CM1120 Critical Reading and Writing I

What with this being a blog post and all, I'm sure honesty is of little consequence as long as I do manage to create some form of productive writting. So I will admit that, having left my English book at home (and inadvertently any and all potential to write about a piece of literature we've covered in class), I am going to create an opinionated summary of the course itself.

 This English course has been an interesting one. I can say that as opposed to "gruelling", "challenging" or "I'm going to fail this so badly it isn't even funny" because I do have an innate ability to excel in English and writing (unlike in any of my other courses). However, I do have several issues that I might as well address to fill up some more space. Firstly, I have to ask why all the poems and stories we've covered are so depressing? Its a little ridiculous what with children being beaten, teenagers taking drugs and Asian women being ripped in half by trains. Reading something with a happy ending, at least once before the semester is out, would be very relieving. Second, the workload AND method of completing said work. I'm a big fan of using technology and integrating it into the curriculum, but being one of (if not the only) student in class without access to a computer at home is a big drawback. Though the library is available until 7:00-8:00pm, this doesn't always suit a busy scheudule like my own, and being able to work on blogs and research papers late at night would surely boost my productivity.

In any case, that's my little overview of CM1120. I do enjoy the course, and I feel as though my writing ability has improved over the course's duration. Ummm... Well, since I haven't really got a concrete thesis statement... CM1120 is pretty cool, later!

"My Son My Executioner", said the selfish father.

 This poem is ridiculous. What business does a father have feeling the effects of impeding death as he looks at his infant son?! Maybe this is just me being overwhelmed with my apparently strong paternal instincts, but if I had a son (in the future of course, or in an alternate reality whereby a female would choose to elope with me), I wouldn't be thinking about how this is the next step towards the grave. Having a child is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of anyone's life, and for that man to spoil it with his own negativity... I don't whether I ought to feel pity or anger. "We twenty-five and twenty-two,/ Who seemed to live forever,/ Observe enduring life in you/ And start to die together." If this man believes that in having a child, his life force has been flooded into this child, never to return, he really, really needs to take a biology class.

My Papa's Waltz; The Real Meaning

 The whiskey on your breath

Could make a small boy know

That as I hung on in fear death

Your waltz was but a show

You romped until the pain

Gradually made me numb

Such mad mindless torture

Thanks to a drink like rum

The hand that held my wrist

Was battered on one side

Each time you threw your fist

My helpless body cried

You beat time from my head

With a palm caked hard by dirt

Then walked away from my bed

As I writhed from all the hurt

 Though this rendition of Roethke's poem is a little on the savage side, I believe it does justice in expressing the other, darker side of the original poem. Roethke depended on irony to hint at the less than favorable position of the young boy, using a nursery rhyme style and detailing the father's drunken waltz as a sort of horseplay between the two. However, my concoction is more literal, and it represents the aftermath of the father's drunk stupor. The waltz between the father and son is quite rough and unorderly, but nevertheless the boy hangs on "like death" because he knows that this is the best possible behaviour from his father. It is subtly implied with phrases like "battered on one knuckle" and "beat time on my head" that in most instances where the father has had a lot of alcohol, violence towards the boy tends to follow. All in all, my version is simply the reflection of Roethke's; Still the same situation, just the darker, more horrid side.

Wow... I'm Free. Cool :)

 Had this been a more strict, formatted project for which I was obliged to obey rules and limitations with my writing, the following would probably have turned out to be more orderly. However, having been given free reign over what I write about, how much I write and what my writing style is to be, I believe that I will quickly grasp the concept of blogging and hence express my thoughts and views creatively on what we have read in class. But in any case... Its about time for me to move onto the blogging itself, and rest assured, my compositions will not be as failing to meet the minimum 250 words. Or maybe I've already reached 250, who knows? Either way, this doesn't count as my first post. Just a prologue, if you will. Later!