An Inconvenient Truth

If you haven't see it yet, do so.

writing on the body

Catch it. Put it in a pumpkin, in a high tower, in a compound, in a chamber, in a house, in a room. Quick, stick a leash on it, a lock, a chain, some pain, settle it down, so it can never get away from you again. -Margaret Atwood, "The Female Body"


I have one essay completed; another waiting to be proofread/added to/changed, and a third that I haven't seriously begun to think about yet. My second essay is in English and it is the first essay I have written in English in over a year. I was worried that I might have forgotten how to write long essays in English, but I think my voice is still there. It's called: "Trapped Within Her Own Text: Escaping the Monster and the Angel in the Works of María de Zayas." Or at least that is the working title. I like it. I think I am taking a chance with it. But I like it. It's about the body--a body of literature and a physical body, at the same time. I find myself constantly surprised by the variety of literature that comes out of very early Spanish literature. When I think of the 16th century, I think of very proper people, very formal people and I think of literature that is very "tame" by contemporary standards. But in reality, the literature reflects so much more; it often shocks me.

I am not sure, but I find myself drawn towards studying the 18th and 19th century literature. There is something very subversive about much of the literature during that time period for me. Jane Eyre was the first book I distinctly remember crying during as an undergraduate. Perhaps that is why.


Only one more day left of "official" classes; then finals/essays/etc. I'm considering taking a train back to Aurora if I can find a good time. The idea of taking a train, as opposed to driving or taking a bus or plane, greatly appeals to me. Why is this?