Wow.
Where to begin? This piece was incredible. Just when you think you knew, you learn so much more and question what you thought you knew. To appreciate culture is to value to beauty of everything that is us. Language is, by far, a major part of our culture.

Anzaldua mentions something that captured my attention- that the future mother tongue of Chicanos and Latinos will be English. That statement alone sums up this entire article.

Not long after that, she argues “I am my language.” We are our language. The multiple variations of our language adds a significant dynamic to us as individuals, including our culture, tying in everything that makes us, well, us.
(our family, friends, music, etc.)

She also mentions, “Until I can take pride in my language, I cannot take pride in myself.” If we do not appreciate who we are or how we are made, then we do not have a sense of self.

Another point that really sparked my attention was how some Mexicans and Latinas will speak English as a neutral language because of the strong differences in Spanish. English is even spoken at conferences and parties! One time to really appreciate culture, they deny it to avoid the tension among the developed variation of their language.

Something that touched me emotionally was how she felt a “sense of belonging” when her family would go to the drive-in movies on Thursday night, with a $1 carload special.

“El sonavabitche.” Tell me a better way to intrigue your reader! 

At first, I have to admit, I was not thrilled to read this piece for the simple reason of being lazy; I just didn’t feel like translating the Spanish. But once I gave it a chance, I enjoyed it.

Surprisingly, I really liked the technique of using the Spanish because it added a different element to it, something I’m not use to reading. It gave the story a touch of emotion and helped better connect the reader. In a sense, I felt like I was there with the Mexicans as they were packed up tightly in a pickup. Anzaldua is creative in the way she writes. It’s sometimes hard to connect with a reader on that level.

At that moment of the story, I really started to feel bad for them. It actually reminded me of the Jews packed in the trains, unable to move or go to the bathroom. It made me think of how scrutinized and dehumanized they were. Right before this part of the story, there is a line that reads, “Fijoleros si lo son,” meaning “bean eaters they are.” Again I felt strongly for them, and sickened by this comment. It made me think of reality and the struggles some illegal immigrants really face in their fight for survival.

This story really inspired me to at least think differently about illegal immigrants and allowed me to think as if I was in their shoes. This is the first story to affect me in that way. After realizing that these immigrants are worked, turned in, and paid nothing, I was relieved to see one fight for their rights and receive the pay they worked for. Great story. I regret my bias from the start of the story.

Joyce's "An Encounter" is certainly not an encounter I would ever wish to have. I enjoyed reading the beginning of the story but towards the end, the old man was just too creepy for me! Right now, I work at an after school program at a catholic school. I'm learning just how different it is from the public school I was brought up in. A catholic school is strict, family oriented, and their way is the only way where a public school is more relaxed and subtle. The boys in the story are students at a prestigious school. Father Butler even makes it a point in saying they are not "National School Boys," implying that they are better than them. The boys enjoyed reading about adventures in the Wild West because it provided an escape to the tight world they knew. Father Butler made it clear that to be educated meant they were not to read "such stuff." This makes me think of the distinction of what is good reading and "crap" reading. Is there a such thing as bad reading? In Pagnucci's piece, a boy is put down for reading comic strips. But it is within reading the comic strips that him and his hospital mate find strength in life's struggles. So then, wouldn't this "garbage" in one person's eyes, simply mean gold in another person's heart?

Ondaatje uses symbolism in a unique way in retrospect to light and darkness and Sallie and the house. It
seems that Sallie is trapped in this world of darkness, and her house is this symbol. She never leaves yet she can sometimes see the light. It’s as if she is dying and the irony is behind the light she is so close to while she is stuck in the house and can’t get out. Also, I'm not sure if John is even the key to her happiness. I'm almost compelled to think he makes her miserable and she hates him. When he is home, they barely share words with one another. He even leaves her in the mornings before she's even awake. And I'm wondering, why does she "find" her body clothesless, and is forced to wake up freezing? And why does she need to be "lifted" into bath? I think the "madman's skin" is symbolic in her being trapped in this life she doesn't want to live. I believe maybe John traps her.

What an interesting piece, told
with such humor. I enjoyed reading this mainly because it connected me to my
childhood memories. I could relate to the feeling of Luke jumping up in his
stroller when a favorite Christmas carol was played, or when he longed to be
apart of whatever the older kids were doing when they were on the carousel. As a
child, I always wanted to "play" with my sister, who is three years older. But
back then, seven and ten years old was a huge difference. I remember my parents
"making" my sister play with me and I loved it, despite the fact she was mean to
me because of it. I remember too, the feeling of “clutching tightly,” as Gopnik
says, to my Dad whenever I was scared. I also enjoyed Gopnik's description of
globalization and his comparison of countries. I've been to Italy and know what
it's like to lose a curling iron because of the difference in watts. I wonder
too, why can’t we all agree to one way?  It was the small things that Gopnik
chose to tell great detail which enabled me to enjoy the reading more than if he
didn’t do that. For instance, describing the architectural change over time and
describing the store window decorated by season. This reminded my of my living
room bay window that I use to decorate as a child. I loved to ride by my house
and see the decorations I put in it, or the stickers I stuck to the window. I
liked this line, “..the real flavor of life will be determined, shaped, by these
things,” where Gopnik talks about trial and error, and learning in life. I
laughed a few times when he explained his Christmas light story, or his toaster
story. I enjoyed his connections to places I was familiar with in
America--Cherry Hill, NJ, NYC, Philly,. and liked how he threw in things I could
relate to, feminism, New Yorkers (or even Americans as a whole) more
independant. As lastly, going back to the toaster story, I loved this! I wish I
could be like the salesman in France and just tell my customers how I feel!!!
Not in America! Unless, of course, you work at Genos! Then you can say whatever
you feel, however you want!

PAGNUCCI Narrative Life
I really enjoyed reading Pagnucci’s Narrative Life mainly because I was able to personally connect to it. Pagnucci talks about “telling your own story” by “living the narrative life.” The notion of place is simply your life-past, present, and future, and how you plan to collect and remember the stories that create you, how these stories dictate your every day life, and how they prepare you for the future.
Sometimes I feel like I write too much or save too many pictures about my life. I have a box full of journals, from first grade to my freshman year of college. My walls are full of pictures and my shelves are full of scrapbooks and meaningful nik-naks. I even have a vase full of dried out flowers from the past years that people have given to me.  
Sometimes I also feel I am so worried about the past and future that I forget to enjoy the present. After reading Pagnucci, I learned there is a reason behind the way I feel. My stories are my life. They are the reasons I do the things I do. As Pagnucci writes, “embrace the stories that make us who we are,” I’ve realized maybe it’s not so bad after all because “learning who you are is all about the stories that form your life.”