Beautiful Maria of My Soul

Peace of the World... In One Word?

Christina Bonvicin
May 26, 2009
The Soloist, Part IV

What I realized about The Soloist as I finished the book is that each individual's happiness depends on that person. Personally, things that make me most happy are bright smiles, joyous laughs, bubbly toddlers, innocent infants and chatter, any kind of chatter. Chatter is my music. I love talking about practically anything. And there's just something about holding a newborn in your arms that just makes you at peace with the world, if only for a little. And when a toddler grasps your hand and looked up at you with an admiring face, you can't help but smile. Those are my happiness ingredients. Everyone doesn't have the same exact recipe. Some of the same ingredients, sure, but there's variations too. Someone out there in the world may have my exact recipe for happiness, but one particular thing might make them happier than anything else in their recipe.

Honestly, even though towards the end I didn't like The Soloist, it taught me something that, hopefully, will stay with me as long as I may live. It taught me to not worry about trying to please everyone, but please myself first. That is exactly what Nathaniel did. He knew what was "right" for him. Though it may not have been right for society, it was right for him. In the end, that is all that truly matters. No one should have to worry about society's rules and regulations when it comes to happiness. Well, as long as a person's happiness is legal, then society has no reason to step in.

I think that's one of the reasons I lost interest in The Soloist. Lopez always trying to force Nathaniel into "treatment". Sure, if he was truly a danger to himself and others then I could see trying to force medicine on him. But he was calm, even though he had some episodes, mostly safe, and, most important, happy. Happiness is the key to a successful and peaceful life. At least, that's my personal thoughts on the subject. And even though Nathaniel wasn't successful in a career or had a family, he still had his music and he still had his mind. And isn't that enough for him to be happy? Of course it is.

In all, The Soloist was very well written, but by the end I didn't enjoy it. If I was Nathaniel I would have gotten annoyed with Steve Lopez many, many times. But as many know, I'm not too keen on being told what to do. To Nathaniel,. he had his peace, he had his music. And that should be all he should need to be happy in today's world.

Focus on...
- grammar
- style/flow
- my ideas vs. your own

Happiness versus Depression

Christina Bonvicin
May 19, 2009
The Soloist, Part III

What I realized, as I continue to read through The Soloist, is that I'm really starting to not be able to stand the book. I don't what about it is starting to to get to me, but something is. All I know is that I'm finding it harder and harder to pick up the book and read when I know I have to, harder to read more than a chapter in a sitting. The early enjoyment I had when first reading the book seemed to have slipped away with my personality these past two weeks, lost in the desert island that is my senioritis-ed mind. I don't know why it happened, but it did. And I can't seem to get it back.

The questions from last week, of if mental ill people should be forced to take medicine, come to mind. Why? My grandfather refused to take his medication. No, he's not mentally ill. At least, he's not diagnosed as such. He just... wanted to give up. He was in pain, we could all see it. In and out of depressed. So he refused to take his meds. There has to be something wrong, I think, truly wrong if he doesn't want to live any more.

But Nathaniel was living. Abeit a little... unconventionally, yes, but he was doing something he loved. Not my grandfather, who was stuck in a nursing home for over a year. My grandfather needed an escape. Nathaniel doesn't seem to need an escape, but who am I to judge? A mere eleventh grade pediatrician wannabe, someone who knows very little about medicine, let alone mental illness. But, if he's doing something that makes him happy, if maybe not safe, who is anyone to force him to do anything he doesn't want to do?

But, what is happiness? What defines happiness? I've been trying to define it for myself for the past six months, and I am nowhere near close to anything. Is it a state of mind, or a state of being? Physical, emotional, or psychological? Or, merely an illusion of the mind to get you comfortable with yourself then trap you in misery for days or weeks or months on end. How can anyone define happiness? Why does playing music make Nathaniel happy? Why doesn't playing football or baseball or some other sport? Why music? Why not reading, or actually living in a building? Why does Nathaniel find it fun to live on the streets?

I don't understand a lot about Nathaniel but the main thing I don't understand is why he doesn't want to live in an apartment. He and his precious instruments would be safe from the elements and the cigeratte bud throwning people of the streets. He'd be able to wash up and wash his clothes and have a comfortable bed to sleep on, not the cold, hard cement floor of downtown LA. But, then again, the mind is a fickle thing. Some people may like the safety of a warm home, but maybe Nathaniel doesn't. It may possibly remind him of his time when he first had his breakdown, all the medication he was on. Maybe, maybe not.

Focus on...
- grammar
- style/flow
- my ideas vs. your own

Life's Little Purpose

Christina Bonvicin
May 8, 2009
The Soloist Part II

During this week's discussion, a few questions stuck out to me about The Soloist. We had a very lively discussion on Wednesday, contributing ideas for the class about Steve Lopez's writing style and the topics he writes about. To me it seems that Lopez writes about the things that no one else really knows about, like the basketball player from Compton or the censored radio station Pacifica.

Nathaniel is someone no one really knows about... That is, until a twist of fate brings him right into the hands of Lopez, who just happens to be a writer for the LA Times. Sure, the people on Skid Row know about Nathaniel. They know he's homeless like all the rest of them. But they don't know that he's a Juilliard alum, a prodigy that has to transpose the pieces of music he's learned from the double bass onto a violin with two strings. They don't know him like that. Lopez wouldn't have known if he hadn't stumbled across Nathaniel. Lopez wouldn't have known much about Nathaniel if he hadn't cared about Nathaniel the way he does. It's great that Lopez does care. He learns much about the prodigy that is Nathaniel Ayers.

One series of questions that arose during the discussion on Wednesday was a question that was prompted by Jamal's talk of people with mental illness, on whether or not they should be forced to take medication or if they could make choices by themselves. Well, does having a mental illness take away from one's freedom to choose for themselves? At what time do you force someone to do something, because you can't tell if they are completely there? Is it right either way?

These were the questions formed in my mind during that discussion. Personally, I don't think that having a mental illness takes away one's right to be able to make there own discussions. The only way that should happen is if the person has multiple personalities, where one or more of the personalities wants to do wrong by their 'host' body, or if the mental illness has reached such a stage that the person has no idea what to do for themselves anymore. These are the situations, I believe, that are the only times that people can take away one's right to choose. If someone takes away another person's right when they are fully capable of of making their own decisions.

In all, the discussion on Wednesday prompted those questions, because in the book Lopez wonders on whether or not he should get Nathaniel help. I think it's better for the both of them if he just let's Nathaniel be, for now, since Nathaniel seems happy and content living on the streets. That's really all that matters in life, right? Happiness?

Focus on...
--- ramble/flow of piece
--- any grammar mistakes
--- my ideas vs. ideas in the book vs. your ideas

Chasing the Pavements of Music

Christina Bonvicin
May 3, 2009
The Soloist

As I read through some of the posts of my classmates this weekend, I was surprised to see that a few couldn’t get into the book. I, as picky with my books as I am with my dresses, read the first few pages of the book and I was hooked. I don’t know what it is about the book. It’s much easier to read, that’s for sure. The font is small, but large enough that my eyes aren’t killing me after the first couple of pages. And there’s enough space in between each line that I’m not squinting trying to follow the print.

Not only on the physical side of the writing, but the writing itself is very easy to read. Unlike J. D. Salinger, Steve Lopez doesn’t go over board on the thoughts of his mind. The first person narration for my own personal stories is written such that the character’s thoughts aren’t going into extremely explicit detail, which gets very boring very fast.

No, Steve Lopez caught and held my attention with his vivid but short descriptions and easy to understand vocabulary. The story of Nathaniel Ayers itself is a sad story so far, but the inspiration of all those Lopez was trying to get to help him is so uplifting in a world where so much wrong and seemingly nothing right. Of course, it’s sad that Nathaniel had to battle this illness for so long without anyone to help him. Not that he wanted anyone’s help to begin with. If he did want anyone’s help, he wouldn’t have been living on the streets playing a two-stringed violin, transposing Bach and Beethoven from bass to violin. Something never easy, especially not living on the street.

The care that Lopez shows of Nathaniel is genuine, something not easily found in many people anymore. Lopez only talked to Nathaniel for a short amount of time, but after that Lopez worried about Nathaniel’s well being. This was particularly apparent after Lopez writes about the findings of a Juilliard alum living on the streets of LA playing a two-stringed violin, when all the letters came pouring in saying that violins were being air-mailed to Lopez’s office for him to pass onto Nathaniel. Lopez didn’t want to give Nathaniel the new violins and cello, fearing what the thieves on the streets would do to the man.

That kind of care and compassion is something that draws me into a book. I like something where, if it’s in the first person point-of-view, the narrator actually has feelings and isn’t this uncaring being who can’t stand anything or anyone (cough Holden Caulfield). Overall I find Nathaniel’s story interesting and the way Lopez tells it extremely fascinating. I can’t wait to continue to read the book, hoping it gets better as I get deeper into the book.

Focus on...
--- grammar.
--- my thoughts and ideas vs. your own.
--- flow / ramble of the piece.

Boredom in the Rye

Christina Bonvicin
April 26, 2009
The Catcher in the Rye

I’m a reader. I do consider myself to be a reader, though books, as of late, have not held my interest long. I’ve read Nora Roberts, James Patterson, J.K. Rowling, Stephanie Meyer, and many other random authors. For some reason, The Catcher in the Rye isn’t my kind of book. The pace is slow and boring all throughout the beginning and middle. Personally I think the beginning is the most important part of a book. It’s the exposition, gets the main character, at least, set up so his or her story can be told. When the beginning is boring, my mind automatically goes “Oh God, here we go,” and settles into auto-pilot for the next however many minutes I’d be reading for. It’s really not fun, especially when it’s a book I have to read for school. Then I know I’m just set up for failure from the beginning. Just because of how tear-worthy boring the book was from the beginning.

That’s not the only thing. Once you do start reading the book you start to see things. Like how the main character and narrator, Holden Caulfield, likes hardly anything or anyone. He doesn’t like people that are bores and who are superficial. He doesn’t like phonies, either, nor people who are insecure. He doesn’t like too many people. Like his sister, Phoebe, says in chapter 22: “You don’t like anything that’s happening.” This was after Holden talked about Pencey Prep, his school, and the things that went on there. Phoebe challenged Holden to find one thing that he liked a lot, and then one thing that he would like to be. Holden didn’t even answer the question about what he would like to do with his life, he just rambled on about lawyers.

Personally, I think the things he likes are his family, which really aren’t things but people, and his deceased brother’s baseball glove. And this one girl, Jane Gallagher, who again isn‘t a thing but a person. He hasn’t seen the girl in a couple of years, but yet when his roommate at his school, Stradlater, says he has a date with her after the school’s football game, Holden suddenly is thinking about her all the time, in between the random topics of his mind.

Which is probably another reason why I can’t stand the book. Holden rambles. And he rambles randomly. He reminds me of myself. I hate when that happens. I’d like to think I’m not as bad as he is, but I know I can be worse. When I’m in the mood I can drone on and on about the most pointless of topics. When I’m in the mood, of course. But Holden seems to always be in the mood to ramble. I guess it’s logical for J. D. Salinger to have written it that way, as it is a first person point of view, so you are seeing things through the narrator’s mind, how it would happen in his mind. Doesn’t make it any less annoying though. Not at all.

Oh, and another thing. What I really do not like about this book is how he’s always taking about how fine a girl is or how cute she looks or who’s giving whom “the time.” In a teenage guy’s point of view I should have expected as much, but it’s still rather annoying because I’m a girl and I don’t want to hear about it. I love romance. There’s nothing romantic with someone talking about sex and how sexy people are. There really isn‘t. It‘s disturbing to read, since I’ve never read a book like this. I don’t even want to hear about it in real life, so why would I want to read it in a book? I don’t know which is worse, reading about it or listening to it. Both are equally as disturbing and really shouldn’t happen. But again, like I said, the book was written in a male teenager’s mind, so there really was nothing less I could expect.

In the end, I really did not like this book. I have an extremely short attention span, as Holden seemed to have, and all the rambling that was going on in the book quickly lost my attention. And the book failed to recapture my attention, even when Holden got sick. I suppose that makes me seem cruel, but the book was just too boring for my attention span. Not even for me, for my attention span and I just couldn’t see liking the random ramblings of Holden Caulfield’s mind.

Focus on...
--- grammar.
--- my thoughts and ideas vs. your own.
--- flow / ramble of the piece.

March to the Beat of Your Own Funeral

Christina Bonvicin
April 10, 2009
The Death of a Salesman

In Act II of The Death of a Salesman, Charley says “The only thing you got in this world is what you can sell” (p.97). I don’t quite believe this to be true. People have a lot of things in the world: for example, his or her dignity. No one can take away a person’s dignity unless that person lets them. You can’t very well sell your dignity either, which obviously chops the truthfulness of the quote to pieces. If all someone had in the world was what they could sell, there would be a lot of limitations in the world. Cars would have never been invented, because no one would think they would sell. This small thing in itself would completely alter the world as we know it. Not even thinking of the past, but thinking strictly of today’s world and economy. If I was a grocery store clerk, does that mean that all I have are the things that the store has? Of course not, that would be ridiculous. These examples go to show that Charley wasn’t thinking of the future when he said what he did, he was only thinking of how poor a salesman Willy had ended up in the late stages of his life.

Willy had the classic “American Dream.” He wanted to be successful and liked, to own his own house. To live comfortably and be able to support his family, that is what Willy wanted. And he wanted to do it the easiest way possible. To him, that was being a salesman. His hopes and dreams didn’t work out the way he wanted them to. He slowly lost touch with the world he lived in until he was part of two worlds, that he flitted between on a whim: the real world and the world of his past, when Biff and Happy were still young. The stress of his un-paying job and the bills that continued to pile up were the reasons behind the split in Willy’s reality. Though, like Alexis pointed out, Willy could possibly have a mental illness, though at the time was most likely unable to be identified. In either case, Willy is still a victim of his mind, where it be his fault or not.

Willy went about his hopes and dreams the wrong way. He wanted the easy way out. He didn’t want to go hard manual labor. He wanted to sell. This was his mistake. Maybe if he had become a carpenter, like Biff wanted to be a carpenter so he could whistle without being stared at, maybe he would have had a better life. He wouldn’t live in the city so much, but in the suburbs, having his own house and a good life. But Willy took the easy way out. And with that he took away his hopes and dreams himself. I can’t blame Willy for wanting to be respected. It’s in human nature to want to be respected and accepted by everyone. It’s just not logical though. Yes, Willy could have been respected, if he had gone about it the right way. Everyone has different paths that they can take in life. Willy took the one that he thought was right, but it wasn’t right for him or his family.

Many people still die the death of a salesman. It doesn’t take much to die the death of a salesman. Not in my eyes. Gatsby from The Great Gatsby died the death of a salesman too. When you die the death of a salesman, you die alone. Gatsby was shot when he was alone in his house. Willy died in a car accident he caused himself. Hardly anyone showed up to either of their funerals. As Linda says in the requiem “Why didn’t anyone come? … But where are all the people he knew?” When you die the death of a salesman, you die alone. The only people who care, who are touched by the loss, are the friends and family of the deceased. Gatsby and Willy are marching to the fictional beat of the dying salesman tune, as are many people who were very much alive and very much alone.

Focus On:
--- my ideas vs. your ideas.
--- grammar and structure.
--- ramble-ness vs. not rambly enough.