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okay, so throughout my entire life, for some unexplainable reason, I’ve always thought of revision as a long and boring process. I hate re-reading my work and I hate the thought of going back and changing anything that I originally wrote. As I grew up, I realized I did make mistakes and it is VERY IMPORTANT to go back and revised. Now while reading Reid’s point, I came to agree with her almost everywhere especially where she said, “Until writers encounter real problems, not just infelicities, they have no true need for either guidance or revision opportunities; they may offer both to their students..” okay so from here i came to think of myself. While in high school, I was always one of the better writers so I always got “A’s” so i never thought i was a bad writer until i got to college and my first english professor destroyed my essay. I then started failing because i did not revise my work. We don’t really start revising our work until we notice we aren't doing as great as we’ve like. Do i make some sort of sense?lol 

Reid’s points throughout the essay are awesome. In particular, i loved when she talked about teachers and graduate students revising. I think it is so true that most people think that revising is a waste of time or something you do if you are a more inexperienced writer. Even I used to think so. For me though, it was when I began tutoring people in writing that I noticed how writing is actually a much more complex process. I began to really implement revision and reflection into my writing. I used to think that i had to write what i felt at that moment and leave it exactly how it is, as if it were a fossil, an evidence of my thinking process at that moment. Of course, this is good to do for like dream diaries or other genres of writing that are personal or something, but in academic writing it is more complex. We have to consider audiences! and for that reason we have to revise to make sure our points are clear enough for anyone to understand. The audience was something I also rarely considered too. 

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BELL HOOKS!!!!!!!!!!

OKAY, HERE WE GO!

My chapter was against the wonderful topic of FEMINISM. For as far back in time a women had a simple role her entire life--- care giver. We were property of a man, we weren't really free BUT we were BELONGED to someone. Feminism comes in many shapes, ideas, and forms, and it can also mean and be interpreted in many ways. Chapter 7, begins with telling the reader how it white women felt towards black women. EVEN WOMEN, who where literally on the lowest scale of society still somehow found it necessary to discriminate against black women. White women were jealous of the sexuality of black women and how some men cheated and slept with the “help.” When white women began to see that they were less then black men, they wanted to gain societal freedom from the shackles of being a minority. They later decided to join forces with black women, but even after then they thought they could do it on their own and continued to treat them as second class citizens (even POOR white women, felt superior to them). As time progressed and the white women realized that they weren't enough to actually mean something they came to the understanding that they were all women. they all lived the same societal expectations. they were all the same, discriminated for being a minority. The feminist movement to gain equal rights as men took off as they realized they were all the same. 

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Personally I think basic accurate knowledge is something we all need, but sometimes its not available to everyone. For example, I was reading an article about the taliban in Iraq and i was somehow surprised to realize that the only  knowledge they have comes from older members of the taliban- ( they are teaching them that all americans are evil) any way, with that being said, I completely agree with you when you say that we should allow everyone to write in their own way. Like I like to say, everyone is a unique person. we all have unique backgrounds, weakness, and strengths. it is unfair to test and grade everyone on the same scale. especially with writing because writing is an extremely difficult task. not everyone can sit down and coherently write down their thoughts to make sense to the world. 

In Bell Hook’s book, she presents some interesting theories on how we should perceive language and how we should go about writing with it. Hooks suggests that we should, instead of requiring people to speak a certain way or write a certain way, we should allow each person to write in the way that is most comfortable for them. It would then be the responsibility of the listener to remain patient with the speaker and, though not all of it will be comprehensible, it will help us learn from each other. Though it is very true that the strictness of standardized English is ridiculous, I cannot see us abandoning all specified writing at all. Think about it; if you were to speak to somebody in a foreign language how could you possibly expect to get your point across to them? I agree that we can include many cultural elements in our writing, but they should be explained. We can most definitely learn from other cultures in phenomenal ways, however, without basic knowledge, learning is almost impossible. The point of writing is to give a message to the reader. If the writing is incomprehensible to the reader, no patience in the world could help them understand. James Joyce, for example, wrote Finnegan’s Wake in a made-up language that nobody can understand, today it is a mystery to most readers as we lack the foundation of knowledge to understand it though many try. I do not deny that, in certain circumstances or for certain audiences, writing in vernacular or in the most comfortable way for the reader is for the best way to express your passion or better connect with the reader. However, if you are trying to communicate with passion to an audience who does not understand you should aid them, so long as the readers have the patience to listen that Hooks describes. Basically, I agree we should write with passion and in the most comfortable style, however, before that can fully take effect, it would require cultural exchange. Also, it cannot be immediate as Hooks argues. What do you guys think? I am very curious to her your responses.

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It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.

John Green, Paper Towns (via extramadness)

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I completely agree with you. We as literature major should never be afraid to thing (and read ) outside the box. I feel like the more we read books that are much harder than what we are used to in order to enhance our vocabulary and just be well rounded in the things we read. 

You really think that “education kind of empty handed at graduation”? they way I see is as long as I am getting an education I don’t care how much money I owe or what I am to them. to me education is something that can never be taken away from me. they can take my house, car, everything, but my education is something that will always be mine. 

finally i completely agree with you, if someone wants to learn and be educated they will learn any way they can. 

WK 6 Reading Blog

In class I made a lot points as to why I did not like it. So now I would like to say what I did like about it and what I learned.

I personally appreciate raising the reading standards. As a literature major I think it is very important to keep reading outside of the box and further vocabulary skills. On that point though I still feel like if the author was trying to make a point it is lost or disguised in his difficult diction. It is one thing to be a mysterious author with a complicated thought or idea or story but this was not complicated but intentionally difficult. So for what its worth that is how I feel about that.

The University has changed dramatically from an elite prestigious institution to online liberal corporation. The University in Ruins seems to argue that education without the culture and moral grounds has lost its purpose and with that its value. What does having an education mean today versus then? The only common goal among all universities is money with no roots so it leaves the educated kind of empty handed at graduation.

Joshua mentioned a good point in class that education is no longer to become educated but to get more money after school to provide better for families. I thought he made a really valid point in that Education is what we make it to be. If you want a degree just for that job that’s what you will get. If you want to learn you will learn and improve regardless of who the professor is or what the university doesn’t stand for.

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The UNIVERSITY IN RUUUUUINS!!!

*DA DA DUM*

Okay, so where do we start? 

This has to be one of the most difficult readings I have ever had in my entire college education. I had to Google most of the words in order to not be completely lost. I would re-read and re-read because I would get lost sometimes, but it was a very interesting read. I did not find out that the book was written in the ‘90s, I thought it was written later (around the 2,000). It was very interesting to see that the University system has not only begun to have problems, but with all huge enterprises of course it’s going to have some slip ups. The way I see it, a couple errors are okay, but when it starts to become an everyday thing then we know it’s just a habit. Something that blew my mind was the idea the author had that students are not students they are consumers. Lately, some people here at this University [(utrgv) (I’m also pretty sure other university students have the same idea)], that this university once the merger happened, stopped caring about their students. Students (as a whole) felt that the merger was the worst thing to happen to this school and this is exactly how the author felt towards the university. The university started getting more culture studies but the university itself was losing its prestige (/culture). Personally, I don’t care about anything as long as I have the opportunity to get an education, I don’t care what type of university I go to. I feel like it is a great blessing to have this type of opportunity because I am the first one in my family to be able to attend and get a high education. We as a whole sometimes forget to be appreciate of what we have, because someone always has it worse.  

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“2 OLD WHITE LADIES FROM THE STONE AGE”  JUST DIED LAUGHING AT THIS. 

HOWDY Y’LL IMMA JOIN YAS CONVERSATIONS ON GUD N BAD THINGY Y’LL GOING INTO CUN-VERS-ATIONS BOUT. 

NOW LETS GET SERIOUS:

First of all we were all taken off guard when we finally-- after more than a decade and a half of writing--- learned there is no good or bad writing. We are finally being taught that everyone is different and views things differently. We finally realize that we can be awesome at writing in our own way and its good thing. I also agree with you when you said society does have a huge impact on writing. Just look at how we abbreviate some words, new words we have added to the Oxford dictionary (BOOTYLICIOUS IS NOW AN OFFICIAL WORD), BUT there is a time and place for it just like scrumptiousparadisebeard said. We can’t go into a job interview and expect to get the job if our vocabulary is non-existent. just like it is with writing LOL and ROFL should be kept to social media and texts between your friends, it does not belong on a formal personal statement or on a resume. Yes, finally realizing there is no write or wrong way to write is amazing, but there is a time and place for it because most people don’t know this and sometimes in inappropriate settings is just plain tacky

No Such Thing As Bad Writing

Today my whole understanding of what good writing was, shattered. As a senior in college I have read the articles of Sondra Pearl and Nancy Sommers and their outlook of what good writing is. Problem was, I never noticed the time their research took place. Near the 1970’s and 80’s. We live in a world today that takes writing beyond what most people can comprehend. Visit a fan fiction sight and you will definitely see what I mean. They may be weird but their writing isn’t bad per-say but just… misunderstood… and weird.

Following these rules about writing and keep in line with a strict outline from the 1970’s was what I was taught to be true. And now I realize that, that way of thinking is wrong. It is wrong to think that there exist bad writing out there. How can I gauge the way someone writes as bad or good? I can’t, and neither can 2 old white ladies from the stone age. Where is their knowledge coming from? A time where writing and rhetoric where different. The great thing about writing is that the change in society will change the way people write! We are not stuck to an old canon way of writing but free to write as we should and how we want to. It takes a huge weight off your shoulders, to know that you can still write without the thought of “hey, you suck at writing”. I can take my time (to an extent) to collect my thoughts and revise and change them without the gross overbearing thought of I will be considered a “unskilled writer,” due to my lack of grammar or something dumb of that nature. 

I believe I am going to enjoy this class and what I can learn. As well as argue and disagree with scholarly articles because believe it or not, some of them got it wrong!

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I agree with both of you! Yes Pearl and Sommers bring up a type of myth--- “there is only one way to write and if you don’t do it this way you will fail.” We all grew up with that being drilled in our head-- things like FANBOYS and other meaningless rhyming schemes that would “help” us memorize writing rules.  Reading Pearl and Sommers made me realize that we can break the rules to convey a message and to prove a point. We can write any way we can BUUUUUUT like scrumptiousparadisebeard said there is a place and time for it AAAAANNNNDDDD we must make sure if we are breaking writing rules we must not do so to a point where we don’t understand the point that should be made. I mean whats the point of writing something if nobody will be able to understand? We should break the rules YET follow some sort of structure so the reader does not think the writer is a complete nimwits.

I am Free

While reading “The Composing process of unskilled College Writers” by Pearl and Sommers I found myself nodding along. I simply took this essay as granted and I kept thinking I am the inexperienced writer that is represented in this essay. By reflecting upon myself I found proof that while writing I used words that I had heard my professors use and which I did not know how to use. However, I constantly recurred to using them in order to seem smart and to demonstrate that I had paid attention during their long lectures. I also found myself thinking that I always went back after every sentence in order to ensure that there where as little grammatical mistakes. I truly believed that because the article said that this was the wrong way to do things, and that this approach to writing produced bad essays then in turn I was a bad writer. What I failed to notice was that this essay was published in December 1979 before I was even born. We are now in the year 2015 and we’ve come a long way since then, now we are more aware of things that we did not know even existed during that time. Since 1979 new researched has arisen that goes against everything this article says. Realizing that this article was out of date and that it had been disproved made me have a new perspective on my writing and writing in general. To me the concept that there is no such thing as bad writing was alien but now it is a possibility. I feel that I will no longer have to abide by the rules which used to limit my writing. Now content is much more important to me than the grammatical structures. This does not mean that I will completely forget grammatical rules rather it means that I can now bend and play with them more them more freely. Now I will not have to restrict myself by writing according to other people’s perception of a good essay and that to me is very relieving.  

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this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!

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Blissful Riding

 “ALICE!!” I yell at her from a foot and a half away.

She takes her headphones off and says, “yes?” with a quizzical look on white porcelain face.

“What are you doing?” I ask in a quieter voice.

“My homework.” She responds with boredom in her voice.

“Lets go bike riding at Hyde Park right now!!” I say with excitement in my voice, of course I would be the procrastinator and make her join me. We quickly change and run out of the hotel. Hurry there’s only two bikes left! We stand at  the kiosk and mess around with until we were finally able to rent bikes. We take off quickly and extra excited as if we were ten year olds. As we reach the entrance I realize I haven’t ridden a bike in years. I cautiously mount and put one foot on the pedal. “Here goes nothing!” I think and take off. I quickly realize the cliché is true—you never forget how to ride a bike. I tread in awe and I look up for the first time and the view is absolutely amazing. The park is breathtaking and all I think this is what makes London beautiful. The sun was setting over the small lake and everyone had something to do. Men were playing Frisbee; dog owners were throwing the balls for their pets. Everyone had something to do. Lovers were cuddling near the edge of the lake and a pain stung my heart. I continue to pedal forward and I took a deep breath leaving everything behind me.

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Jack the RIIIIIIPPER!

“Jack the Ripper Tour, meet at exactly 7 o’ clock in the lobby, we will wait for no one!!” The loud announcement echo’s in mind and my heart starts pounding. I feel so excited and energized; seven o’clock cannot come fast enough. I have always been strangely fascinated with serial killers. I love the courage they have to actually kill someone and be okay living with that burden. Is it a burden to them? Is it scary? Do they think of the consequences? A million questions flash through my mind. How I would love to have the ability to slowly watch the life fade from someone’s eyes. Seven o’ clock comes around and I eagerly wait to take off. Everyone arrives and we take off. The ride towards Victoria Coach station is a blur. I am suddenly standing next to the old style coach. It’s beautifully creepy. I love it. I quickly rush up to get a seat on the top and save a seat for a friend. I cannot contain my excitement. We start to take off and my excitement quickly turns into freezing cold. I hadn’t realized before how cold it was! Thankfully my professor offered me an extra sweater she had and I quickly wrapped it around me and made myself a burrito. The cold stung my face like a wasp, but I didn’t care. We quickly came to a stop and the tour guide guided us towards the very spot were the murders occurred!! I couldn’t believe it!! I stood exactly where someone was brutally murdered!! The cold faded from my body and the excitement once again took over. I knew this was going to be an awesome night.

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The Eye of London.

 I stand in the back of the line and I see it. Standing in all its glory- The Eye of London. I stand and look up and I become I immediately mesmerized by the gigantic size. Each steel rod empowers the wheel to hold hundreds of people. I stand in awe taking in its magnificent size and beauty and I become aware of the line moving ahead of me

“Ma’am, could you please walk forward?” a man in a black t-shirt and scruffy beard tells me.

Without a word I blush and quickly down at my feet and start moving forward. I pick up my camera and point it towards the eye and tilted angle, trying to get that perfect picture.

Surprisingly the line is moving pretty quickly and before I know my little group is next in line. I step on the yellow line and suddenly the pod comes at me. Surprised it did not stop I scurry with the other people in line to get a spot on the endlessly revolving pod. A worker in a red t-shirt secures the pod and slowly we move up. I see the Thames river and for the first time I don’t mind the greenish murky water. As I reach the top I feel like I’m flying. I look down and everyone seemed so small. The Big Ben looks smaller yet still as magnificent. I get a quick picture and move around. Enjoying London everywhere inside the pod. I finish my photography binge and enjoy the sight with my own two eyes. To my left was a small family who was taking turns taking pictures with each other. I look at them and in a quiet voice I say, “Would you like me to take a picture of you?”

“Really?! Yes!” the father tells me in a ecstatic voice.

I stand at an angle and take two quick pictures. As I check to see if I captured them correctly I look and realize I got a beautiful picture of them with the Big Ben in the background. I quietly hand the camera back and they thank me one last time. I nod with a smile and go back to enjoying London from above.

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BIG BEN

 I let eyes adjust to the gloomy sun as I step out of the underground tube (Subway). I look around and as I look up there it is in all its glory. The Big Ben, something I had dreamed about seeing, something I have pictures upon pictures of, was right there within reach (metaphorically of course). I had never seen something so magnificent and huge! It was taller than I expected, it stood with pride, and now I understood why England was so proud of him. He was something extraordinary. I felt breathless as I looked up and examined its liquid gold color. I was enchanted, mesmerized, and in trance with its beauty. I quickly remembered I had to take a picture! I lift my camera to my face and frowned in utmost disappointment. I could not capture the beauty of this magnificent tower! I was incredibly upset. How could I take something of him back to my small Texan hometown? I take a few steps back and attempt to capture some of its beauty. I put the camera down and start walking with the rest of my group. I find it hard to say good-bye. Fifty steps later I turn around to capture one last glimpse of something my mind ached to see in real life. I would no longer say “I wish to see the Big ben in person,” today I could with pride say “ I saw the Big Ben!” I felt like I had accomplished something off of my bucket list today and with one last quick glimpse, I say “until we meet again,” and I walk away swiftly.

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The London Dungeon.

 The corridor was thin and dark. I felt the smooth uneven stones under my exhausted feet. We pass some glass boxes and I take a quick peek inside, my stomach churns; inside where about a dozen very large roaches. I quickly look towards Simona,

“What have you gotten us into?!” I say with fear in my voice.

“I don’t know, it just looked like childish fun.”

We reach the old gated doors and a lady in costume greats us

“Do not touch my doors!” She yells in her loud British accent. She Starts informing us about the rules and the ushers us in with about 15 other people. The hallways are dark, murky, and a nasty odor floats around my nostrils. I walk quickly with Simona’s arm interlocked with mine. We are all deathly afraid. Ninety minutes of the wretched hell I silently think to myself. What am I going to do? We reach our first room and he’s also dressed in old Victorian clothes. There’s “bruises” on his face and what seems like blood coming out from his temple. He starts going into story mode and begin to explain an old London story and at that moment I realize I am over thinking the whole situation! Of course this was kid friendly. The man starts going telling creepy jokes and we all laugh in unison. He finishes his story and passes us along to a man that just appeared in the back. He ushers us to a new room and we all stand in huddled together. This might actually be fun.

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THE ARRIVAL.           

The plane comes to a complete stop and everyone starts gathering their personal belongings. I wait for members of my groups to start walking towards the exit. I step on the jet bridge and the cold air stings my face. “Holy crap,” I silently think to myself, “it’s so cold.” I shiver and wrap myself tighter in my light sweater. I attempt to warm myself up by rubbing my hands together. “ Why?  Ugh,” I groan to myself. The cold weather is horrid; can I just go back to the fiery pits of the Valley? Immediately I feel home sick. I’m scared. I am truly scared for the new adventures I am about to have. I have never traveled so far away from home and the fear starts to creep up slowly from my toes like a snake slowly wrapping itself up. Suddenly it goes away. I began to feel excitement and my stomach drops and I realize, “I AM HERE.” The countdown is over, no more a few more days until London. I am here. I embrace it like a familiar hug. I clutch my purse closer to my and began to look around. I take in Heathrow slowly and my eye adjusts to the cold wind. The large group of college students finally unboard and we began walking towards customs. We are stripped. So many questions. So many “proofs”  of why I’m here. One wrong answer or a simple stutter and they can question me. I feel scared again. I focus. He waves me passed after what feels like an eternity. I wait for the others and finally I’m able to relax. I am done.

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Tube

           I stand on platform waiting for the “tube” to stop. “Not that one!,’ Professor Infante yells over the loud noise of the train coming to a hault. I take a deep breath and the smell of burning diesel fills my nose.  So many lines, so many trains, so many complications. One wrong turn and we could end up on the outskirts of town. Breath, I think. I close my eyes and hear another train coming. “Everyone get ready.” I hear from somewhere to the side; the train stops and we all jump on. “ I could never get used to this, so hectic, so fast,” I kept thinking to myself. Everyone is so close net to me and I feel incredibly claustrophobic. I realize how under appreciated my car has been. In the States, you don’t need to worry about catching anything, if you have a car. I flash back to the weekend before I caught my plane to London. All those errands I ran, so quick and easy. I imagined South Texas with a tube. The heat. The never ending stops. The rude people. The trash everywhere. Sometimes we don’t appreciate what we have until we experience a different way of living. Living in London, is like living before modern technology. Little things I never thought twice about, slap me in the face. Slow cell phone reception, no sugar drinks, having to take a subway everywhere. Don’ t get me wrong London is amazing, but I’m accustomed to the fast life of my small Texan town. I have realized how under appreciative I have been of my modern life.

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Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Cause thou hast NO CLASS