So while not my favorite book out of the four we read, it certainly beats out Satanic Verses for light reading. I finished this book in less than a week - Allende's writing style is easy and draws the reader in, I really couldn't put the book down.
Allende managed to fill in the gaps in the Zorro legend as far as I knew it. Of course, my knowledge of the Zorro legend comes from the films staring Antonio Banderas, but even so, I couldn't help wondering how Anthony Hopkins could whistle his horse right to him (Batman and his Batmobile are one thing...a pony, that's something different entirely). Thanks to Allende, I now know that as a youth growing up in Spain, Zorro trained as an acrobat with gypsies, which totally explains why he's so brilliant on the ponies.
I wasn't sure how I felt about the interruptions in the story line by the narrator. I think the concept of a third-party narrating the story is a great one, but I don't necessarily want to be told blatantly that the "writer" has to stop to refill on ink. That it was the smart yet unattractive girl narrating the story wasn't really a surprise: it couldn't have been Bernardo (he's too busy with his Indian love), nor Zorro (or we'd never hear the end of his amazing conquests), nor the beautiful love of his life (she's too busy with her French ex-Pirate - which, by the way, was a brilliant way to get rid of a character and allow Zorro to continue to be the Latin lover he was in legend).
Unlike the other books, however, I didn't highlight much in this one. I wasn't particularly impressed by her writing, so I didn't have many memorable quotes. All said and done, it was a good story, a fun read, and something I'd revisit when I wanted to procrastinate studying. That, and it made me crave the Zorro movie; so I watched it the other night. :)
Now for the wrap up:
Of all the books we've read this semester, I think "Welcome to the Monkey House" is my favorite. However, if I were to pick an author to continue reading, I'd start with Allende. Hers was the easiest to sink my teeth into, and the best way to escape for an afternoon.
As far as food goes, so the Indian night didn't quite turn out as we expected (but hey, neither did Satanic Verses). El Rod's was ok, but I think the Angel/Devil night was the best by far. But that might just be my sweet tooth talking!
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Of Foxes and Final Posts
I gotta say, Isabel Allende's Zorro was my darling of the reading group's books. I have a kink for magical realism that Satanc Verses should've covered, but Zorro was both more easily accessible and higher swashbuckling adventure content. (Not to mention I spent many a Sunday morning watching the Warner Bros. cartoon that I don't think anyone else remembers. See right.) But onto actual content.
I especially appreciated that Zorro possesses both mestizo and white Spanish blood. It really hammers in the thematic conventions of magical realism, which celebrates the meeting of two worlds. Magic and the rational, tangible world come together at one obvious conjunction, and it parallels he coexistence of the mestizo and white cultures. Diego de la Vega does a lot of his own work, but he still has some magic in him. It emphasizes his role as a mediator between the two worlds, and his thirst for justice and fairness on both sides makes more sense. Kerry made a comparison to Batman; they're both men born into opulence who play wishy washy personas to counter their superhero egos. Both are stories of vigilante justice, but Batman's motivations stem more from "MY PARENTS ARE DEAD" while Zorro's are a result of culture clash, which I find a mite more interesting. (Though I do love Batman. Especially Little Batman.)
To summarize the semester, I really enjoyed the reading selections, especially the latter two since I doubt I'd encounter them in any English class or other honors colloquium. The dynamic pairing with cooking was a bonus, and especially in my personal discovery of chocolate and chili. So good! The sheer amount of material to read was a little daunting in some spots, (lookin' at you, Rushdie), but with books like Zorro, it was easy to blow through them in a couple of reading binges while putting off all my other work. I hope I see something similar in next semester's reading group offerings!
Masked Men
We didn't get to spend a lot of time on Zorro, a failure I really regret. I suppose it would be safe to say I'm a bit of a sucker for romantic adventures, especially "capa y espada" dramas. Blame it on my youth dominated by Errol Flynn and Princess Bride, or at least that's the excuse for this week. As for my other great weakness for origin stories (Batman Begins is my current favorite example), I really have no excuse. And Isabel Allende manages to fulfill all my wants quite admirably.
In the group discussion there were some problems with the structure of the novel, as a second/third person view, with more than a few breaks in the narrative. I happen to enjoy the idea of an outside storyteller, and often find that the personality of the storyteller integral to the story. I suppose I just wasn't bothered very much by the breaks in narrative, and found the novel as a whole very enjoyable.
I'll offer a brief note on the food before I start rambling on text: for the food of this section the group went out to El Rodeo restaurant for the discussion. In any real study of food it's important to expand the palate as much as possible, and to explore the style and preparatory methods and ingredients of different chefs and cultures. I've been watching the Food Network pretty avidly for a few years, and tried out the style of every chef they offer and really only like Iron Chef now. Why is it that I now campaign avidly for the end of Rachel Ray's influence on America? why I see Giada as a waste of Italy's resources and Paula Deen as just problems? Really it comes down to boredom. The recipes change, but the ingredients remain the same. In my own house there are a few dishes provided regularly for dinner: Mom's meatloaf is pretty spectacular (and the kiwi adventure is still a family story time favorite), the Indonesian spare-ribs sauce on chicken is a personal favorite, and then the holiday standards of apple-mallow-yamyam, and Mom's green jello. Other than that parent-child bonding time usually consists of discussing what page to try in the growing collection of cookbooks. I rarely spend more than two days in one set of ingredients or style. For those who don;t know me very well, I have a very short attention span. It's hardly goldfish level, but I get bored with things very easily. I have a number of brief but intense obsessions that keep me entertained, and a few standards to carry me through, with waxing and waning degrees of interest. Food in no different for me. I like to cook, I love trying new styles and techniques, and sometimes dream of becoming Julia Child, just with less butter and more knives. However, I need to spend some time out of the kitchen in order to inspire me to return, particularly right after the Thanksgiving holiday, and with the Christmas season creeping up with its demands of 4,000 cookies. Going out to eat offers an opportunity to try out new flavors and textures, and to plan how to recreate those experiences at home. Books have been a constant source of inspiration to me. The most recent example has been with another of Waugh's novels, Brideshead Revisited. It contains the description of a luncheon, and particular mention of plover eggs ("There's four each, and two over, so I'm having the two"). As a result of that I take every opportunity to seek out plover eggs to complement a meal. I've only managed quails so far, but a semester in London and access to Fortnum and Mason's may get me those strawberries and wine I've been looking for.
That was a bit longer than brief, but I feel it necessary to help sum up the food aspect of this group. Back to Zorro: I think my major interest in Zorro is in part that I enjoy the writings of Allende, and I really enjoy the self-made hero story. I dislike Superman in a lot of ways, and always enjoyed Batman. Spiderman is beginning to win me over, but much of the appeal that heroes have for me comes from the humanity displayed. Zorro is a man, a man who develops his skills through hard work and determination. He's intelligent and dedicated, and works from an actual desire to do good and improve the lives of the less fortunate rather than some false sense of grandeur. Diego de la Vega is a creature of Spanish aristocracy and Indian tribal culture, a combination that intrigues and keeps him from being trapped in any real social structure. I personally enjoyed the idea that the Indian principles of manhood are not really different from the virtues of the caballero. I would argue that at the same time the Gypsies and Native Americans are not different either. If anything this novel only highlighted for me how small the world really is. Barriers of race are truly artificial, as the same ideals define life, only with different names.
In the group discussion there were some problems with the structure of the novel, as a second/third person view, with more than a few breaks in the narrative. I happen to enjoy the idea of an outside storyteller, and often find that the personality of the storyteller integral to the story. I suppose I just wasn't bothered very much by the breaks in narrative, and found the novel as a whole very enjoyable.
I'll offer a brief note on the food before I start rambling on text: for the food of this section the group went out to El Rodeo restaurant for the discussion. In any real study of food it's important to expand the palate as much as possible, and to explore the style and preparatory methods and ingredients of different chefs and cultures. I've been watching the Food Network pretty avidly for a few years, and tried out the style of every chef they offer and really only like Iron Chef now. Why is it that I now campaign avidly for the end of Rachel Ray's influence on America? why I see Giada as a waste of Italy's resources and Paula Deen as just problems? Really it comes down to boredom. The recipes change, but the ingredients remain the same. In my own house there are a few dishes provided regularly for dinner: Mom's meatloaf is pretty spectacular (and the kiwi adventure is still a family story time favorite), the Indonesian spare-ribs sauce on chicken is a personal favorite, and then the holiday standards of apple-mallow-yamyam, and Mom's green jello. Other than that parent-child bonding time usually consists of discussing what page to try in the growing collection of cookbooks. I rarely spend more than two days in one set of ingredients or style. For those who don;t know me very well, I have a very short attention span. It's hardly goldfish level, but I get bored with things very easily. I have a number of brief but intense obsessions that keep me entertained, and a few standards to carry me through, with waxing and waning degrees of interest. Food in no different for me. I like to cook, I love trying new styles and techniques, and sometimes dream of becoming Julia Child, just with less butter and more knives. However, I need to spend some time out of the kitchen in order to inspire me to return, particularly right after the Thanksgiving holiday, and with the Christmas season creeping up with its demands of 4,000 cookies. Going out to eat offers an opportunity to try out new flavors and textures, and to plan how to recreate those experiences at home. Books have been a constant source of inspiration to me. The most recent example has been with another of Waugh's novels, Brideshead Revisited. It contains the description of a luncheon, and particular mention of plover eggs ("There's four each, and two over, so I'm having the two"). As a result of that I take every opportunity to seek out plover eggs to complement a meal. I've only managed quails so far, but a semester in London and access to Fortnum and Mason's may get me those strawberries and wine I've been looking for.
That was a bit longer than brief, but I feel it necessary to help sum up the food aspect of this group. Back to Zorro: I think my major interest in Zorro is in part that I enjoy the writings of Allende, and I really enjoy the self-made hero story. I dislike Superman in a lot of ways, and always enjoyed Batman. Spiderman is beginning to win me over, but much of the appeal that heroes have for me comes from the humanity displayed. Zorro is a man, a man who develops his skills through hard work and determination. He's intelligent and dedicated, and works from an actual desire to do good and improve the lives of the less fortunate rather than some false sense of grandeur. Diego de la Vega is a creature of Spanish aristocracy and Indian tribal culture, a combination that intrigues and keeps him from being trapped in any real social structure. I personally enjoyed the idea that the Indian principles of manhood are not really different from the virtues of the caballero. I would argue that at the same time the Gypsies and Native Americans are not different either. If anything this novel only highlighted for me how small the world really is. Barriers of race are truly artificial, as the same ideals define life, only with different names.
Revisiting Satanic Verses
So to be completely honest, I only made it through Part VII of Satanic Verses. It was quite ambitious of us to undertake this book, and I felt we rushed through it just a bit. I got through as much as I could, but I feel like we should have had someone, not necessarily holding our hand, but say, someone in a boat nearby with a life-saver handy. In any case, my thoughts on the book are as follows.
I really enjoyed Rushdie's style of writing. I mentioned Roi's book in an earlier post, and the more I read of Verses the more I thought of "God of Small Things." Making up words to represent complex ideas was an effective way of showing his character's displacement: as Indians in a Caucasian world, the language barrier fuels the cultural barrier, and there is often no other way of expressing what one means than to make up a word. Throwing in Hindi words was also true to his characters; the elder Indians I know often speak a mixture of English and Hindi in the same sentence, again scrambling together whatever means possible to convey an idea. Sometimes, I felt like this push for expression of thought could also be felt in Rushdie's magical realism - writing a true-to-life story couldn't have been the best way for him to express his intentions.
As for what his intentions were, I don't think it's quite so easy to quantify. Maybe he was just trying to explore the mythologies surrounding the satanic verses. Or, being an Indian in a Caucasian world himself, the book was an attempt to come to terms with his own life, making it autobiographical. If you can't tell, that's the part of the book I can relate to. The absurdity of culture shock is similar to Waugh's characterization of "the American" in "The Loved One."
Since the book is broken down into chapters, I thought I'd say a few words about each one.
Part I: The Angel Gibreel
Rushdie certainly knows how to begin a story. Two men falling out of the sky. This was the section I could most easily relate to, with references to my cultural experiences; though after discussions in our group, it was probably difficult for the others to gleam the full scope of Rushdie's writings *because* of the numerous cultural references. For example, knowing that "chamcha" meant spoon, made it a whole lot more meaningful when Gibreel refers to Saladin Chamchawala as "Spoono."
Part II: Mahound
"Should God be proud or humble, majestic or simple, yielding or un-? What kind of idea is he? What kind am I?" (P. 113). To me, this quote is an example of why the book might be Rushdie's attempt at finding himself. These kinds of open-ended questions appear throughout the book, making it read somewhat like a very personal diary; though his characters are the ones questioning, you can clearly hear the questions in Rushdie's voice.
Part III: Ellowen Deeowen
Rosa Diamond was a strange character. First, I didn't understand why the coppers took Saladin but not Gibreel. Then, I thought the whole Gibreel/Rosa relationship was as bit sketch. I was intrigued by the following quote: "while dying Rosa tossed on her bed, did-she-didn't-she, making the last version of the story of her life, unable to decide what she wanted to be true." We had a bit of a talk on this topic, the idea of the illusion of a viable memory, the choice we have to remember the events as we see fit, and whether Rosa did or didn't cheat on her husband. I my opinion, had she not cheated on her husband, she would have no need to reinvent history; then again, had she remained faithful, inventing an affair might be the only way for her to conclude she had had a fulfilling (eventful) life.
Part IV: Ayesha
I *hated* the character of Ayesha. I thought the whole story was painful to read, mostly because I didn't care for this character. I felt bad for Mizra, having his wife converted to believing in what I perceived was a false prophet.
Part V: A City Visible but Unseen
"'Chamcha,' Mishal said excitedly, 'you're a hero. I mean, people can really identify with you. It's an image white society has rejected for so long that we can really take it, you know, occupy it, inhabit it, reclaim it and make it our own. It's time you considered action.'"
When do you know your society is in a state of disrepair? When the image of the devil becomes something to rally around. It's not that it's the *devil* people are rallying around, but that the people need something to rally around and anything will do. I thought the image of the Asian youth taking on Saladin as their hero was absurd, yet one we see everyday - how much more ridiculous is it that people obsess over celebrities (hey, me included) to the point where they will do anything one individual says (not me, here, but think more Nazi/Hitler).
Part VI: Return to Jahilia & Part VII: The Angel Azraeel
It was at this point that I lost interest, or got so bogged down in the grit of the story, trying to follow what was happening, that I couldn't go any further. I stopped taking notes, mostly because there were so many to take.
In conclusion, I want to read this book again. With someone beside me that's done it before, and that can give me a nudge or two in the right direction.
I really enjoyed Rushdie's style of writing. I mentioned Roi's book in an earlier post, and the more I read of Verses the more I thought of "God of Small Things." Making up words to represent complex ideas was an effective way of showing his character's displacement: as Indians in a Caucasian world, the language barrier fuels the cultural barrier, and there is often no other way of expressing what one means than to make up a word. Throwing in Hindi words was also true to his characters; the elder Indians I know often speak a mixture of English and Hindi in the same sentence, again scrambling together whatever means possible to convey an idea. Sometimes, I felt like this push for expression of thought could also be felt in Rushdie's magical realism - writing a true-to-life story couldn't have been the best way for him to express his intentions.
As for what his intentions were, I don't think it's quite so easy to quantify. Maybe he was just trying to explore the mythologies surrounding the satanic verses. Or, being an Indian in a Caucasian world himself, the book was an attempt to come to terms with his own life, making it autobiographical. If you can't tell, that's the part of the book I can relate to. The absurdity of culture shock is similar to Waugh's characterization of "the American" in "The Loved One."
Since the book is broken down into chapters, I thought I'd say a few words about each one.
Part I: The Angel Gibreel
Rushdie certainly knows how to begin a story. Two men falling out of the sky. This was the section I could most easily relate to, with references to my cultural experiences; though after discussions in our group, it was probably difficult for the others to gleam the full scope of Rushdie's writings *because* of the numerous cultural references. For example, knowing that "chamcha" meant spoon, made it a whole lot more meaningful when Gibreel refers to Saladin Chamchawala as "Spoono."
Part II: Mahound
"Should God be proud or humble, majestic or simple, yielding or un-? What kind of idea is he? What kind am I?" (P. 113). To me, this quote is an example of why the book might be Rushdie's attempt at finding himself. These kinds of open-ended questions appear throughout the book, making it read somewhat like a very personal diary; though his characters are the ones questioning, you can clearly hear the questions in Rushdie's voice.
Part III: Ellowen Deeowen
Rosa Diamond was a strange character. First, I didn't understand why the coppers took Saladin but not Gibreel. Then, I thought the whole Gibreel/Rosa relationship was as bit sketch. I was intrigued by the following quote: "while dying Rosa tossed on her bed, did-she-didn't-she, making the last version of the story of her life, unable to decide what she wanted to be true." We had a bit of a talk on this topic, the idea of the illusion of a viable memory, the choice we have to remember the events as we see fit, and whether Rosa did or didn't cheat on her husband. I my opinion, had she not cheated on her husband, she would have no need to reinvent history; then again, had she remained faithful, inventing an affair might be the only way for her to conclude she had had a fulfilling (eventful) life.
Part IV: Ayesha
I *hated* the character of Ayesha. I thought the whole story was painful to read, mostly because I didn't care for this character. I felt bad for Mizra, having his wife converted to believing in what I perceived was a false prophet.
Part V: A City Visible but Unseen
"'Chamcha,' Mishal said excitedly, 'you're a hero. I mean, people can really identify with you. It's an image white society has rejected for so long that we can really take it, you know, occupy it, inhabit it, reclaim it and make it our own. It's time you considered action.'"
When do you know your society is in a state of disrepair? When the image of the devil becomes something to rally around. It's not that it's the *devil* people are rallying around, but that the people need something to rally around and anything will do. I thought the image of the Asian youth taking on Saladin as their hero was absurd, yet one we see everyday - how much more ridiculous is it that people obsess over celebrities (hey, me included) to the point where they will do anything one individual says (not me, here, but think more Nazi/Hitler).
Part VI: Return to Jahilia & Part VII: The Angel Azraeel
It was at this point that I lost interest, or got so bogged down in the grit of the story, trying to follow what was happening, that I couldn't go any further. I stopped taking notes, mostly because there were so many to take.
In conclusion, I want to read this book again. With someone beside me that's done it before, and that can give me a nudge or two in the right direction.
The final chapter: Zorro
Of all the books we read this semester, Zorro was the one I liked least. The book was commissioned, which didn't help the style of the prose. It was an easy read and would be appropriate for children. It would be interesting to read this book in Spanish, the language in which it was written. Maybe some of the problems stem from bad translation.
The plot was imaginative, that I will concede, but the style and characterization were poor enough to make up for it. I still have a really hard time believing that the narrator was really Isabel. Her style and personality are dramatically different from Isabel's characterization. I know that Allende set out to make the narrator's identity a surprise, but it was obvious to me about halfway through the book that she would probably try to use Isabel for narration, and this non-surprise was not a pleasant one. I can see how it would be a good idea to make the narrator an actual character and Isabel was the natural choice. However, Allende's execution needs a lot of work.
I also didn't like the scenes where the narrator talked about running out of ink, etc. That was a very childish way of saying "hi, yes, there's a narrator and it's me. I bet you can't guess who I am," and it distracted from the rest of the story. Allende also frequently forgot to mention important details and then threw them in when she needed them. For example, it bothered me a lot when she made a big deal about Julianna's first kiss twice, once with Rafael and once with the pirate. A girl can only get her first kiss once, and if you're going to make a big deal of it, you should remember when it was. Botching of details like this gives the impression that Allende never planned out her story and just kind of said what she felt like as she went along. It also makes the story seem less real and distracts from any meaning the reader might have been able to squeeze from the narrative.
Finally, I really enjoyed the reading group this semester. I actually liked it a lot better than colloquium, because it had a focus and we all had a common mindset from the start. I especially enjoyed the Vonnegut short stories in Welcome to the Monkey House and Rushdie's Satanic Verses.
Hope everyone has a nice break, see you next semester!
The plot was imaginative, that I will concede, but the style and characterization were poor enough to make up for it. I still have a really hard time believing that the narrator was really Isabel. Her style and personality are dramatically different from Isabel's characterization. I know that Allende set out to make the narrator's identity a surprise, but it was obvious to me about halfway through the book that she would probably try to use Isabel for narration, and this non-surprise was not a pleasant one. I can see how it would be a good idea to make the narrator an actual character and Isabel was the natural choice. However, Allende's execution needs a lot of work.
I also didn't like the scenes where the narrator talked about running out of ink, etc. That was a very childish way of saying "hi, yes, there's a narrator and it's me. I bet you can't guess who I am," and it distracted from the rest of the story. Allende also frequently forgot to mention important details and then threw them in when she needed them. For example, it bothered me a lot when she made a big deal about Julianna's first kiss twice, once with Rafael and once with the pirate. A girl can only get her first kiss once, and if you're going to make a big deal of it, you should remember when it was. Botching of details like this gives the impression that Allende never planned out her story and just kind of said what she felt like as she went along. It also makes the story seem less real and distracts from any meaning the reader might have been able to squeeze from the narrative.
Finally, I really enjoyed the reading group this semester. I actually liked it a lot better than colloquium, because it had a focus and we all had a common mindset from the start. I especially enjoyed the Vonnegut short stories in Welcome to the Monkey House and Rushdie's Satanic Verses.
Hope everyone has a nice break, see you next semester!
My shoes are Japanese / My pants are English
He sat up, angry. "Well, this is what's inside," he blazed at her. An Indian translated into English-medium. When I attempt Hindustani these days, people look polite. This is me." Caught in the aspic of his adopted language, he had begun to hear, in India's Babel, an ominous warning: don't come back again."
I feel a similar struggle between my Vietnamese heritage and American culture. When I was little, my parents and I agreed that English would be more appropriate as my dominant tongue, seeing as I needed to grow up, learn, and get a job here in my adulthood. The brat that I was, I felt that this meant I didn't need Vietnamese. Vietnamese grew more difficult as there were few other people to practice it with, and it was so much easier to speak English since my parents have a greater fluency than most Vietnamese immigrants I encounter.
I, of course, grew to have a greater appreciation for my culture as I got older and less stupid. Unfortunately, the same obstacles remain, in that I have few others to practice my parents' language with, and my aptitude with languages stands as ... leaving something to be desired. My aunts and uncles coo when they hear me speak Vietnamese, because many of my cousins have even less of a desire to learn the language. Me speaking the language is less of a natural thing and more something precious and quaint.
My parents advise me not to visit Vietnam, where American born Vietnamese are especially naive and susceptible to abuse, which makes sense. It still makes me feel like a terrible person to think that I would be an alien in my parents' country. Thinking about it makes me feel a certain fear and futility in trying to continue my personal education of Vietnamese heritage, like I'm setting myself up for rejection by my family on a national scale. Then again, no amount of Americanization can change the Vietnamese blood in me or deny me the right to appreciate it.
Walking Machines
"Harrison Bergeron" is another dystopia centered upon the idea of equality, especially reminiscent of Lois Lowry's "The Giver," which I'm sure others read in middle or high school, or even the somewhat shallow but entertaining film, "Equilibrium." What always gets me in these kinds of stories is the treatment of pain. In the end, Hazel can't remember that she's mourning the death of her son, and her husband encourages her to forget sadness. Of course, we all remember the cliches about how we must have darkness to have light, good to have evil, etc. The one about pain and joy definitely applies here.
I assume the goal of equality and sameness in the story is so that everyone can achieve happiness without interfering with others' happiness. All too often in our current time, we have to compete with others in the quest to get what we want out of life. The story's government eliminates the need to compete in the interest of everyone receiving the same fruits out of life. However, in eliminating that competition, the government does away with the sense of accomplishment when we achieve our goals. I think we need the struggle and the pain in order to feel, so that we can truly understand the joys we work so hard for.
I find that in all kinds of friendships and love, the relationship is not just defined by mutual affinity, but by how willing the other is to put up with the less appealing parts of your personality. I can't predict how well a friend will get along with a new boyfriend/girlfriend until the honeymooning couple actually experience a first fight. You gotta work for it, etc.
And as to "Welcome to the Monkey House," I just prefer not to even think about sex not being fun. Apologies, but that's just how it goes for me.
... So it goes. (Vonnegut just wretched in his grave.)
An afterthought: The subject title comes from Revl9n's "Walking Machine."
She said, "I like it better when it hurts"
She said, "I don't want to be a walking machine"
She said, "I like it better when it feels"
She said, "I don't want to be a walking machine"
So let the rain keep coming down
Yeah, profound, but I want to make up for my personal lack of macro.
I assume the goal of equality and sameness in the story is so that everyone can achieve happiness without interfering with others' happiness. All too often in our current time, we have to compete with others in the quest to get what we want out of life. The story's government eliminates the need to compete in the interest of everyone receiving the same fruits out of life. However, in eliminating that competition, the government does away with the sense of accomplishment when we achieve our goals. I think we need the struggle and the pain in order to feel, so that we can truly understand the joys we work so hard for.
I find that in all kinds of friendships and love, the relationship is not just defined by mutual affinity, but by how willing the other is to put up with the less appealing parts of your personality. I can't predict how well a friend will get along with a new boyfriend/girlfriend until the honeymooning couple actually experience a first fight. You gotta work for it, etc.
And as to "Welcome to the Monkey House," I just prefer not to even think about sex not being fun. Apologies, but that's just how it goes for me.
... So it goes. (Vonnegut just wretched in his grave.)
An afterthought: The subject title comes from Revl9n's "Walking Machine."
She said, "I like it better when it hurts"
She said, "I don't want to be a walking machine"
She said, "I like it better when it feels"
She said, "I don't want to be a walking machine"
So let the rain keep coming down
Yeah, profound, but I want to make up for my personal lack of macro.
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