Journal #26

Snow is fun. It is cold. I like snow. I hate the cold, though. That is the one thing I hate about winter. It is so incredibly cold, which makes my fingers and toes go numb and my teeth chatter. I love the snow; it is so fluffy and fun and it tastes good. I with we could just have snow in the summer or something. That would be so awesome. You could be all hot and sweaty out in the middle of a warm summer day, then just go run over to a snow patch and cool off! That way you could have a snowball fight and be tan at the same time. That would be my ideal world right there. Plus you would never have to pay for snow cones; you could just make your own! Ice Deli takes up ninety percent of my paycheck probably during the summer, so all I would have to do was go buy the syrup and then BOOM all my problems would be solved. Summer days would no longer be long and boring. Snowball fights, free Ice Deli, sledding down Centennial Hill: all these events could take place in the nice warm weather! It is my dream to one time experience a snowstorm in the middle of the warm summer. My life would be complete.

In my family, the humans are not the only ones who enjoy snow. My little dog, Simon, gets quite overjoyed when he gets to frolic in the white fluffy stuff. He is a white, fluffy mix between a poodle and a bichon frise. Sometimes, as he runs and jumps through the snow, he seems to disappear! He is the same color as the snow; sometimes all you can see are his little brown eyes and black nose. It is so cute, just like him. Sometimes him and I play in the snow together. It is never fun to bring him back inside, though, because his paws are all wet and so is the rest of his fur, so he gets whoever is holding him soaking wet and freezing. It is okay though, because he is adorable; plus, playing in the snow is just worth the unfortunate events that may follow.

"The Minister's Black Veil"

"The Minister's Black Veil" by Nathaniel Hawthorne begins in an odd way. The sexton is ringing the church bell, waiting for the pastor to arrive. When he does, the whole congregation is shocked. The pastor has something over his face; he is wearing a black, gauzy veil (Hawthorne 280). This upsets many people, and I as well found it to be odd. To wear a veil is often to hide behind or wear as a way to cover one's face. Pastors are supposed to be seen as holy men who are close to God; they are men whom the congregation can talk to as a spiritual guide. I found it odd that he was wearing a veil to conceal his face; that, to me, shows that he wanted privacy and was not interesting in connecting with anyone else. Another fact I found interesting was that it was black. Black is not typically symbolized as a happy or spiritual color. Black is usually shown as mystical, gloomy, or even Satanic. To me, that just did not make sense for a minister to be wearing a black veil.

On page 283, a man of the congregation made the comment that the minister's veil "makes him ghostlike from head to foot" (Hawthorne 283). After the service had ended, everyone had congregated outside, and the minister, Mr. Hooper, came out. He was still wearing his black veil, and people regarded him much differently than they used to, although according to Hawthorne the man's actions remained the same (Hawthorne 283). The people felt that the veil changed the minister's whole aura. The quote from the man showed that the congregation felt that the veil was making him seem a little mystical; he was not being seen as something spiritual such as an angel but instead as something a little more eerie and upsetting, a ghost. The black veil cast a strange and almost gloomy aura. This definitely is an example of Dark Romanticism; it is weirdly mysterious and a little bit upsetting.

Later, another strange thing happened. There was a funeral, so the veil fit in fine. However, as the minister walked up to the coffin to bid his farewell to the young woman, his veil hung straight down as if the woman might see his face. In the audience, one woman claimed to have seen the body of the woman shudder (Hawthorne 283). This symbolizes Dark Romanticism greatly. It is a strange, unnatural occurrence that could be seen as magical except for the fact that it is gloomy and upsetting. Also, as Hooper walked away, two women mentioned that "the minister and the maiden's spirit were walking hand in hand" (Hawthorne 284). This definitely adds to the mystery of the story, another sign of Dark Romanticism.

On page 285, Hooper is questioned about his veil. He says that he can never take it off, and that one day everyone will take off their veils (Hawthorne 285). He does not elaborate though, which makes his words kind of confusing; they could be taken many different ways. Hooper then says that he feels great sorrow, so the black veil is appropriate (Hawthorne 285). Again, he does not elaborate, and this mysteriousness along with the obvious sorrow characterizes the writing very clearly as Dark Romanticism.

As time goes on, Hooper leaves the veil on, much to everyone's dismay. Upsetting as everyone was getting, Hooper continued to wear the veil up until his dying day. As he is lying in bed, breathing his last breaths, another minister approached his bed and tried to take off the veil. All of a sudden, Hooper seemed to gain strength; he sat up and held the veil over his face. He then started shouting at the man, exclaiming how much people had been treating him differently all because of this veil, and he had seen the veil on every person as well (Hawthorne 289). Dark Romanticism is clearly portrayed; the man is seen as somewhat courageous and strong now that people understood his doings. However, since he portrayed his thoughts in such an odd, mysterious, and gloomy way, this story is seen as Dark Romanticism, not just Romanticism. Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote a strong story that clearly portrayed Dark Romanticism.


WORKS CITED

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. "The Minister's Black Veil." American Literature. Comp. Jeffery D. Wilhelm. Columbus: McGraw Hill, 2009. 280-89. Print.

Journal #25

Jack was sad. His little doggy had just died. Jack loved his dog; it was his pride and joy. Lala, who had been a small black toy poodle, had been Jack's best friend since the time Jack was a young boy. Now at the ripe age of seventeen, Lala had been quite an old little dog. Jack had known Lala's time was near, but he never wanted to actually think about it. Reality was hitting him hard in the face now, though. It was time to face the truth.

All of a sudden, Jack heard his cell phone ring. It was Jack's favorite song, "Cyclone." Usually, Jack would find himself bopping his head along; he would maybe do a little jig. Today, however, he slowly just flipped his phone open and muttered, "Hello?"

From the other end of the line, Jack heard a lot of laughing and shouting. In a loud, slurred voice he heard his best friend, Sam, shout, "Dude! Where are you? Get over here now. You are missing out!" Jack took a deep breath and straightened out a little bit. Jack, as a freshman and sophomore, had been a starter on the football team. That came with a bit of baggage, and Jack knew that. Jack had a reputation for being the big man on campus; he was quite the partier. Jack knew he should probably go to this party or people would just not know what to do. Jack slipped on his mask, cleared his throat, pushed the image of Lala out of his mind and smoothly said, "Yeah man, I'll be there."

Jack pulled on some nice clothes, sprayed some cologne, and headed out the door. He showed up at Sam's house, still upset and deeply moved by the death of his ear dog, but put on a tough face and sucked it up. Sam answered the door and wrapped him in a man hug. "What is up, my man? Dude, where have you been? People started showing up hours ago!" Jack cleared his throat but did not really say anything back, just let his head fall back with a loud laugh. Jack grabbed a drink and had a great time for the rest of the night, according to everyone else. The truth, however, was that he was miserable the entire night. He missed Lala so very much, but he could not show it. It was a very sad night.

"The Pit and the Pendulum" Analysis

Edgar Allan Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum" is a terrific example of Dark Romanticism. Taking place during the Inquisition, it tells a story of a man who has been thrown in prison for not admitting to a deed he had been accused of. The man wakes up unbound, but he does not know where he is and is afraid to open his eyes. When he does, all of his worst nightmares come true; he is surrounded by complete blackness. He continues to endure many terrible, torturous activities throughout his stay.

The one thing that stuck out to me so incredibly much about this story that was so different from other works we have read is the sense that there is no hope. While at the end, he does talk about finding hope, for the first three quarters of the story the man is absolutely hopeless. Very descriptive, dark, and dreary observations were made by the man, which served as another example of how this story fits the Dark Romanticism theme, and the man gave off the impression that there was really nothing else he could do. He spoke of the stories he had heard of the pit he was assuming to be in, and none of the stories ended well. To confirm my beliefs about his lack of hope, on page 267, he wrote in black and white, "I had little object - certainly no hope" (Poe 267).

In other literary styles, it seems as if the overall theme is overcoming an obstacle. While the man certainly did overcome obstacles in "The Pit and the Pendulum," it was portrayed in a different way. Instead of mentions of God, hope, and love, Poe instead wrote about "Fate" (Poe 264), despair, and unhappy thoughts. It seems that in the previous reading styles we have read, there has been a happier tone; the reader believed the main character would certainly make it out of a situation in a heroic way. However, in this story, the reader has really no inclination to believe the man will make it out alive. Romanticism is known for having a hero, someone that will go against the odds in order to save the day or himself. "The Pit and the Pendulum" is an exemplary example of Dark Romanticism; the man does indeed save himself, yet he is not necessarily viewed as the charming knight in shining armor that is portrayed in previous Romanticism.

Something else in the story I noticed that qualified "The Pit and the Pendulum" as Dark Romanticism was the mysteriousness of the writing and the fact that it could easily be viewed as demonic and improbable. The man speaks of writings on the wall with red, glowing, demonic eyes (Poe 273). This is an example of Romanticism because of the mystical value; it is Dark Romanticism because is sets an almost Satanic tone. It gives off a tone of deep, gut wrenching mysteriousness that is typical for a Dark Romanticism writing.

Overall, it is very obvious that "The Pit and the Pendulum" is an example of Dark Romanticism. There is a "hero," yet he is shown as a hero in a more dark and mysterious way than that of a typical Romanticism hero. He overcomes dark, demonic challenges in which others are trying to brutally kill him, and there is an overall gloomy and dreadful tone. Poe certainly did not fail in writing this mysterious and captivating work of Dark Romanticism.

WORKS CITED
Poe, Edger Allan. “The Pit and the Pendulum” In American Literature. Willhelm, Jeffory, comp. McGraw Hill. Columbus, 2009. Print.

Literary Criticism of Poe's "The Raven"

"The Raven" might be the poem that made Edgar Allen Poe so famous. An intriguing work of art, it makes the reader have to think about the literal meanings and the figurative meanings in order for him or her to fully understand the overall meaning behind the poem.

According to Harold Bloom, "The Raven" is potentially one of "the most recognizable poems in American literature" (Bloom). Bloom praises the poem in his literary criticism, noting its captivating style that will pull readers in. One thing I think is really interesting in Bloom's criticism is his comparison of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven" to other famous works of American literature. For example, he compares the line scheme of "The Raven" to another famous poem called "Lady Geraldine's Courtship." According to Bloom, Poe was a very big fan of the lady who wrote that poem, Elizabeth Barrett, and may have been influenced by her style when writing "The Raven" (Bloom). Another comparison I thought was really intriguing was the comparison between the raven in Poe's poem and other birds that have appeared in other well known poems. Apparently, also appearing in English Romantic poetry was an albatross, a nightingale, and a skylark (Bloom). Poe also may have been influenced by these appearances; the birds were usually very symbolic, and Poe may have found that he liked the idea of the birds. Another thing Bloom mentions that may have influenced Poe to include a raven in his story was the Bible. Bloom mentions the typical symbolance of a raven, saying it is often portrayed in the Bible as "a visitor from the dark external world and an emblem of the darkness of grief within the speaker's soul" (Bloom). I find this to be very interesting. Obviously, things people read, see, and hear about are very influential, but the thought that even worldly, famous poets such as Poe were influenced by other stories that came before them that may not stand out today is a thought I have never really considered in depth before. It puts things in a new perspective.

In his literary criticism, Bloom continues to analyze Edgar Allen Poe's poem, comparing certain settings and events to other poems. For example, Bloom wrote that the setting of the night in which the poem took place was very much like that of "In Drear-Nighted December" by Keats (Bloom). Again, I think it is interesting how alike many poems are and the fact that ideas have been used from other works of art.

While Bloom himself wrote in a tone that implied he enjoyed the poem, he also wrote that he understood that some people were not a fan of "The Raven." Some people, apparently, viewed it as demonic or extremely depressing (Bloom). I understand how this could be said after reading the poem myself. While I do not necessarily think that it is really a big deal whatsoever, the bird does possess qualities that could be viewed as demonic, such as the fact that he randomly showed up one night and would not leave, as if trying to show his power. The raven also did make the poem a bit upsetting; when asked about a one true love, the raven would just keep on repeating "never more," which gave the impression that the one true love would never return. The poem was definitely dark and dreary, but I think it gave off the impression Poe was trying to make. I agree with Bloom when he calls it "haunting." It was certainly a very haunting work of art.


Bloom, Harold, ed. "'The Raven'." Edgar Allan Poe, Bloom's Major Poets. Philadelphia: Chelsea House Publishing, 1999. Bloom's Literary Reference Online. Facts On File, Inc. http://fofweb.com/activelink2.asp?ItemID=WE54&SID=5&iPin= BMPEAP19&SingleRecord=True (accessed November 23, 2010).

"The Raven" Analysis

Literal Meaning:
One night, as I was pondering life, nearly asleep, I heard something knocking on my door.
I thought to myself, "It must just be some visitor tapping on my door."
I remember the details of that December night very clearly.
I wished for tomorrow to come. I was reminded of Lenore, and I missed her.
I heard the curtains rustling, and I grew very excited and anxious. I called out to see who was there, but when I opened the door, no one was there.
I peered out into the darkness, but I saw nothing and heard nothing except for the echo of my own voice as I whispered, "Lenore."
I turned back into the room, upset, and then I heard the noise again.
I thought to myself, "There must be something hitting up against the window; it must be the wind. I'll go check it out."
I flung open the shutter, and there was a raven.
The bird just sat there, perched up upon my door.
I realized the bird was no ordinary raven, and I asked him what his name was.
The raven replied, "Nevermore."
I realized how rare it was to have this raven perched on my door, especially a raven with the name of Nevermore.
That word, "Nevermore," seemed to be the only thing the raven could say.
He sang the word very sadly.
I pulled up a seat in front of the door and sat there with the bird, trying to figure out why he kept repeating that word.
I sat there for some time trying to figure this out, when I finally caught on.
My thoughts came together.
I yelled at the bird, shouting that the Lord must have sent him to make me forget the memories of Lenore.
All the raven said was, "nevermore."
I accused the raved of being of a higher power, then asked if there was really balm in Gilead.
The raven said, "nevermore."
I then tried to find out if the raven, who had to be of a higher spirit, knew of Lenore.
The raven replied, "nevermore."
I shouted at the bird to leave and go back to his spiritual world, for he had given me no information.
I told him not to leave any remains behind.
I told him to go away.
I told him to make everything he had brought upon me here go away.
All he said in return was, "nevermore."
The bird did not leave; it is still perched there. My soul will never again be lifted.

Poetic Devices:
Poe uses many different poetic devices in this poem. He has a rhyme scheme; the pattern is ABABB. He also uses repetition; at the end of every line he either says, "nothing more," "ever more," or "Nevermore." Alliteration is used in the poem; for example, he says "doubting, dreaming dreams." Similes and metaphors are also used. One example of a simile is when Poe writes, "as if his soul in that one word he did outpour." Poe's use of poetic devices make the poem very much more dynamic; it gives more drama to the situation and allows for a clearer perspective.

Figurative Meaning:
Poe writes of a man that was affected very greatly by his love, Lenore. He thought about her and mourned over her loss all the time. When the man heard the tapping, he immediately thought of Lenore, and when he saw it was a raven that seemed to be spiritual and not of this world, he questioned it about his love, Lenore. The Raven did not answer his specific questions. Instead, the raven just kept repeating the word "Nevermore." The man grew upset and tried to make it leave, but the raven stayed perched on the man's door, repeating "nevermore" over and over. The man realized with a heavy heart that he would never again be with Lenore.

Journal #24

Many, many years ago, I was a young girl. Living in the capital city, crime was just booming. I was a bright, intelligent girl with a great imagination from reading so many books. The one problem with me was that I never could fall asleep easily. I would sometimes just lay in bed, thinking about my complex and complicated seven year old life. Sometimes I would read an entire book in one night; I was a very cool child.

Anyway, so this one night will stick out to me for the rest of my life. I was laying in bed like normal, and my parents had already gone to bed. Ever night, my mom would come in and kiss me good night before going to bed every night. She had already come in and done that many hours ago, so it was probably around midnight or a little bit after. So there I was, laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, when I heard it. Then I heard it again. There were footsteps coming from my kitchen. The way my house had been laid out was that so most of the house was on the upper floor: my room was next to my brothers' room, and next to that was the bathroom. Straight down the hall was the kitchen, and the room next to that was the living room. My parents' room was the only room that was not upstairs, and it was in the basement, down two flights of stairs.

The footsteps were getting louder. Then they retreated. Then they got louder. Then they retreated. There was someone walking around my kitchen! I had no idea what to do. I just lay there, hiding under my covers, trying not to breathe too loudly in case the man came into my room and saw that I was awake. I had no idea how long I stayed that like; all I know is that I was scared out of my mind. Taking a deep breath, I made a decision. I was going to run into the room my two brothers shared; that way, I was not alone. I closed my eyes, said a quick prayer, and ran for my life. I quietly slammed their door behind me, then stopped short. The footsteps were coming from the room I was now in. Except... they were not footsteps. My brother's snoring had been echoing through the house. I had been deceived by my all too imaginative brain.