paziurejau i paskutinius komentarus ir tokiu radau keleta- "Hello there,
I was browsing the web and found this blog. Some interesting quotes. Keep them coming!
Alice" ir paskui cheap diet pills.
ar tai reiskia kazkokia automatine komercine ataka? cia panasiai kaip su (google?) emailu ir atitinkamu tai 'reikalingu' reklamu pasiuntimu.? gal gali kas paaiskint?
is manes prastas vertejas tai nesiimsiu,ir siaip daznai dalykai neisverciami.
nors is kitos puses noretusi daugiau rasyt lietuviskai ir stengtis biski atsispirt visam globaliam suanglejimui, ne del to kad globali kalba nereikalnga bet kad dominuoja ta kalba kuri dominuoja ir visa kita. manau buvo grazi ideja padaryt tarptautine kalba - esperanto. ir es dabar susisneketu, ir nebutu zaparo del kas ka dominuoja. nes su kalba kaip zinia persiduoda ir kultura. gal persiduoda cia perpaprasta, turbut transformuojasi.
neretai buna kad nerandu atitikmenu kazkokiems zodziams , savokoms, bet gal reiketu pasistengt tas savokas sukurt, o ne vartot originalias. gal tokiu budu pradedi kazkokiu budu nuvertint savo kalba, nes ji negali kazko isreikst? nieviem :)
pasirode grazi rasliava. neradau niekur internete tai bespausdindamas galiu padaryt klaidu.
This semester I have been teaching a course entitled Women and Notion of Property. I have been focusing on the ways in which gender affects individuals' perspectives - gender in this instance having less to do with biology of male and female than with language of power relations, of dominance and submission, of assertion and deference, of big and little. An example of the stories we discuss is the following, used to illustrate the rhetoric of power relations, whose examination, I tell my students, is at the heart of the course.
Walking down Fifth Avenue in New York not long ago, I came up behind a couple and their young son. The child, about four or five years old, had evidently been complaining about big dogs. The mother was saying, "But why are you affraid of big dogs?" "Because they're big," he responded with eminent good sense. "But what's the difference between a big dog and a little dog?" the father persisted. "They're big," said the child. "But there's really no difference," said mother, pointing to a large, slathering wolfhound with narrow eyes and the calculated amble of a gangster, and then to a beribboned Pekingese the size of a roller skate, who was flouncing along just ahead of us all, in that little fox-trotty step that keeps Pekingese from ever being taken seriously. "See?" said the father. "If you look really closely you'll see there's no difference at all. They're all just dogs."
And I thought: Talk about a static, unyieliding, totally uncompromising point of reference. These people must be lawyers. Where else do people learn so well the idiocies of High Objectivity? How else do people learn to capitulate so uncritically to a norm that refuses to allow for difference? How else do grown-ups sink so deeply into the authoritarianism of their own world view that they can universalize their relative bigness so completely as to obliterate the viewpoint of their child's relative smallness?(To say nothing of the viewpoint of the slathering wolfhound, from whose own narrow perspective I dare say the little boy must have looked exactly like a lamb chop.)
I use this story in my class because I think it illustrates a paradigm of thought by which children are taught not to see what they see; by which African Americans are reassured that there is no real inequality in the world, just their own bad dreams; and by which women are taught not to experience what they experience what they experience, in deference to men's ways of knowing. The story also illustrates the possibility of a collective perspective or social positioning that would give rise to a claim for the legal interests of groups. In a historical moment when individual rights have become the basis for any remedy, too often group interests defeated by, for example, finding the one four year old who has wrestled whole packs of wolfhounds fearlessly to the ground; using that individual experience to atack the validity of there ever being any generalizable fear of wolfhounds by four year olds; and then recasting the general group experience as a fragmented series of specific, isolated events rather than pervasive social phenomenon ("You have every right to think that wolfhound has the ability to bite off your head, but that's just your point of view").
My students, most of whom signed up expecting to experience that crisp, refreshing, clear-headed sensation that "thinking like a lawyer" purportedly endows, are confused by this and other stories I tell them in my class on Women and Notions of Property. They are consfused enough by the idea of property alone, overwhelmed by thought of dogs and women as academic subjects, and paralized by the idea that poverty, ownership, and rights might have a gender and that gender might be a matter of words.