Conformity: Yes or No

"The reward for conformity was that everyone liked you except yourself."
~Rita Mae Brown, Venus Envy


The short story "A Hunger Artist" by Franz Kafka showed the story of a hunger artist rising to fame, at the peak of stardom and falling in his downfall. The hunger artist not only featured himself but also the other artists who in one way or another had the same situation with the hunger artist.

Conformity is a common thing among artists. In order for them to survive in the industry, artists have to satisfy not only what the audience wants but also with what the art community dictates them to be. Often, they are caged in a sense that they can't express their own ideals. In the short story, it was shown how the hunger artist was placed in a cage and was left there to fast. He was literary caged. The cage symbolizes the things the hunger artist had to conform with. The same thing is happening to most artists. They are caged in a way that they produce art but lack a sense of freedom. And in the process of conformity, these artists rises to stardom reflecting what the audience thought the real him or her. But constant conformity has its own downfall. It bores the audience which makes or breaks an artist's career. It was clearly shown in the story how the people lost their interest in seeing the hunger artist doing the same old thing. And attempting to revive his old status, the hunger artist joined the circus determined to uphold what his art really is. But the people lost their interest and in a way disheartened the artist. Same is true in reality when finally an artist takes a stand to defend his or her art, people are disinterested. The audience are tired and bored in seeing the same old thing. They want a novelty, something new. Also, new artists are more welcomed by the audience. For example in the ending, it was clearly shown how the dead hungry artist was replaced by a young panther. The funny thing is that the young panther seemed to not miss the wild and instead liked the thought of being held in captivity. But can we blame him? Why would he miss the wild when he can have all his need by just being in that cage plus he was safe from forces of nature?

A Hunger Artist is a good representation of a life of an artist. It clearly stated how artists need to choose; be yourself and suffer the consequences or conform and enjoy what lays before you.

Best Friend Lost

“Tick, tack, tick, tack”, I can clearly hear the clock as it turned three in the morning. And slowly, memories of the past rushed in.

I grew up striving to get loose of poverty. She grew up with all riches the world could offer. I longed to be someone. She had it all. I was poor. She was rich. I’m Delilah. She’s Carol. We are opposites and we’re best friends.

Carol and I met during a summer camp in our high school. We became partners and since then we were inseparable. We enrolled in the same university with the same course, Bachelor of Science in Biology. Everything was great, until Eden came.

Ed was what you would call a boy-next-door. He was cute, charming, caring, intelligent, rich, famous, and hot, he’s everything. And he loves me. Well, that’s what I thought. We dated for quite sometime and eventually became a couple. I was very happy, ecstatic to be exact and I called my best friend for the good news. She was happy, I think, when I broke the news.

Everything moved on smoothly. But, then something happened. Ed and I broke up. He said he doesn’t love me anymore and that there’s another girl. I was hurt but I accepted it.

Months later, everyone was busy preparing for the upcoming prom night. My attention was diverted from my broken heart to my look during the big night. The prom’s going to be a masquerade/costume party where everyone can be what they want to be. I was planning to be someone elegant and enchanting.

I was going through the mall when a pair caught my attention. Ed and Carol were holding hands and affectionately looking at each other. I was shocked and dumbfounded. I quickly got out of the mall and went directly to our house. I was hurt.

“I can’t believe it!” I cried.

“How could she do this to me? I’m her best friend.” I helplessly thought.

"She had everything and Ed could have been the best thing that had happened in my life."

I cried and cried. I cried my eyes out. Then, an evil plan crossed my mind. I was hesitant but then wrath overpowered me.

Prom night came. I was dressed like the Goddess Nemesis. Everyone was at their best, wearing costumes and masks. And then, I saw her. She was in her nymph costume. She was gorgeous and feelings of envy and hatred surge in.

It was around two in the morning when I made my move. I walked to where she is and luckily Ed’s not around and she’s drunk.

“Carol! You look dashing!” I half-heartedly commented.

“Really! Ha, ha, ha!” She laughed, obviously intoxicated with the drink.

“So, what’s with you and Ed?” I asked.

“Well, actually I was going to tell bit I was waiting for the right moment to break the news to you, looks like someone has told you already. I hope you’ll understand Lilah.” She said.

“What? Me? Of course, there’s nothing to worry about.” I said. “You wish! You betrayed me!” I thought.

“Well, there’s something I wanted to show you!” I exclaimed.

“What?” she asked.

“I had recently found a half-century old morgue/funeral house. And it has old equipments that aren’t present nowadays.” I said.

“Are you kidding me? Are there remnants of the bodies that were stocked in there?

“I think so.”

“Then, let’s go.”

We hurriedly went to the morgue. The morgue looks like it’s going to fall any time. It was near a creepy cemetery. We went inside and a filthy smell greeted us. But we continued and went down to the basement where the corpses are supposed to be stored years ago.

“How did you found this place?” Carol asked.

“I was strolling in the area and suddenly found myself in front this place.”

“Oh, like it showed itself to you?”

“Well, yeah sort of. It feels like it chose me for reasons only this place could knew” I laughed.

Then, we reached our destination. When we pushed the door open, it creaked loudly and brought creeps to Carol.

“Wow, the place really old ha?” Carol commented.

“Yeah, fifty years is quite long.” I said.

As she explored the things around, I found a metal rod. It was two inches in width. I grabbed it and wet beside Carol.

“So, you and Ed that serious?”

“Uhmm, yeah. He said he loved me so much.”

“Oh!”

“He often tells me about his plans for our future and….”

Carol didn’t finish what she was about to say. I smashed the metal rod to her head. She was unconscious. I dragged her into the incinerator. Flames engulfed her body as I closed the incinerator.

My heart felt heavy. I cleared my throat. Maybe it’s conscience, maybe not. Or may be it’s just the eerie atmosphere. As I walked away from the place, I looked back and murmured “May you rest in peace, Carol.”

Carol’s disappearance that night gave me everything I wanted including Ed. Years later, we married and had a family.

The sound of the chimes brought me back to the present. And as the clock strikes, reminding me of Ed’s 1^st death anniversary. He died in a car accident and coincidentally died in the same date with Carol's. Exactly forty-one years, my best friend disappeared and hasn’t been found.

a whole new perspective.. .

"Keep smilin', keep shinin', Knowin' you can always count on me, for sure
That's what friends are for
For good times and bad times, I'll be on your side forever more
That's what friends are for"

Friends are people, who are not your relatives, whom you can lean on during your ups and downs. They wait nothing in return. They would be there, always ready to help. Just like the wife and the old man in the short story "Cathedral". It was shown how they've stayed connected for a long time. The blind man seemed to be the wife's confidant. She'd told him everything, including her problems. She went through it with him. And as a way to express her gratitude, she made sure he's comfortable in his visit in her house. She made sure everything is alright with the blind man.

At first, I chose the character of the wife because I thought it was the easiest character to portray and she appeared less than the other characters. But, then I realized she played a major role in the story. She was the perfect epitome of almost everyone who'll come across a blind man. I think I would do most of the things that the wife has done. I would also think that it would be the best thing to do, to consider his or her feelings. She was just being a friend, a good good friend. A friend who's trying to help a friend. The wife's character was a whole new perspective. The following is my interpretation of the scenes if I would be the wife.

*The statements in asterisks are my interpretation.

I saw my wife laughing as she parked the car. I saw her get out of the car and shut the door. She was still wearing a smile. Just amazing. She went around to the other side of the car to where the blind man was already starting to get out. This blind man, feature this, he was wearing a full beard! A beard on a blind man! Too much, I say. The blind man reached into the backseat and dragged out a suitcase. My wife took his arm, shut the car door, and, talking all the way, moved him down the drive and then up the steps to the front porch. I turned off the TV. I finished my drink, rinsed the glass, dried my hands. Then I went to the door.

* As I parked the car, Robert and I had started a conversation. "Oh yeah, I remember that one!", I said. I laughed as distant memories rushed in. I can't help but smile as I get out the car. I reached out and took Robert's arm. We began chatting as we approached the house. And there, at the door is my husband awaiting for us with an expression I can't seem to comprehend.

My wife said, “I want you to meet Robert. Robert, this is my husband. I’ve told you all about him.” She was beaming. She had this blind man by his coat sleeve.
The blind man let go of his suitcase and up came his hand.
I took it. He squeezed hard, held my hand, and then he let it go.

*I introduced the two most important men in my life. "I want you to meet Robert. Robert, this is my husband. I’ve told you all about him.” I was beaming. I was really happy. Robert reached out his hand and my husband took it.

“Likewise,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. Then I said, “Welcome. I’ve heard a lot about you.” We began to move then, a little group, from the porch into the living room, my wife guiding him by the arm. The blind man was carrying his suitcase in his other hand. My wife said things like, “To your left here, Robert. That’s right. Now watch it, there’s a chair. That’s it. Sit down right here. This is the sofa. We just bought this sofa two weeks ago.”

*As I we went inside the house, I was really careful to the point that I was sort of instructing Robert. “To your left here, Robert. That’s right. Now watch it, there’s a chair. That’s it. Sit down right here. This is the sofa. We just bought this sofa two weeks ago.” I was talking like a mother talking to a child. It may sound like too much. Robert is a much treasured friend.

“Did you have a good train ride?” I said. “Which side of the train did you sit on, by the way?”
“What a question, which side!” my wife said. “What’s it matter which side?” she said.
“I just asked,” I said.
“Right side,” the blind man said. “I hadn’t been on a train in nearly forty years. Not since I was a kid. With my folks. That’s been a long time. I’d nearly forgotten the sensation. I have winter in my beard now, “ he said. “So I’ve been told, anyway. Do I look distinguished, my dear?” the blind man said to my wife.
“You look distinguished, Robert,” she said. “Robert,” she said. “Robert, it’s just so good to see you.”
My wife finally took her eyes off the blind man and looked at me. I had the feeling she didn’t like what she saw. I shrugged.

* Everything seemed okay. But suddenly this loving husband of mine asked him on which side of the train did he sit. I was really embarassed with my husband's words. How can he be so inconsiderate!

I said, “Let me get you a drink. What’s your pleasure? We have a little bit of everything. It’s one of our pastimes.”
“Bub, I’m a Scotch man myself,” he said fast enough in this big voice.
“Right,” I said. Bub! “Sure you are. I knew it.”
He let his fingers touch his suitcase, which was sitting alongside the sofa. He was taking his bearings. I didn’t blame him for that.
“I’ll move that up to your room,” my wife said.
“No, that’s fine,” the blind man said loudly. “It can go up when I go up.”
“A little water with the Scotch?” I said.
“Very little,” he said.
“I knew it, “ I said.
He said, “Just a tad. The Irish actor, Barry Fitzgerald? I’m like that fellow. When I drink water, Fitzgerald said, I drink water. When I drink whiskey, I drink whiskey.” My wife laughed. The blind man brought his hand up under his beard. He lifted his beard slowly and let it drop.
I remembered having read somewhere that the blind didn’t smoke because, as speculation had it, they couldn’t see the smoke they exhaled. I though I knew that much and that much only about blind people. But this blind man smoked his cigarette down to the nubbin and then lit another one. This blind man filled his ashtray and my wife emptied it. I did the drinks, three big glasses of Scotch with a splash of water in each. Then we made ourselves comfortable and talked about Robert’s travels. First the long flight from the West Coast to Connecticut, we covered that. Then from Connecticut up here by train. We had another drink concerning that leg of the trip.

* Good thing, Robert doesn't seem to notice anything. My husband offered a drink which Robert gladly accepted. We had a little chit chat before we eat our dinner. I was laughing all along with Robert's antics.

When we sat down at the table for dinner, we had another drink. M wife heaped Robert’s plate with cube steak, scalloped potatoes, green beans. I buttered him up two slices of bread. I said, “Here’s bread and butter for you.” I swallowed some of my drink. “Now let us pray,” I said, and the blind man lowered his head. My wife looked at me, her mouth agape. “Pray the phone won’t ring and the food doesn’t get cold,” I said.

We dug in. We ate everything there was to eat on the table. We ate like there was no tomorrow. We didn’t talk. We ate. We scarfed. We grazed the table. We were into serious eating. The blind man had right away located his foods, he knew just where everything was on his plate. I watched with admiration as he used his knife and fork on the meat. He’d cut two pieces of the meat, fork the meat into his mouth, and then go all out for the scalloped potatoes, the beans next, and then he’d tear off a hunk of buttered bread and eat that. He’d follow this up with a big drink of milk. It didn’t seem to bother him to use his fingers once in a while, either.

*We had a silent dinner. Nobody seemed to care in breaking the atmosphere. As I was Robert, I felt glad because he acts really normal even the way he eats. He eats like a normal one.

We finished everything, including half a strawberry pie. For a few moments, we sat as if stunned. Swear beaded on our faces. Finally, we got up from the table and left the dirty plates. We didn’t look back. We took ourselves into the living room and sank into our places again. Robert and my wife sat on the sofa. I took the big chair. We had us two or three more drinks while they talked about the major things that had come to pass for them in the past ten years. For the most part, I just listened. Now and then I joined in. I didn’t want him to think I’d left the room, and I didn’t want her to think I was feeling left out. They talked of things that had happened to them—to them!—these past ten years. I waited in vain to hear my name on my wife’s sweet lips: “And then my dear husband came into my life”—something like that. But I heard nothing of the sort. More talk of Robert. Robert had done a little of everything, it seemed, a regular blind jack-of-all-trades. But most recently he and his wife had had an Amway distributorship, from which, I gathered, they’d earned a living, such as it was. The blind man was also a ham radio operator. He talked in his loud voice about conversations he’d had with fellow operators in Guam, in the Philippines, in Alaska, and even in Tahiti. He said he’d have a lot of friends there if her ever wanted to go visit those places. From time to time, he’d turn his blind face toward me, put his hand under his beard, ask me something. How long had I been in my present position? (Three years.) Did I like my work? (I didn’t.) Was I going to stay with it? (What were the options?) Finally, when I thought he was beginning to run down, I got up and turned on the TV.

*After dinner, we proceed to the living room and continued our conversation there. We filled each other with events from the past. Robert asked my husband about his work. After answering, he got up and turned on the tv. What is he doing? Doesn't he know Robert's blind?!

My wife looked at me with irritation. She was heading toward a boil. Then she looked at the blind man and said, “Robert, do you have a TV?”
The blind man said, “My dear, I have two TVs. I have a color set and a black-and-white thing, an old relic. It’s funny, but if I turn the TV on, and I’m always turning it on, I turn on the color set. It’s funny, don’t you think?”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I had absolutely nothing to say to that. No opinion. So I watched the news program and tried to listen to what the announcer was saying.
“This is a color TV,” the blind man said. “Don’t ask me how, but I can tell.”
“We traded up a while ago,” I said.

* I asked Robert if he had a tv. And I was amazed when he answered he had two, a colored and a black and white.

The blind man had another taste of his drink. He lifted his beard, sniffed it, and let it fall. He leaned forward on the sofa. He positioned his ashtray on the coffee table, then put the lighter to his cigarette. He leaned back on the sofa and crossed his legs at the ankles.
My wife covered her mouth, and then she yawned. She stretched. She said, “I think I’ll go upstairs and put on my robe. I think I’ll change into something else. Robert, you make yourself comfortable,” she said.
“I’m comfortable,” the blind man said.
“I want you to feel comfortable in this house,” she said.
“I am comfortable,” the blind man said.

*We continued drinking and smoking and suddenly I felt sleepy. I told them that I'll go upstairs to refresh and change my clothes. Before going upstairs, I asked Robert if he's ok and he said yes. I excused myself and went upstairs. But as I left the room, I felt uneasy leaving Robert with my husband. Not that I don't trust my husband, it's just that he can be so incosiderate sometimes. So , I hasten up my actions to get down right away.

My wife came back downstairs wearing her pink robe and her pink slippers.
“What do I smell?” she said.
“We thought we’d have us some cannabis,” I said.
My wife gave me a savage look. Then she looked at the blind man and said, “Robert, I didn’t know you smoked.”
He said, “I do now, my dear. There’s a first time for everything. But I don’t feel anything yet.”
“This stuff is pretty mellow,” I said. “This stuff is mild. It’s dope you can reason with,” I said. “It doesn’t mess you up.”
“Not much it doesn’t, bub,” he said, and laughed.
My wife sat on the sofa between the blind man and me. I passed her the number. She took it and toked and then passed it back to me. “Which way is this going?” she said. Then she said, “I shouldn’t be smoking this. I can hardly keep my eyes open as it is. That dinner did me in. I shouldn’t have eaten so much.”
“It was the strawberry pie,” the blind man said. “That’s what did it,” he said, and he laughed his big laugh. Then he shook his head.
“There’s more strawberry pie,” I said.
“Do you want some more, Robert?” my wife said.
“Maybe in a little while,” he said.

*I was surprised with what I saw when I went down, they were smoking. I asked Robert if he really did smoke and he answered that there's a first time for everything. But what can I do? So, I just let them be. I felt sleepy again and decided to offer Robert with the strawberry pie. But he said, "Maybe in a little while."

We gave our attention to the TV. My wife yawned again. She said, “Your bed is made up when you feel like going to bed, Robert. I know you must have had a long day. When you’re ready to go to bed, say so.”
She pulled his arm. “Robert?”
He came to and said, “I’ve had a real nice time. This beats tapes, doesn’t it?”
I said, “Coming at you,” and I put the number between his fingers. He inhaled, held the smoke, and then let it go. It was like he’d been doing this since he was nine years old.
“Thanks, bub,” he said. “But I think this is all for me. I think I’m beginning to feel it,” he said. He held the burning roach out for my wife.
“Same here,” she said. “Ditto. Me, too.” She took the roach and passed it to me. “I may just sit here for a while between you two guys with my eyes closed. But don’t let me bother you, okay? Either one of you. If it bothers you, say so. Otherwise, I may just sit here with my eyes closed until you’re ready to go to bed,” she said. “Your bed’s made up, Robert, when you’re ready. It’s right next to our room at the top of the stairs. We’ll show you up when you’re ready. You wake me up now, you guys, if I fall asleep.” She said that and then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

*We watched tv but the sleepiness just won't go away. So, I decided to make a nap there, in between them. Maybe, everything's going to be fine.

My wife opened up her eyes and gazed at us. She sat up on the sofa, her robe hanging open. She said, “What are you doing? Tell me, I want to know.”
I didn’t answer her.
The blind man said, “We’re drawing a cathedral. Me and him are working on it. Press hard,” he said to me. “That’s right. That’s good,” he said. “Sure. You got it, bub. I can tell. You didn’t think you could. But you can, can’t you? You’re cooking with gas now. You know what I’m saying? We’re going to really have us something here in a minute. How’s the old arm?” he said. “Put some people in there now. What’s a cathedral without people?”

* As I opened my eyes, I was surprised with the scene infront me. Both were concentrating in drawing something in a paper. I asked them what's happening but my husband doesn't seemed to hear me. Robert answered me and said they were drawing a cathedral.

My wife said, “What’s going on? Robert, what are you doing? What’s going on?”
“It’s all right,” he said to her. “Close your eyes now,” the blind man said to me.
I did it. I closed them just like he said.
“Are they closed?” he said. “Don’t fudge.”
“They’re closed,” I said.
“Keep them that way,” he said. He said, “Don’t stop now. Draw.”
So we kept on with it. His fingers rode my fingers as my hand went over the paper. It was like nothing else in my life up to now.
Then he said, “I think that’s it. I think you got it,” he said. “Take a look. What do you think?”
But I had my eyes closed. I thought I’d keep them that way for a little longer. I thought it was something I ought to do.
“Well?” he said. “Are you looking?”
My eyes were still closed. I was in my house. I knew that. But I didn’t feel like I was inside anything.
“It’s really something,” I said.

* I was really curious with what's happening. Both of them seemed engrossed with what they're doing, especially my husband. He seemed so moved with what Robert had let him see with their activity.