Brownie points

I really liked this story because it explored the dying trend of racist culture. Not only did it exhibit a troop of black Brownies struggling with their identities as African-Americans but it was also a study on empathy. Once the troop found out that they would be beating up a Brownie troop of mentally challenged girls, our fearless heroes began to back off. It seemed as those the girls decided that they would beat up the other troop because Daphne was called a "nigger" thought none of them relate any stories about it happening before and why they were offended. They reacted instiunctually, their minds filled with "we have been insulted, we must react". And yet, when it came down to the actual performance of said revenge, they backed off and chickened out. Why? Because, though they felt offended (and had no proff, which is a different matter), they thought that someone else could have it worse off from them and that cult-like mentality of "do what the leader says" fell off its high horse and crashed instead of making a mistake that could have costed quite a bit of stress to their childish lives.

I am confused, however, as to Laurel's reference to the Menonnites and her obsession with Daphne's poem. "My father, the veteran" is a poignant line and does provide some feelings but what are those feelings toward? What makes Laurel feel so compelled by Daphne's words that she repeats them over and over again? And why does she describe Daphne's picking up of trash in the bathroom so fluidly? I want to understand the last line of the story but I can't quite find the meaning.

trashing the camp [character]

He was incredibly wasteful, that much was clear. Not only was his trash can over-flowing, but the "recycling bin" had now been littered with half-empty jars of jelly and soda bottles with the tops cut off. The bag sagged inside the can, holding onto the precious liquid that had spewed out of the five month old eggs he had left for too long and hastily thrown away when discovered. Abandoned hopes lay in the tangle of wires of the rescued electronics found at the thrift store, nothing could be done. Tucked in the corner, poking a hole in the side of the bag was a sterling silver ring with a spot of blood on it, stained into the stainless steel and reminiscent of a bar-fight that got personal. The remains of his attempt at responsibility, wrapped up twice in three plastic bags tossed in with a bag of pet food that expired years ago. Scratched discs, "designs" carved into that 15.99 CD he'd pulled from the shelves undetected.

You couldn't tell if he was clean or not. A moldy glass gingerly placed near the bottom, a taste of milk left on his nightstand after passing out before he could drink it. Tiny flakes of glitter and a soiled Valentine's Day card lay flat at the bottom, straining at the thin plastic. Another tear had begun on the left, a partially destroyed box that had been ripped open in excitement. A garbage romance novel, the cover showing off two ludicrously muscled men in the arms of the other, wind-blown hair glistening in the glossy light of the hazy book cover.

The room reeked, a foul smell sinking into the walls as he was left unattended. His nose stained white and his eyes staring into some blank abyss far from there. His arms splayed out by his side, holding a dollar bill and a metal cigarette case.

response 2/25

Wow, "Orientation" really was an Office-Space caliber short story of the mundane monotony that is office work. I like that it took a personal turn toward the middle to talk about the fancies of each of the workers, going into the office romances and intricate webs they weave. I think the second person point of view works well because it makes the story more real. It provides a "welcome to your new reality" while giving the third person omniscient narrator who looks into the deeper meanings of their lives. The presence of the serial killer didn't surprise me; I think that the trope of "The Quiet One" is being played up enough by media. The story doesn't rely heavily on it though, so that makes up for it. I like that nothing is really supposed to happen. It just kind of outlines the lives of the reader's new coworkers, presenting a new, separate society filled with characters with their own pros and cons just like the real world.

"Hitchhiking" was an interesting read because I didn't understand what was going to be happening. I like to read through a story and not be able to predict how it will end. I was especially caught up with the end lines of "Hitchhiking" and I wonder what it meant. How exactly was our narrator supposed to be helping us? He boarded different cars (never telling US where he was going, mind you) only to insult us later after the accidents were usually caused by a combination of bad timing, driving conditions, and personal responsibility. If this narrator causes crashes and wrecks with whoever's car he gets in, wouldn't he begin to feel paranoid and a little less likely to try again? Or was that the whole point? Did he have the ability to save all of humankind and we, the ridiculous people, kept putting him in harm's way every time he tried to get to his destination to save the world? I would like to know how he hasn't died if those first lines described his most recent attempts at hitchhiking.

the things they carried

This is my third time reading "The Things They Carried" and I can't say that I'm all that mad about the repetition. O'Brien goes into the lives of each of these soldiers, bringing forth details that make them that much more human and remind you that there are men in the boots. Originally, I wondered if it was going to be about the physical things they were carrying in their packs, the bags slung over their shoulders. But it was more of a metaphor, providing a sort-of personification of their worries, woes, and grief. Which is pretty incredible to think about. Not only were they heaving around huge packs with things they needed to survive in case they got shot, but there were also so many emotions and feelings left behind by their fallen comrades and the families they had to leave behind. While enduring physical hell and trudging through battlefields, they had to suffer through the cries of their peers and the horrors of the potential to die at any moment.

Did Lieutenant Cross distance himself from Martha because he needed to? Did he put that split down because he didn't dare dream of her? Maybe he was trying to make it impersonal, make sure that he didn't have any hookups keeping him from his duty. No holds barred. Cross was ready for death now that he had left Martha behind, which is sad to think about. Can you only accept death once you've let go of the people you care about?