"When I awoke it was day; an unusual movement roused me; I looked up; I was in somebody's arms; the nurse held me; she was carrying me through the passage back to the dormitory. I was not reprimanded for leaving my bed; people had something else to think about. No explanation was afforded to my many questions; but a day or two afterward I learned that Ms. Temple, on returning t her own room at dawn, had found me laid in the little crib; my face against Helen Burns' shoulder, my arms round her neck. I was asleep, and Helen was--dead."
Envisioning this situation was simple. A poor, neglected, ten-year old Jane Eyre who awakes to find her first true friend in this world limp and pale by her side, the tremors of consumption rumbling through her body until she fell silent and cold. But to truly empathize with Jane Eyre, who has so ripely lost her one and only friend? I struggle to do so. Jane has been spurned, disregarded, paid no heed her entire life. She is finally given her first drops of sublime, sweet attention by Helen, who becomes her companion at the new boarding school she is forced to attend. The boarding school is for orphaned children, such as Jane Eyre, yet it is found to be an establishment of the highest quality in comparison to the horrific and cumbersome lifestyle endured at her Aunt's house, where Jane was no more than the punching bag for her "family" to abhor.
Will this experience affect Jane negatively and impact her life greatly, or will the loss of this first friend be only minor, a small bump in her life filled with mountainous horrors. Yet it is my belief that while this event may prove to be traumatic for Jane for the time being, it will only be a minor glitch, or setback, in what will prove to be a dark yet fruitful life of this bright young girl. The deaths of her parents will always overshadow Jane's life and whatever accomplishments she makes, as will her torturous years living in her Aunt's house, so I feel as that the death of Helen will not take as big of a toll on Jane's life.
To me, this idea of having your best friend die is such an enormous shock and would create such disarray and havoc in my life that I can barely imagine. It is a foreign idea to me, having the death of your friend be comparatively small to the other occurrences that have happened in your life. It is my hope for Jane Eyre, however, that she will be able to grow past this shadow of death and grief that has plagued her life so terribly, and will soon be surrounded by her accomplishments and successes. But then, how quickly does the shadow of death fade?
Showing posts with label Personal Connections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal Connections. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Confinement
We have all felt inclosed, at one point or another, felt as if we are trapped with no escape. It's a common feeling in human beings; to feel as if you are confined in a space, mental or physical, with no escape. I know that before any big test, I begin to feel trapped in my mind as I continuously review subjects and become increasingly stressed out. There's no escape- I must sit in my pool of nerves and stress until that climax of stress, when it all combines to form a tumult of unease and disquietude. This is usually when I finish my test, hand it in, and finally feel the shroud of apprehension lift from my body. But what if there was no flight from the "box" you're encased in, what if it is not mental but physical, tangible? And what if this box you are in is not a box at all, but a real, palpable room in which you have spent your whole life?
In the book Room by Emma Donoghue, Jack has spent the first five years of his adolescence trapped, literally, in a room with his mother. I have only just begun the book, but I begin to see what is terribly wrong with this situation. The book is told from the perspective Jack, and though his description of the world may not be extremely graphic, we still understand that Jack and his mother are trapped in a room where they have lived for all of Jack's five years. A mysterious man named "Old Nick" comes every night and Jack must go in what he refers to as "wardrobe", where he sleeps and hides from Old Nick. It was my first conclusion that Jack and his mother were imprisoned in a jail, yet they seem to be the only ones there, besides Old Nick who only runs their errands and comes every night to Jack's mother, who loathes him. It is now my deduction that Jack and his mother are kept in this room by Old Nick, for whatever reason, and Jack's mother and Old Nick have a sexual relationship of some sort. Whatever the reason may be, something is terribly amiss if Jack has spent the first half-decade of his life trapped in a room, without seeing anything that may be outside of the room. For a room to be the only room he knows, and for his friends to be what he refers to as "Chair" and "Rug." If the only world a five-year old knows is a 121 square-foot space, I say there is something seriously flawed in his life.
In much the same way, a child's adolescence should not consist of wartime regimes, guns, and deaths. After researching child soldiers and making observations on their lives for the past few days, I can relate both Jack's life to the lives of the child soldiers worldwide. In fact, it is my belief that the lives of child soldiers and the life of Jack are on two ends of the "trapped in a box" spectrum. Whereas child soldiers are trapped in a world of battles, the witnessing of killings, and exposure to things way beyond their years, Jack is exposed to a universe of boring nothingness, and hasn't experienced enough of the world for his age. Both child soldiers and Jack will never truly escape their box; Jack will forever be scarred by his first childhood years in the room and will have difficulties adjusting to the outside world, and child soldiers will be forever on the battlefield, their development disrupted and their nervous systems maimed. To contain a child in any sort of box; be it mental, physical, metaphorical, is abuse. Children should not be left to roam free in the streets, without any parent to love them or any sort of guidance through life, yet they should also not be so restrained that they are mentally damaged. As with most things in life, I believe the key is balance and moderation. Although from time to time, we all find ourselves in a box.
In the book Room by Emma Donoghue, Jack has spent the first five years of his adolescence trapped, literally, in a room with his mother. I have only just begun the book, but I begin to see what is terribly wrong with this situation. The book is told from the perspective Jack, and though his description of the world may not be extremely graphic, we still understand that Jack and his mother are trapped in a room where they have lived for all of Jack's five years. A mysterious man named "Old Nick" comes every night and Jack must go in what he refers to as "wardrobe", where he sleeps and hides from Old Nick. It was my first conclusion that Jack and his mother were imprisoned in a jail, yet they seem to be the only ones there, besides Old Nick who only runs their errands and comes every night to Jack's mother, who loathes him. It is now my deduction that Jack and his mother are kept in this room by Old Nick, for whatever reason, and Jack's mother and Old Nick have a sexual relationship of some sort. Whatever the reason may be, something is terribly amiss if Jack has spent the first half-decade of his life trapped in a room, without seeing anything that may be outside of the room. For a room to be the only room he knows, and for his friends to be what he refers to as "Chair" and "Rug." If the only world a five-year old knows is a 121 square-foot space, I say there is something seriously flawed in his life.
In much the same way, a child's adolescence should not consist of wartime regimes, guns, and deaths. After researching child soldiers and making observations on their lives for the past few days, I can relate both Jack's life to the lives of the child soldiers worldwide. In fact, it is my belief that the lives of child soldiers and the life of Jack are on two ends of the "trapped in a box" spectrum. Whereas child soldiers are trapped in a world of battles, the witnessing of killings, and exposure to things way beyond their years, Jack is exposed to a universe of boring nothingness, and hasn't experienced enough of the world for his age. Both child soldiers and Jack will never truly escape their box; Jack will forever be scarred by his first childhood years in the room and will have difficulties adjusting to the outside world, and child soldiers will be forever on the battlefield, their development disrupted and their nervous systems maimed. To contain a child in any sort of box; be it mental, physical, metaphorical, is abuse. Children should not be left to roam free in the streets, without any parent to love them or any sort of guidance through life, yet they should also not be so restrained that they are mentally damaged. As with most things in life, I believe the key is balance and moderation. Although from time to time, we all find ourselves in a box.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Abandoned Souls
"All of our waste which we dumped on her and which she absorbed. And all of our beauty, which was hers first and which she gave to us. All of us-all who knew her-felt so wholesome after we cleaned ourselves on her. We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness. Her simplicity decorated us, her guilt sanctified us, her pain made us glow with health...Even her waking dreams we used- to silence our own nightmares. And she let us, and thereby deserved our contempt. We honed our egos on her, padded our characters with her frailty, and yawned in the fantasy of our strength."
-The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
To be cast off, from a group, from friends, from society, is a pain and burden so unbearable that only those who have an unmeasurable inner resilience can come away from such an experience unscarred. It hurts to be forgotten, or discarded, from a group of people, especially by those whom you loved. We've all probably been disposed of in such a manner by a group of people; whether it was in grade school, and you weren't allowed to play with a certain group of people because they had forbade it, or one of your friends decided that you were freakish and strange and went to go find another group of friends to hang out with. Perhaps it's simply a teacher who no longer wants to listen to your answers, and ignores you, and you are cast off there, as well.
My experience with being "cast off" involved one of my childhood best friends, who I've known since kindergarden. I was friends with her from the very beginning of my adolescence, since the first day of kindergarden, when we chose line partners and our hands met over another whimpering girl, who could not find a line partner. We both asked one another if we wanted to be partners, simultaneously, and I can still hear our laughter as we interrupted one another, excitedly talking. That was the true initiation of our friendship; it continued all throughout elementary school. She was my best friend, or one of them, at least. She was hilarious, and we were always laughing, or abusing her pets and making her dog and cat fight each other. We began to grow apart when I was about 10 or 11. I can't really discern who cast who off, who forgot the other and went on to find other friends. At first, I wanted to blame her for the destruction of our friendship, for casting me off and forgetting about me to go find other friends. This is usually not the case, however. I feel guilt for shutting her out, for neglecting our friendship and failing to salvage it. But in this situation, it doesn't matter who cast who off, for it injured and marred us in our own separate ways.
This same cast-off role is apparent in Toni Morrison's book The Bluest Eye. The story is told from the point of view of a girl named Claudia, yet Claudia is a mere observer. It is my opinion that the true protagonist is a girl named Pecola, for the story is centered around her. Pecola is a girl living in a predominantly black neighborhood; northern slums where racism is prevalent. She is beaten by her mother, and constantly watches her mother and father engage in horrid assaults of one another. Pecola is constantly referred to as "ugly" and "odd" by the members of her neighborhood, her family receiving these labels as well. When she is around 12 years of age, Pecola is raped and impregnated by her father, and becomes even more of a social pariah than she previously was. Although her baby dies, the imprint of what was done to her remains, and people cast Pecola off and use her as their punching bag, their source of happiness and reassurance, for when they see Pecola in all her grime and filth, they see themselves as being better, as being more substantial people. When they see what has been done to Pecola by her father, they look at themselves as being virtuous and pure. Pecola stifles the insecurities of people in her neighborhood, and makes them feel secure in their own bodies, for she herself is a monstrosity. It is my belief that all of us who are cast out in one way or another act as a suppressor of personal vulnerabilities for those who cast us out. When those who cast us off look at us, they see all of their greatness compared to all of our flaws, and all of the difficulties we have suffered, and how much better their lives have been in comparison to this. We act as a constant reminder of the guilt they feel for casting us off, yet also as a washcloth or rag that they may clean themselves with, so that they may shine in our gloominess.
-The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
To be cast off, from a group, from friends, from society, is a pain and burden so unbearable that only those who have an unmeasurable inner resilience can come away from such an experience unscarred. It hurts to be forgotten, or discarded, from a group of people, especially by those whom you loved. We've all probably been disposed of in such a manner by a group of people; whether it was in grade school, and you weren't allowed to play with a certain group of people because they had forbade it, or one of your friends decided that you were freakish and strange and went to go find another group of friends to hang out with. Perhaps it's simply a teacher who no longer wants to listen to your answers, and ignores you, and you are cast off there, as well.
My experience with being "cast off" involved one of my childhood best friends, who I've known since kindergarden. I was friends with her from the very beginning of my adolescence, since the first day of kindergarden, when we chose line partners and our hands met over another whimpering girl, who could not find a line partner. We both asked one another if we wanted to be partners, simultaneously, and I can still hear our laughter as we interrupted one another, excitedly talking. That was the true initiation of our friendship; it continued all throughout elementary school. She was my best friend, or one of them, at least. She was hilarious, and we were always laughing, or abusing her pets and making her dog and cat fight each other. We began to grow apart when I was about 10 or 11. I can't really discern who cast who off, who forgot the other and went on to find other friends. At first, I wanted to blame her for the destruction of our friendship, for casting me off and forgetting about me to go find other friends. This is usually not the case, however. I feel guilt for shutting her out, for neglecting our friendship and failing to salvage it. But in this situation, it doesn't matter who cast who off, for it injured and marred us in our own separate ways.
This same cast-off role is apparent in Toni Morrison's book The Bluest Eye. The story is told from the point of view of a girl named Claudia, yet Claudia is a mere observer. It is my opinion that the true protagonist is a girl named Pecola, for the story is centered around her. Pecola is a girl living in a predominantly black neighborhood; northern slums where racism is prevalent. She is beaten by her mother, and constantly watches her mother and father engage in horrid assaults of one another. Pecola is constantly referred to as "ugly" and "odd" by the members of her neighborhood, her family receiving these labels as well. When she is around 12 years of age, Pecola is raped and impregnated by her father, and becomes even more of a social pariah than she previously was. Although her baby dies, the imprint of what was done to her remains, and people cast Pecola off and use her as their punching bag, their source of happiness and reassurance, for when they see Pecola in all her grime and filth, they see themselves as being better, as being more substantial people. When they see what has been done to Pecola by her father, they look at themselves as being virtuous and pure. Pecola stifles the insecurities of people in her neighborhood, and makes them feel secure in their own bodies, for she herself is a monstrosity. It is my belief that all of us who are cast out in one way or another act as a suppressor of personal vulnerabilities for those who cast us out. When those who cast us off look at us, they see all of their greatness compared to all of our flaws, and all of the difficulties we have suffered, and how much better their lives have been in comparison to this. We act as a constant reminder of the guilt they feel for casting us off, yet also as a washcloth or rag that they may clean themselves with, so that they may shine in our gloominess.
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