User:Betsylee

Response
first for Carrie Berge on her My Jim Herb analysis

"his is a good thorough explanation. I found myself really wanting a reference book while I was reading (Despite the fact that specifics like that didn’t mean to terribly much for the story I still wanted to know). I can’t wait until it’s finished up.

What I really liked

I firstly liked how you started out with a clear organized list of the plants with all their alternate names. This way when I’m reading through the notes I can just scroll up and see what all the explanation refers to. I also like how you included the alternate black snakeroot even though you didn’t think it was the correct one for the story.

I also like how you made specific references in the book so I could refer back to it. So not only can I refer to your analysis I can refer from the analysis to the book. The page numbers are also nice (though may become confusing to those who have different editions… but the teacher won’t so that’s okay).

I like how you referenced a book from 1878 rather than some contemporary one for your primary explanation, Then came in later to debunk what was originally thought.

The to-the-point notes at the very end came in handy to re-instill the knowledge in an easy-to-remember fashion.

What I’d suggest

A bibliography of your sources would be nice. I know you mentioned The Complete Herbalist but I was wondering if that was the only one. Like, for example, I’d like to refer to the book used to determine what herbs actually didn’t do what they thought it did back in the day. I’d like to read up on this subject further.

Perhaps a divide between sections of what is fact and what actually isn’t fact about herbs. You had this lovely organization started that I think can be pushed even further. It could go in order of the list that was in place."

Nicole Patterson on her Style copy

The Oulipean style copy was quite impressive. Not only did you refrain from using any vowel save for "E" it actually made sense. I found no difficulty following the train of thought. The repetition gave in an imposing pulse. Considering that it was about a suicide that pulse gave an idea of a heartbeat. I dunno if you intended that but it was powerful non the less. One technicality is that the "Y" in Empty, creepy and deeply is a vowel. That's just an annoying nit-pick though. I still remain profoundly impressed.

Style
Five Haiku's using only one vowel each. They are in a distinct order and speak in symbolism mostly.

A

An abstract alarm Charm attacks an adamant day Dark fall past at last

I

Bird binds biting will Rigid crisis fills within Fish live lighting nights

O

Blossom Low, morrow Blood boon soon crowns horror cross Lock door of lost scorn

U

Murmur full dusk's blush Full struck sun succumb trust Such unfurls just truth

E

We see the end there Creek Bleeds, Bells free me there Ever befell me there

Other Media
Decided to do some character designs from the Book "A Wrinkle in Time" by Madeline L'Engle.

Follow the link to see the image

Ekphrastic
Finding New Keys “This is a depressing city” Joshein stared down the top of a concrete wall that seemed to split the world in twain. One side a gritty gravel sea, with a school of rusted metal bulks rising from the ripples of dirt, the other side a collage of well place greenery. Except one or two trees seemed how they had hopped over the wall in a desperate effort to escape the garden…. At least that’s what Joshein contemplated. “I hardly call anything so new, and clean looking, Depressing,” Lemony chided back. Shielding her eyes from a relentless waves of sunlight… Wasn’t Seattle supposed to be rainy. “Yeah, new and clean like CAMOZOTS,” Joshein mad an abysmal face as some dark auburn hair slid in her face in just the right way to make her look truly disturbing. “Aren’t you going to be living in this city soon, you know, for Art College.” Lemony blew a sarcastic red ringlet of hair out of her face. “Yes, but I don’t have to like it. When opportunity knocks you have one chance to step in,” Joshein whined “Though, the art aspect leaves much to be desired. Look at those metal sculptures their rusted through and they still look new to me. Wouldn’t it be just so cool if they were covered in ivy and moss like some kind of ancient ruin?” “Only you would find old desolation less depressing than new innovation… But maybe, it would make this sculpture seem a little less out of place, “Lemony stared very hard at the composition in the area of the sculpture park in which they sat, “that or those trees planted in the gravel should be put back over in the garden area… It’s terribly unnerving for some reason. We need to keep our eye out for unnerving things, you know, for today’s mission?” “Mission my tukas… Only Gamina would give us a mission like this ‘oh! Go to Seattle and solve a riddle I’m giving you, but I’m not actually going to tell you the riddle I want you to find the riddle and then find the answer!’ it’s enough to drive anyone bonkers,” Joshein groused, “It’s like we’re back in Literature mage training 101. But I suppose it’s worth it, seeings how soon we’ll have to train a Literature mage rooky ourselves.” “It’s a whole new adventure.” “There’s that word NEW again… I don’t see the use of LOCKING us out of Literal Swamp, until the riddle is figured out.”  Joshein mumbled then continued with slight agitation. “She did tell us that the door back to Literature swamp is here….” “Only if we get the answer right so… we have to find the story in the park to solve the riddle. With a Character, plot… theme. Obviously we’re probably the characters, and our inspiration is the plot. Anything you see strike you with strong inspiration?” “That fountain we saw when we came in…. It gave me a sick feeling,” Lemony continued, Ignoring Josheins attitude. Joshine’s complaining was harmless. “The Father-Son one? Yeah I got that too, It changes all the time I heard. But this time the son was behind the water.” Joshein shivered. “It was like the son was in a cage.” ‘That probably means that whatever it is we are looking for is trapped” “let’s not get ahead of ourselves, What next.” “Eyeball chairs,” Joshein grinned. “Didn’t see them… no good it isn’t a clue unless we both saw them.” “Silver tree then… you can’t have missed that.” “I didn’t. Does kind of remind me of where we are now.” “how’d you mean.” “well, “Lemony started tentatively, “Like how those trees over there seem to be inching toward those metal… things. Nature and New things combining into one….” “The old moving towards the new,” Joshein grimaced, “You think something old wants to move toward the new… but is stuck?” “It’s an idea,” Lemony Looked at Joshein with an accusing eye. “….Right…I get it…I’m the tree.” Joshein sighed. “I’d wished that when I Became a Literature Mage I could remain a kid in some way. Going on adventures like in the books… But I guess our time as the Main characters is just about up.” “I’d say it’s pretty cool to be the Omniscient Yoda Figure,” Lemony said with optimism. “….Omniscient Yoda figures always die.” “Since when do we follow Script?” “Since never! Just ‘cause I have to do some growing up doesn’t mean that I’m gonna be responsible about it!” Joshein broke into a malevolent smile. “So the answer to this riddle is the one think in this area of the Garden you wouldn’t go to because your stuck in your love of all things anchient.” Lemony teased with a hearty laugh “Gamina has one heck of a sence of humor…. You’re enjoying my fallacies a bit to much too,” Joshein snapped in good humor, “The new thing that pretends to be old. Those rusted metal goliaths there. They have to be the door back to Literature swamp.” Lemony and Joshein looked around to see if there was anyone else about. There seemed to be only one of the countless homeless population and on top of that he seemed to be under the influence of something…. No one would believe him if he saw what happened next. Lemony and Joshein placed there hands flat on the great metal structure and began to speak in unison. What force and strength can not get through, I with a gentle touch can do, and many in the streets would stand, were I not as a friend in hand. Tesseract! A sound of a lock being turned rang through the park with the power of a gong. The rusty metal warbled for a moment, as if it were made of silk. Joshein and Lemony Stood in glee as the modern art swallowed them up. A last bit of conversation echoed as they completely disappeared. “Hey, Joshein, You think that somewhere someone in another world is writing about us in a story?” “For their sake I hope not… None of the Literature Spells I use are in public domain.”

Analysis
'''Literature, What is it? By Betsy Lee'''

I sat in Mrs. Goad’s temporary office, meditating on the abysmal possibilities my next quarter could be. One by one she listed off a plethora of dreary classes I need to graduate, as if each class was a bovine in a long line of cattle with the “cow of graduation” tailing at the end, mooing taunts. Man I hate cows.

“…So there’s media production one and… you need one more General education class, how about Psycology?” The dean questioned. “Had it,” “Philosophy” “Had it.” “Spanish?” “A possibility,” “There’s Literature”

My Lungs froze. Here before me was a blatant excuse to indulge on every reason I do not get other pieces of homework done. I adore reading, especially anything written before the 1960’s. And as everyone knows, Literature usually entails reading the sorts of books and poems written by the deceased, or at least terrible old people. How mentally enriching!

So naturally I took the class, and expected it to be the highlight of my quarter amongst a stampede of doldrums. Wednesday comes and the very first question asked is the definition of literature.

Uh oh…. I sense open mindedness. “What is Literature” is the same sort of question as “what is art.” The sort of question that precedes thinking outside of my comfort zone.

Now I’m flexible enough to know that literature can be just about any piece of writing. But I of course do not expect anyone else to know this, in fact I would prefer it. If the teacher is the sort of close minded person to suppose that literature is only literature if it is old, then all we will be reading is old pieces of writing. And as I have stated, I like the old writings.

But no… he’s fair enough to recognize the value of fresh new ideas. I should have known… this is an art school after all.

After the first class I sink back into the supposition that this will be yet another humdrum quarter and quietly resign myself to being a stick in the mud, like the mature adult that I am. My interests are re-peeked when I find that “Huckleberry Fin” is on the itinerary. Sure, I’ve already read it. Sure, we’re only reading it so we can get an Idea of this new book that’s based on it. But I’m desperate for my classics fix, and I need to get the dread of My Jim out of my mind.

After growing up on the Oz books by Baum and then brutally being subjected to the atrocity that is Wicked (if you like the book that’s your business, but it is the only book I couldn’t make myself finish and that’s saying something). The thought of reading another book based on a classic filled me with nauseating antipathy.

I am quite sure that this is going to be the sort of book that makes the reader want to hate themselves or other people out of sheer new age principle. I finally get the book in my hands (blast you Amazon and your deceptive shipping dates). And it is as if I have to chisel free my hands to force them to open the book. My preconceptions are like a wall between my brain and my eyes, and the words on the page look like incoherent squiggles. After the third time reading the first page the words become cognitive.

And I like them.

They are magnificently morbid. Not a preachy morbid that makes the reader feel like slime for not having it as bad as the main character, but rather makes one feel thankful for having it as good as one does.

I guess I’m still learning lessons about myself and others. I oughtn’t assume that all the writers I could possibly like are dead. And I guess my scope of literature can widen a little… Besides… dead people aren’t writing books anymore and I’m going to run out of the classics sooner or later.

Personal
When one goes through extra curricular activities in high school that one distains, all the adults that surround you tell you that one day a few years from now you will look back upon the experiences with admiration and joy and that you will wish to do it again.

Now in high school the thing I despised was of all I despise school trips. I did not like being in a singing ensemble. Music always got in the way of Art…(the drawing kind of course).

The bus was one of the best parts. I heard some other young people complaining about a one hour bus ride. Frankly, I figured that our fifteen hours on the bus blue their mediocre complaints out of the water. My rear felt like a master needle point project.

We sit through a concert that lasts until eleven. I honestly couldn't tell when one song ended and another began. It seemed to lul me into a state of faint-less lethargy. Don't get me wrong, I like that kind of music..... while I'm doing something else at the same time. One girl described it as "walking by coffee shop music." One just can't sit down and listen to this stuff.

There was a second jazz concert the second night (I'd had it up to here with jazz by then) and It's not the sort of upbeat jazz one can jam to, no, it seemed like the kind of music one would associate with a mass of wasps in flight.....I never liked wasps.

The third night we went to a play with an ungodly amount of profanity and classless adult content that passes for entertainment. What about this makes adults think themselves cultured? When one is a child they aren’t exposed to things such as Violence and Sexual indulgence because it is considered “Base” and “Barbaric” But as soon as you are an adult it is as if these things are expected of you.

In a moment of nostalgia I look back upon these times and am filled with…..Distain. I’ve yet to grasp the logic of adults, maybe I never will….

Memorization
JABBERWOCKY

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wade; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!   The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun    The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought -- So rested he by the Tumtum tree. And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came wiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?   Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

A BOAT BENEATH A SUNNY SKY

A BOAT beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July --

Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear --

Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear, Eager eye and willing ear, Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream -- Lingering in the golden dream --0 Life, what is it but a dream?

both by Lewis Carroll

Self Assessment
1."What did I learn in this class, and what do I have left to learn?"

Frankly, I learned, in all its sugar coated morality, that I can like a book that is written after the 1960’s. It may take some mental doing to make myself actually read one of my own free will but one generally overcomes ones own stubbornness one step at a time. Also, another thing I learned surprisingly did not come from the class itself, or from one of the books in class, but rather from another student’s analysis of My Jim. I learned new things about herbs in thorough detail from Carrie Berge. I feel I have yet to learn much about older Literature. I feel than in many of the classes I’ve taken literature related I haven’t learned much about the authors or history behind many different books that have been around for a while.

2"What did I do well in this class, and what could I have done better?"

I feel that I did alright in completing assignments, and following the designated motions of the class. Though I do feel that I may have gotten more out of it if I had put a bit more willingness into it.

3"How do I feel prepared, or unprepared, to continue my studies at this point?"

I would endeavor for a more in depth analysis of Classic literature. The Shakespearian study certainly peaked my interest. I feel a little light on the basic consistencies that make up classic literature

4"How did I contribute to the experiences of other students in this class?"

I offered opinions in discussion and answered questions when they were asked of me. I also dealt two responses to other students Chrestomathies.