A Perfect Pair

In his book Show and Tell, Scott McCloud argues a bridge between words and pictures needs to be built. He longs for the days of the past “when to tell was to show and to show was to tell” (161 McCloud). McCloud wants images and words to be used together because he believes when words and pictures work together they produce a product better than either could have produced a lone. But what would that product look like? I have been considering the effects of an alliance between enemies, and I have come up with an idea as to what would happen or what would be made better. Words produce ideas and thoughts. Ideas and thoughts are abstract concepts. Any type of visual art consists of images. Images that can be perceived through sight which makes them concrete. Both are opposite and lack what the other has. So wouldn’t pairing them together strengthen each? Pictures could bring the ideas words produce to life. Ideas could be more tangible. Images’ hidden abstract ideas can also be explained through the aid of words. The meaning behind certain images wouldn’t be a mystery “to the average viewer” (150). This is obviously only a surface level analysis, but if seems words and pictures were unified more frequently, people would better understand each other’s unique perspective. 

Irony at Its Finest

Irony is an aspect of writing that defiantly is prevalent, but it isn’t a necessity for a piece to be considered excellent. I think that is because irony is so hard to master, but when used correctly, it not only can make you giggle, but it can also cause to ponder serious topics. David Foster Wallace crafts irony into his piece “Consider the Lobster” unlike any other piece I have encountered. Everywhere you turn, there is another ironic statement or even a foot note? That fact that Wallace’s footnotes are ridiculously elongated is irony alone. He took the most overlooked part of an essay (we all have to admit that we don’t look at them) and made it the most noticeable feature of his essay. Can we get some snaps for Wallace? His points in his footnotes are unique and important, so he placed them in a spot that is beyond conventional and almost impossible to disregard. Another major form of irony is the intended audience for his piece. His piece criticizes the mindless boiling of lobsters, and his audience is “Gourmet readers” (679 Wallace). People who value classy meals such as lobster! In any other magazine this article wouldn’t fulfill a major part of its purpose: to reveal the unjust irony meat enthusiasts unknowingly live with or choose to ignore. They revel in the savory taste of meat that has been brought to them by the torture of another living creature. He wanted people to consider their actions instead of acting without any regard for their consequences. Wallace’s uses irony masterfully throughout his piece to reveal the serious but ironic truth behind every dead animal for dinner. 

Go Buy Those Flowers

         “Mrs. Dalloway said she would but the flowers herself” (Woolf 1). It is such an ordinary sentence. It would usually be placed in the middle of the novel. Only a true literary rebel, *Cough cough* Virginia Woolf *cough cough*, would dare to use it as the first sentence to an extraordinary book. But of course, there is a purpose. A purpose I didn’t really understand until I saw the movie The Hours ¹ . The movie dealt with the idea of the struggles of an ordinary life but also the beauty. The act of buying flowers is such a trivial domestic task. It is tasks like these that make up Mrs. Dalloway’s and Clarissa Vaughn’s entire existence. Clarissa Vaughn is representative of Mrs. Dalloway because she thrives on ordinary, but lively, events. The beauty in flowers represents the beauty of daily tasks. Clarissa Vaughn’s desire to throw a party to celebrate Richards’s accomplishment is a beautiful but trivial life event Clarissa is used to.  Laura, on the other hand, sees no value in trivial life. Even though she has a wonderful and kind son, she see the act of being his mother as confining. Her daily tasks trap her. She is also unable to complete the tasks well. She can’t even bake a simple cake. The confinement of these ordinary tasks and her inability to execute them prompts her to leave her trivial life. The movie really shows how some people are happy to conform, while others are not willing to. I now understand why Woolf choose her first sentence to be what it is. Mrs. Dalloway focuses on the regular tasks life brings. Sometimes the tasks aren’t so amazing, but sometimes the tasks are like flowers. Vibrant with the colors of life.

¹I don’t know the correct form to cite a movie.  

Hidden Efforts

                Mrs. Dalloway’s party is a sophisticated and seemingly effortless affair. The effort is not non-existent, but rather it is hidden in the lower levels of the house. While the upper levels of the house are filled with relaxed spirits and “laughter,” the staff works frantically to prepare the numerous delicacies (Woolf 166).  The “saucepans, cullenders, frying pan,” and “pudding basins” all appear to be “on top” of them and over powering them (165). Even the upper class’s possessions, exceed the lower class in superiority.

                Woolf makes the stress and toil of the servants known. Their anxiety filled preparations and serving is directly contrasted by the relaxed atmosphere in the party room. There is not a sliver of equality present. The staff sole purpose is to give, while the partygoers sole purpose is to take. Take the time, effort, energy, and happiness. Only giving a tiny fraction of their income back. An income earned by doing equally demanding work.

                This blatant form of inequality might appear to be an atrocity that has been buried by the passing of time. However, it has not vanished. Take a look at your clothes tag. Where was it made? Mine was made in Bangladesh. A country whose economy is dependent on the clothing industry. People probably made it, or they ran the threatening machine that did. They probably don't experience the same financial ease that I and many people in my society are blessed with. They probably have to work in a dirty and possibly inhumane factory. They are probably pressured to work “faster and faster” to provide for their incredibly wealthier consumer (166). A consumer who wears the clothes without realizing the barley bearable work sewn into each stitch. In return for all their hard work to provide the upper class luxuries that are taken for granted, they receive a pay so low, it is outlawed in the countries they are selling to.

                It is hard to understand the stress the laborers  are placed under, but the scene describing the staffs experience in Mrs. Dalloway gives an idea to the amount of work that goes into our everyday pleasures. The pressure increases with each word. The work load is so big it over powers the workers. As this intense struggle is occurring, happiness is rampant on the floor above. Happiness that is dependent on another's suffering. It is so easy to forget that our ordinary luxuries are composed with a hidden effort. 

Just Another Passer-by

          

                Jennifer sits in the back seat of the car. It has been so long since she has sat in the back seat. She is often the driver or the passenger, but never the backseater. It feels like a new perspective. Out the window stands a man on a street corner. Money on his mind. No, relief on his mind. Sign in his hand, but Jennifer feels too guilty to read it. She is a hypocrite. Every Sunday, to and from church, she sees that poor man. Too scared to help him. Giving the money isn’t the issue. Being bold is the real problem. She prays for someone braver than her to help him. Her family drives on. No one mentions or acknowledges the sad sight they see. It is too shameful to admit they sin.

            No one stops; everyone drives; no one cares; everyone ignores.  The guilt is too heavy for Jennifer, so she lets it go. She forgets, in that moment, that the man; the unique life form; her fellow sharer of the earth; her neighbor whom she was called to love as she loves herself ever existed. Never asking, what is that man’s story? Do people give him money? Does he hate the world? Is he smart? Kind? A follower of Christ like she is supposed to be? What has happened in this man’s life that forced him to become a beggar? Maybe he is a man “who carries in him the greatest message in the world,” but no “passer-by suspects” a thing (Woolf 83). Questions she doesn’t care to ask. Her thoughts, actions, and beliefs orbit around her own gigantic head. How rare it is when her universe attempts collide with another.