My Dysfuctional Family's Thanksgiving

I know I already wrote once about Thanksgiving, but that was what I thought would happen. Now, I can write about what actully happened.
    First off, my real extended family, and my parents, don't really get along. We're not fans of my mom's side of the family, and my dad's side is just ok, so we've always chosen to spend Thanksgiving with close family friends instead. We invited our friends from Wisconsin, who had moved there from Belgium, to come spend Thanksgiving at our house. Their oldest son, a sophmore swimmer at Rider University flew in on Wednesday night. The next day, his family was due to arrive. The two parents, a senior boy, a freshman boy and a seventh grade girl were driving from Wisoconsin to Cleveland. They thought they would be here at around 2, so none of us ate anything. They didn't get to our house until 5, and we didn't eat until 7, which is highly unusual for my family, who usually likes to eat at 1ish.
     When their family finally got here, the kitchen turned into a loud packed shouting mess. People proceeded to yell in our so dubbed, "Frenchlish", which is a combination of French that the Hensens (our Belgian friends) and us try to speak and the Engish that my family speaks, that no one can make out. Our "Frenchlish" talk was not alone in all its Frenchlish-ness. That was our dinner too. The main dishes and side dishes were all American themed, and obviously we had pie, but the Belgian touches were there. All the alchohol for the parents was European, if it was Proseco, or Belgian Beer or Belgian Wine. Then there was the addition of Belgian Chocolate, which I didn't fight.
     Even though our Thanksgiving was out of the ordinary and dysfuctional, I loved it. Mixing us Belgians and Americans just makes Thanksgiving so much better.

Why Aren't Books Enough?

Everyone has read their fair share of books that have been turned into movies, and seen the movies that were based off of books. But, why is America obsessed with turning perfectly good and interesting books into movies?
     Personally, although I like watching the movies made about books I've read, I don't understand the thought process. Is it just about money? I wonder how the authors about these books feel now that their characters have actual faces, and their stories are brought to life. Obviously, if I was an author, I would be jumping for joy if my book was made into a movie, because that would mean alot of money, but is that the only reason I'd be happy? If you take away the money aspect, why do we make movies based on books? Is it to just create more million-dollar earning oppurtunities for production studios and movie stars? Is the movie worth it?
      I have never met someone who read a book, then saw the movie based on that book, and thought the movie was better. The book ALWAYS wins. So why bother with the movie? The book/movie concept just shows how greedy and money hungry America is. And don't get me wrong, I would be the same way if a production studio came and knocked on my door, but other than the money, I don't get it. Making a movie out of a book takes all the imagination out of it. How is that a good thing?
     I remember when I saw the first Harry Potter movie. I had read the book, and was sooo excited for the movie to come out. But when I saw all the characters, Hogwarts, and everything else, I automatically forgot how I had originally pictured it in my head. Although I loved the movie, I still had a strange sensation that the movie stole something from me. It took away the imagination I had had, and took away my own personal Hogwarts. Now, understandable that in big budget films like the Harry Potter series, the author probably got to decide how everything looked according to her imagination, but what about other movies?
     Are the authors even that involved? For instance, in The Namesake movie, our whole class agreed that Sonia looked nothing like how she was described in the book. Did Jhumpa Lahiri cast that actress? Or did some faceless casting director do it? Was The Namesake movie really what Lahiri imagined in her mind as she wrote the book?

Books that get made into movies are continuously entertaining, and earn hundreds of millions of dollars a year. But my question is just, what happens to the imagination of the readers? I understand how the money of the industry could persuade some, but is there any other reason for our obsession of actully SEEING what we're reading?

Thanksgiving. is. almost. here!!

Thanksgiving is EASILY one of my favorite holidays of the year. Just think about it, and ask yourself: What's not to love? First off, usually, at least in my case, I have to worry about very little of the preperations. I occasionally will make a pumpkin pie in an attempt to help out, but thats easy. So, while the rest of my family cooks, I get to sit lazily and happily on the couch, munching on bits of special muffins or baked goods that had been made by my mom ecspecially for "thanksgiving breakfast", and watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Then, after about two hours of this, my family plays football. Yes, it is annoying that the tradition of thanksgiving football interrupts my being lazy, but its still fun. The game usually ends up lasting only about twenty minutes. Normally ending because someone has gotten hurt, the uncles start yelling at eachother for cheating, coldness, or my mom yelling at everyone to come back and help cook. When this happens, that is my cousins and my cue to slip away unnoticed to the basement, until we are summoned to set the dining table we use ONLY for this occasion. Placecards are set, candles are lit, our finest china laid out, all in preparation for this massive meal. When you get to eating thanksgiving food, I'm sure, just like me, you go through three stages: excitement, satisfaction, and deep painful regret. The excitement is always fun, seeing all the food as it is set out, scooping mounds and mounds onto your plate, thinking "oh I won't eat all this" but you always do. Then, comes satisfaction. After you've eaten a good amount of food, you are full, satisfied, could easily stop eating and your stomach would be happy. But you legitimatize how you reach for seconds on mashed potatoes and stuffing thinking, "oh it's ok, it's thanksgiving!". Sadly after these short stages of edible bliss, comes the regret. The deep, painful, punishing regret. This regret is the feeling when you've eaten four times as much as you should have, and then pie. And then you spot an apple pie that wasn't on the table before, so you get some of that as well. You feel like you are about to explode into a million little Thanksgiving dinners, but yet, you still eat more. Sit, eat, sit, lay, stretch, eat, is basically your cycle for the remainder of the night. And even though this stage of regret is horrific, the deliciousness and overall era of the holiday make it bearable. I am beyond excited for this delicious and painful occasion.

Poor Goggles

Poor Goggles is the feeling I have towards Gogol in Lahiri's latest chapter. All through his life Gogol has had different intense struggles, and to now have his wife cheat on him is just terrible. First, not having true identity in his opinion, with an Indian heritage, American citizenship and Russian name, then having such an issue with his insecurity about his name, and going through that whole ordeal, and then with the death of his father, I feel so sad for Gogol because at this point, I feel like he deserves to be happy. I got so angry at Moshumi for cheating on Gogol, but I felt more sympathy for Gogol than I did anger at Moshumi. Gogol does exactly what she wants him to do, he goes out with her and her obnoxious friends, buys her nice gifts, and is a very nice and loving husband, and she repays him by cheating on him. I know Moshumi had her own reasons for cheating on Gogol, but Gogol did nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. The fact also that Gogol is so unsespecting and trusting of Moshumi, also evokes sympathy and empathy from me. He loves her so much that he is blind to her subtle differences since she had begun her affair. Over and over again, I think to myself, "Poor Goggles". Whether it is about his name, family, or marriage, the theme of sympathy for our protagonist runs strong throughout the book.

Moshumi

In Chapter 10, I feel like Lahiri made me completely and totally hate Moshumi. The whole book has been about Gogol, and to see our protagonist now be so easily deceived by the woman he loves, is heartbreaking. Although I am now fully judging Moshumi for her decision to be unfaithful and I despise her for that, Lahiri also creates a sense of pathos for her as well. In class we discussed how characterization of Moshumi could be somewhat positive, but I disagree. I do not think I realized any favorable qualities about Moshumi from this chapter. The only thing that I felt for her, that was not frustration, was slight sympathy. I understand that she remains trapped in a very unhappy marriage, but she did knowingly enter into the marriage, inflicting the misery on herself.
     I am the most frustrated with how superficial Moshumi is. When her assistant dies before Moshumi gets to work, Moshumi has no issue with going through her desk to find a stapler, merely hours after the woman had died, collapsed next to that very desk. Also, when Moshumi discusses how she had felt after her split from Graham, she says "She remembers the panic she had felt, all her friends were already married" (249). Moshumi just wanted to marry Gogol to be accepted, and be part of the "in" crowd. How Lahiri characterizes her as so superficial, takes away most of my sympathy for her, making it extremely difficult to like her even in the slightest.