The feeling of love coats my insides, warms me while simultaneously making me fear the possibility of cold. The Middle East and you are interconnected, the two loves of my life. I can't give up one for another, it just wouldn't be fair to a place and a person that I care about so intimately.
The distance between us is a throbbing injury that never dulls its tud-tud-tud on my heart. You are such an example of the half of the Middle East that is foreign to me with your religion, while my time in Jerusalem made my fondness for Zionism grow.
"I find myself stuck in what has been instead of looking towards what can become.."
The distance between us is a throbbing injury that never dulls its tud-tud-tud on my heart. You are such an example of the half of the Middle East that is foreign to me with your religion, while my time in Jerusalem made my fondness for Zionism grow.
"I find myself stuck in what has been instead of looking towards what can become.."
I don’t want to choose between the two of you. Can’t I
continue to ignore the growing battle of religion/culture/family versus true
love? The anxiety is worth one glimpse at your smile, one word of affection. My
familial, religious, cultural homeland is directly in odds with all that you
believe in. Can it be a subject we don’t discuss? Or must I choose for
happiness: with my place or my heart? I am so conflicted. How can I know,
sitting here behind a computer in the States while you live in the physical
area of our discontent?
I guess I choose…
ReplyDeleteWriting this blog has been an experience of patience, creativity, flexibility, and frustration. I was trying to keep certain aspects of myself hidden; even if the story if fictional, there are side elements that are based on fact. Like Written on the Body, I tried to keep my gender a secret as I felt that would take away from the reader’s experience. It was difficult to try to find viable links that would connect my blog to ones with ideas so seemingly unconnected to my own. As Andre Breton stated in the “First Manifesto of Surrealism”, imagination really does show a future, possible result. The challenge of adapting my planned narrative to one of four other separate plots helped foster my imagination in ways beyond the vague original assignment. I was originally confused on what to write on and disliked the process of having to incorporate novel and critical references at first. I know see how it helped me to grow and increase my understanding of intertextuality and text overall. The references I was forced to include ended up bolstering my narrative to a level I would not have reached otherwise without the assigned parameters being forced upon me. Intertextuality infiltrates each written work produced since the first, whether it is recognized by the author and readers or not. Every time a writer sets down their words to paper, they are influenced by previous works they have read and experiences that connect to, and often unwittingly reference, the past works. It is an unavoidable truth about the nature of text. There is no truly original idea left in the world. Everything is a reproduction of something that has already been produced. A text invariably has to be criticized with an eye to this fact as it transforms our ideas of authorial property and our interpretation of the narrative. Overall, I ended up enjoying the project even if I ended up writing and posting at the last possible minute before class each time.