, but the mere fact that I came up with this hyperbole speaks to how much I hated graded discussions. When the day came, I literally began to experience physical ailments. Sitting in that room, knowing that every second I was not talking my grade was lowering, my heart began to race, my hands would sweat, I would feel nauseous, and just overall I wanted to throw myself out one of the conveniently large windows.

This year, every single day is a graded discussion. I still have yet to decide whether I like this system better than the one employed last year. On one hand, we are graded for discussion. Every day. On the other hand, we have gotten used to it... somewhat. It still slightly (greatly) disturbs me when half the class has gone by and I have only managed to squeeze in a single, quote-less comment. This is when word vomit ensues. I may not even have anything legitimate to say, but I know deep down that I need to get those points and if that means sounding a little ridiculous, then it is a price worth paying.

Word vomit typically starts out awkwardly. Two people start speaking at the same time. Awkward pause. Who gets the points? Duke it out. Then I start talking already flustered by the confrontation earlier and things just go downhill from there. I know the words I'm saying are nonsense, complete word vomit, but I have to keep going. I can try and salvage it! Whip out the quotes! They normally do not help and occasionally only increase the feelings of inadequacy. Try and throw in a literary device, those are still good for points, right? It is time to wrap it up and the class is growing impatient. Their gaze keeps shifting to the clock, back at me, to Ms. Serensky, back to the clock. My last, vain attempt to finish with a profound statement only leads to further humiliation.

Despite the unpleasantness associated with English discussions, I have to grudgingly admit that they have been beneficial. I find myself being more assertive in all my classes, not just English, and graded discussions definitely have a hand in that.

Thanksgiving

A few weeks ago my mother approached me and asked if I wanted to spend Thanksgiving at home or  travel to Pennsylvania to spend it with my grandfather and my various great-uncles and aunts. My initial preference was to stay at home, but the numerous English discussions of Gogol's ungrateful attitude towards his family caused me to change my mind and to Pennsylvania we went. It was awful. That sounds really bad, but my extended family on my mother's side has to be one of the most dysfunctional groups of people ever to eat together. They spent ten minutes discussing the various types of salt and their respective purposes in cooking. Is that normal? To further illustrate my point, I will give a brief description of some of the family members I had the pleasure of dining with:

1) Great-Aunt Nancy: She used to breed show dogs. Her kitchen strawberry-themed, apparently. She was in charge of the Thanksgiving feast. All day I could hear her barking orders at various relatives. She is also partially deaf, so she normally prefaces every conversation she enters with "I can't hear you!"

2) Great-Uncle George: I will admit, I know very little about this uncle. I have visited his house before and I remember his collection of fake cats in various unnatural poses. He did not say much during dinner and quickly fell asleep afterward, only to awaken for pie. Whenever he did speak, it was usually to reminisce on a time in his childhood when he bested his brothers.

3) Great-Uncle Richard: Oh, Uncle Richard. He makes his own birthday cards, all of which contain a small tidbit about the family's genealogy. He loves tell puns, often the same ones multiple times an evening. He speaks fluent German and often demonstrates this talent by serenading us with various German folk songs. He recited the opening lines of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night when asked to say grace before dinner.

My uncle and I play this game sometimes where we pretend that we are watching a really bad sitcom. But the truth is, all that craziness makes my family interesting, and as corny as it sounds, I am thankful for it.

Actors

Decent Gogol

In celebration of the first installment of the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows movie, these past two weeks I have been rereading the last book. It is somewhat a tradition of mine to read a novel right before the release of its movie so I can fully criticize how much it strays from the book. I can get quite unreasonable about this sometimes, analyzing the movie down to the most finite detail that differs from the author's representation. So naturally, watching the movie adaption of The Namesake caused me great distress on Friday. For the most part, the director's arrangement of the scenes did not bother me too much; in fact, I liked the way the movie began with Ashoke's accident and followed the story chronologically. My main criticism comes from the director's interpretation of the characters, Gogol in particular. Kal Penn does not match up with my mental representation of Gogol at all, so that immediately messed up my initial perceptions of the movie. And that was only aggravated by the fact the director thought a thirty-ish Kal Penn with long hair could accurately portray a high schooler. I feel that the casting director should have taken into consideration some of Penn's past roles, such as Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle or Malibu's Most Wanted, before casting him in such a serious, realistic role since naturally it influences the viewer's perceptions of the actor. However, when I tried to think of another Indian actor to play the part of Gogol, I came up depressingly short. Indian characters are simply not very prevalent in American media, but after some serious contemplation I thought of a perfect actor for Gogol: Sendhil Ramamurthy, the actor who played Mohinder Suresh on the show Heroes. For your viewing pleasure, I have also included a photo of Mr. Ramamurthy:

Better Gogol

Literacy

Right now, there are about 1 billion illiterate adults living in the world. A vast majority of them live in undeveloped countries; about two-thirds are women.

I had to do a project in 6th grade about what I thought was the most important invention in history. Naturally my mind jumped to things like the light bulb, computers, the telephone. I asked my mom what she thought, and she surprised me. She said the most important invention was the printing press. The printing press! That's so uncool! Mom stood firm by her answer. She explained the printing press gave people the ability to distribute information, knowledge, books in vast quantities. It completely revolutionized everything! Whatever, I did my project on the internet.

But now I see my mom's point. What if Johannes Gutenberg decided one day in the early 1400s that he wanted to be a cobbler instead of an inventor? What if the printing press never was? Books would be extremely rare, only copied by hand. A painstaking process, so only the rich could afford the luxury of knowledge. The ability to read would be reserved for only the children of such book-owners (and let's face it, based on the statistics above, girls would probably be excluded from that anyway). Okay, so being a girl, being in a not ridiculously wealthy family, in this alternative universe where there is no printing press, I would most likely be illiterate, unable to read a word. Unable to express my thoughts without saying them aloud. Unable to write poetry, stories, even data sheets (though I doubt I would miss the last one too terribly).

Yeah, sometimes I do not like reading one bit. When it's nearing midnight and oh shoot I still have to read Chapter 12 for English tomorrow, how I would love to whip out the illiterate excuse. "Sorry I didn't do the reading Ms. Serensky, the weirdest thing happened last night..." But really, being literate rocks. There are no words to describe it--literacy is singularly the most important skill I possess. Without it, what would I be doing? Watching soaps all day? Plowing a field somewhere? Who knows. What I do know is that when Thanksgiving rolls around in a week or so and it comes to my turn to say what I am most thankful for, the parents will just have to accept that Being Literate tops my list.

Family

One of the major conflicts throughout The Namesake arises from Gogol's desire to alienate himself from him parents and his Indian culture. Many people, myself included, felt anger and frustration at Gogol's unwillingness to make time for his family. A perfect example of this occured when Ashima called Gogol to ask him to come visit his father before he left for the "flat, charmless town" of Cleveland and Gogol replied, "Why do I have to see him off?" (174, 144). Initially, I felt only stunned at Gogol's rudeness and disrespect for his father. But after some contemplation, I thought about my own life, all the times I have blown off my parents for plans with friends or have spoken to them with less than the respect they deserve and I have realized that in the same situation as Gogol, I might very well have said the same thing. Parents are something I think many people, myself definitely included, take for granted. At least for me, my parents have never left for an extended period of time, fallen life-treateningly ill, or done anything to cause me to question their contunied presense in my life. But after reading The Namesake, especially Chapter 7 when Ashoke dies, I have begun to see my family in a new light. I now realize that family, as much as we hate to admit it, is impermanent, and I plan to spend as much time as I can with them before I leave for college. Thankfully, it seems like Gogol came to the same realization following the death of his father. When Maxine attempted to pursuade Gogol to get away from his mourning mother and sister, Gogol steadily replied, "I don't want to get away" (182). Gogol's simple, declarative statement clearly shows his newfound devotion to his mother and sister. Thankfully, I do not have to experience the death of a parent to learn the preciousness and value of family, I only have to take heed to Gogol's experience.

What's in a Name?

The other day in class we extensively discussed Moushumi's decision to keep her maiden name instead of adopting Gogol's last name, Ganguli. Many of people in the class felt Moushumi's choice was a sign of her disconnect from her husband or her trepidation about settling into a marriage. I would also speculate that a majority of the population agrees; a woman who refuses to change her last name to her husband's shows too much independence and obviously does not fully appreciate the "bond" that marriage implies. I could not disagree more. If marriage symbolizes a bonding or forever joining of two individuals, shouldn't the last name of the couple represent both the husband and wife? A woman adopting the last name of her husband remains an archaic relic of a time when men viewed their wives as basically property. The name adoption represents possession and control, not equality and love. Of course, marriage today differs significantly from marriage in Biblical times. Nowadays, women can actually choose who they marry! Or file for divorce if their husband abuses them! Or, if they so choose, decide not to take the last name of their husband, without facing criticism or scorn! Oh, wait...
I do not have a high opinion of Moushumi. Her adultery, her attitude towards Gogol and her marriage, and her weird obsession with her hipster friends all bother me. But I do respect Moushumi's independence and self-sufficiency, both of which she possesses in ample amounts. Coming from a sheltered Indian household, I would expect Moushumi to exhibit the characteristics of a good, obedient Indian housewife, like Ashima or her own mother. The fact that she broke free from the stereotype her parents prepared for her and "vowed [to] never grow fully dependent on her husband" shows that she strives for a more furfilling life than her mother had (247). Her refusal to change her name reflects her pride in herself as an individual and shows that she sees herself as more than simply Mrs. Nikhil Ganguli, and I admire Moushumi for her independence.