What I find brilliant in this novel is the manner in which it is narrated to us. It certainly isn't the only work of art that tells its story through a non linear path, but it is one of the successful ones. Similar to the movie "Pulp Fiction" it tells us a story through a variety of characters and locations, but sticks with one theme. The main subject of this book is Totalitarianism, also known as a form of government where power is very unbalanced and usually unfair regimes reinforced by leaders and their workers. In this case, the leaders are known as "The Duvaliers" and the workers are the dew breakers. They're known as torturers who break into their victim's houses early in the morning. The way it was written was surely the correct way of telling the story.

     Another ironic feminist literature piece where the wife finds peace when the husband is not there to control her life. However, there was no sexism involved in this short story. We have to take into consideration that when this was written, it was the norm that the husband would be telling his wife what to do all the time. Kate Chopin made a clever trick into sneaking feminism by showing us how limited women are without us even noticing. To the naked eye, the story reads as if the wife died of how happy she was to finally approach death, but if you dig a little deeper you'll realize that the joy she receives isn't from the sweet release of death. Instead, it's the sweet release from her husband. 

     Chopin sneaks this message through her story because she doesn't even make it so that the protagonist was happy for her husband's death.  She shows the woman mourning at the begging, it was not until halfway into the story where the woman realizes all the benefits she is granted by not having a husband. It was not that she did not care for her husband, it was that she desired the freedom to do whatever she wants as a human being more than her husband's life. It's almost a passive aggressive comment towards men's control over their lovers back in 1890's, but in short story form. At the end  of the story, the woman officially dies because she realized her husband wasn't actually dead, meaning that all the freedom she just fantasized about was all a lie as well. Having such a weak heart, she died from the shock of going back to the woman she was before the false news of her husband's death.

'The Secret History of Wonder Woman,’ by Jill Lepore

     The theme here has become ironic. With such a strong start in feminism through art that inspired many people during the 1900s, one would think that we would be socially advanced at this point in our lives relating to sexism. However, the opposite is true. We seem to be going in reverse when it comes to treating the two genders as equal despite the amount of effort that has been made by so many feminist groups and leaders. 

     William Marston believed that women should and will rule the world someday. Yet, when we were given the chance to have a female elected as president, we neglected the offer. Instead, we replaced her with a man who represents the symbol that William was so against. It's almost as if there's something that's not allowing women to take control. In times when it seems there's about to be a change in gender role, we retract and make another mistake.

     With all that said however, I still believe gender equality is on it's way. Slow, but steady. After reading what Marston attempted to do by inspiring women through his art, I realized that we are going through the exact same phase again, only this time many female artist are voicing their opinions. Although it will take time until we might reach pure equality, we certainly are setting a route for the next generation to come and make it right.

EDIT:
     - If I were to create a female super hero, I would give her any kind of entertaining features that all the other super heroes have. Whether they're shy or strong, it  doesn't have anything to do with the character's gender. I would first make an interesting character and then I'd assign his or her gender.

Prologue #2

I know we're not suppose to keep going with the whole introduction to ourselves assignment, but I feel like this could be a great opportunity to summarize EVERYTHING that has happened in my life up to now. I'm not doing it for extra credit or for someone's amusement, but for my own desire to organize my memories in chronological order, as if to have an autobiography that I can look back to and laugh at...

     My memory started to develop when I was placed in the education system. Lucky for me, my education career started in a preschool, an english speaking preschool to be exact. I only remembered it as "PPP" but after a bit of research I even found the exact website of the place I went to, right here!: http://www.parentparticipationpreschool.org/  It's suppose to be a kind of daycare place where babies interact with other babies and get better at doing things you're expected to do as a baby. Looking back at it now, my parents probably wanted to make sure I was functional after all those dilemmas I came with. Anyhow, it wasn't the kind of education you normally think of. From what I can remember, we would play with some rip-off lego brand in the morning, have a snack, color some books, take a nap, play hide and seek, eat lunch, and then play some board games while we wait for our parents to pick us up. I'm kinda impressed that I can recall that so vividly.

     There were a couple of friends I made there, some tagged along to elementary school while others disappeared. It was mostly a fun experience. With that said however, there's ONE single traumatic experience that lingers in the back of my head since one of those days. It was in the middle of a "class" period where we were handed printed blank copies of a cartoon hot air balloon.  The instructions were easy, the teacher told us just once: "Okay kids, grab your favorite color and fill in the balloon! Don't forget the basket!". Within 5 minutes everyone was done, they all handed their colored balloons in. To my surprise, when I gave the paper to the teacher, she looked back with a confused expression and said "Andres, you still didn't finish coloring it" while she handed the paper back. I sat at the table while the other kids progressed to the next activity. "I... I didn't finish yet?" Is what ran through my thoughts as I analyzed the drawing while staring hard at that cheap copy paper.

      Something clicked in my brain, I realized that there where little white spots between the crayon strokes in the drawing. Once I get every single inch in that balloon covered in red, I'll be able to have fun with everyone else! It took me a while, but I finally gave it back to the teacher proudly.
"Andres... this still isn't done" is all I got from her when I showed her the balloon for the second time. I was shocked. I ran out of ideas. I sat back in the table clueless as to what I should do now. I grabbed my crayon and kept coloring over the same area while I thought of what to do next. Nothing came. I watched my friends laughing and telling stories across the room while I was isolated trying to think of what I did wrong. Why were they able to color this with such ease? Why am I the only one who can't do it? Is there something wrong with me? I truly felt for the first time what it's like to be abandoned and helpless. Tear drops started to land on the drawing and it quickly became a watercolored piece.

      Next thing I knew, I was crying out loud and the teacher's assistant took me out of the classroom. She escorted me to the water fountain to get hydrated after that waterfall of tears that flowed out of my eye sockets. A month passed by after that horrible event and my parents were handed all the projects that I made while I was at preschool. One of those projects was the air balloon. When I looked at it again with fresh eyes I could see where I went wrong...

I forgot to color the basket.

Somehow I think that part of my childhood subconsciously lead me to becoming an artist or something.

   
     A genre is a category in an art form that is characterized by similarities in form, style, or subject matter. In this case our art form is literature, the novel "True Grit". This novel can certainly fall in the western genre. It has a revenge plot in which Mattie tracks down her father's killer, Chaney.  It also has showdowns between the good and the bad, just like the movies. I felt as if I was reading a spaghetti western, minus the cheapness of one. What I mean is that it had something more meaningful behind the basic story, a strong meaning instead of pure entertainment. It's almost as if it had a secondary hidden genre behind the western disguise it makes itself out to be. The hidden genre could be a "Coming of Age" story where the protagonist grows from childhood to adulthood. I don't mean literally when we fast-forward to the future of her life, but instead when she matures. At the climax of the novel, when the girl falls into the snake pit; Mattie faces a life or death situation. The problem becomes more of her struggling to survive rather than revenge. She loses two things after that incident: her arm and her innocence.

     After reading Pride and Prejudice, I can understand why they wrote a parody where the setting was replaced in a high school environment. The plot of this book revolves around the drama caused by the love interests between wealthy women and men during the late 1700s. I felt as if I were reading a very old diary of a teenage girl who felt the need to write down all the lovey-dovey gossip that happened to her friends. It's not that I did not find it entertaining, it's just that I didn't feel like I learned anything from it. Usually stories have a message or moral behind it, but this was a collection of love stories and how they worked out at the end after each person settles with what they got.

     With all that said however, I think the character who stood out the most was Elizabeth, she seemed to have been the only smart one in all this mess that they've created themselves. She had every right to think Darcy was a schmuck for not wanting to dance and hearing bad rumors about him. She was the one who cared about her sister's health while Jane's Mr. Bingley was elsewhere. Elizabeth didn't care what anyone had to say about her relationship business because it didn't involve amyone else besides her and Darcy. Once she understood that Darcy wasn't that much of am idiot, she decides to marry him. A smart and patient woman who has her priorities straight.

     Overall, this was an amusing tale that would keep the viewer hooked simply because it had to do with love, there's just something about love that keeps us interested in these characters' actions. I guess there just wasn't anything better to do back then than read books about other people's love lives!

Prologue

"Prologue"

Twenty years ago around 7:00 pm in Puerto Rico a mother gave birth to a baby boy named Andres Guerrero. She was suppose to have twins, but the "twin vanishing syndrome" phenomenon occurred, where one of the embryos died while developing in the womb. An hour after being born, Andres was diagnosed with "Tracheosophageal fistula". This meant that his breathing pipe was connected to his eating pipe. After a week or so of complicated operations, Andres was fixed up successfully. Off to a rough start, a month went by until the doctors found out that his spine was missing half of a bone, causing his hip to be permanently tilted. Trying to avoid a risky operation in the spine that could leave him paralyzed, his parents decided to use a safer method of coping with the problem by purchasing a shoe lift which he wears in the inside of his right shoe to cancel the tilt of his hip and correcting his posture a bit, thus curing back pains. Afterwards the boy would wake up in the middle of the night barely breathing and rushed to the hospital several times. It turned out that he was also allergic to any kind of lactose (milk and cheese products). It would cause his esophagus to close up, making breathing very difficult. Andres was a very lucky kid who probably wouldn't have survived if it wasn't for his parents both being doctors. The mother and father never lost faith and tried their best to keep their first child alive no matter what. After those unfortunate set of events, the child was analyzed from head to toe. Nothing else was wrong with him, he was finally ready to start growing like a normal human being.