Analysis of Tell-Tale Heart.

Saturday, May 14, 2011 by Chigo

The short story, Tell-Tale Heart, tells of a man's difficulty to cope with his housemate's eye. This drives him insane and later prompts him to kill the old man and hide him beneath the floor boards. When the police come by the house to investigate the noise, they do not suspect a thing. The narrator successfully got away with murder. So we thought. The man began to hear a loud beating sound. A sound he believed was the old man's heart. Unexpectedly, the man opens the floor boards exposing the body.
And the analysis begins... The narrator can easily be marked as an unreliable source. Everything he says can not be assumed true. He claims that he is nervous and oversensitive but not mad from the beginning of the story. The series of events following this claim show otherwise. The character's state of mind seems quite psychotic and the narration of the story seems to resemble dream logic instead of the logic of any normal person. Since this guy seems to be lying about his emotion stability, he could be lying about the entire story. He could be exaggerating the "evilness" of the old man's eye. Every word he says could be false... The analysis continues. After the narrator murders the poor old man, the police come to the home. Once they are convinced that nothing is wrong, they stay at the narrator's house and chat. This drives the man insane. He believes the policemen know about his act of murder and have caught him. All of this is clearly in his mind. The narrator has confused his mental emotions for physical emotions. Unfortunately, this misinterpretation led him to his confession.

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

LIGHTS [a short story.]

Tuesday, May 3, 2011 by Chigo



Boom. A rocket shoots into the air. The hyper pigmented colors filled the sky. Red and orange reflected on the audience’s faces. Pitch-black. Darkness. The room is small, airless, and claustrophobic. Everyone has gone to rest. For a moment, the house is silent. Boom. The rays of color shine through the young girl’s window. The banging continues. She rises from her sunken sheets. The night is still young. Again the house is silent. The young girl proceeds to close her large brown eyes. The insomnia kicks in. Sounds of the bathroom faucet traveled through her ear canal. The screeching of the backdoor increased in pitch. The ringing she could not stand. Wide awake she lay, asleep she may never fall. Boom. The red light shines through her window. Yet, the dark shadows appear. Frightened, she covers her head with the comforter. Her sea of protection. A sudden roaring outside her window grew louder. A wave of music and laughter replaced the pretentious creatures. Again she rises from her bearing cocoon. She opens her large bedroom door and stares down the dimly lit hallway. She flips the first switch against the wall. The light bulb flickers on. She quietly tiptoes down and stands in front of the third door on the right. Lightly, she taps on the chipped mahogany door. No answer. She increases her tap to a stead knock. Still no answer. With all her force, she bangs the chipped door with her small fist.
Instantly, the door swings open.
“What!” her older sister screams.
“I want to see the lights,” the young girl responds.
“Grab your jacket, it’s chilly out there.”



The chandelier’s crystals reflect the light in the middle of the spacious white living room. There is not a speck of dust on the marble floor. Sounds of strings and woodwinds penetrate through each luxurious room. All is calm. The family is in preparation for an occasional interaction with others. Commonly, the family is alone with only each other for company. They don’t mind.
The daughter sits patiently at her vanity. Her reflection staring back at her. Her mother stands behind her and runs her long fingers through her fine black hair. She grabs the wooden brush and runs it from the scalp to the ends. Not missing a strand. Perfection. The son sits alone on the freshly waxed floors of his bedroom. The room is cold. Lights low. He walks over to his aged toy trunk at his bedside. The large trunk is dusty from years of neglect. He cracks the trunk open and small specks of dust float in the light air. He sticks his head in and pulls out a model red fire truck. The truck has a few dents, chipped paint, and missing a wheel on its front left side. The young boy’s perfection. The father calls out to his family. In a single file line, the pale family of four trailed across the shinning marble out the delicate glass front door. The cold from the boy’s room migrated throughout the home. The home is empty and lifeless.
Darkness. The blanket above their heads is a sea of blue clarity. There are only two single stars. The summer breeze passes through the daughter’s hair. Brushing gently against her forehead. Shadows of willow trees and rustic lap posts trace the path to the park. The son lingers behind the rest admiring the cracked details of the narrow sidewalk. The neighborhood surrounding them is still and quiet. In the distance, a lit area emerges from the twilight. The lights glare at the son's emerald eyes. He squints. The family draws closer to the park. Sound disturbs the innocence of night. Laughter and music increase in volume. The iron fencing separates the welcome from the unwelcome. The four walk along the damp grass. The water seeping between their toes. The park is crowded. Noise. Noise. Screaming. Yelling. Old men shouting. Young women drinking. The mother searches for a spot on the ground away from the others. She wants her family to be left alone.  A lightly lit grassless area at the far end of the park catches the father’s attention. The spot is secluded. No one is around. The family can be alone. No one will harass them. There will be no need for distress. A wide hand-stitched blanket is placed on the bare ground. The four lay upon it.
A group of small shadows appear in front of the two children. The shadows are identified as children with sparklers in hand. Fire glittering in the air. Children their age. Children never come near them. They are always left alone.
“Hey, would you guys like to play with us?” the children ask.
Of course they do. The son and daughter look at their mother for an answer. Pleading in their eyes.
“Absolutely not,” the mother says firmly.
The son and daughter do not retort. Mother’s words are final. And they both understood that.
The family is left alone.  

______________________________________________________________________________

Boom. The blank canvas sky is painted by gold flares. The sounds of the near festival penetrate the front door. The home is humid. The temperature preserved by the summer rays.  The middle aged man stumbles down the carpeted stairs. Juice stains on every step. The Crayola Picasso scribbles along the green walls bring back memories of being under the influence.  Drink in hand, he slips on the tattered linoleum floor. He is on his knees. He is a failure. She enters in through the front door. His girl. The aged difference is quite substantial. She, a freshman undergraduate and he, a retired veteran. His eyes blood-shot. Bang. She slams the door and rushes to get the sad middle aged man off his knees.  
“There’s a Fourth of July festival you know,” she reminds him of their predetermined plans.
“Yeah, you ready?”
The two take the short cut. Through the cobblestone ally. An abundance of grey and burnished red beneath their feet. The unleveled ground would lead them to the lights. Darkness lied behind every corner. Silence. Only the insects beside their flip flops accompany them. The middle aged man is already gone. Stumbling on each brick, he slows the pair down. The girl holds him steady assuring security. His head spins. He pauses and stares at the light ahead. Boom. Boom. Boom. The glistening arms of the sparks stretch across the navy. A roar rattles in his brain. They’re calling him. They want him. He jets. Runs towards the lights. The rays beaming at his bare eye sockets.  The noise gets louder. He is the center of attention. In the middle of the festival, he stands. Out of control. The noise gets louder. He screams. Louder. Louder. He crashes. On the floor. Lost. Scared. Innocent. She calls for him. His girl calls for him, but he is no where to be found. He finds his hands and lifts his weak body off the ground. He sways from side to side. Tripping on his feet below. The park is crowded. Crowded. The sea of color overwhelms him. He searches for another drink. Or even a cigarette. He needs to calm down. She calls for him. She calls for him. He’s no where to be found. 





{btdubbs...it's not finished..yet}

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

Can you read my mind? [Probably not.]

Monday, April 18, 2011 by Chigo

The Killers' song "Read My Mind," released on their second studio album Sam's Town, has a meaning beneath the lyrics. The song starts with the narrator "on the corner of main street." Main street can be interpreted as the "fork" of his relationship with a girl. Main streets usually have a lot of turns and streets running through it. The narrator is at a point in his relationship where he can decide to take a different road away from her. The song continues with "you say you wanna move on and you say I'm fallin' behind" and then says "can you read my mind?" The narrator is clearly thinking the same thing. The next verses are about how he wants to leave his town and move on. "I never really gave up on breakin' out of this two-star town. I got the green light." He sees that this is the right time to move on and finally he can take the chance. The next few lines compare the relationship with metaphors. Basically, the relationship started great, but things got sour. There is a constant list of "good" things that show the "good" of the relationship. "I don't mind, if you don't mind." The two agree that relationship should end and they are mutually fine with it. The next verse is "cause I don't shine if you don't shine," the two seem to have decided to remain friends even after the break-up. The song ends with the stars are blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun." This means that they are both happy with the way it ended. 

Read My Mind Lyrics

On the corner of main street
Just tryin' to keep it in line
You say you wanna move on and
You say I'm falling behind

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

I never really gave up on
Breakin' out of this two-star town
I got the green light
I got a little fight
I'm gonna turn this thing around

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

The good old days, the honest man;
The restless heart, the Promised Land
A subtle kiss that no one sees;
A broken wrist and a big trapeze

Oh well I don't mind, if you don't mind

Cause I don't shine if you don't shine
Before you go, can you read my mind?

It’s funny how you just break down

Waitin' on some sign
I pull up to the front of your driveway
With magic soakin' my spine

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

The teenage queen, the loaded gun;
The drop dead dream, the chosen one

A southern drawl, a world unseen

A city wall and a trampoline

Oh well I don't mind, if you don't mind

Cause I don't shine if you don't shine
Before you jump
Tell me what you find when you read my mind

Slippin’ in my faith until I fall
You never returned that call
Woman, open the door, don't let it sting
I wanna breathe that fire again

She said
I don't mind, you don't mind
Cause I don't shine if you don't shine

Put your back on me
Put your back on me
Put your back on me

The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun
Can you read my mind
 

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

Living as an Indian...on a Rez

Thursday, March 31, 2011 by Chigo

So, In 1851, the United States Congress passed the Indian Appropriations Act which authorized the creation of Indian reservations in modern day Oklahoma. As European settlers began claiming territories and natural resources, relations between the Natives and settlers became worse. President Ulysses S. Grant passed a "Peace Policy" that would possibly put an end to the conflict between the two groups. The peace policy included relocating various tribes from their ancestral homes to lands the government chose for them. Unfortunately, it was common for the land issued to the tribes to be unsuitable for agriculture useless for economic development..
The Indian reservations are the home of a certain tribe. The reservation is built up by members of the tribe. This including their schools, homes, churches and meeting places, all of which were built by individuals within the community. On the reservation, the Indians maintain their own government and form their own code of law. The government also has to create their own educational system, public services, and police force
Some of the Indian reservations suffer from widespread unemployment and poverty.  In some cases, this has fostered alcoholism, drug abuse, depression and domestic violence. Other reservations are blessed with natural resources or economic advantages that provide sufficient jobs and good incomes for their tribal members.  On those reservations, the residents are able to afford a comfortable life with fewer social problems.

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

Propangda 2011? [are they lying to us?!?!]

Sunday, February 27, 2011 by Chigo

Propaganda [prop-uh-gan-duh] noun:information, ideas, or rumors deliberately spread widely to help or harm a person, group, movement, institution, nation, etc.
Examples of such propaganda were clearly exhibited in President Barack Obama's State of the Union Address presented on January 25.  Obama used the word "invest" multiple times within his speech. Each time, he was listing out more and more things that the government (which isn't having the best time financially right now) should spend money on. Obama replaced "spend" with "invest" simply to deceive the viewers and audience into believing that what ever the money is being used for is not a waste and for the most part, will turn out to be a beneficial investment. You see? Obama states "...and in a few weeks, I will be sending a budget to Congress that helps us meet that goal.  We’ll invest in biomedical research, information technology, and especially clean energy technology...an investment that will strengthen our security, protect our planet, and create countless new jobs for our people." Obama continues to say that "Countries in Europe and Russia invest more in their roads and railways than we do.  China is building faster trains and newer airports.  Meanwhile, when our own engineers graded our nation’s infrastructure, they gave us a 'D'...We’ll put more Americans to work repairing crumbling roads and bridges.  We’ll make sure this is fully paid for, attract private investment, and pick projects based [on] what’s best for the economy, not politicians" IS this all completely necessary? Obama gives the impression that our country has a gazillion dollars laying around to "invest" and people probably believe it too. I personally have nothing against Barack Obama. I was just told to find an example of propaganda, right?

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

We got the beat to move yo feet [...Beat Street!]

Sunday, February 20, 2011 by Chigo

Alright, so in class for the past week we have been watching Beat Street. There are probably about 5 minutes left in the movie, but I expect that we are not going to go back to it. The movie covers the dancing styles of the train painting delinquents in New York. The movie reminds me of a lower budget version of the Step Up movies. They seem to have a same concept, but obviously the Step Up movies are much better. I do not mean to be "hating" on this movie but... honestly many of the dance scenes tend to drag on and on. When you think they are over, a kid turns around and does another flip for another 20 minutes. I make the movie sounds way worse than it is. It honestly was not that bad... really. I am not going to lie, the break dancing was pretty intense and the music decent. Oh and the head spinning was...wow.

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

All I wanted was some attention!!!1!1! [Craving some?]

Friday, February 4, 2011 by Chigo

Imagine a universe that is completely opposite from the one you are currently living in. In this universe, you are the absolute center. Everywhere you go, all cater to you and pay nothing but attention. You never have to worry about being ignored or feeling invisible. Everyone has their eyes on you. Sounds great huh? Most could only dream of this. But, this could only be a dream. Since, obviously it can't be possible to be recognized by everyone.To have everyone on the planet listening to you,or at least care to listen to you. To have everyone just give you some attention.
In chapter 1 of Black Boy, Richard finds himself unconsciously acting out. There is an instance were he goes to school for the first time and learns various "four-letter words." he doesn't quite comprehend what the words mean, but he still joyfully skips around the neighborhood still stopping to write them on every window. This kid clearly wanted attention. I know there were times especially when I was younger were I would learn things, and obnoxiously repeat them (or when it came to learning my ABC's, recite them) just so I could be congratulated and told how smart I am.
Earlier on in the Chapter, there was the fire incident. Richard just wanted to see some curtains burn right? Could this be a cry for attention? It could...it could. Richard might seem like the typical attention-craving youngster. However, this may have just been an accident. Richard may not have even had the intention of burning anything...but the curtains. He may have just wanted to see some fire. The incident does not have to be automatically connected to him being deprived of attention.
I know I for one like burning things, and I of course could careless if anyone is watching or giving me attention.

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

Walden. [a response]

Thursday, January 27, 2011 by Chigo

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life"
Thoreau experimentally spent two years at Walden Pond without the accompaniment of others. He was for the most part completely alone and was able to free himself from society. However, he was not far away from civilization and would occasionally talk to others. Thoreau's Walden is basically the written explanation for why exactly he went to the pond and what he did there. In the wilderness, Thoreau is able to focus on his surroundings and nature. He notices things most would be too distracted to notice and embraces it.

"The surface of the earth is soft and impressible by the feet of men; and so with the paths which the mind travels (p.219)" To me, this quote basically means that individuals follow the same "paths" as the others before them. That in society, the usual is to do as others have or that others want you to. Thoreau obviously found the need to separate himself from society and choose what "path" he wanted to take on his own without the influence of others.

Thoreau's attempt to isolate himself from the world is admirable. For some reason every time I read a book or watch a movie about someone isolating themselves, it makes me want to do the same. Honestly, I wouldn't mind spending a few years in an unmarked forest by myself. The serene solitude would be nice, but eventually I would get tired of it.

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

King Still King??

Saturday, January 15, 2011 by Chigo

Ah, so if you are an individual living in the United States, you should know that all things will take a pause Monday next week. Why you ask? Simple, it's Martin Luther King Jr's Birthday. Actually, his birthday is technically on January 15, but is observed on Monday. For as long as I can remember, I have always gotten the 3rd Monday of January off. I recall back in kindergarten reading books about MLK and coloring him with Crayola crayons the Friday before the break. But, obviously at that time I just liked coloring and did not really understand the concept of Martin Luther King. As I grew older and the tradition continued, I slowly learned more and more about the civil rights activist. Honestly, since graduating Elementary school, I haven't done anything for Martin Luther King Day. It has gradually become just another day off. I like 3 day weekends and this day makes me happy. I take it and use it for myself and not exactly to celebrate the civil rights activist that is Martin Luther King Jr. I know I am not the only one. Don't get me wrong, what he did was great and all but, is it possible that we could have achieved the racial tolerance we have today without Martin Luther King? Is it necessary to have a day to celebrate someone just because he unwillingly died for the cause? Martin Luther was assassinated by someone who didn't exactly agree with him. It wasn't as if he was protesting or marching around doing something illegal and then shot by a police officer. Martin Luther King was great. But to this day, he just seems overrated. Again don't get me wrong. He did something great. But, honestly it's not like there's a Rosa Parks day. Judy Shepard Day (Gay Rights activist). Elizabeth Cady Stanton Day (women's suffrage/voting rights leader). The list can go on forever. But, why? Why don't we get a day off everyday for those who have made a difference. Simple. We have to go to school. 

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

We are ugly, but We are here. [a response]

Friday, January 14, 2011 by Chigo

How are we today, Sister?
I am ugly, but I am here.


These words  soon became an adopted greeting exchanged between oppressed Haitian women as basically a code for hope.
Danticat recalls her experience being born under Haiti's dictatorial Duvalier regime and later her immigration to the United States when she was four.
"I know women who, when the soldier came to their homes in Haiti, would tell their daughters to lie still and play dead. I once et a women whose sister was shot in her pregnant stomach because she was wearing a t-shirt with an 'anti-military image'. I know a mother who was arrested and beaten for working with a pro-democracy group. Her body remains laced with scars where the soldiers put out their cigarettes on her flesh." This is insane. I can't even fathom to understand going through this. Tragedy is never good, but for some reason "the man" can chose what is important and what is not. While things like this, fly under the radar, unnoticed. On the news, I have never heard anything about Haiti... not until the Earthquake sometime last year, but Danticat wrote this in 1996.  Obviously, there are somethings more important than those segments on "New dog foods" and "Gas prices rise." Some things need to be said but are never heard. And if they are heard....they need a larger audience. I'm not trying to say that if they broadcasts more segments on Haiti, it would go 180 and become perfect. But, it's worth a try.

Posted in: | 0 comments | |  

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)