In “Everyday Use” by Alice Walker, Walker intends to convey the irony of having an education; to the effect that when one is learned, their prospective of their own society is distorted. By introducing such an idea, the reader also sees a transformation in the character of Mama due to the arrival of the educated Dee (Wangero).
The setting of “Everyday Use” plays a role in the short story because the “typical southern” setting establishes that the characters are simple, uneducated, rural people. Mama says, “I never had an education myself” in contrast to Dee, who at a young age obtained an education. To convey further irony, Mama says, “She used to read to us…sitting trapped and ignorant underneath her voice…she washed us in a river of make-believe, burned us with a lot of knowledge…”(Walker 92). The diction used in Mama’s speech is sharp and graphic, in a sense that she feels inferior to Dee. “Washed us in a river of make-believe”, has the connation of one being drowned, pulled under and Mama goes on to say “[Dee] burned us with a lot of knowledge…”, although the statement is metaphorical, the connation of being burned alive is there; the idea of Dee forcing education on her family is evident.
In Dee’s defense, education was an escape out of the southern, rural setting she was used to. However, education was only an escape, she didn’t further her education to help her family; she furthered it to run away. Dee’s character in childhood and adulthood remains flat and static through out the short story because it is affirmed that, as a child, “Dee wanted nice things. A yellow organdy dress to wear to her graduation from high school; black pumps to match a green suit she’d made from an old suit…. At sixteen she had a style of her own: and knew what style was”(Walker 92). Dee during her teenage years, made efforts to go above and beyond her financial status and class; she “had a style of her own: and knew what style was”, though admirable to take what little one has and make more of it, Dee did these things in spite of her family and only for attention.
Dee’s return to the south she escaped is ironic in itself because she tried so hard to escape; however, her return affirms again her materialistic character. Dee cries out, “I knew there was something I wanted to ask you if I could have, this churn top is what I need. I want the dasher too. Can I have these old quilts?”(Walker 95). Mama can only question why Dee would want these objects that are for everyday use. The reader knows however, that Dee wants these items because they’re a part of her the African heritage she is trying to envelope. She won’t use them; these objects are to be worshipped, rather than used. Mama tells Dee that the quilts were already promised to Maggie, and Dee remarks, “Maggie can’t appreciate these quilts! She’d probably be backward enough to put them to everyday use” (Walker 96). Although what Dee is saying is true, the quilts purpose is in fact to be used for everyday use. Maggie can only look at her sister with “fear but she wasn’t mad at her. This was the way she knew God to work” (Walker 97). The term God used is a reference to Dee, because Dee in the eyes of the society she grew up in is considered, “perfect” and “all knowing”. Maggie can only accept these turn of events. Mama then does something out character, she “hugged Maggie, dragged her into the room, snatched the quilts out of Miss Wangero’s hands and dumped them into Maggie’s lap”(Walker 97). Mama was used to giving Dee whatever she wanted, and in this instance, it was out of character to refuse Dee and to show love and attention to Maggie; a character kept in the dark. Ironically, Dee’s return helped Mama reach this level of love for Maggie, that wasn’t as obvious.
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Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Point of View: Miss Brill
Through the eyes of an elderly woman, Katherine Mansfield confirms that when one lives their life in disillusion, only a rude awaking awaits them. To the effect that would turn ones optimism of society skeptical.
Outings are such an immense deal for people in general; and ones appearance is especially important. Miss Brill, the woman that she is, is prepared to go out and has even brought her fur out she, “had taken it out that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes”(Mansfield 33). Furs have always been a sign of good taste, especially for women and the fur in the short story is a symbol of the extravagance Miss Brill is trying to display while she is out. However, Mansfield adds, “that afternoon, [she had] shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes” (Mansfield 33). Miss Brill’s actions point out that she doesn’t go out often. She uses the moth-powder, to keep moths away but also she “[shakes] the life back into the dim little eyes” of the fur; although the fur itself is an inanimate object, it has been in a box for so long that it perished and now she must resurrect it. The bringing out of the fur implies that this outing must be special and means a great deal to her.
While sitting alone, Miss Brill slowly starts to notice the intricacies of interaction the people in the park are having with one another. In one particular occurrence, “a beautiful woman came along and dropped her bunch of violets, and a little boy ran after to hand them to her, she took them and threw them away as if they’d been poisoned” (Mansfield 35). The scene starts off picturesque enough; a woman conveying beauty, a little boy, the embodiment of innocence. But the scene is turns unpleasant as the woman throws those flowers away, “as if they were poisoned” and Miss Brill “didn’t know whether to admire that or not!” (Mansfield 35). The exclamation Miss Brill has conveys both shock and surprise and is a representation of the slow decay of her disillusion.
Plays are lovely and pleasant to watch and Miss Brill’s experience so far in the park has been both enjoyable and unanticipated, just as a play is with its many plot twists. She says, “It was like a play. It was exactly like a play. Even she had a part…. [She] nearly burst out laughing” (Mansfield 35). Content fills her mind and during that instant, “the hero and heroine of course just arrived. Miss Brill prepared to listen…” (Mansfield 36). In anticipation of what the young couple has to say, Miss Brill listens intently, but her anticipation is shattered as the boy jeers at her; calling her “stupid and old” and the girl includes, “it’s her fur which is so funny.” Miss Brill expected lovely words coming out of the boy’s lips and vice versa but instead she is mocked and heckled at, contradictory to her expectations.
“Miss Brill” conveys irony because Miss Brill is in a position of limited omniscience and doesn’t know what will happen next. And her treatment is also ironic to the effect that, the harsh treatment she receives throws her world upside-down and her inanimate fur must weep for her because she refuses to accept that the world isn’t as pristine as it once was back in her youth.
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Outings are such an immense deal for people in general; and ones appearance is especially important. Miss Brill, the woman that she is, is prepared to go out and has even brought her fur out she, “had taken it out that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes”(Mansfield 33). Furs have always been a sign of good taste, especially for women and the fur in the short story is a symbol of the extravagance Miss Brill is trying to display while she is out. However, Mansfield adds, “that afternoon, [she had] shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes” (Mansfield 33). Miss Brill’s actions point out that she doesn’t go out often. She uses the moth-powder, to keep moths away but also she “[shakes] the life back into the dim little eyes” of the fur; although the fur itself is an inanimate object, it has been in a box for so long that it perished and now she must resurrect it. The bringing out of the fur implies that this outing must be special and means a great deal to her.
While sitting alone, Miss Brill slowly starts to notice the intricacies of interaction the people in the park are having with one another. In one particular occurrence, “a beautiful woman came along and dropped her bunch of violets, and a little boy ran after to hand them to her, she took them and threw them away as if they’d been poisoned” (Mansfield 35). The scene starts off picturesque enough; a woman conveying beauty, a little boy, the embodiment of innocence. But the scene is turns unpleasant as the woman throws those flowers away, “as if they were poisoned” and Miss Brill “didn’t know whether to admire that or not!” (Mansfield 35). The exclamation Miss Brill has conveys both shock and surprise and is a representation of the slow decay of her disillusion.
Plays are lovely and pleasant to watch and Miss Brill’s experience so far in the park has been both enjoyable and unanticipated, just as a play is with its many plot twists. She says, “It was like a play. It was exactly like a play. Even she had a part…. [She] nearly burst out laughing” (Mansfield 35). Content fills her mind and during that instant, “the hero and heroine of course just arrived. Miss Brill prepared to listen…” (Mansfield 36). In anticipation of what the young couple has to say, Miss Brill listens intently, but her anticipation is shattered as the boy jeers at her; calling her “stupid and old” and the girl includes, “it’s her fur which is so funny.” Miss Brill expected lovely words coming out of the boy’s lips and vice versa but instead she is mocked and heckled at, contradictory to her expectations.
“Miss Brill” conveys irony because Miss Brill is in a position of limited omniscience and doesn’t know what will happen next. And her treatment is also ironic to the effect that, the harsh treatment she receives throws her world upside-down and her inanimate fur must weep for her because she refuses to accept that the world isn’t as pristine as it once was back in her youth.
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Thursday, September 11, 2008
Extended Definition-Intention
The word intention connotes a well thought out plan or idea with purpose. Intentions are not by accident and an individual should be aware of their purpose. Locke states, “Intention is when the mind, with great earnestness, and of choice, fixes its view on any idea.” Humans have the innate ability to focus and adapt their minds to new situations that may come to pass. But as humans, there is deeper meaning behind our intentions; they may be positive, negative or sometimes be mixed. In conversation for example, one party may have positive intentions but more often than not, the other party will decide that they are negative intentions.
Intention can obviously be associated with being either positive or negative connotations however; intentions have the ability to be mixed. For example, when asked what the word intention suggested to her, the librarian responded, “When I think of intention, I think of them as positive….But they don’t always have to be good; they can intentionally harm you”. When a person has the intent to do an action, there has to be reason behind that intent; positive, negative, or mixed; there is no such thing as an accidental intention. Apart from having a reason to act, a person has also manifested an aim for doing the action. Aim can range from a course of action taken to get a hold of what they want or on a larger scale where their aim is to emotionally cripple another person. Intentions are powerful things that have influence over conversations and how relationships continue afterwards.
A deceitful aspect of intention is, “they do not happen by chance”. Intentions are manifestations of our wants; therefore, an individual has “carefully [thought] of something before [they] do them”, says an educator. It should not be considered an intention if the outcomes haven’t been carefully considered. However, context is also an important characteristic of intention. Obviously not all individuals are the same; a “good” intention may be seen as an intention in the midst of malice and vice versa to another.
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Intention can obviously be associated with being either positive or negative connotations however; intentions have the ability to be mixed. For example, when asked what the word intention suggested to her, the librarian responded, “When I think of intention, I think of them as positive….But they don’t always have to be good; they can intentionally harm you”. When a person has the intent to do an action, there has to be reason behind that intent; positive, negative, or mixed; there is no such thing as an accidental intention. Apart from having a reason to act, a person has also manifested an aim for doing the action. Aim can range from a course of action taken to get a hold of what they want or on a larger scale where their aim is to emotionally cripple another person. Intentions are powerful things that have influence over conversations and how relationships continue afterwards.
A deceitful aspect of intention is, “they do not happen by chance”. Intentions are manifestations of our wants; therefore, an individual has “carefully [thought] of something before [they] do them”, says an educator. It should not be considered an intention if the outcomes haven’t been carefully considered. However, context is also an important characteristic of intention. Obviously not all individuals are the same; a “good” intention may be seen as an intention in the midst of malice and vice versa to another.
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Sunday, September 7, 2008
Summary-College Essay
I am a timid and quiet individual. If I do not speak, my existence is not heard. And thus far, no one has discerned who I am.
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Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Nostalgia
I cannot say that I have cherished my memories. In actuality, I have been in denial about a majority of them. Like the evils in Pandora’s Box, I have sealed my memories away and in no way have I dared to open the box, in fear that those evils will come gushing out and become exposed. However, the power to remember should be thought of as a special gift. For without memories, one does not have a past and days draw closer and closer, and then fade, in the coming of the next.
It’s hot. The weather’s probably in the mid 90s or even higher. Sitting in car, I fiddle with my fingers and enjoy what little amusement I have at my disposal. Suddenly, a thought comes to mind; damn, I forgot my IPod, I say this thought out loud. My parents are busy talking with each other in a foreign tongue. I understand all of what they’re saying but what does that matter? “Damn, I forgot my IPod”. I go back to fiddling with my fingers again. Uninterested, I become acquainted with my environment. I look generally at the cars ahead, behind and to the sides of me. “There sure is traffic today”, I think to myself. I then roll down the window, in response to the heat inside the automobile.
I stick my head outside the car window, for no reason what so ever, I just do it. Nike, “just do it”. But as I do this, a strange phenomenon occurs; something has titillated my nose. “What is this sensation? What does it signify? How could I seize upon and define it?” I ask myself in a scholarly tone. My mind jogs to remember this titillating odor, honestly, from “whence did it come?!” oh twisted fate, how dare you throw such a titillating odor my way? Because of this odor, I am at a loss for words. I can only use the verb titillating so many times before it gets “played out”. I take the whip out and force my mind to remember this familiar odor or as the French would call it, Odeur.
Tired, sweaty and panting, my mind responds, Africa. Africa? Could my mind be any vaguer? But reaching the term helps. Africa is the first step into finding the deeper meaning and secondly, what the scent is. I think even harder and back and casually snatch a memory out of Pandora’s Box.
Hand in hand with my mother, engines snarl and trucks honk, we walk through the road to get to the other side of the street; Lagos, busy and loud in every sense, carbon emissions rising into the air and the people working and talking. I sniff the air and cough. I proceed slowly out of my memory, so I will not startle my brain. But voila! I have recognized the scent, it is, gasoline; titillating in every sense of the word. I have now returned back to my seat in the car. Such a strange journey of words it took just to reach the conclusion; so strange that I was ejected from my seat into memory land.
Memories; some locked away deep inside us but once in a while or rarely do we knock at nostalgia’s door and become reacquainted.
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It’s hot. The weather’s probably in the mid 90s or even higher. Sitting in car, I fiddle with my fingers and enjoy what little amusement I have at my disposal. Suddenly, a thought comes to mind; damn, I forgot my IPod, I say this thought out loud. My parents are busy talking with each other in a foreign tongue. I understand all of what they’re saying but what does that matter? “Damn, I forgot my IPod”. I go back to fiddling with my fingers again. Uninterested, I become acquainted with my environment. I look generally at the cars ahead, behind and to the sides of me. “There sure is traffic today”, I think to myself. I then roll down the window, in response to the heat inside the automobile.
I stick my head outside the car window, for no reason what so ever, I just do it. Nike, “just do it”. But as I do this, a strange phenomenon occurs; something has titillated my nose. “What is this sensation? What does it signify? How could I seize upon and define it?” I ask myself in a scholarly tone. My mind jogs to remember this titillating odor, honestly, from “whence did it come?!” oh twisted fate, how dare you throw such a titillating odor my way? Because of this odor, I am at a loss for words. I can only use the verb titillating so many times before it gets “played out”. I take the whip out and force my mind to remember this familiar odor or as the French would call it, Odeur.
Tired, sweaty and panting, my mind responds, Africa. Africa? Could my mind be any vaguer? But reaching the term helps. Africa is the first step into finding the deeper meaning and secondly, what the scent is. I think even harder and back and casually snatch a memory out of Pandora’s Box.
Hand in hand with my mother, engines snarl and trucks honk, we walk through the road to get to the other side of the street; Lagos, busy and loud in every sense, carbon emissions rising into the air and the people working and talking. I sniff the air and cough. I proceed slowly out of my memory, so I will not startle my brain. But voila! I have recognized the scent, it is, gasoline; titillating in every sense of the word. I have now returned back to my seat in the car. Such a strange journey of words it took just to reach the conclusion; so strange that I was ejected from my seat into memory land.
Memories; some locked away deep inside us but once in a while or rarely do we knock at nostalgia’s door and become reacquainted.
Read more!
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