New Book Day

In AP English we complete 25 page data sheets, write 5 paragraph essays in 30 minutes, and have graded discussions most days of the week. Surprisingly, the day we have to bring in money for a new book always seems to cause me as much worry, if not more, than data sheets, essays, and discussions. Things start to get a little stressful the night before when I go home and ask for $11.50 or $8.50 exact change. First, I just go straight to my mom's wallet to get the money, but she never has the correct change.  This means I actually have to ask her if she has $8.50 exact change. Then, she proceeds to get mad at me and tells me how irresponsible I am for telling her the night before I need it, and wants to know how long I've known I needed the money ...and so on. Actually, for The Namesake, I told her the morning of, and she had to go out in the early hours of the morning to break a 20 dollar bill. I am a little nervous to ask her for $8.50 tonight.

Along with the fact that I leave everything to the last second and I am always scrambling around the night before, or the morning of to get the exact change, I always seem to temporarily lose the money throughout the day. I zip it in one pocket of my backpack to make sure I do not lose it, and then forget where I put it. Or I will just nonchalantly toss it in my backpack and it will get buried under all of the papers and pencils, which I also just toss in there. Thankfully, the money never permanently disappears, and I am able to recover it before going into a complete panic.

Also, I find bringing the money to Ms. Serensky's desk to be a bit stressful. I always have this irrational fear that I will trip over my own two feet on the way up and embarrass myself in front of the whole class. Last time, I successfully made it up without tripping, and then forgot to get a book! Thankfully, Kaleigh O'Hara noticed I did not get a book last time, and kindly reminded me to get one. I never know whether to say "hi," or "thank you," or "here's my money," or just smile... or just keep the serious face I already have on and just turn in the money. I guess I should worry more about actually taking a book. I hope all goes well tomorrow, and that I successfully obtain the exact change needed, keep track of my money throughout the day, and do not do anything embarassing when turning it in.

Mustache, Or No Mustache?

This afternoon, I spent about an hour searching Google Images for a picture of teenage Moushumi. I could not find a single picture, which was a bit disappointing, as I wanted to post one along with my blog entry. I guess it is better without adolescent Moushumi. I would hate for my blog to make your eyeballs fall out of their sockets. In fact, I wish the filmmakers could have given us a little heads up about Moushumi. The following film is rated PG-13 for:  drug use, brief language, disturbing images, and Moushumi. Along with Moushumi, I found many aspects of the film The Namesake to be quite eye-opening.

TOP 10 EYE-OPENING MOMENTS OF THE FILM THE NAMESAKE:

1. The face that we got a short glimpse of when Ms. Serensky turned on the movie for the first time. After that preview, I feared what was to come...

2. Teenage Gogol: After looking at him for the first time, I felt a bit of shock. I could not quite pinpoint why Gogol struck me as so odd looking. Then, Katie Connolly pointed out: "He's 35! You can't just give him long, greasy hair and say he's a teenager." That was it.

3. MOUSHUMI: Is it just me, or does she have a slight mustache?

4. The sudden transformation of Gogol from adolescence to adulthood. I feared Gogol would never cut and comb his hair. That he would be walking the streets of New York City as an adult with a knee-long hair. It seemed to be past his shoulders already when he graduated from high school, so it was getting there...

5.  Ashima's Breakfast: Maybe it tasted better than it looked.

6. Gogol and Moushumi's Wedding: I have never seen a Bengali wedding before, so it was a bit of a shock when all of the people at the wedding were jumping up and down and sticking out their tongues.

7. Gogol's hair style: Obviously a fan of the tousled look.

8. The number of lines in the film that are a different variation of "hmm." When Maxine greets Ashima, she says "hmm." When Ashoke gives Gogol his graduation gift, he says "hmmm." Many different variations of "hmm" seem to appear in the subtitles, including the "hm" with one m, the "hmm" with two m's, and the "hmmm" with three or more m's. Exciting dialogue, huh?

9. Gogol's reaction to the Taj Mahal. I never knew visiting the Taj Mahal elicited such strange facial expressions. But then again, I have never visited the Taj Mahal, so I would not know.

10. Sonia's high school wardrobe: I happened to notice Sonia's eclectic wardrobe during the film, though Gogol's long hair seemed to steal the show.

I don't quite know why, but the strangest of films seem to entertain me the most. I do not know how much more my eyes can handle the sight of adolescent Moushumi, so I might not watch the movie ever again. On the other hand, I appreciate the laughter it has brought me over the past three days.

Put Yourself in Their Shoes

For the second night in a row, I find myself blogging about the class discussion. After hearing many opposing thoughts about Ashima and her assimilation into the American culture, I began to form my own opinion on the controversial matter. I acknowledge the fact that Ashima's acceptance of the American culture took quite a while, maybe even 30 years too long. On the other hand, Americans are not the most accepting bunch either. Take for example Judy, Ashima's neighbor, disapproving of her decision to give birth at a hospital. Since when do people just head on over to their neighbor's house to criticize the delivery of their child? In my neighborhood, we don't do such things.  Therefore, I believe we should put ourselves into Ashima's shoes before we assert opinions in regards to her assimilation into the American culture. I am not saying we should all show up to school one day wearing a sari, because that would be slightly offensive. But we should all think back to a time when we felt slightly out of place. I can think of many moments myself, all of which I would not like to relive anytime soon. I understand Ashima and her hesitation to incorporate the American culture into her life, as she finds it hard to express herself among such different people for a long time. It seemed as if she would never embrace the American way of life. Then, it seemed as if suddenly, she did. Rather than feeling happiness and pride, many people felt frustration, while thinking 'it only took you 32 years.' Though maybe 32 years is quite a bit of time, think about if you were in Ashima's situation. Imagine getting married to someone you hardly know, then hearing that you will be moving to a foreign country for their job. Sounds exciting to me. The furthest place I have traveled from home is Disney World. Therefore, I can not empathize with Ashima and her long-term seperation from home. I can only sympathize with her when I consider the circumstances of her life after her marriage to Ashoke. Ashima took many years to appreciate the American way of life, but I can not bring myself to fault her, as she overcomes so much conflict with herself and the American way of life. Can you?

Ignorance Is Bliss

As I walked out of the classroom after the bell rang, not after the announcements, our discussion about Gogol's passiveness still lingered in my mind. It remained as I drove home from school, and as I started my Biology homework. Therefore, I decided I should probably just stop everything and  blog. So I did. I empathize with Gogol and his passiveness, as I recently experienced a similar situation, though it did not involve marriage complications. A couple of weeks ago at tennis states, we faced a five-time state championship team. Like Gogol, who feels scared to confront Moushumi about the potential marriage issues, I felt scared to find out the potential issues I might face against my opponent. When other people on my team were discovering that their opponents were ranked third in the nation, and state finalists, I was clearly not unearthing anything of the sorts. In the back of my head, I had a bad feeling about this girl, a bad feeling that she was pretty good. On the other hand, like Gogol, I did not want to hear it. I made the decision to be a little bit ignorant at that time in my life. When I got on the court, I looked over to find that my opponent fell within the 4'8 to 4'9 range, and I thought 'she's shorter than the net, I can beat her!' Yes, I realize the meanness of my thought. My presumptuousness did me no good, as shortie hit winners left and right...and annihilated me. Obviously, I felt extremely upset. Extremely similar to Gogol's situation, I knew that my opponent might be great, but I just did not want to know that losing might be in the cards. Before the match, life was good. After the loss, life was not so good. Therefore, I believe that ignorance is bliss in some cases, in particular my experience at states, as I only felt happiness and excitement before I found out that my opponent was a machine. Obviously, a tennis match does not greatly compare to a marriage. On the other hand, my experience at an important competition lead me to understand Gogol and his fear of confronting Moushumi in regards to their marriage. In Chapter 12, Moushumi might do to Gogol what shortie did to me.

Why?

I would like to expand upon our class discussion, as we talked about the importance of a woman changing their name upon getting married. As I sat in class listening to numerous people talk of the respect that a name change signifies in a marriage, I wondered why the wife changes her name, rather than the husband. I found that the tradition is derived from Biblical history. Though I value the Biblical roots of the tradition, I do not agree with the modern application it. Today, women hold equal, if not superior jobs to that of their husband. Women, along with their husbands, possess bank accounts, credit cards, insurances, and passports, which require change if they choose to assume their husbands name after marriage. A husband does not just pop a ring on his wives finger and her name changes. The woman must go through a legal process in order to change her last name. Why is it only the woman who goes through all of the work to change their name? Many women already establish themselves through their maiden names, as Moushumi Mazoomdar does in Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake: "Besides, she [Moushumi] has begun to publish under Moushumi Mazoomdar"(227). Similar to Moushumi in The Namesake, many women establish their career previous to their marriage. Why should they, rather than their husband, have to go through the work of changing their name and causing potential confusion in regards to their career? Though Moushumi keeps her last name for career reasons, it seems as if this decision causes an unwarranted sense of complete independence from Gogol. Moushumi, after her marriage with Gogol, chooses to see Dimitri, an acquaintance, behind Gogol's back: "They begin seeing each other Mondays and Wednesdays"(263). Lahiri creates an unexpected twist to the plot, revealing the lack of respect that some women hold towards their wives. I agree with Lahiri, as I obviously do not condone infidelity. On the other hand, I do not believe that a name change guarentees loyalty and respect in a marriage. Many couples with the same last name cheat on each other, just as couples with different last names do. The same holds true for couples that remain loyal to each other. Therefore, if a husband and a wife live happily together and remain true to each other, why is a name change necessary? And why, in this modern and changing world, do the women have to do all of the work to change their name? I believe that in this modern world we live in, some things must change!

Rossipoopoo

Throughout the course of Jhumpa Lahiri's novel The Namesake, the internal and external conflicts involving Nikhil Ganguli and his undesired pet name "Gogol" seem to repeatedly resurface.  Though I am not of Indian descent, and do not partake in Bengali cultural practices, I can empathize with the frustration Nikhil feels towards his Bengali pet name, Gogol, as many people call me Rossipoopoo, a name that I strongly dislike. Gogol suffers previous to his legal name change: " It dismays him that his parents chose the weirdest namesake" (76). Lahiri indirectly characterizes Gogol as extremely frustrated over his parents choice of name, revealing the internal conflict he struggles with in regards to the name. Personally, I can empathize with him, as out of all the possible nicknames that my friend could have derived from my name, she chose Rossipoopoo. I wonder why she chose such a weird name, and like Gogol, I feel a bit of frustration towards her, as many people have picked up on the name and permanently call me Rossipoopoo. Along with the weird name choice, Gogol faces much scrutiny due to his odd pet name, and classmates call him "Giggle"(67). Lahiri reveals the external conflict Gogol faces, as people call him "Giggles." Like Gogol, the people who unfortunately refer to me as Rossipoopoo have come up with a host embarrassing variations of Rossipoopoo. Some of these include Rossipoo and  Rossipoopoopie, all of which I find disturbing. Therefore, I once again empathize with Gogol, or Nikhil, as the variations of Rossipoopoo cause me much embarrassment, as "Giggles" does for Gogol. Though Rossipoopoo holds no significance to my father, and does not hold any significance to my culture, I feel bad for Gogol. I understand that changing his name betrays his family and culture, but I understand his decision after dealing with the dreaded Rossipoopoo for years now.