Wow, life is boring. That has got to be the umptilienth time I've muttered that today, but it is so true.
I mean, compared to other people's lives, my life must just be sitting in front of the television all day watching re-runs of sitcoms. And, sadly, that's precisely what it happens to be. But, television is fun. And don't ever believe what your parents told you, because I sat in front of the televsion, an eager nose two inches from the screen, and my eyesight is a perfect 20/20. I kid you not! But I suppose I have genetics to thank for that.
Thank you, genetics!
Unfortunately, I hate my nose. So, no thanks to you, genetics. But I have blue eyes! Thank you, genetics! Before I go off on a tennis match with my inner voices, I should probably end it there.
Wow, I'm typing on here early today! Just got home! I've got a bit of homework to do, and a, perhaps, band practice on Sunday and much, much, much housework and reading to do. Let's see, let's see...
Oh! I meant to create my own Critical Essay on The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka in spirit of the grueling assignment I had over the summer. I had to read 10 Critical Essays following "The Metamorphosis" and summarize the thesis and create a personal response in which I furthered or disagreed with a statement. Well, here is my thoughts on "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka (and you don't have to have read the book to get the essay, it'll still be funny)(and hopefully you don't like Kafka so you'll find this funny even if you have read it).
"Kafka: a doper?" by Anastasia Beaverhausen
"The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka is a work of the finest of imagination, but imagination can only describe it. At the height of realism this tale depicts a man suddenly transforming to a giant "vermin" in his sleep. Is this a matter of his hidden "self" becoming evident in a form just as alien to him as originally? Is it a deep-seeded father versus son conflict suddenly taking a magnificent bound in another direction? Or is it a matter of what substance Franz Kafka had been smoking upon writing it?
The last may prove to be the most significant, as you will soon learn. One morning, late for his 5:00 train, young Gregor Samsa awakes in his bed only to find that he has metamorphosed into a large, hideous creature with multiple pairs of legs and a hard shelled back. If this were to happen to you or I, it would be easily believable that a state of utter calamity would have arisen. But Gregor rises as if naught had happened, and strains out of bed. Disregarding the easily tangible idea of waking up in the morning as a large insect, is it not strange that his buisness train arrived at 5:00 in the morning? It is more believable to awake to an alarm at least at the early hour of 6, but 5 seems unfeasible.
There must be a deeper meaning in the time itself. Could it be, perhaps, that this part of the story was written in a scale of hour to year? That at the age of five Gregor had missed a proverbial "train" as he did at five o'clock in the morning? Could it be that when the book was translated from German for this American audience, the translators matched the time of the book to meet with our "eastern time" purposes, thus actually taking place many hours afterwards? Or could the hour of five o'clock be the best time to "hit the bong" at a party in Germany?
Let us move on to find further details. Gregor is immediately shunned by his family, especially his own father who injured him on two seperate occasions. The first incident followed immediately after the first time Gregor revealed his new form to his family. His father promptly kicked him through the bedroom door, and Gregor struggled into the darkness of his lonely room dragging one limp leg and trailing blood behind him. On the second occasion The father was to be found throwing apples at Gregor, the second of the two lodging in Gregor's back and mortally wounding him.
Looking at this sudden spite from Gregor's father, one must wonder why such malice could have taken form. Perhaps it is the fact that when the father fell into un-repayable debt his son became the family bread-winner while the father, having failed in his calling, fell back useless. Perhaps it is this symbol of the "castrating" (in the most obscure, metaphorical sense of the word as you can imagine...yes, you, try to keep it clean here, folks) father portrays a father/son relationship having suddenly manifested a jealousy in the form of cruelty? There is no way, however, that the father's reaction could, in any way possible, represent the normal human reaction upon seeing a giant cockroach creeping into their living room. You would not try to kill a human-sized cockroach entering your den, would you? If, and only if, you had a grudge against said giant cockroach, only if you knew them in their past form and were able to recognise them even as a humongous vermin, would you even attempt to fight back. Otherwise novelists and critics would never make any income.
Let us look at the transformation itself. Gregor awoke...awoke from an unsettling sleep. It is at these moments that we are truly in the most danger. Unconcious to the world of the living, living in the world of non-reality, it is here where Gregor is transformed. And, no less, during a night before a business trip. Was his transformation a result of his hidden personality that had gone so long masked that he did not know it himself? Could it be a product of having hidden behind the mask of the idea of being "one"? In this state of slumber, could Gregor have switched from the idea of "seeming" to "being" by transforming into what was his true "self"? Could his new form be all of his hidden feelings of anger and hate manifested physically in a grotesque body? Could his transformation itself be in his mind, and during this sleep he realised, inadvertantly, his true hidden personality, and upon awaking thought himself to look as a beast not knowing how he should truly look? Well, I don't know about you, but I find that every time I wake from an unrestful sleep, I find myself to look like a beast as well! Messed up hair, smudged makeup that had somehow gone untouched by any soap...but I digress.
I find that "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka does not portray a realism. It does not signify existentialism, or monotheistic beliefs in the love of God's creatures. It does not tie in with any idea of double existence, theoracricism, mercantilism, communism, unicism, boringism, criticism, or even is-ummm-icism. I find that Franz Kafka had to be on some kind of medication, whether perscribed or not, because the entire thing was just stupid.
Thus ends my Critical Essay on "The Metamorphosis". Just say no to drugs, kids. And friend's don't let friends drive drunk, or listen to Simple Plan.
They whine too much. "Oh, father I let you down...blah blah blah, I make way too much money to have no talent, I'm not even pretty but that blond guy over there with the eye liner is...blah blah blah, and I'm crying..."
"Oh father can you hear me? How have I let you down? I curse the day that I was born, and for all the sorrow in this world. Everything falls to the hurting ground, where all good men are trampled down..." Woops, sorry, switched songs there. That last song was a song by a wonderful band called Bad Religion. And they are awesome, and so is that song.
And Bjork and Incubus and Sting and Enya are all awesome too.
Anyways, if I didn't already bore you enough with the essay, I have yet more to write.
I love English class.
No, there's more! Umm, think of it, Amanda, think! I love...umm...to watch movies. Yes! ALRIGHT!
This quote came from Karen Walker from Will & Grace played by the amazing Megan Mullally! She's so cool! I want to act for a living, too, that's why I look up to her.
Yep. I had so much else I wanted to type about. But this one already seems longer than my meaning of life in comparison to English literature (see Me? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest... in archives) or even my Talk Like a Pirate Day entry (please see ...Yo-ho, yo-ho, a Pirate's life for me... in archives). Hooray! We're having delivery subs for supper! Thank you, Mum!
It's not delivery...okay, so, yes it is. Never mind. Don't know where I was going with that. Well, no one's reading this anyways, so I'm off.
And no offense to any Germans. I'm German, too, tho I prefer my Irish/English/Scottish side.
Oh! And one last thing. My brother made fun of me 'cuz I hate it during The Two Towers (the movie) when Haldir dies. I shielded my eyes 'cuz Haldir is so cool and I didn't want to seem him die. However, I laughed when I thought Aragorn died. Is that wierd?