Comment on It’s Been Real (Or Has It…???) ^.^~ by Cog.Dog

Kelli your work, participation, effort, blogging, creativity for this class is beyond outstanding. Those day long blog posts are gems to me, because of the way you wave in your own ideas, interests, and go beyond the check list.

I hear your pain with audacity, and salute you for persevering. There is something to be learned in doing something outside of your zone of interest, and I am thinking maybe someday in the far far future, you will have a need to do some audio. I could be wrong. Dead wrong.

And I am very happy you found a use for hypothesis- I think its a critical scholarly tool, I just felt like it was maybe that one tool too many.

Also, I appreciate your criticisms on gaming, if not obvious, it is not in my zone of big interests, and I wanted to try a few atypical things. Yes, redlining is really not a game at all, what I like is for people to interrogate that as a question rather than accepting it as an assertion because Teacher Says so.

It’s been fantastic having you as a student in class, and I appreciate as well all the times you helped other students in our activities. I can’t wait to see what you aim for in your thesis work– keep blogging and sharing it.

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The Floating Woman

They were all my slaves.

They all knelt before me with pure adore.

If they had the ability, they would probably send me to the peak of Mount Chomolungma, then my head would stick into the clouds and I could literally occupy the highest status in the world.

I was aggressively beautiful. My eyes like shiny amber, my lips like dewy rose petals, my skin like white jade, my hair like soft Chinese silk. They chased after me no matter how rude I treated them, which always makes feel high.

I am now drifting in the dusty air under the grey cloudy sky, like a ghostly balloon. I look down to the ground. No one notices me except for him – one of my chasers but never my slave. He is chasing me with a look of anxiety, running across the river of traffic.

My heart sinks but my body keeps floating.


I met him at a summer dusk.

The sun was in a desperate orange, dyeing the clouds fiery red. It looked quite delicious, like an orange cake with strawberry jam. Thinking so, I took a bite on the dessert sent by one of my chasers. They always held me so high that I feel like walking on the clouds. I thought I’d better have some water.

Scarcely had I had this thought, he offered me a glass of water.

I had a glance of his pale face. He was young and skinny, with a pair of delicate, sky blue eyes, and a look of nervousness. He didn’t dare to take one glimpse at me closely. He escaped from me silently.

He was so shy that I never had a chance to communicate with him successfully. Even when we got familiar, it was I speaking and him listening. I tried to ask him about his information but I failed. He would not say anything.

Before long, I figured out that he was mute.


This afternoon I was sitting in a sofa enjoying my nap. What woke me up was the scream of the crowd.

Oh, the root of this chaos was the fact that I had become a balloon-like creature and started to float out of the window.

I said nothing. I was incredibly calm and indifferent.

I saw people running away from me – now a beautiful monster I suppose – but the pale boy who always carries a terrified facial expression stayed. Then he moved, not away from me but towards me. He made gestures but I don’t know sign language.

I floated out of the window to somewhere farther, I was not sure where.

I float upon trucks; trucks raise ash and dirt; he makes his way through the dust.

My heart becomes heavier and it sinks deeper, like an anchor sinking to the sea bed. This boy truly loves me, I think to myself, not because of my outer beauty but because of my inner spirit.

My body start to gain weight. I land on a very green grassland with wild flowers blossoming.

My boy runs towards me. I feel so joyful! I want to rush to him, hold him tenderly and tightly.

No, not yet. There’s one thing that is not quite right – I cannot move.

Oh. I become a stone statue.

Questions about “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings” for study and discussion

1. Do you think that “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings” is a work of magical
realism? Are there any conventions of the genre that it doesn’t seem to obey? Is there
another genre designation (such as children’s literature) that might be more appropriate to this particular Garcia Marquez story?

I think it is magical realism because it sets in an everyday context. 
2. How would you characterize the community where Garcia Marquez’s story is set? Is
there anything about the townspeople’s attitudes that is ambiguous or unclear?

It is a community of ignorance, dumbness and illiterate. They do not have sympathy nor do they care about others. The townspeople’s attitudes towards Pelayo and Elisenda are unclear. 
3. Explore the differing uses of imagery in Marquez’s story. Why do you think Garcia
Marquez used such vivid, gritty descriptions in this story? How do his descriptions affect
your impression of the townspeople, and of the angel himself?

Because he wants to leave a deep impression on the readers. His descriptions give me a picture of the townspeople’s ignorance and the angel’s weakness and strangeness. 
4. Does ritual and superstition play a role in the story? Discuss.

Yes, but only a little. Although there is a Father in the story, and the story mentions about Roman Catholics, the townspeople care little about those religious issues. They toss stones on and play with the angel. 

5. What affect does the combination of magical and ordinary details have on the reader?

Gives the reader a peculiar sense and cause reflection on their own lives. 

6. Compare and contrast the differing portrayal of the spider woman and the angel. Is there a wider purpose behind this contrast? How can the two be read as representing different approaches to literature?

Similarity: 1. they are both abnormal and inhuman. 2. they are both played with by the townspeople. 3. they are both exhibits. 

Difference: 1. the spider woman has less human-like appearances. the angel is more like a human. 2. the spider woman answers questions and tells a story of her moral punishment. the angel does not communicate with anyone, thus his story is unknown. 

wider purpose: reveal humanity

the spider woman: fable

the angel: myth

7. How does the story comment upon humanity? Who is human in this story and who isn’t? What qualifies someone as human?

Humanity: stupid, selfish, curious

Human: the townspeople, the Father, the couple

Inhuman: the angel, the crabs, the hens

Human qualities: 1. speak a human language. 2. communicate with other people. 3. do not have wings or any strange appearance. 

8. Can you interpret any moral or underlying message in this story? Explain.

If one day you fall to disaster, do not give in to the difficulties. Try hard to fly again.