On the Topic of Home Fire...

 One thing that I annotated, primarily in jest at the time, was the note floor is floor in reference to a statement made by Isma regarding Eamann's subtle disdain for Islam: "Though what a foolish thing to assume of his father's son" (Shamsie 22).  The reason for this note is that the term "father's son" is often the least descriptive thing that could be said about an individual, and is honestly closer to an insult, that the most notable thing about an individual is their parent; if it is not meant as an insult, then it is often simply an unremarkable comment.

Although I had noticed at the end of the reading, it became abundantly clear following the group discussion that the choice of wording in this quote was a significant indicator of Isma's mentality. In class, it was noted that Isma drew parallels between Eamann and Parvaiz, as they were both noted as their fathers' sons; however, I believe that in addition to that, through the frequent referral back to their fathers, Isma is shifting the faults of the individuals she favors to their paternal figures. 

It's not a point of contention that Isma doesn't hate Parvaiz; this should be evident by her mental disarray when woken at 2:17 a.m., thinking that Parvaiz, whom she refers to as her "baby," had died (Shamsie 43). In fact, whenever Isma berates Parvaiz's character, it is always in reference to the influence of their father, so much so that Aneeka has to tell Isma that Parvaiz "is not our father" (Shamsie 44).  

Beyond that, through Isma's retelling of her childhood to Eamann, it is known that her father was a non-factor in Parvaiz's life, where behavior is almost entirely on the nurture side of the nature versus nurture debate. There is  little to no indication that her father would have affected Parvaiz in any way, but she sees his behavior as a parallel to their father's, and thus places blame on him rather than her "baby."

Similarly, we can also ascertain to a high degree of certainty that Isma doesn't hate Eamann; rather, she sees him as a romantic interest, if only to a superficial degree. Not only does she disclose the story of her childhood to Eamann, but she also, very explicitly and on multiple occasions, expresses her desire to be held by him. 

Despite this, when Eamann requests that Isma meet with his father in order to foster mutual understanding between them, Isma closes herself off, thinking that she "didn't want to understand anything about his father" (Shamsie 53). This would be a chance for Isma to see things from the perspective of the assimilated, which is a separate but equally, if not more so, important discussion, but she denies even the attempt, once again citing his father as a boogey man-like figure. 

Well, the long and short of it is that I believe that Isma is allowing her perception of paternal influence upon male offspring to dismantle her interpersonal relationships. As reading continues, and we see her interactions with more than two male characters,  we will be able to determine her mindset with more clarity.

On the Topic of Music...

Like many other before me who have been asked about their favorite genre/style/type of music, I will say that I enjoy all sorts of music. Unfortunately, that, although not untrue, is a generic answer that avoids the meat of the pending discussion: giving ample room to gush about your musical interests.

So here's a curveball to start: I adore foreign vocals, but not for any preference towards certain languages. See, vocal cords are some of the most expressive, flexible, and resonant instruments out there, and they capture emotion in a blunt, straightforward manner. Yet despite all these immaculate traits embodied by songs, I rarely find lyrics to be nearly as resonant as the voice itself; it's almost a letdown, and in some cases, there's no two ways about it. Enter foreign vocals, where I haven't the slightest notion what the vocalist is saying, but instead listening to what they convey through song. Could their intended meaning differ greatly from that which I assign, somewhat arbitrarily? Certainly, but the meaning that I find within their songs is the one that resonates most with my character and being. 

Naturally, that does not mean that I dislike vocals of any language that I understand. It's simply a difference of being told, to some extent, what to feel versus feeling what comes naturally.

Generally, I enjoy instrumental music, which is an incredibly broad term whose breadth I enjoy. Although I like both foreign vocals and instrumentals, I generally listen to vocals when trying to feel something, whilst instrumentals are often reserved for ambient music. I will say that instrumental music is just as capable of evoking emotion from me, but more often than not, that is because of a memory the instrumental is tied to rather than the music itself. Some notable mentions of instrumental genres I enjoy are Bossa Nova, High Classical, and Samba; music from these subgenres can be listened to in nearly any scenario, and sound great in them.

But it's common, indisputable knowledge that modern taste in music is whatever rabbit hole the  YouTube recommendations drags you down on any given day.

On the Topic of Annotating....

 I have to admit, my attitude towards annotation has oft been one of indifference at the best of times.

It's both a boon and a curse that I've had the pleasure of learning useful annotating practices from my instructors in the past; in high school, my teachers were adamant on leaving comments as annotation, and I fail to recall being encouraged to use simple highlights, underlines, or other symbols to grab attention. You might think to yourself, what could be the downside of learning proper, or at least passable, annotating techniques, and, honestly, the logical through line doesn't quite flow at first glance, or even over multiple glances. Rather, my great grievance with the annotating lies with the process itself.

Yes, I do admit that annotating is an incredibly useful tool academically, as students are highly unlikely to recall all the great ideas they had whilst reading a couple of days later when actually drafting an essay or the like. 

And yes, writing comments instead of symbols helps to preserve the state of mind that was present when reading and making said annotation. 

Annotating is a tried and true process that allows one to create footnotes for them to use, reflect on, or investigate at a later time, of that, there is little to no question. I have used annotation extensively thus far, and it has produced desirable results.

With all that said, I really couldn't care less. 

I believe that one of the greatest facets of reading lies in immersion, getting so invested into a narrative that you can glance at the clock, perhaps a passing fancy, see that the hours have passed you by, and find it to be of little consequence. Immersion is the hallmark of good writing, be it literature, cinematography, or gaming. Even if you haven't lost yourself in the pages of a novel--an experience that I sincerely hope everyone enjoys at least once--I would imagine that you've at least been glued to the edge of your seat in a theatre, or wrapped up in the story of a game. To internalize an experience is a blessing, and one of the brightest highlights of living.

And thus, my grievance: annotation prevents immersion. Perhaps this is an issue unique to me, but I cannot live alongside characters, see their world as if it were my own, when constantly being pulled away to take note of my every thought. The experience feels wholly businesslike, rather than the self-contained joy it ought to be. 

Is there joy to be had in annotating, in laying bare your thoughts, however insignificant they may seem, and exploring where they take you in analytic soliloquy? There very well may be, but does it equal or outweigh that of immersion? For another individual, perhaps, but I have yet to feel that ebullience.

That in mind, I will say that I use sticky notes when annotating, which may be related to my distaste for annotation, as it takes slightly longer than other methods. Irregardless, I absolutely refuse to write in books; it is a feeling of defilement and sacrilege that barrages my mind whenever I see it done, and would much rather leave temporary marks for temporary use.