The Lion King

According to Stanton, every good story provides a promise.  In Disney's film The Lion King, that promise is that Simba, a young lion and heir to the throne, will one day become king and reign over the Pride Lands.  This promise is initially hinted at in the opening sequence when Simba is presented to all of the Pride Lands by Rafiki.  The promise is solidified when Simba's father, the current king, takes him for a tour of the Pride Lands and tells him that the land will be all his one day.

I feel personally connected to this story because it explores many different themes, including what it feels like to be an outcast.  After Mufasa's death, his brother Scar drives Simba away from the community and he is left on his own.  Two outcasts, Timon and Pumbaa, raise Simba and have a tight-knit family together.  I have two friends like this back home and it makes me feel more connected to them, too, because we have always been outcasts in some respects.

In addition the theme of being an outcast, the film is also about redemption and even touches on certain spiritual themes like reincarnation.  In the broadest sense, this film is about life and coming-of-age.  It starts with Simba's birth and deals with death and growing up.  It deals with Simba's refusal to act on his destiny to become king and ultimately his maturation to become king and face his past.

The spine of the main character, Simba, is ultimately revealed when he decides to mature and take on his uncle Scar to become king and fulfill his destiny.  Initially, the character wants to be king and then wants to be left alone as an outcast.  We see at the climax of the film that Simba wants the Pride Lands to be what they used to be when his father reigned.  The character is very likeable and also easily to relate to.  He is funny, charming at times, and also can be stubborn.  The viewer feels empathetic and connected to him throughout his different stages of growing up.

Image Source:  http://www.lostinthemultiplex.com/images/Lion_2.jpg

Incident, August 1995 by David Means

We grew up on rusted tracks, walking down lonely stretches with nothing ahead of us.  We walked and walked for miles, bullshitting and tossing around a few cans of beer that Eddie stole from his old man.  We would start off at the same spot every Saturday night and then end up on the same old bridge that spanned the highway.

We would sit on the edge of that bridge, our legs dangling above the lights of the cars below us.  We were all afraid of heights, but that didn't matter because we were all trying to be brave show-offs.  We'd keep drinking and get a little drunk and then throw the cans at the cars below us.

Eventually some poor old man running the train yard a few miles down the tracks would send some bored cops after us.  We'd run into the woods and get away.  Sometimes we got caught.  When we did, they told us to stay off the goddamned tracks.  We always came back next weekend.

As we got older we started getting a bad reputation, and I hated what we'd become, but I went along with it anyways because that was the cool thing to do.  We used to beat the shit out of kids.  We'd steal purses from old ladies and we'd fuck up any man who looked like a loser.  I guess we thought we were a gang of some kind, and I suppose to an extent we were.

One night we were hanging out on the tracks like we always did.  It was a particularly odd night, and the air smelled like iron, like blood and the sea.  A train had passed an hour or so earlier, and their power always amazed me.  As we stood on the tracks, tossing punches and sharing some beer that we had stolen from a liquor store, a curious sight came upon us.

There was a creature coming from the south end of the tracks.  For a few seconds we were all scared shitless because we couldn't tell what it was.  Eventually we concluded it was a man.  He looked real hurt, like a doe that had just gotten shot and was taking her final steps.  We could only see the outline of this frail human being, and as he got closer, we saw the man's hollow eyes.

I don't even know how it started, but Eddie kicked the man and knocked him down.  Everything happened so fast.  I grabbed his wallet and took out all the bills.  Before I knew it we were dragging him down to the tunnel, and I took a final look in his eyes and I knew that he had already died.

He was dead before he got to us.

Dialogue Scene

They hadn’t visited the lake since Abigail’s parents divorced.

            “Mom, can we go back to the lake this summer?” Abigail asked.

            “I don’t know, honey,” her mother said.  “That was a thing we did when your father was around.”

            “I know.  It’s just that I really like that lake.  It makes me feel better.”

            “I don’t know, honey.”

            “Just for a short vacation, you know.  It’ll be nice.”

            Her mother didn’t respond.  She took another drink from her wine glass.

            “I want to live there.”

            “Live there?  Everyone you know lives down here.  Don’t be silly.”

            “You always do this.”

            “Do what?”

            “Ever since the divorce, you ignore me.”

            “Oh, Abby, don’t put up such a fuss.”

            “It’s Abigail.”

            “Okay, Abigail.”

            Her words were beginning to slur.  Since the divorce, Abigail’s mother began to look toward alcohol to soothe the pain from the separation.

            “You really need to start drinking less,” Abigail said.

            “Are you my doctor?”

            “No, Mom, but—”

            “Then don’t tell me what I need to do.”

            “I’m just trying to help you out.  I’m worried about you.”

            “Don’t be.”

            It was Friday night and Abigail knew she wasn’t supposed to be out late, but she decided to leave.  She grabbed her mother’s car keys and headed towards the door.

            “Where do you think you’re going?”
            “Out.”

            “I don’t think so, young lady.”

            “I’m not going to sit here while you drink yourself into a stupor.”

            “Don’t you dare leave, Abigail Jane.”

            She opened the door.

            “Abby!”

            She looked back at her mom, slumped on the couch and nearly passed out.  She turned away and closed the door.  As she got into the car, her mother opened the front door and began to yell.

            “Come back right now!  Don’t do this!  You’re just like your father!”

            Abigail drove off, hoping to forget everything that happened at home.

Abby & the Sea

The following is a poem I wrote quite a long time ago about a little girl named Abby and what growing up does to her.  I decided to use this poem as the basis for my short story involving character because when I wrote about "Adrian" in a previous blog post, I liked his physical features but felt like his character was still hollow.  Putting some of Adrian into Abby made complete sense, and I decided to take the poem and transform it into a short story (which is currently being edited).

Abby & the Sea

When you are a little girl,
There is no such thing
As feeling the weight of the world.
When you are a little girl,
Life is light like air we breathe,
And as precious as pearl.

When you are so very small,
But your imagination so very big,
Life seems as grand as castles built in sand.
When you are so very small,
You question and answer everything,
But who could ever explain why trees grow so tall?

When she was a little girl,
Abby never felt very small,
And she always found her home
By the big lake, that was more like a sea,
Where her parents would take her
For one week in the hot summer.

When Abby saw the lake,
Her imagination would overtake,
Like light in darkness, the world around her.
The lake became a sea, and
Across the waters existed a faraway land
Where her noble steed would wait.

When she dreamed of traveling there,
She would believe she had sprouted wings,
Sailing the skies across the sea.
When she finally would land,
A charming Prince would take her hand,
And the beaches had glitter for sand.

When a little girl grows up,
In say, 12 or 13 years,
Things begin to grow different.
When a little girl grows up,
The world weighs a little more,
And things are never the same as before.

When you become of age,
Your parents may decide to separate.
The world is beyond your control.
When you become of age,
You do things that are bad for you,
And think you've seen nothing new.

When Abigail's parents got a divorce,
This meant no more summers at her lake.
The Kings and Queens of her imagined land
Must have forgotten her,
And she went by Abigail now, so
She smoked a cigarette and thought about life.

When her friend noticed she was rather sad,
She decided to take Abigail to the lake.
Abigail didn't want to go,
But went anyways because deep down,
There is a seed of magic that always wants
To return to the place where it was planted.

When Abigail and her friend got to the lake,
A canoe for two rested near the shore.
They decided to hop in,
And Abigail rowed and rowed
And rowed and rowed
And rowed and rowed and rowed.

When they finally reached the other side
Of that lake that was as big as the sea,
Abigail had made it to the Kingdom,
And the people shouted, "Our Princess! It is she!"
Life is hard, and sometimes tragic,
But Abby vowed to never forget that magic.

WordTheatre

I had the good fortune to attend WordTheatre last night at 7PM.  I came in unsure of what to expect.  I had never really sat down and listened to someone read an entire short story, and I was worried that it might be dry or boring.  As I sat down, that worry quickly dissolved and I realized that this would actually be quite a fun event!

The first story, Crash Diet by Jill McCorckle and performed by Cassidy Freeman was totally hilarious and captivating.  I had never experienced a short story this way before, and I found myself laughing and totally enjoying the performance!  I liked how one of the ladies who organized WordTheatre (I believe her name was Cedering Fox), said that we would get to see "movies in our head" tonight because that is exactly what it was like.

The second story was as equally entertaining.  Desirae Whalen did an excellent job, and while I did not enjoy this story as much as the first, I still found myself chuckling and remaining entertained.

Unfortunately, I was unable to stay the entire duration of the show and had to leave during intermission.  I was looking forward to hearing Intervention performed since we read that in class.  If the first two performances were any indication of the last, I'm sure Lesley Nicol's performance was equally grand.

I really enjoyed WordTheatre and I would definitely be interested in attending future events. :)

The Appropriation of Cultures by Percival Everett

In Everett's short story "The Appropriation of Cultures", a black man named Daniel decides to reclaim a symbol of his oppression, the Confederate flag.  Everett characterizes Daniel as a simple man who is musically inclined and executes a silent but brave protest.

I really appreciated the subtlety in the text.  For example:  "Daniel heard the quality of the exchange between Travis and Barb, but not the words. He did hear Barb say, as Travis pulled open the door, "I couldn't tell over the phone?"

In this excerpt from the text, Everett does a great job at showing what the atmosphere is like at the time Daniel goes to look at the truck.  We don't see Everett describing the white man as downright surprised that Daniel is a man of color; instead, we see this silent reaction, an elephant in the room.  "I couldn't tell over the phone?"

I think Everett's writing stands out by the way he describes Daniel hearing "the quality of the exchange between Travis and Barb".  Through this piece of information, we understand that they are both surprised and there is obvious racism going on, especially when we learn that the truck has a Confederate flag on it.

Again, we see the subtlety of racism in the text a bit further:  "Barb got out of the car and walked up to the porch with Travis.  She gave the house a careful look."  When the couple selling the truck arrives at Daniel's house, Everett uses an interesting sentence to describe Barb's reaction -- she give gives the house "a careful look".  We can get a sense of the type of people Barb and her husband are based off of these tiny nuances.

Adrian

Near a stone fountain, Adrian sat alone with only a book to keep him company.  He found friends in the tattered pages of his most treasured novels, and frequently dreamed of living in a fantasy land.  The wind blew and the fountain sprayed a cool mist into the air.  He breathed in the aroma of the water.  It reminded him of home, of seaports and fresh catches of fish, that pungent odor which could only conjure up warm feelings in someone who grew up with it.

He wore a loose blue tank top and shorts the color of sand.  On his left shoulder, he bore a curious tattoo in black ink.  It was a compass, symbolically guiding him toward his dreams and leading his heart in his adventures.  On his right arm, he had even more tattoos.  Here, three seagulls flew on his flesh adjacent to a bracelet composed of seashells.  The seabirds seemed almost animate, as if they were ready to take flight off his body and fly into the sky.  Finally, there were two anchors tattooed onto each of his ankles.  They kept him grounded.

Engaged in his reading, Adrian seemed like he could not be bothered.  But when he caught the smell of the water from the fountain, he looked up and instantly became lost in thought.  Emanating from his core was a maritime mystery, a strong desire to understand his origins.  He dreamed of sailing, of flying over the Atlantic coastline with the seagulls, of letting his compass guide his heart to wherever it wished.

But most of all, Adrian desired to find out who he was.  He secretly hoped his compass would guide him into his past.  He knew that he had been born in Massachusetts, in a small town located on the rocky coastline, but he felt his history was much deeper than that.  He felt like a child of the ocean.  Somewhere in that deep blue was a treasure chest that held the answer, an oyster with a pearl that would reveal it all.

He couldn’t explain the gnawing inside.  It was powerful and omnipresent, even tidal, constantly pushing him to discover and pulling back just before he found what he needed.  He needed to find out why he felt like his soul was as old as the ocean.  The ancient force at his core was extraordinary, even supernatural.

So far away from the Atlantic coast that raised him, he couldn’t help but feel lost.  He heard the sound of the waves crashing in his head.  They called to him.  He clutched at the compass on his shoulder.  It would guide him.  He could find the answers for which he searched.  He needed only to trust his heart.

Creative Response to "The Lady With The Dog" by Anton Chekhov

For my creative response, I have teamed up with a peer, Daniel Mata, from a different section of the creative writing course.  We have chosen to discuss the piece together and to talk about what stood out to us.  Below is a transcript from our dialogue:

Daniel:  Firstly, the plot in this story is not that great.  It's pretty much that of a man who found a mistress, they fell in love, and that's that.  It's not like their lives were in danger, and it's not like they had to run away.  They just kept their life a secret, and it's interesting that the author decided to end the story there. Leaving an open ending leaves you wanting more.  

Secondly, it looks like Gurov is confused because meeting Anna was falling in love for the first time. It's intriguing to think about it as if Gurov probably never thought of love as something with enough importance to push him to do the things he did to meet again with Anna. In the beginning of the story, he probably thought of the woman as just another woman with whom he would have an affair, and he's had tons over the years with a bunch of other women.  And not having experienced love before, it took him aback and became fixated on this girl so much.

Robert:  As evidenced by the text, Gurov's surroundings seem to change when he falls in love with Anna.  When he is with her, his surroundings seemingly transform and he lives purely in the moment.  I found this part of the text particularly beautiful:  "Sitting beside a young woman who in the dawn seemed so lovely, soothed and spellbound in these magical surroundings -- the sea, mountains, clouds, the open sky -- Gurov thought how in reality everything is beautiful in this world when one reflects: everything except what we think or do ourselves when we forget our human dignity and the higher aims of our existence."

Daniel: That's a recurring theme which Chekhov employs a lot. That feelings change your surroundings. It's a romantic way of thinking.

Robert:  I really liked this part of the story when Chekhov describes their love as being two caged birds. "It seemed to them that fate itself had meant them for one another, and they could not understand why he had a wife and she a husband; and it was as though they were a pair of birds of passage, caught and forced to live in different cages."  I think this line really highlights their love for one another and how they can't be together because of social restraints.

Daniel:  What stands out to me is how Gurov sees Anna in his waking life. "When he shut his eyes he saw her as though she were living before him, and she seemed to him lovelier, younger, tenderer than she was; and he imagined himself finer than he had been in Yalta. In the evenings she peeped out at him from the bookcase, from the fireplace, from the corner -- he heard her breathing, the caressing rustle of her dress. In the street he watched the women, looking for some one like her."  Dreams are fantastical manifestations of what lies deep in our souls. However, Gurov takes this to another level because not only his dreams, but also in his waking moments, he sees Anna, as if she was presently walking before his eyes. He yearns for her so much, that he sees her in recurring daydreams.

Robert: So how much of that also plays into the idea of how Gurov thinks of the differences between his inner life and outer life?  So Gurov has this idea that he has two different lives:  one that is internal, his romance with Anna, and one that is external, his wife and kids and life as a banker.  Anna has this life, too, kind of like a dual-world life.  They kind of participate in a fantasy world between the two of them, and I think that also plays into their perception of how strong their romance is.  It's almost the stagnancy of their dull lives fuels the passion in their romance.  They want to live in a fantasy rather than the reality they were given.

Daniel:  Also, the moment when Gurov calls to our attention that, even though it was only three degrees above freezing point, snow was still falling, shows how his environment is parallel to his emotion. At the moment, he was about to go and see Anna. He himself feels warmer, and his environment shows to be warmer as well. It's a form of parallelism.

Robert:  I think that the environment plays into the story in other parts as well.  It is a reflection of Gurov's inner thoughts and feelings.

Daniel:  What we've seen in good writing so far, is the ability to put the reader in the scene.  It has a greater impact than just telling what has happened.  In this case, the dialogue places us in Gurov's shoes.  

"Dmitri Dmitritch!"
"What?"
"You were right this evening: the sturgeon was a bit too strong!"

We feel as if we were part of this conversation, watching it from up close. In the story that Chekov tells us, there's no need for dialogue; it's not an essential part. But in this case, the dialogue serves the purpose of showing the scene more than just describing it.


Robert:  One of the recurring things I noticed in the story is Chekhov's use of the word "S----" to describe the city in which the affair happened.  To me, he does this for discretion.  It's a way of keeping the affair secret and showing that it is something taboo.

Daniel:  You know what else it can be?  It could be that the "S---" just stands for the town being so faraway and lost, that no one cares about it.  It's not on the map, yet still he chases her.  As if she is in a faraway land and it's his job to find her.

Robert:  So again, that kind of goes with the theme of his fantasy world versus his reality.  It could be that this place with no name does not even exist.

Daniel:  When Gurov goes to her house and is on the porch, walking up and down, it shows how desperate he is. This story has a somewhat fantastic touch to it.  Even though they are already married, and it would look so bad, somehow they are reunited by fate and found themselves.  He looked at a poster of Memoirs of a Geisha and decided to go.  It doesn't have to do with wit.  It doesn't have to do with the main character deducing or investigating her life to find her; he just happens to find her.  As he says later on, they were meant for each other.  There was no way they were going to be separate.

Robert:  Exactly.  "it seemed to them that fate itself had meant them for one another, and they could not understand why he had a wife and she a husband."  It doesn't matter that they had previous lives.  Actually, their previous lives aren't really even mentioned much; but their romance is what's focused on.  I think it's interesting and admirable that Chekhov manages to create this elaborate romance and deep love in the story, especially when it's only a short story.  It seems like we know these characters well and that we've learned a lot about them in just a few pages.

Daniel: To conclude, I would like to reiterate how much similar characteristics this story shares with other stories from the romantic period. It highlights the importance of the self -- even Gurov says it, when he doesn't want to keep his affair a secret. He just wants to love Anna.  It's him that he's talking about.  He could care for Anna, but he's actually not desperate about satisfying Anna; he just wants to fulfill his own pleasure.  It's just "I, I, I" all over again.

Robert:  You're right.  He doesn't talk much about Anna's pleasure or her love for him.  In a way, this is much about Gurov's fantasy and not too much about Anna's.