Yep. I spoke it into happening. Monday night I was feeling like a cold COULD be coming, but I was like “nah… it won’t..”
It did. It sure did. Tuesday is usually my day off, which is great! So great! Cause that is when I plan to do homework! Guess who still went over the page limit despite being sick and wanting to be done with homework!
Today, well not today anymore it is 2 am as I write this, Wednesday was now my “writing the paper and making the presentation” day. I skipped chamber meeting and Guitar’s class cause I was sick. I couldn’t keep my head up. Found out hours later I could work laying down. So many hours later. Like at 10 pm when I started at 4pm. I also apparently did half the notes and didn’t read the other half the article Tuesday, so. I had to make this a huge work day. And honestly, I have been up and rocking since. But, laying down. So. Who knows if I will actually be healed to give this presentation or if I will forget all the great stuff I feverishly thought up at 2 am. Cause right now I think what I have is great, but watch. Tomorrow I am going to look at all this and go “…. what in the world was this guy on…”
Dayquil. Powerful stuff man. Laying down? Do it guys. Cause I LOCKED IN once I gave up on sitting up.
Bring me back to Monday when I was functional.
Bring me back to last Thursday when I jokingly said “you guys are never going to see me again”. Oh those were the days.
(Wash your hands, stay safe, people are DROPPING out here, the sickness is coming, you have been warned).
Also, lucky for all of you, you DON’T have to read a CJ yap! Instead you MIGHT (if I can manage to not die) get a CJ presentation!!!! Yaaaaayyyy!
I felt like this creature all day
But either I am a creature of the night, or laying down is the most magical thing ever, cause I did indeed get it all done. By 2 am. Yaaay! We love this guys. I may be healed by tomorrow? Let us hope. But, I mean, a CJ presentation is great and all, but it sure is not worth getting everyone sick over.
Stay strong soldiers. We shall maybe hopefully survive this.
For Dr Z: (or any of yall rats who want to be spoiled)
When reading Jonathan Alexander and Michelle Gibson’s “Queer Composition(s): Queer Theory in the Writing Classroom),” one of the first things I thought about was the importance of identity in the classroom and outside the classroom. Identity isn’t just a writing voice, writing agency, or persona; it’s who we truly are and our right to express our stories. The authors describe how they used Dorothy Allison’s Bastard Out of Carolina in a first-year composition class to highlight how personal stories are told and how writers can empower insights about themselves. The article explores the evolution of queer theory scholarship in composition studies, challenging the ideology that writing should only center academic pedagogies. The authors go beyond demonstrating that queer theory involves social and political norms, family structures, and the construction of our identities.
One significant idea from this article is that queer theory introduced marginalized perspectives into the classroom and transformed composition into a process pedagogy. The authors state, “for queer theory asks us to question, at the most fundamental levels and in the most essential ways, the nature of authorship, representation, and the process of coming into being through language.” It’s impacting how many people may think that queer theory is about just the inclusion of LGBTQ writers’ and scholars’ perspectives in writing studies, but it’s much more profound. It is about empowering identity, empowering story, and challenging the social norms of fixed identities. Queer theory shows us the power of language by bridging differences and giving a sense of belonging to communities. It wasn’t until the 1990s that queer theory offered scholarship to voices who felt they couldn’t express themselves in writing due to heteronormative narratives.
Many of the articles the authors mentioned, such as Margot Francis’s “On the Myth of Sexual Orientation: Field Notes from the Personal, Pedagogical, and Historical Discourses of Identity,” were remarkable works that broke stereotypes and resonated with many students’ and individuals’ experiences. Francis infers that the openness of identity categories and sexual orientation gives many people the confidence to understand that their sexual orientation should not be fixed by society. The importance of scholarly articles that use language connecting deeply with readers is essential. However, before the study of queer theory, scholarly articles were shaped by dominant narratives that excluded the perspectives and experiences of queer writers and readers. These dominant narratives were rooted in heteronormative approaches, which silenced the identities of queer individuals because this was considered “normal” in society.
In other words, this was the only story told to the public. Anybody catching my drift.
Of course, I see an enormous connection with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TED Talk “The Danger of a Single Story.” I connect them by reflecting on how identity is often treated as something already decided before we even begin to write or narrate. One thought I take away from Adichie’s talk is that identity is not just lived; it is narrated. The stories others tell about a specific group can create boundaries and rob them of their dignity. Therefore, in both the article and the TED Talk, I hear an echo of identity as fluid rather than predetermined. Identity cannot be generalized based on a single narration or experience. One single story, one perspective, can ruin the vibrant culture or identity of a group. One single story becomes a blindfold that prevents people from seeing past prejudice. One single story dismisses the essence and humanity of a person. One of my biggest takeaways is that every life holds more than one truth. And all of those truths should be valued.
The article and the TED Talk bring to mind my own experience. I’m from El Salvador, and I don’t know how many are familiar with my country’s history, but in 2015, El Salvador was labeled “the murder capital of the world” due to having the highest homicide rate per capita of any country. Every day, there were many murders. Government corruption and its association with gangs made my country a dangerous place for many innocent people. Many innocents lost their lives. For years, El Salvador was labeled as a poor, dangerous country bombarded by gang activity.
Years back, (which happened here in the U.S) I remember vividly when one of my former neighbors asked what country my family was from, and my mom, with a smile on her face, said, “El Salvador.” The first words that came out of that man’s mouth were, “Oohh, you guys gangsters from MS-13 or what gang?” in a joking manner. Then he said, “I’m just playing.” Though we knew he was joking, I could see my mom’s face drop slightly in embarrassment when she heard that. All I could think in that moment was: if only he knew the beautiful volcanic landmarks of El Salvador. How about the innocent, hard-working people who were labeled as criminals? How about its rich archaeological sites? How about my family, who don’t belong to a gang and have worthy jobs? The danger of a single story. My neighbor had one narrative, one fixed identity, that robbed us of our dignity.
In 2019, Nayib Bukele was elected president and became the first leader to dismantle the corrupt government parties that had dominated for years. Bukele brought dramatic change by eliminating gangs, raising the economy, and establishing one of the most sophisticated security systems in the region. Fast forward to the present, after two-hundred and one years, El Salvador has been labeled the safest country in Central America. I mention all of this because identities are constructed as fluid narrations (Alexander and Gibson). Identities are not fixed. They are not permanent. Identities change over time. Identity is something we tell through personal stories, cultural background, and lived experiences. We have the right to express our stories to break stereotypes and give voice to silenced and underrepresented communities.
