Truth

Truth

People tell lies everywhere they go, even to their closest friends, families, and themselves. I have a habit of lying when it comes to trying to explain a situation. It’s under those certain circumstances where I know it will take more than the necessary time to explain why I am at the store, how I am actually doing, or what I really feel. And most of the time people are really not interested in what you have to say, so to respect that, you tell a lie. But the weird occurrence is that even while I am telling a lie, I want to tell the truth. I have an urge to be ‘righteous’ and good, but the falsehood ends up dominating. Does that mean that humans innately search truth, but ultimately are consumed by immorality?

I guess I have been thinking about the truth and the purpose of life ever since that Thursday. You know, when Mrs. Clinch mesmerized and blew our minds by reading Winesburg, Ohio. I started reading the book before, but the close-reading made me realize there are even more elements to look for and question. The particular section that blew me away once again was, “it was his notion that the moment one of the people took one of the truths to himself, called it his truth, and tried to live his life by it, he became a grotesque and the truth he embraced became a falsehood” (Anderson, 2). What does this possibly mean? Maybe human’s imperfections corrupt and disrupt the beautiful matters of life. Maybe humans have their own truth to live by but are blinded by the other truths of the world; therefore, committing themselves to live by something that is not their own. OR maybe there is no such thing as the ‘truth’ when humans come into the picture.

But what is ‘truth’? No, really think about it. Is it the same thing as a fact? Because when we tell the truth, it can be a different version to another. If truth is a perception of reality, then there is never one truth or even a universal truth. You can believe in the same ‘truth’ as another but it can’t be the same because it becomes personalized in different ways. What my mom may think is the truth may be different from what I believe. Dictionary.com has many definition but all of them gravitate to “conformity with fact or reality; verity”. Really? Is that really what truth is? I think there is a reason why truth cannot be the same as a fact because truth is diverse. When you watch a crime movie, the prosecutors are always saying, “Tell the truth” but shouldn’t they just be saying, “Tell us what happened” because with the word ‘truth’ there can be so many discrepancies.

I guess I have digressed and have jumped from asking about the convenience of truth to what truth really is. But writing about it really made me think about what truth might be. 

19th Century Society vs. 21st Century Society: Different or Same?

19^th Century Society vs. 21^st Century Society: Different or Same?

           Last Friday night, I was in a car accident with my parents (don’t worry, no one was hurt). The car behind us rear ended us at 10:30 PM when we were coming back from church for Friday night service. We pulled up to an empty parking lot when the police to came. The officer was irritated that we have been “blocking the road” for ten minutes and couldn't understand why we would even try to cause traffic (as if he told us to get off the road!). He decided to yell at my dad for “not getting off the road”, so I had to tell the raging officer that my dad doesn't speak English. Then he decided to walk back to the car saying, “I don’t know what is so hard about following SIMPLE directions”. The attitude of the officer is the kind my parents have to put up with everyday because their race and inability to speak English makes them inferior in the eyes of American society. Although you might think, ‘not everyone is like that and there are plenty of people who try to understand’, but the sad reality is you are wrong. People have no idea how hard the lives of non-English speaking immigrants are. The fact that they can’t speak English makes them second-rate and unable to enjoy the basic privilege such as receiving respect. This kind of discrimination exists in all shapes and form in society in all ages. From the minute you enter society, it matter what clothes, shoes, cars, house, and etc. you possess, and the groups are organized into monetary standings. Therefore, Frankenstein became very relatable especially when the creature began his tale. Not only did I feel the connection of being an outcast, but also the desperation he felt when he decided to learn the language in order to become accepted. When he bemoans, “Could they turn from their door one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion and friendship?” (130), I knew exactly what he was feeling because I had been in the same situation. Although the inability to speak English might not seem as disastrous as having body formed of dead body parts, the struggle was real and genuine. The constant fear of thinking that people were judging me even when I learned to speak the language haunted me wherever I went. Maybe that is why I feel so much more at ease when I am with children and that’s why I love volunteering for children because they are less inclined to judge and I don’t have to mask any of myself from them. That is why it was really distressing when the creature couldn't find, not one, soul to find comfort from. At least I have my family and church children to care for and receive love from, but he had absolutely no one. Therefore, when I hear other students complaining about how the creature was in constant state of whining, I would think to myself, ‘you have no idea how deeply it hurts’. And the sad reality is that even if the creature were to be created again in the 21^st century, the society would still not accept its existence. 

Victor Frankenstein: Insane or Sane?

Victor Frankenstein: Insane or Sane?

Yesterday, during our small group discussion, a group member mentioned something very interesting and the thought has been on my mind for some time. So, I am going to blog about it. She said, "I think Frankenstein made the whole story up". When she said that I was at first, 'here's another girl who doesn't know what she is talking about. Why would we be talking about this book if everyone thought Victor was lying?' However, when I started to listen to what she had to say, I could see the her viewpoint. I mean, both Walton and Victor were two very passionate and goal driven people. And people who have strong desires and want to fulfill those desires sometimes are just overcome by their pursuits and can have the potential to go insane. Therefore, what if, just what if, Victor and Walton were making this story up? It said in the book, "For this (creating the creature) I had deprived myself of rest and health" (55). Victor was sleep deprived; he didn't eat when he had to; he didn't go outside for two years. How can a person living like that not go mentality crazed? Although Victor was intellectual, he was, in a way, taken over by his intellect. The knowledge and want of creating another creature and having the control over life and death made him immerse himself in years of research in a secluded place. And although he did attend college, the book does not mention any friendship being built. Victor voluntarily secludes himself from society and family. Maybe the story that he is telling Walton is just a fiction that he dreamed of because the trauma of creating the creature was too much to handle and damaged his brain. Also, Walton may be suffering from some kind of insanity as well and thought that he saw the monster on the ship. This preposition makes sense. After all, if Victor’s narration is false, then who other than Walton “saw” the monster? Walton also “voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep”. He was just like Victor in so many levels, so he could also suffer from the same mental failures as well. Also, perhaps Mary Shelley wanted to show that if an individual pursues a journey that goes against the natural ways of the world, it has the potential to ruin the person socially, morally, and physically. It took me a while to digest her preposition because the thought never occurred to me, and I had a firm belief in Victor’s sanity. However, once she spoke of the possibility of a fabricated story, I could not help myself from wondering and questioning whether I had perceived the story wrong. It is very fascinating how the book can be perceived and interpreted in so many various ways and levels. How one preposition can totally take me to another route in looking at the book is, in my opinion, the beauty of literature.