Immortality

         I found a piece of paper that described two different fantasy worlds on my mom’s book shelve. I was unable to scan it into the computer because the print was too faded. I decided to write about which world I would choose if I was forced to make one. This was a hard choice because both imaginary worlds had so many problems. There were some likable qualities but the bad over shadowed them. However, reading these scenarios has taught me about myself, my life and even about death.

 If I had to choose one of these worlds to live in it would have to be the one in the second scenario. I don’t choose this one because I would live forever but because I would be able to have a relationship with my family and friends. In the other world, where you only live one day, people never take the time to be family and friends. When they pass a person on the street, they glance their way then hurry on. If they go for tea, they are constantly watching the clock because they know exactly how many hours they have left. When they only live one day, half of their life is spent in either the light or the darkness, depending on when they were born. When the light changes, the people are scared and they don’t know what to do. They only seen one season; summer, winter, spring or fall. Each person only sees what is blooming right then. People spend their whole lives hurrying about, rushing and nervously studying the changing angles of the shadows. Parents have died at midnight or midday. Siblings have moved away to different cities to seize that passing opportunity. Friends have changed as the sun moves across the sky. You end up alone, realizing you know no one and no one knows you. Their life is scattered in pieces of conversations, “forgotten by fragments of people”.  I would not choose this life. It’s a life of loneliness without family, friends and loved ones.

The other world, though it too has its down falls, is the one I would chose to live in. As stated earlier, I did not choose this world because I would get to live forever; I chose it because family is the most important thing in my life. In this world, the population of each city is split in to two groups: the Laters and the Nows. The Laters believe that there is no rush because they literally have forever to do what they want. There is no hurry to read a book, go back to school, learn another language, to fall in love or raise a family. There will always be time, so there no need to speed through life. They wear loose clothes, sip coffee for hours or have a leisurely walk. They can easily slip into a conversation discussing the possibilities of life. The Nows have a different belief system. They believe that because life in infinite and so are the amount of things they can do. They can have an infinite number of jobs. They can marry an infinite number of people an infinite number of times. They can have any career they want and as many as they want. They are constantly reading book, learning new languages and trades. To get the most out of life, the Nows begin early in life and never slow down. They are the owners of businesses, the doctors, the college professors, and the politicians.  They rock their leg when they sit and they miss nothing. When they meet another Now, they compare life successes and trade information, all the while glancing at their watches.  When Laters meet another Later, they ponder life and the future.

Each have huge families because no one ever dies. The down side to this family is that one person cannot just ask one parent about any one thing. That parent then has to ask his or her parent and so on and so forth.  This means nothing will ever be finished. No one will ever be able to make a decision on their own. Bridges will only be half finished; building will have no roofs and sentences left unfinished. Engagements will be broken just before weddings and people will always be conscious of who is watching them.

So if I had to choose what world to live in I would choose the over baring families and the indecisive actions verses the life of loneliness and emptiness.  I would take the crazy, never ending family tree over the idea of dying without a single person knowing or caring. With any life worth living, you have to take the good and the bad. The choice is hardly ever easy and the cons may outweigh the pros 2/1 but sometimes there is that one thing you can’t live without. I could not live without my family and that doesn’t just include blood related family. I believe every person you choose to share important parts of your life with are family. Life would not be worth living without them. 

Taming of the Shrew

( I had these done earlier but for some reason they were sent straight to drafts instead of being published. If anyone knows why this happened, leave a comment and let me know. thanks!) 

At the end of The Taming of the Shrew, Katharina gives the final speech. Many call this an act of total submission but that is not true.  With her tongue firmly in cheek, she delivers this speech in quite a satirical way. Shakespeare clearly went straight for the irony in this monologue; some may even go so far as to call Katharina’s closing monologue an elaborate joke.  The pomposity of her language does not match the subject matter.  This play continues its deeply ironic current as Katharina is given the last word even after Petruchio had subjected her to such a cruel series of taming techniques. If this was meant to be a legitimate speech, it would have been given by Petruchio. Not only is Katharina given the last word, but also the longest speech in the play. Her words are dripping with sarcasm as she looks at the men who spent most of the play in comic confusion. In her moment of female supremacy, she seemed to say, See how I play your game, now watch as I beat you at it.

In the last scene, it is clearly seen that Katharina is not “tamed”, she merely was waiting for the perfect time to put an end to the game. She may not be a shrew anymore but she will never be just a housewife.  Petruchio never really wanted to break or tame Katharina. In fact, she was the only woman who could outwit him. Clement eloquently states that, "If he dishes something out to her, she dishes it back to him twice as bad. He's constantly having to improvise" (Clement). Petruchio liked the challenge Katharina confronted him with since it forced him to stay sharp and quick. It may even be argued that he saved Katharina from losing her feminist views.  He gave her a place and a person who would listen and intrigue her while allowing her to be herself.  This idea is further proven in the tone of Katharina’s final speech.  The verse is not only disjointed, but there are also multiple ‘what(s)’ and ‘why(s)’ as if she was never listened to before. “Petruchio gives her the power of speech and language: he gives her freedom to speak” (Costa). Consequently, they saved each other from being social outcasts. Katharina would have gone from “shrew to witch and end[ed] her days as a madwoman”(Costa), whereas Petruchio would have never found the a woman his equal both emotionally and verbally.

REALLY!!!!!!

        So, I went to the Kirkwood Library this past weekend and picked up some books for other projects and such. While there, I saw that they had a whole SAT and AP section. I found two editions on the Princeton Review Cracking the AP English Literature and composition Exam. One of the books was from the year 2011 and the other was the 2013 edition. I picked them up because each one has two complete practice tests. When I got home, I starting flipping through the pages of each and found most of the information Mrs. Healey had already taught us (not much of a shocker there :). However there was one major problem; both books were the same, EXTACTLY WORD FOR WORD! Needless to same, I was not a happy camper. Even the sample questions and the practice tests were the same. I couldn't believe it. So for at least three years and probably more than that, this company has been reprinting the same information with a different cover.

       It may be a good review book but there is always room for improvement. If the test is different every year than the review books should be too.

Once More, The Round by Theodore Roethke

What's greater, Pebble or Pond?
What can be known? The Unknown.
My true self runs toward a Hill
More! O More! visible.

Now I adore my life
With the Bird, the abiding Leaf,
With the Fish, the questing Snail,
And the Eye altering All;
And I dance with William Blake
For love, for Love's sake;

And everything comes to One,
As we dance on, dance on, dance on.

I was so happy when I read this poem. Roethke had hard life and here it looks as if he finally found his peace. Here Roethke writes of his life without stress and tension. He starts of by wondering about the unknown and almost seeing the answers. They get clearer and clearer. The turn in the poem is on line five and it’s not only the turn of the poem, but it seems it is also the shift in Roethke’s life. “Now I adore my life.”

Roethke writes that he finds an eye that sees all. In the Hindu and Buddhist religions, there is a third eye. This is the spiritual eye. When the other two look out, this one looks inside one’s self. It is used to find yourself and peace. Roethke believes he has found his third eye. He no longer feels lost. His questions have been answered and he has found his inner harmony. He understands and accepts that the world changes and will always change but now he has the foundation to move with it.

The tone in this poem, changes slightly from stanza to stanza. The first four lines are filled with seeking, and yearning; chasing the knowledge that he can feel is just so close. The next six lines are joyous in the presence of finally finding solace. He learned what he needed. The last two lines sing of peace and closure. He accepts that the world will continue to move and dance but now he can dance too.

 

The Sloth by Theodore Roethke

In moving-slow he has no Peer.
You ask him something in his Ear,
He thinks about it for a Year;

And, then, before he says a Word
There, upside down (unlike a Bird),
He will assume that you have Heard-

A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.
But should you call his manner Smug,
He'll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;

Then off again to Sleep he goes,
Still swaying gently by his Toes,
And you just know he knows he knows

Roethke suffered great loss in his childhood. He lost both his father and uncle. He also lost the greenhouses his father owned. They were the one place he felt at home and at peace. As he grew older he began to feel more and more isolated from other people. He often felt he was missing, or left out of some big secret that made everything make sense.  He went through phases of deep manic depression. It is thought that he wrote “The Sloth” during one of these times, but because he was never diagnosed there is no way to be sure.

“The Sloth” deals with Roethke’s frustration at the slow pace humans move at. If he had been in a manic state he would have felt that everyone else truly was moving slower. In the poem the speaker asked the sloth a question but is never given an answer. The speaker is so maddened by the fact that the sloth won’t answer. He knows the sloth knows and that frustrates him even more because the sloth is such a lazy, slow moving creature.  

Roethke seemed to have felt as if something of himself was missing; as if he needed just one piece of information to make everything clear to him.  He was exasperated by the slowness of humanity but also the inability to find all the answers before too much time passes. There is an inner battle between wanting time to slow down to gain more knowledge but also wanting people to move faster. This concept is literally paralleled by the tension between the sloth and the speaker.

The tone of this poem seems very carefree and loose, but a closer look proves otherwise. The turn in the poem occurs in the last line. Without this line, the whole meaning of the poem would change. This is where Roethke lets himself into the role of the speaker. HE  knows the sloth knows, not the speaker. The poem becomes so much more personal after the last line is read.

 I find it almost heartbreaking. Roethke feels so left out, almost lost. He is so close to the answers only to be turned away by a lazy creature. I feel his life would have been so much less painful had he gotten the medical treatment he needed. But then I wonder, would he have been the amazing poet he was?

The Bat by Theodore Roethke

By day the bat is cousin to the mouse.
He likes the attic of an aging house.

His fingers make a hat about his head.
His pulse beat is so slow we think him dead.

He loops in crazy figures half the night
Among the trees that face the corner light.

But when he brushes up against a screen,
We are afraid of what our eyes have seen:

For something is amiss or out of place
When mice with wings can wear a human face

 

Roethke wrote “The Bat” in an attempt to make others see that fearing the unknown is wrong. Roethke went through stages of mental health and because of this he was fired from not one but two different teaching positions. The doctors at the time couldn’t diagnosis him. The school’s feared his outbreaks instead of trying to get him help.

People today fear what they don’t understand. I think that is part of the reason this poem hold so much meaning. People will always fear the unknown. The only way to fix this problem is to educate ourselves. Knowledge is the key. Roethke used the image of the bat because some many do believe the stories of “blood sucking creatures”. The true is the bats are mostly harmless and even benefit humans by eating bugs such as mosquitoes.

  Roethke depicts the bat as whimsical, which isn’t a common portrayal of a bat. The end rhymes create a clear line between each statement. He assumed people that there is no need to fear the bat. Roethke created an abstract diction by choosing words like brushes, amiss, and crazy figure. This subconsciously furthers the notion of false or unclear knowledge verses the truth and fact. He didn’t want humans to fear the bat because it is similar to them, just like he didn’t want himself and other mentally ill people to be feared because they are slightly different. Some of the most gifted individuals in our history were once feared because they were “weird”, “odd” or “different”. These words shouldn’t be used as negative connotations of people things or object s we don’t understand

                I personally think, Roethke just wanted people to try to understand the things they fear. You might be shocked to discover the thing you feared is more like you than you thought.

My Papa's Waltz by Theodore Roethke

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

I instantly loved this poem from the first time I read it. I reminded me of my own dad, not that he drank a lot of whisky or that we trashed the kitchen, but of the tender memory. If a child is lucky and lives in a loving home, they will grow up with a few perfect memories. These are the types of memories that are crystal clear even years later.

This memory was probably made only a few years before Roethke’s father’s death. After reading this poem I got my ideas together and then started to research what others had thought of it. I was shocked to see how many people thought this was a poem about an abusive father. I simple can’t agree with that. I looked into Roethke’s history and found that his father was not abusive. He owned a greenhouse business and worked with his hands all day. The Great Depression had made men tough but not mean. Roethke’s father loved him. I actually found that Roethke’s relationship with his father was on better terms than the one with his mother, which would explain her frown. She was sad that didn’t have the type of relationship with her son that her husband had.

I think most people saw the words: whiskey, death, battered, beat time, and palm cake hard by dirt; and assumed this was an abusive dance but a closer look proved otherwise.  The boy clung like death. Like humans can never escape death, Roethke never wanted his father to leave or die. The choice of “slid” verses “fell”, make the second stanza a pleasant memory verses an abusive one. Many will miss this, but it defines the poem. The pans slid from the shelf. They didn’t fall or crash after being hit or thrown. They slid from the vibration of the two romping around the kitchen. Even the word “romping” brings images of playfulness. The fathers knuckle was battered and his palm caked with dirt because he worked all day in the dirt, providing for his family.

At the end of the poem, the boy is clinging to his father’s shirt never wanting this moment end. I see this night filled with laughter and love, with a child saying “no please, five more minutes” and the father giving in because this has been the best part if his week. I can’t see how people have read this and not seen the care and love in this relationship. As I said in the beginning, this is one of my favorite if not my favorite poem.

After thought!

I challenge everyone who reads this blog to read the poem one more time and think of your perfect memory. Leave a comment if you agree (or disagree) with what I’ve said or if you have a memory like this!

“Fire and Ice” By Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice, 5
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

 

So this defiantly is not the longest poem but man does it pack a punch. I originally wasn’t going to write about this because it was so short but it kept popping into my head, especially with all the end of the world talk lately.

I have never really been real big on poetry. I enjoy it but I don’t go home after school a read it for fun. When I read The Road Not Taken and I realized how much I loved that poem, I looked up more of Frost’s poems. I read the Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening and After Apple-Picking and Home Burial and although I liked them all, my mind kept being drawn back to Fire and Ice. The title itself invokes so much imagery.

I was taken away by the form of this poem. It seems so simple at first but at the same time is complex and clearly thought out. Each line ends with either a –ire, -ice, or –ate rhyme and contains either four or eight syllables. The lines are written in the seeming natural iambic, but this is not strictly followed through all of the lines. A strong enjambment in line seven is placed there by Frost to enforce a desired effect. (Which will be explained laterJ )

I simply love the say that Frost eludes the truth by putting forth an aphorism and leaving the question unanswered and the trust once again remains ambiguous. I think most of this poem’s effect comes from the contrast between the simple clipped accuracy of the vocabulary and the vague significance of the subject.

However, I have to say, the greatest asset to this poem, its greatest triumph is its form. Throughout its entirety the language remains simple, but the overwhelming, rising anticlimax of the final two lines is lost. These final lines draw their soft-kill power from the form: the rhymes, the juxtaposition of their short length and their hard-hitting punch. The final blow is the enjambment in line seven, which builds the necessary tension needed for the perfect letdown. Frost seamlessly pulls off an offhanded comment about the end of the world, which is one thing, but he accomplishes this feat masterfully by making it poetry.

“The Road Not Taken”  By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20

I had never read this poem before now. Now that I have, I realize that many, like myself, have misunderstood it. Most, probably by not reading but simply seeing the title. This poem is not about taking the road less traveled. It is, however, as the title and the poem states, a tale of man who comes to a fork in the road and must choose one way or the other. Both are equally traveled and equally covered with leaves. The speaker chooses one and tells himself that one day he take the other, thought he knows that it is unlikely he ever will have the chance to do so. He states that someday in the future when he is telling this story to others he will say he took the road less traveled, which will add a slight twist and a little drama to this somewhat everyday story.

Forks in roads and paths in woods have been symbols and metaphors of life and lifeline since ancient times. They hold crises and decisions. The fork in this poem is identical on either size, symbolizing the nexus of fate and free will. Because each side is the same, we are free to choose but we don’t know what we are choosing between. Therefore our decision is determine by the culmination choice and chance. I personally love this poem because it does not advise. It doesn’t say “take the left” “take the right” “take the road less traveled”. Like life, the man must decide on his own and the reader never knows which he chooses.

  The title also lead me to think that in the future the man may even regret the decision he made. Not because of the outcome but because of what he may have loss by not taking the other road. This is one of those poems that every person should read and I believe every person will have a different view of it. Many views may be similar but each person has to relate the poem to their own lives and so each view will be, should be, slightly different.

Are We An Island?

          In British Literature last year, as a class we read “No man is an Island” by John Donne. While looking for classic short stories to read for these blogging assignments, I came across this piece and reread it. I realized that I had a whole new look on the meaning behind these words. I couldn’t find the short essay I had written about it last year, but I feel my thoughts on this topic have changed enough for me to write them out. So here I go

I wish the quote “no man is an island” could be accurate for this century, but I think it only accounts for half of our world. I think the world has more good but the bad is louder. The purely good at heart can never be “islands”, because they have God. Anyone who has a loving supportive family also can never be an “island”. Though, if you were to look at the media only, one could easily form the idea that every man is for himself. Newspapers, magazines, TV shows, movies, action news and music, they all shout the evil in the world. The good is hardly ever seen.  How are people supposed to learn how to do good for others if they never see it being done? There are thousands and thousands of amazing people achieving amazing accomplishments each day, but they don’t get put on the cover of the news or shown on the 6 o’clock news.

Personally, I see the quote “no man is an island” as meaning that no one needs or is left to stand alone, but sadly in today’s world people do have to stand alone. Just in the United States, there are so many problems. We boast about being so united, together. We are the United States but are we really. Do each of us really care about the people we pass on the streets or in the grocery store or even in the halls of our schools? I think today’s quote is “see no island, hear no island, speak no island”. How many people walk past a homeless person and see a cold hungry person down on their luck and in need of a helping hand, or do they just see an dirty man who needs a haircut? Do you hear a person being bullies by someone else and really hear what is happening? Can you hear the pain being inflicted on that person by a human being just like them? Are problems like these ever talked about enough and taken seriously by enough people? So many people in today’s world don’t even realize how much they don’t see and hear each day. The world could be so much better if more people were aware of the problems and took time to help improve them.

I do realize that there are many, many people in the world today fighting to make it a better place. I am just saying that to succeed in making the world better, more people need to be aware and to care about what is happening to others around the world. To ensure that no person is ever an island, everyone needs to think and care for others. If every person is caring and working to help others and not just themselves, then in the end everyone will be cared for. Then, and only then, will no one have to stand alone.

 

 

Minimalist or not Minimalist

                I read the short story “In The Place Where Al Jolson is Buried” by Amy Hempel.  I had been trying to figure out what I wanted to write about this story. I finally just decided to write about minimalist. The factors that make up the qualities of the minimalistic fiction piece are fairly straightforward yet deciding if a piece of writing is minimalist is not always easy. Minimalist stick to short words, short sentences and short paragraphs; in this circumstance it leads to a short story. These stories are usually filled with simple, easy to understand vocabulary, with equally simple sentence structures. There is little figurative language, meaning very small amounts of symbolism and allegories. More often than not, there is minimal description of the characters, major and minor, and minimal setting description. The imagery used is short and to the point and any background information is sparse. Only the absolutely necessary background information is shared. Brand names are usually used to quickly describe objects or characterize a person. In most minimalist stories, there is very little action and the stories are often written in the present tense. Most progress with a nihilistic tone and the stories often end with no resolution.

                “In The Place Where Al Jolson is Buried” by Amy Hempel is difficult to place in one category of writing; however , there are many qualities that her story contains that match the style of a minimalist.  For example, the first paragraph of the second section contains both short sentences with simple structures and easy vocabulary. This trend continues throughout the story. The story also provides very little background information. How did the friends meet? What is causing Al to die? Another clue that this story is minimalist is that there is very, very, very little action. The narrator is mostly sitting with Al and talking, she has some minor flashbacks but that’s about all the action seen. The story does have a nihilistic tone throughout the entire piece. The final hint that this is a minimalist story is that fact that there is no resolution.

                There are many different types of minimalist writers. Another minimalist writer is Ann Beattie. I have had a few people tell me she should be on my “to read list”. Her most recent work is titled Mrs. Nixon: A Novelist Imagines a Life. Critics called it “narcissistic”, “self-indulgent” and “splendidly tricky”. An excerpt from this story showed short sentences with simple structure and vocabulary. It contained almost no figurative language and only small pieces of character description. Another critic said that "Nothing in Mrs. Nixon is perfectly clear, and that is the source of its power."