Discovering what myth I wanted to discuss and deconstruct was as easy as pulling a rabbit out of a hat (presuming you're a magician). But once the research began, I realized that I have no magic abilities, and am merely one person in a sea of information. To refresh you readers out there, I'm focusing on the appearance of homosexuality in Asian countries and how those who identify as such are received. (Example: In M. Butterfly Chin tells Song that homosexuality doesn't exist in China.) Finding the research wasn't that difficult, but after sifting through pages and pages of theories I discovered that my original intent was lost. Halfway through reading a chapter in one of these books I feel the familiar pangs of anxiety consuming my chest. What was my point again? How can I use this in my paper? Basically, I'm having difficulty in tying the concepts of the sources into my argument. I fear that my ideas are too broad, but I'm not sure how or what to change them to. I'm overwhelmed and need help focusing on a specific thesis. Any suggestions? 

After a night of debauchery a few of my friends and I decided the best cure for our aching heads and growling stomaches was a hearty Sunday brunch. Midway through our meal talk turned from mild chit-chat to apocalyptic theories. Sara had recently read The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection From the Living Dead and stated with certainty that she believed the zombie apocalypse is imminent. Apparently there is a whole sub-culture devoted to the study of zombies that I was unaware of and for the past 21 years have remained in the dark about while seemingly everyone else is tuned in. While mulling over the topic in my head throughout the day I've noticed it's presence in a variety of facets from the "Nazi Zombie" xbox game that my boyfriend devotes himself to for 5 hours of the day, to Romero's famous 1968 film Night of the Living Dead. The media is pumping us full of fear and dread for an ending that is less than desirable. 

I can't help but wonder; where does our obsession with the undead stem from? And what does this fascination say about our culture? As human beings we are inherently afraid of death and these "living dead" are a physical representation of such. Their ability to defy logic is matched by their desire to eat our brains. This is more frightening than merely eating an arm as it symbolizes their dominance over us; they've destroyed our intellect, without such we are just the same as them. Perhaps this theory is stretching; what do you think? 

After reading M. Butterfly I found myself questioning the concept of gender coding and their prospective roles in society. There seems to be this apparent unwritten agreement that masculine traits apply to men specifically and feminine to women. Yet throughout the latter half of the twentieth century more and more people become open about their “alternative” identities, opening the door to these taboo sexualities. A perfect example is transvestism, a sexuality that embodies both maleness and femaleness with the obvious discarding of one for the other. While these persons have found themselves a strong community within the numerous LGBT groups nationwide, such activities are unheard of in more strict cultures, such as the one we read about in the aforementioned play. I want to explore the strict suppression of anti-heterosexuality in Oriental countries, and how this has an affect on those who are being oppressed.

This topic interests me not only because I empathize with those who are incapable of expressing themselves freely, but also because I identify myself as a bisexual woman. As such, I am bombarded with scrutiny from both the gay community and that of the straight; both stating that such a sexuality doesn’t exist. Although this treatment pales in comparison to what many others go through, I still want to be a part of stopping the stigma.

After taking a gay and lesbian literature course last quarter, I’ve obtained a lot of gay literature that I feel will help me with my argument. One such example is Yukio Mishima’s novel Confessions of a Mask that explores the innermost thoughts of a young Japanese homosexual male who must hide his sexuality. Aside from this there are numerous piece of literature dealing with this topic at the library that I plan to investigate.

Through this research I plan to get a better understanding of sexuality not only in terms of our western viewpoint, but also from that of different cultures.

 

I was struggling while trying to figure out something to write about for this week, so I decided to check out CNN.com to see if there was anything interesting happening in the news. Aside from the political mumbo jumbo that always succeeds in going way over my head, I found my story. George Zinkhan, a marketing professor at the University of Georgia, was discovered dead on Saturday. He had apparently dug his own grave and covered it with brush before shooting himself in the head. He obviously didn’t want anyone to find him considering before this incident he had shot his wife and two others outside of a theatre in Athens on April 25^th. Another professor at UGA, Barbara Carroll, believed that Zinkhan might be after her as well. MapQuest directions to her house printed off on April 24^th were found in Zinhan’s car, legitimizing her suspicions. This piece of evidence proves that his actions were premeditated, and that he was planning to go on a murdering spree.

This last finding is what probably disturbs me the most. The fact that he decided to commit such horrible acts, especially to the person he promised to love and cherish for “as long as [they] both shall live”, is beyond comprehension. What could compel someone to even conceive of doing such a thing? I can’t imagine being so upset with someone that I would even entertain the idea for a fleeting second, let alone plan for the moment, and follow through with it. 

It's a bleak friday night with no prospects for any social engagements. Or rather, the usual "let's get wasted and forget our names" mentality didn't seem appealing at the time. My boyfriend Kevin and I head out to Hollywood Video on East State Street to see if there isn't something visually stimulating to occupy the next few hours of our evening. I notice Slumdog Millionaire and figure I'll grab a copy to see what all the hype is about. The scenes are beautiful with fancy camera angles and quick action changes. It's easy to see where the interest originates from. 120 minutes later I find myself staring blankly at the screen, wondering how I'm supposed to feel. Kevin remarks on the noticeable trend revolving around the Indian culture. True, there were only two recent films that we could recall that are set in India (the other being The Darjeeling Limited), but I couldn't help but relate this discussion back to the ones we've had in class. 

Those of us dwelling in the Western hemisphere of the world have always had a fascination with the East and their vastly different cultural tendencies. They appear as foreign and mythologized creatures, almost barbaric in some cases. They are the "uncivilized other", and as Thomas C. Patterson describes in his book Inventing Western Civilization, the concept of civilization was created by those "classes whose privileged existences are guaranteed by the institutions and practices of the state" (10). This is to say, that the wealthy will always be the ones who determine what is considered socially acceptable as they are the ones who hold the power to do so. Through this, we have taken it upon ourselves as the superior culture to study and explore those that are less competent. With the example of Slumdog Millionaire, director Danny Boyle offers his interpretation of an entirely different culture and wins the Oscar for best picture. Yet in his depiction of the life of poverty-stricken Mumbai residents are unconsciously placed stereotypes that transcend generations of misunderstanding. What are your thoughts? Are these movies simply perpetuating an invisible barrier between the Orient and the West? 

Asne Seierstad’s depiction of the life of an Afghani family is shocking and provocative. The Bookseller of Kabul is one of the first most intimate stories that recounts real life events of one of the nation’s more prestigious families. While they are not rich by the standards of our culture, they have been able to provide a home and shelter for a large family, something that is not always possible in a country embedded in poverty. After years of wars the cities and towns lay in rubbish; sidewalks mutilated, buildings that have had to be closed down from bombing. More shocking that the destruction of their communities is the calloused way in which the men treat women. In a place that practically defines the concept of patriarchy, there is no escape for the women who must spend all of their life under the ruling of an unfair dictation.

For her to really understand the culture of this family, Seierstad requested to reside with them for four months and was well received. David Spurr concludes in his book The Rhetoric of Empire, that in journalistic writing, the ability to maintain oneself on the fringe of the action is important to correctly depicting what happens. “The gaze is also the active instrument of construction, order, and arrangement” (15). This allows for the customs of the non-Westernized peoples to appear strange and uncultured, rather than simply different. He claims that by viewing the world through a journalistic pair of eyes, that person sets themselves in a position of authority and power. While Seierstad did receive unfair treatment in regards to the other women of the family, when she put on the burka she was simply another anonymous woman. In this sense she deviates from Spurr’s argument because she is not merely an observer, she is affected as well.

 

I've never been the type of person to log my thoughts in a journal. And to be completely honest, the concept of a blog fascinates and astonishes me. Not only does this medium allow for me to dispense all of the radical speculations that plague my mind, but others are able to read them and scrutinize. So I suppose that I'm just prefacing for my inevitable awkwardness in the next few posts until I get the hang of this. 

Okay. Enough of that tangent. 

My name is Emily and I'm a junior here at OU. I've arrived at the major of Creative Writing only recently after spending the past couple of years trying on different versions of myself. After Vocal Performance and Theatre Performance didn't instill excitement any longer I switched to English in the fall of my sophomore year. I couldn't imagine anything that is more suiting. I was drawn to english 284 Writing about Culture (consequently the class for which I am managing this blog) simply by the course name. I suppose it's foolish to "judge a book by it's cover", but with a title that incorporates writing and societal issues I think that my decision was justified.

I was in a class recently in which the professor outlined seven different prominent features of literature. These included ambiguity, parody, and satire. I was taken off guard when my professor proceeded to discredit the legitimacy of satire in literary contexts. Now, part of me wonders whether or not this is simply a cultural difference stemming from the fact that he grew up in Africa, (I assume? Is that politically correct for me to make that judgement? I figure that's a whole discussion topic in itself) but I've read and loved a great deal of satirical text. It's a wonderful way to communicate serious issues with the guile of humor. And it's proved itself to withstand the test of time dating back to Shakespeare, up through Oscar Wilde, and manifesting itself in works by Kurt Vonnegut and Chuck Palahniuk. What do others feel on this topic? Is satire outdated and illegitimate in today's society?