It was a cold winter night in San Francisco CA, during the date of 1896. European boats were arriving at the main sea port; most carrying hundreds of internatinal immigrants. There were irish mobs all the way to slovakian and italian mafias; it was a corrupt time in the United States, especialy here in SF where we had not only these dangerous mobs in the streets but also vicious chinease groups in the gold mines, not to mention thieves and prostitutes lurking at every corner in the downtown area.
An event like this one, (when the ships harbor at the decks and hundreds of immigrants storm out frantically inorder to be allowed into this country) reminds me of my first time stepping into this country: i was 8 years old and accompanied by my mother and father, we were only allowed to carry one small bag for the three of us. We were lucky, i remember being told by my mama, right before sailing off into America;we would finally get a fair chance at receiving a good life; my dad was a simple blacksmith and my mother a midwife for the rich women in Dublin.
I remember thinking while walking down the wooden ramp and at last touching the american soil,
that all these people speaking in tongues and with distinct physical appearances would each have a chance to live happily.
I was a naive young lad back then, but this past decade in the streets has made me wise, my family and i have been through more than what we bargained for; we knew it was going to be hard, but we didnt expect disease, death and purgery to mold our future lives.
My dad got infected with smallpox while working endless hours at a coal factory, he died when i was 13, my mother had to then find a job of her own to sustain me and my 6 yearold brother (born in America). She had degraded herself so much by becoming a prostitute, that it took me a long time to be able to meet both our eyes at the same time. At age 15, i started pick-pocketing the people in the streets, that is how i was introduced to the whole corrupt system that was hidding beneath every shop in SF. One night, coming back from Mr. O connors shop 2 blocks from my place, i saw a muggling, i knew both the victim and the thieves, i used to spend a lot of my free time with this guy, we used to play hooky from school and go fishing, then later we hung out at the pub. The victim was my mothers neighbor lady, who took care of us while my mom was out during her long night shifts in the streets. It all happened so fast, all i remember seeing was Patrick pulling on the womans purse, and the woman not giving it to him, they struggled for a minute and all of a sudden Pat took out a small barbers knife, he cut her right in the belly and ran off droping his weapon and taking her purse. Im sure she didnt even have a penny in there, but i knew that most of the peoples situation in this town was that bad, enough to reside to stealing, but in my mind i couldnt think of killing nor hurting anyone.
That night i was about to run off and leave poor mrs. Anya laying half dead in the ground, but something stopped me, something made me care enough to see how she was (thank god, at that moment i decided to reverse my style of living, and with that a new American Dream was forged).
-to be continued
martes, 26 de febrero de 2008
lunes, 18 de febrero de 2008
The Judgement by Kafka...a response
¨The Joudgement¨ obviously deals with the strained relationship between Georg and his father. It can also be seen as a story about fathers and sons in general.
Now i shall discuss Kafkas use of techniques such as surrealism, symbolism, physical movement and dialogue in developing the aspects of this dad-son relationship.
Its of key importance that the reader knows when reading this short story, that its meant to be an autobiography of Kafka, his father and their relationship together over the years. The story can start off very randomly, with Georg (the main character) sitting next to an open window, starring outside while writing a letter to a friend in Russia. Before the father-son topic is reached, the story goes through different points and distinct characters, that at first they dont add up to the real meaning, but as you finish the story you get that every character, action, place, and thing are symbols for proving the stories purpose; the strained relationship of a dad and a son.
Comencing with Georg´s friend who lives in Russia, we can depict that perhaps Kafka used this character as a symbol for Georg´s alter ego. All the clues are evident in the story as to see why the friend would be a FOIL to this main character; they were opposites. While Georg may seem a bit lazzy and tranquil with an ordinary life where nothing really suprises him and is as monotonous as could be, his friend is depicted as an adventurer, who wants to go and see the world, take risks in life and just write (another possible symbol describing Kafka), very bohemian. Then the destainment that Georg screens as he is thinking of writing to his friend, shows that he rathers not share his life with his friend, (unconsciously mabye) because he is making up excusses of not hurting his friends feelings as to what he is missing, instead of telling him the truth and not be psychologically afraid of screening a monotonous life in comparisson. Currently, while the reader has just approached this part, he could think of these comparissons, but not yet joined the rest of the symbols.
Later on we find out that Georg is engaged to be married with a wealthy woman named, Frieda. The dialogue used to describe the woman, was very dry, although very thoughtfuly descriptive, it was lacking emotion; felt almost dragged, like it was an obligation to write about her. Also, the conversation that Kafka wrote, between Georg and Frieda is very cold, almost manupulative from her part: ¨ he himself had become engaged a month ago to a Miss Frieda Brandenfeld, a young woman from a prosperous family. He often spoke to his fiancée about this friend and about the unusual relationship he had with him in their correspondence. “Then there’s no chance he’ll be coming to our wedding,” she said, “and yet I have the right to meet all your friends.” “I don’t want to upset him,” George replied. “Don’t misunderstand me. He would probably come, at least I think so, but he would feel compelled and hurt and would perhaps envy me—he’d certainly feel unhappy and incapable of ever coping with his unhappiness and would travel back alone. Alone—do you know what that means?” “Yes, but can’t he find out about our wedding in some other way?” “That’s true, but I can’t prevent that. However, given his lifestyle it’s unlikely.” “If you have friends like that, George, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged at all.” “Well, we’re both to blame for that, but now I wouldn’t want things to be any different.” And then when she, breathing rapidly under his kisses, kept insisting “Still, it truly does upset me,” he really thought it would be harmless to write everything to his friend. “That’s what I am and that’s just how he’ll have to accept me,” he said to himself. “I can't carve out of myself another man who might perhaps be more suitable for a friendship with him than I am.” Frieda represents the anchor, that keeps some part of Georg wrapped in the comformity of society, yet at the same time, this anchor looses its tight grip and Georg is automatically left with indecision about his friends life (his adventuring soul) and his own. This dialogue serves as many symbols: Frieda as an anchor and a liberator, the comparisson of both lifes, showing his hidden unresolved issues with the way he lives, and a foreshadowing that he might not end up copping with his feelings.
Following, comes the father-son scene. Here, Georg is feeling bias about whether writing to his friend his casual non descriptive letters, or the actual heart felt letter telling him the truth of his ¨great life¨ and engagement. Being confused with that idea of right vs. wrong, Georg decides upon visiting his father and perhaps he will be able to help him to clear his conscience. Georg´s mother had reccently died, and also it would be nice to see how his father was doing in her absense. Both him and his dad talked a lot during work and even had lunch together, but Georg hadnt been to his dads place in a couple months. ¨His father was sitting by the window in a corner decorated with various reminders of his late lamented mother and was reading a newspaper, which he held in front of his eyes to one side, attempting in this way to compensate for some weakness in his eyes¨; this dialogue shows loneliness, apperantly Georg has been giving a cold shoulder to his father´s situation.
As the reader is introduced to the description of the father´s place, ¨dark and with the window closed¨ one automatically relates it to the setting description in the begining of the story, where Georg is looking out from the open window; this one however is closed and with it all the hopes laying outside. In my opinion, the room symbolizes either Georg´s head when he´s in his fathers presence or his fathers dark comformed minded head.
Foreshadowing can happen at this stage, if one knows about Kafkas biography with his dad, one knows that at this point he will begin relating about that same thing. His father starts acting rude to his son, very untrusting, telling him that he is no one compared to his friend in Russia, he tells Georg that he doesnt deserve a friend like that, someone whom he lies to. As the dad compares, Georg is left speechless and feeling catatonically depressed. All this symbolizes Kafkas opinion in his father giving up on the son; the father is critizicing every dull and superficial aspect of his life and compares it to the warmth and freed living of his friend. However other symbols, such as the old breakfast at the table, or the defected underwear that his father was wearing, shows how time slowly helped rotten their relationship, if Georg hadnt abandoned his father, then maybe he would have cleaned everything up and his dads hope for a different life would have changed.
The story ends by Georg running out feeling dead and depressed, then finally reaching a bridge and Kakfa finishes up giving the story´s conclusion a sense as if Georg had commited suicide.
¨He leapt out the front door, driven across the roadway to the water. He was already clutching the railings the way a starving man grasps his food. He swung himself over, like the outstanding gymnast he had been in his youth, to his parents’ pride. He was still holding on, his grip weakening, when between the railings he caught sight of a motor coach which would easily drown out the noise of his fall. He called out quietly, “Dear parents, I have always loved you nonetheless” and let himself drop.¨ I dont believe it was him literaly killing himself, i think this stood as a symbol for giving up, and letting depression take you over. The las sentence of the story was my favorite, ¨At that moment an almost unending stream of traffic was going over the bridge.¨ this means that although his mental or symbolic life had just ended, it wasnt and end for everything else, time was still moving.
Now i shall discuss Kafkas use of techniques such as surrealism, symbolism, physical movement and dialogue in developing the aspects of this dad-son relationship.
Its of key importance that the reader knows when reading this short story, that its meant to be an autobiography of Kafka, his father and their relationship together over the years. The story can start off very randomly, with Georg (the main character) sitting next to an open window, starring outside while writing a letter to a friend in Russia. Before the father-son topic is reached, the story goes through different points and distinct characters, that at first they dont add up to the real meaning, but as you finish the story you get that every character, action, place, and thing are symbols for proving the stories purpose; the strained relationship of a dad and a son.
Comencing with Georg´s friend who lives in Russia, we can depict that perhaps Kafka used this character as a symbol for Georg´s alter ego. All the clues are evident in the story as to see why the friend would be a FOIL to this main character; they were opposites. While Georg may seem a bit lazzy and tranquil with an ordinary life where nothing really suprises him and is as monotonous as could be, his friend is depicted as an adventurer, who wants to go and see the world, take risks in life and just write (another possible symbol describing Kafka), very bohemian. Then the destainment that Georg screens as he is thinking of writing to his friend, shows that he rathers not share his life with his friend, (unconsciously mabye) because he is making up excusses of not hurting his friends feelings as to what he is missing, instead of telling him the truth and not be psychologically afraid of screening a monotonous life in comparisson. Currently, while the reader has just approached this part, he could think of these comparissons, but not yet joined the rest of the symbols.
Later on we find out that Georg is engaged to be married with a wealthy woman named, Frieda. The dialogue used to describe the woman, was very dry, although very thoughtfuly descriptive, it was lacking emotion; felt almost dragged, like it was an obligation to write about her. Also, the conversation that Kafka wrote, between Georg and Frieda is very cold, almost manupulative from her part: ¨ he himself had become engaged a month ago to a Miss Frieda Brandenfeld, a young woman from a prosperous family. He often spoke to his fiancée about this friend and about the unusual relationship he had with him in their correspondence. “Then there’s no chance he’ll be coming to our wedding,” she said, “and yet I have the right to meet all your friends.” “I don’t want to upset him,” George replied. “Don’t misunderstand me. He would probably come, at least I think so, but he would feel compelled and hurt and would perhaps envy me—he’d certainly feel unhappy and incapable of ever coping with his unhappiness and would travel back alone. Alone—do you know what that means?” “Yes, but can’t he find out about our wedding in some other way?” “That’s true, but I can’t prevent that. However, given his lifestyle it’s unlikely.” “If you have friends like that, George, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged at all.” “Well, we’re both to blame for that, but now I wouldn’t want things to be any different.” And then when she, breathing rapidly under his kisses, kept insisting “Still, it truly does upset me,” he really thought it would be harmless to write everything to his friend. “That’s what I am and that’s just how he’ll have to accept me,” he said to himself. “I can't carve out of myself another man who might perhaps be more suitable for a friendship with him than I am.” Frieda represents the anchor, that keeps some part of Georg wrapped in the comformity of society, yet at the same time, this anchor looses its tight grip and Georg is automatically left with indecision about his friends life (his adventuring soul) and his own. This dialogue serves as many symbols: Frieda as an anchor and a liberator, the comparisson of both lifes, showing his hidden unresolved issues with the way he lives, and a foreshadowing that he might not end up copping with his feelings.
Following, comes the father-son scene. Here, Georg is feeling bias about whether writing to his friend his casual non descriptive letters, or the actual heart felt letter telling him the truth of his ¨great life¨ and engagement. Being confused with that idea of right vs. wrong, Georg decides upon visiting his father and perhaps he will be able to help him to clear his conscience. Georg´s mother had reccently died, and also it would be nice to see how his father was doing in her absense. Both him and his dad talked a lot during work and even had lunch together, but Georg hadnt been to his dads place in a couple months. ¨His father was sitting by the window in a corner decorated with various reminders of his late lamented mother and was reading a newspaper, which he held in front of his eyes to one side, attempting in this way to compensate for some weakness in his eyes¨; this dialogue shows loneliness, apperantly Georg has been giving a cold shoulder to his father´s situation.
As the reader is introduced to the description of the father´s place, ¨dark and with the window closed¨ one automatically relates it to the setting description in the begining of the story, where Georg is looking out from the open window; this one however is closed and with it all the hopes laying outside. In my opinion, the room symbolizes either Georg´s head when he´s in his fathers presence or his fathers dark comformed minded head.
Foreshadowing can happen at this stage, if one knows about Kafkas biography with his dad, one knows that at this point he will begin relating about that same thing. His father starts acting rude to his son, very untrusting, telling him that he is no one compared to his friend in Russia, he tells Georg that he doesnt deserve a friend like that, someone whom he lies to. As the dad compares, Georg is left speechless and feeling catatonically depressed. All this symbolizes Kafkas opinion in his father giving up on the son; the father is critizicing every dull and superficial aspect of his life and compares it to the warmth and freed living of his friend. However other symbols, such as the old breakfast at the table, or the defected underwear that his father was wearing, shows how time slowly helped rotten their relationship, if Georg hadnt abandoned his father, then maybe he would have cleaned everything up and his dads hope for a different life would have changed.
The story ends by Georg running out feeling dead and depressed, then finally reaching a bridge and Kakfa finishes up giving the story´s conclusion a sense as if Georg had commited suicide.
¨He leapt out the front door, driven across the roadway to the water. He was already clutching the railings the way a starving man grasps his food. He swung himself over, like the outstanding gymnast he had been in his youth, to his parents’ pride. He was still holding on, his grip weakening, when between the railings he caught sight of a motor coach which would easily drown out the noise of his fall. He called out quietly, “Dear parents, I have always loved you nonetheless” and let himself drop.¨ I dont believe it was him literaly killing himself, i think this stood as a symbol for giving up, and letting depression take you over. The las sentence of the story was my favorite, ¨At that moment an almost unending stream of traffic was going over the bridge.¨ this means that although his mental or symbolic life had just ended, it wasnt and end for everything else, time was still moving.
¨The Judgement¨ has deffenetly marked a place upon my favorite literary works, and i wouldnt change the meaning of the stories written by Kafka, they are all so mysterious and full of questionable symbols. I can conclude that at some level this can describe a father-son relationship in general; father always knows best and might never be pleased with your work because you can do better, while you are young and think you know everything so you drive away from your roots and might think you lost your way.
sábado, 16 de febrero de 2008
AN ADDICTION?
What are the few things in life tht make me happy? Honestly, i cant really think about counting them all, it would sound too cliche to say, ¨because theres too many¨. Seriously, i cant afford to lie in this blog, its suppoused to be about me, about the real me! Im not planing on displaying a fiction character who loves EVERYTHING in life and around him. The main character in this blog is not one whose life glows in radiant colors, it is ones whose past shines in oppaque shades! Not to be pessimistic, im not like that at all (most times), but the only bright colors that shimmer around me, usually touch after the dark shades dissappear. I dont like being happy after i was so sad, i feel like im betraying that event which made me gloom... is that wierd to want to feel sad when your happy? Other times, when im sad i rather feel happy and just forget the downess. My life is full dual opinions, they just keep contradicting each other.
Many times however, (and most reccently) im getting over the darker times in my life, and accepting the better history and present that im walking through, i cant explain why i still fear the past. Perhaps i fear it will come and hunt me in the future, is that wrong or pessimistic?
hmm...
man! here i am talking about my fears and sadness when i know you dont want to read about some sad pessimistic character!
Or do you? In my case i love reading of ppl who went through hell and felt alone and depressed, but then they live happily ever after...kinda courny? I dont think so, i think one should be able to forget the past and live their future lives not fearing or regreting your history: ironic, isnt it? i love books that end well, but why do i keep on unintentionally looking for a bad ending in mine?
I heard that when one has a problem of addiction, realization is the 1st step to recovery, admitting your addiction waves help to get better. Am i addicted to feeling pessimistic?
If so, i believe im getting better, sh#t stopped happening to me, and wow i think im free to ....
u kno...
exactly!!!!
live happily, at last!
PS]: feel free to comment and analyze some of those questions in my writting:)
Many times however, (and most reccently) im getting over the darker times in my life, and accepting the better history and present that im walking through, i cant explain why i still fear the past. Perhaps i fear it will come and hunt me in the future, is that wrong or pessimistic?
hmm...
man! here i am talking about my fears and sadness when i know you dont want to read about some sad pessimistic character!
Or do you? In my case i love reading of ppl who went through hell and felt alone and depressed, but then they live happily ever after...kinda courny? I dont think so, i think one should be able to forget the past and live their future lives not fearing or regreting your history: ironic, isnt it? i love books that end well, but why do i keep on unintentionally looking for a bad ending in mine?
I heard that when one has a problem of addiction, realization is the 1st step to recovery, admitting your addiction waves help to get better. Am i addicted to feeling pessimistic?
If so, i believe im getting better, sh#t stopped happening to me, and wow i think im free to ....
u kno...
exactly!!!!
live happily, at last!
PS]: feel free to comment and analyze some of those questions in my writting:)
jueves, 14 de febrero de 2008
EMBRACING LIFE OR DEATH?
What’s the difference between suicide, martyrdom and the urge to live? Could suicide and martyrdom be one in the same? Could those 2 ideas go parallel in an event, decision or reason?
I saw a movie just the other day, about a man who turned crippled after an accidental dive in the ocean. The man was used to living as a traveler, a man of many adventures and earthly experiences! His life after the accident wouldn’t be the same again, he would be incapable of doing all those things which he enjoyed so much; his life was now empty. Daily in our lives we get existential crisis, where we question our whole being, why we are who we are, why we choose what we do: existentialism basically describes an idea that one is responsible for his or her own actions, one is because of one said so. The human mind works as, if you don’t like something you get mad about it, if you question something in yourself that is very important like your life or reason to be, you are meant to sink in emotionally. Depression can come from asking yourself those sorts of questions; by your lifestyle getting deteriorated because of an action you committed (whether on purpose or not) you are bound to detest that event, that reason, that decision and mostly the person you are now. The crippled man from the movie loathed himself and his new lifestyle, he thought that everything in him was useless and so why would he have to keep on living and just cramping and using up “valuable” space in this world if he can’t incorporate anything good to it anymore. If he decided to die, whether by killing himself or approving to be killed, would he be committing the sin of suicide or would he be courageously saving himself, his loved ones and the world by becoming a symbol for a martyr? Truth is, I disagree with this action or decision being called suicide, it should be in your own head whether you want to live or die. I don’t want to sound pessimistic by saying that the man would probably be right and his life would be useless, but in my opinion it probably wouldn’t and it would be a braver action to decide to die rather than live as a vegetable each day remembering what you were. By this man be willing to get killed (not kill himself) he would at some level be accepting his role as a martyr, but at some parallel echelon he would also be committing suicide. The difference of these two would be that, martyrdom be classified by himself as freeing yourself from a self pain and liberating your family of seeing you lifelessly in a bed, and suicide in contrast, would mean that everyone else judge your decision and still be hurt because you decided to give up and leave them behind. My judgment and conclusion in all this, is that both opinions are valid in the way that they both use a selfish or self involved judging rather than an actual care for either side: the family feeling ashamed or let down by the man, should actually be feeling alright or at least relief that he did what he wanted and not be in pain anymore, while the man by deciding upon dying voluntarily is in his own right, he is also acting selfish because he is thinking about himself and his own pain rather than his family’s.
Perhaps what it normally comes down to is the genuine human nature of your life, your heart and decisions: martyrs don’t exist if they are originally selfish, and suicide is impossible if you think one has the right to decide his/her future. Maybe the decision to live or accept death shouldn’t be questioned at all and hope to leave it to fate.
I saw a movie just the other day, about a man who turned crippled after an accidental dive in the ocean. The man was used to living as a traveler, a man of many adventures and earthly experiences! His life after the accident wouldn’t be the same again, he would be incapable of doing all those things which he enjoyed so much; his life was now empty. Daily in our lives we get existential crisis, where we question our whole being, why we are who we are, why we choose what we do: existentialism basically describes an idea that one is responsible for his or her own actions, one is because of one said so. The human mind works as, if you don’t like something you get mad about it, if you question something in yourself that is very important like your life or reason to be, you are meant to sink in emotionally. Depression can come from asking yourself those sorts of questions; by your lifestyle getting deteriorated because of an action you committed (whether on purpose or not) you are bound to detest that event, that reason, that decision and mostly the person you are now. The crippled man from the movie loathed himself and his new lifestyle, he thought that everything in him was useless and so why would he have to keep on living and just cramping and using up “valuable” space in this world if he can’t incorporate anything good to it anymore. If he decided to die, whether by killing himself or approving to be killed, would he be committing the sin of suicide or would he be courageously saving himself, his loved ones and the world by becoming a symbol for a martyr? Truth is, I disagree with this action or decision being called suicide, it should be in your own head whether you want to live or die. I don’t want to sound pessimistic by saying that the man would probably be right and his life would be useless, but in my opinion it probably wouldn’t and it would be a braver action to decide to die rather than live as a vegetable each day remembering what you were. By this man be willing to get killed (not kill himself) he would at some level be accepting his role as a martyr, but at some parallel echelon he would also be committing suicide. The difference of these two would be that, martyrdom be classified by himself as freeing yourself from a self pain and liberating your family of seeing you lifelessly in a bed, and suicide in contrast, would mean that everyone else judge your decision and still be hurt because you decided to give up and leave them behind. My judgment and conclusion in all this, is that both opinions are valid in the way that they both use a selfish or self involved judging rather than an actual care for either side: the family feeling ashamed or let down by the man, should actually be feeling alright or at least relief that he did what he wanted and not be in pain anymore, while the man by deciding upon dying voluntarily is in his own right, he is also acting selfish because he is thinking about himself and his own pain rather than his family’s.
Perhaps what it normally comes down to is the genuine human nature of your life, your heart and decisions: martyrs don’t exist if they are originally selfish, and suicide is impossible if you think one has the right to decide his/her future. Maybe the decision to live or accept death shouldn’t be questioned at all and hope to leave it to fate.
viernes, 8 de febrero de 2008
A. What is the difference between a blog and a book?B. How have blogs changed recently?C. Why might you read a blog?D. Is there reason to doubt the objectivity of a blog? Why? Why not?E. If you kept your own blog, what would you title it?
A. “Books are tight. Blogs are reckless. Books are slow. Blogs are fast. Books ask you to stay between their covers. Blogs invite you to stray. Books fret over copyright and libel. Blogs grab whatever they want with impunity —news, gossip, pictures, videos.”
B. “Today there are, by one count, more than 100 million blogs in the world, with about 15 million of them active. (In Japan neglected or abandoned blogs are called ishikoro, pebbles.) There are political blogs, confessional blogs, gossip blogs, sex blogs, mommy blogs, science blogs, soldier blogs, gadget blogs, fiction blogs, video blogs, photo blogs, and cartoon blogs, to name a few. Some people blog alone and some in groups. Every self-respecting newspaper and magazine has some reporters and critics blogging, including The New York Times, The Atlantic, and The New Yorker.”
C. One would read a blog to research about things that interest you specifically:
“You can read about the Iraq war from Iraqi bloggers, from American soldiers (often censored now), or from scholars like Juan Cole, whose blog, Informed Comment, summarizes, analyzes, and translates news from the front. For opera, to take another example, you have Parterre Box, which is kind of campy, or Sieglinde's Diaries and My Favorite Intermissions, written by frequent Met-goers, or Opera Chic, a Milan-based blog focused on La Scala (which followed in great detail the scandal of Roberto Alagna's walkout during Aida a year ago). And that doesn't begin to cover it.”
D. There are many reasons for one not to trust the written blogs. Objectivity is a constant factor in these works, the author tends to wite opinions or random facts from different links or books. Including citations and statistics can be very objective: ”Reading blogs, it's pretty clear, is not like reading a newspaper article or a book. Blog readers jump around. They follow links. They move from blogs to news clips to videos on YouTube, and they do it more easily than you can turn a newspaper page. They are always getting carried away—somewhere. Bloggers thrive on fragmented attention and dole it out too—one-liners, samples of songs, summary news, and summary judgments.”
E. “Life’s Bloopers”
A. “Books are tight. Blogs are reckless. Books are slow. Blogs are fast. Books ask you to stay between their covers. Blogs invite you to stray. Books fret over copyright and libel. Blogs grab whatever they want with impunity —news, gossip, pictures, videos.”
B. “Today there are, by one count, more than 100 million blogs in the world, with about 15 million of them active. (In Japan neglected or abandoned blogs are called ishikoro, pebbles.) There are political blogs, confessional blogs, gossip blogs, sex blogs, mommy blogs, science blogs, soldier blogs, gadget blogs, fiction blogs, video blogs, photo blogs, and cartoon blogs, to name a few. Some people blog alone and some in groups. Every self-respecting newspaper and magazine has some reporters and critics blogging, including The New York Times, The Atlantic, and The New Yorker.”
C. One would read a blog to research about things that interest you specifically:
“You can read about the Iraq war from Iraqi bloggers, from American soldiers (often censored now), or from scholars like Juan Cole, whose blog, Informed Comment, summarizes, analyzes, and translates news from the front. For opera, to take another example, you have Parterre Box, which is kind of campy, or Sieglinde's Diaries and My Favorite Intermissions, written by frequent Met-goers, or Opera Chic, a Milan-based blog focused on La Scala (which followed in great detail the scandal of Roberto Alagna's walkout during Aida a year ago). And that doesn't begin to cover it.”
D. There are many reasons for one not to trust the written blogs. Objectivity is a constant factor in these works, the author tends to wite opinions or random facts from different links or books. Including citations and statistics can be very objective: ”Reading blogs, it's pretty clear, is not like reading a newspaper article or a book. Blog readers jump around. They follow links. They move from blogs to news clips to videos on YouTube, and they do it more easily than you can turn a newspaper page. They are always getting carried away—somewhere. Bloggers thrive on fragmented attention and dole it out too—one-liners, samples of songs, summary news, and summary judgments.”
E. “Life’s Bloopers”
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