This is my first blog and it's titled 'Why oh why must I blog?' because I, its reluctant maker, had had no intention whatsoever to ever make a blog; its birth was forced, its entries will be a chore, and it will most likely be resented for the whole of its existence. This Oliver Twist of a blog is not really wanted and will probably be kicked to the curb at the first opportunity that arises.
I am not a person usually filled with such emotion but I enjoy my privacy, I absolutely and totally detest ANY website that REQUIRES my phone number, I have never wanted my personal thoughts on display, and I most certainly have never wanted anyone's (especially not a stranger's) opinion on them.
Now that you know that each and every word in this blog is full of love and cheer, lets move on to why it exists. I am a student enrolled in an Intro to Native American Literature class and one of my assignments is to write a weekly blog that goes over some of the pieces that I read for class. The class is enjoyable, blogging is not, I would like to make it absolutely clear that the above statements are in no way intended to be disrespectful to the instructor of the class: I am simply voicing my frustration over the amount of times in my adult life that I am forced to surrender personal information to the void that is the internet.
This assignment reminds me of the poem On the Amtrak from Boston to New York City. Just as the woman on the train started a conversation with the narrator in order to be friendly, social, and nice - my professor did the same with a blogging assignment. Both the boy and I were less than pleased.
Thanks for the positivity. It is, indeed, my job to make your life as hard as possible. In fact, I get a special bonus for your disdain. ;) Although, I am confused that blogger required your phone number; perhaps you are speaking of a different website? At least you can take comfort in the fact that nobody knows who you are except for me, and I will try not to tell, unless of course it causes you even more technological anguish, and in that case, then well, I get another pay raise.
ReplyDeleteIn terms of "On the Amtrak," I wonder if the age of the narrator is that of a boy? He seems more like a grown man to me who is infantilized by the elder woman's didactic approach in "teaching" him about the landscape. There is a long historical legacy of Native people being treated like children by the U.S. government and even classified as "wards of the state." I hadn't thought about it before, but I wonder to what extent the tone of Alexie's poem draws that sensation out in the reader?
I am so glad that you get so many lovely bonuses as a result of my blog disparaging; that was my intent all along. ;) Like I said, I was just frustrated; anything that forces me to peek out of my all encompassing shell is a personal affront to my antisocialness. I also appreciate you keeping the super duper secret of my true identity because what fun would it be if everyone knew who I was? We must keep them guessing for entertainment's sake and the fact that a mystery blogger is oh so very much more interesting than an identified college student blogging for a grade. (Gasp! I just gave out some information! I must be more careful in the future!)
ReplyDeleteTo keep in the spirit of things and because it describes the enigma that I am so much better than the simple 'A Blogger' designation I have changed my signature to 'The Mystery Blogger'.
In response to your "On the Amtrak" comment: I had never considered that the narrator was an adult. The tone of the poem immediately made me think, "Boy". Now that you mention it, they never did indicate if he was a young man or an adult. You have made quite the insight, because whether or not he is young or old he is, like you said: infantilized by the woman's words.