Final Thoughts

Never have I completely realized until now how trained I was to write what I was TOLD to write instead of coming up with something from scratch and, in all honesty, I guess I kind of preferred it that way–it leaves out a lot of the guess work. So, time to get personal (don’t complain, you pretty much asked for this).

Lindner, I’m scared. I’m scared of college, of living out on my own, and I’m scared of the unknown–unknown is just about all-encompassing in this context. It took me forever to get a grip on high school and the thought of starting all over yet again scares me more than a timed writing on Grendel. That being said, I think I’m better prepared than many. You helped show me that intelligence is nothing without some decent character to back it up; and school is often not an accurate measure of either. To combat this dilemma, you helped bring the outside world to us; you cultured us with your colorful music tastes, showed us that before you do it right, you have to do it wrong…a lot, and, perhaps most importantly, you showed me that learning can be fun. I don’t recall telling you this and I won’t have any grip on spoken English at graduation so I’ll say it now: you are and have been my favorite teacher since the first class I had you. At the same time, yours was one of the most challenging classes I ever took. I’ve never taught a class but I’m pretty sure that’s not easy.

I used to hate reading and I used to hate writing, but you’ve helped warm me up to the pleasantries of being able to English. I tried to explain a grammatical structure found in French to my mother using English terms like subject pronoun, preterit, past participle, and causative and transitive verbs and it helped me realize how being able to communicate in my own language is one of the most valuable possessions I can have. She still didn’t understand me but I was proud of myself nonetheless. Unfortunately, I can’t find the words to describe most of the lessons you have taught me but I can say thank you, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.

Valadiction

So I was spending a relatively uneventful weekend–I know not when–doing what I do best: nothing; well, I was listening to music. But for all intents and purposes, I was doing nothing. But then a song came on. It was Bruce Springsteen’s “Glory Days”. Now, opinions of Springsteen’s music aside, the song is kind of a powerful one. For those of you who don’t know it, it’s about a man–presumably in his thirties or forties but it really doesn’t matter–who starts reflecting on the glory days of when he was in school. Springsteen repeats throughout the song the phrase “glory days, they’ll pass you by, glory days, in the wink of a young girl’s eye.” For someone who’s nervous about the future and wanting to make the best of life, this is a concerning message. Everyone was telling me that life only gets better, that it’s time to build a life for yourself. But here comes Mr. Springsteen–whom I genuinely respected–telling me that I’m getting old and that the short, boring years of old age are fast approaching.

But if you haven’t heard the song, allow me to toss in my two cents before your curiosity gets the better of you. We are high school seniors about to graduate and go off to college or go start a career; so, life is still very much ahead of us.

My first day of high school was also my first day in a public school, away from the friends I had known for upwards of nine years. I came from St. Michael’s Episcopal School where I had been since pre-k. My class size fluctuated up and down for years down to eight kids in my eighth grade class–my last year. I vaguely grasped the reality of what was about to happen: I was about to leave the only school and head on over to A&M Consolidated High School. In a word, I was distraught. I heard talk of people who absolutely loved their high school careers and people who truly found their identity without the sheltered academic lifestyle with which I grew up. But I didn’t want to leave. But it happened nonetheless. I walked through those doors in the front of the building by the office a scared freshman who wanted more than anything else in the world not to be there; but I accepted it and marched on bit by bit. The first test I ever took was in Mrs. Riley’s Pre-AP biology class. Still accustomed to the much smaller environment of my old private school, I only wrote my first name on the scantron. I received the test back with my last name marked in by the teacher. Noticing that she required my last name to distinguish me from the other students, I hypothesized that there must be another Jonathan somewhere else in the class. I spent the better part of at least a few more months trying to figure out if there was or had ever been another Jonathan in my biology class,but there wasn’t–just the first in a series of waves that would wake me up to the reality high school.

But for those of you who don’t know me past my name, I’m actually a fairly strong introvert; it’s hard for me to begin a conversation, and making new friends is an art that I have only recently begun to master. But before I knew anything about meeting new people, my mother stressed to me the importance of getting involved. Coming from a school that barely had enough kids to make a soccer team, I didn’t know what that meant until my French teacher mentioned that Texas French Symposium would be coming up and that I would be a good fit; so, if for nothing else than to appease my mother, I accepted the challenge. In short, I had the time of my life. I loved the competition and the sense of unity it created. Voila, I passed for being involved and I was actually having a pretty fun time. I made many more friends and learned what it meant to network yourself. I also developed skills that I would use in class and in normal life. As a result, I got to thinking about what I would do after high school, and I came to a brief and simple conclusion: introduce yourself, and do something–it doesn’t matter what–to get your name out there and to get involved. If that’s already something you plan to do or if you absolutely know that’s just not who you are, do something that you’re unfamiliar with; do something to get you outside of your comfort zone.

Coming from a small, private school to Consol taught me the importance of networking and getting to know people. I took a lot of work for me to do and there were lots of awkward and uncomfortable moments but I got farther than I ever thought I would

While I got to Consol a little differently than most of you, we’re still in the same boat. I’m willing to bet that part of our innermost self is ready to get out to see the best of what the world has to throw at us, while I’m also positive that there is a small piece that will miss some of the memories we’ve made at Consol. All things considered, I will miss being here and I will miss the people. So here we are, wearing our cap and gown and wondering where it all came from; but we’re also ready more than anything else to get out.

I, however, have not lived through any extraordinary experiences that may lend you some life-illuminating clarity and I certainly can’t tell you what it’s all about; however, I can say that you are smart people, and we are ready for whatever comes next. I, for one, am actually terrified, but I’m also excited for what comes next and I definitely can’t wait to move on to act II.

Words

So the blog assignment for this week asks us to come up with a word that does not already exist in the English language for emotions that we are already too familiar with. But as a lover of languages and cool words, I figured it would be frowned upon if I just stole a word from another language that doesn’t already exist in english; that being said, I’ll do it anyway. But instead of one word, I’ll do a few words that I’ve noticed in French that should exist in English.

Our first word comes from the French “dépaysement” which, in French, means the feeling of being outside one’s native country. No, it’s not really homesickness but that’s probably the closest word we have for it in English. Let’s break it down. “Pays” (pronounced “peyee”) means a country or territory. So in English, the word would means “de-country-ment”–not very fluid, I know. As an English replacement, I think “natalsia”could work. It doesn’t exist but it could.

Here’s another emotion that I’m sure we’ve all experienced: “L’ésprit d’escalier” (pronounced “lespree descalee’ay”–it means staircase feeling/wit. It describes the feeling one gets when one comes up with the perfect comeback, only too late. I feel it all the time. And no, it’s not a word, but it’s a colloquial phrase that means something other than what it literally means. But I think “staircase wit” could work just fine in English. We don’t need a word to describe everything; actually, phrases still do the trick.

And finally, one of my favorites: “retrouvailles” (pronounced “retroov’eye”)–it means seeing someone for the first time in a very long time. Broken down, it means re-found people. A particularly powerful emotion, I’m surprised it doesn’t already exist in English. And as many of us prepare to part ways as we go off to act II of life, many of us will likely experience this emotion at a later reunion or casually bumping into one another. Either way, it’s a powerful emotion and I won’t try to come up with a word for it because I’d like to know if anyone has a word in mind that they think would fit. Mr. Lindner…?

Word

https://thefroggblogg.wordpress.com “Take it Easy”

http://thesonderingmind.wordpress.com “Hamlet Painting”

https://eatpraycatz.wordpress.com “Jackson Pollock”

Cammin Completato

Both poems differ fundamentally in how the speakers respond to their ultimate fear: what happens when the speaker dies.

The speaker in “When I have Fears” will miss “books” and being able to “trace […] shadows with the magic hand of chance”. They will also miss “the fairy power / of unreflecting love” which suggests that the speaker will miss all the valued comforts in life both possession and human.

The speaker in “Mezzo Cammin” focuses primarily how “half of [his] life is gone” and how he has “not fulfilled / the aspiration of [his] youth.” Worries over “the cataract of Death”

The speaker in “Mezzo Cammin” is dissatisfied with the person he has become and how “sorrow, and a care that almost killed, / kept [him] from what I may accomplish yet”

 

Women

 

Throughout both Hamlet and nearly every other play by Shakespeare there are countless generalizations about groups of people: foreigners, youngsters, men, lovers, etc. While he never openly reveals his true opinions about the groups he mentions, Shakespeare’s stance on the issue can often be inferred by the context of the people involved as is the case with the women in Hamlet. Female characters in the play rarely exhibit much individuality in a positive sense nor do they actively progress the plot which is why there is more to the women in Shakespeare’s Hamlet than meets the eye.

Ophelia is the most prominent woman in the play in that she emotionally tears the protagonist to pieces while simultaneously taking almost no initiative throughout the entire tragedy. Throughout the play, Ophelia is most affected by her father, Polonius. When nearly the entire leading cast believes Hamlet is mentally deranged, Polonius instructs Ophelia to “repel [Hamlet’s] letters and den[y] his access” to her which she does without objection in spite of her love for Hamlet (II.ii.120-122). While Polonius’ fatherly advice might seem harmless initially, it instead helps portray the authoritarian environment to which Ophelia was exposed. But after Polonius dies, Ophelia “cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay [Polonius] i’ the cold ground” instead of celebrating that she has been freed from an oppressive yoke and defers to her brother for any more discussion on Polonius and his death (IV.v.74-76). Shakespeare illuminates Ophelia’s dependence on her father by contrasting her behavior before Polonius’ death versus afterwards.

Shakespeare continues to mock the stereotype of the age that women were incapable of any constructive individuality in the form of Gertrude, the most powerful female character in Hamlet. Gertrude displays little independence throughout the play to the point where her only control of self is her apparent suicide after drinking the poisoned drink intended for hamlet (V.ii.285-306). By garnishing Gertrude’s only independent action at the end of the play, Shakespeare suggests that the women in Hamlet act ironically which reflects the atmosphere of the time.

While the female characters seem inferior to the men in Hamlet, the women act as an irony to connect to the common mentality of the time that men and women were not equal. Women and men in the tragedy are only capable of determining their death but not the actual course of their lives to portray the lack of power society gave them in greater relief.

Trip

So I followed this week’s blog post instructions. I looked at the painting. I observed it. I took it in. My immediate thoughts observed a painting that seemed to be looking at a wintry landscape. The elongated and almost uniformly random streaks across the tenor seemed to represent the naked trees and the branches stripped clean by a brutal winter. But I didn’t think for a second that the painting was melancholy or solemn. Instead the work seemed to represent a person who embraced the winter and enjoyed its bleak, peaceful air. Next comes Sullivan’s poem:

No name but a number.
Trickles and valleys of paint
Devise this maze
Into a game of Monopoly
Without any bank. Into
A linoleum on the floor
In a dream. Into
Murals inside of the mind.
No similes here. Nothing
But paint. Such purity
Taxes the poem that speaks
Still of something in a place
Or at a time.
How to realize his question
Let alone his answer?

The poem seemed to reflect pure emotion. Instead of using the painting as a connection to another image she appreciated it at its simplest form. The strokes and crevices didn’t represent tees and a cold wind but freedom and a carefree perspective on art. The poem reminds me of a bizarre music video that doesn’t make much sense but stills speaks to the viewer on an emotional plain. I don’t know the video or song I’m thinking of but I know there are many that aply. The viewer floats through an infinite number of realities and universes that just leave one to appreciate the images and uncertainties the  dream provides. Nowhere in her poem does Sullivan plainly state that the art piece was like experiencing a bad acid trip but instead compares the emotions the painting evokes to concrete and imaginary paradoxes. No one plays Monopoly without a bank nor do murals in the most direct sense of the word exist anywhere but on a wall. In a similar fashion the painting evokes a purely emotional response for Sullivan that can only exist in the mind.

Slipp’ry When Wet

 

 

 

 

-“Ophelia Drowning” by Bella Ely

The Painting represents part of Queen Gertrude’s speech in Hamlet in Act IV, vii.

There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds

Climb’ring to hang, an envious silver brook,

When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,

And mermaid-like awhile they ore her up,

Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds,

As one incapable of her own distress

Or like a creature native and endued

Unto that element. But long it could not be

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,

Pulled the poor wretch from her melodies lay

To muddy death.

Bella Ely’s artistic interpretation of Ophelia’s death appealed to me in part because it is so unorthodox. It is in fact not a painting but an image designed on a computer. The artist specializes in artwork on a digital medium. After scanning over the image for a while, it seems that the only dark or melancholy mood in the picture is captured in Ophelia’s dress which I think goes to symbolize the utter turmoil in Polonius’ family. The piece also seems to center around Ophelia’s visage which is composed and regal perhaps for the first time in two acts of the play. Could it mean that she finally attained a sort of nirvana just before her death or could it serve to emphasize her madness? Ophelia may have been so detached from herself that she could not grasp the gravity of what was about to happen even up to the moment of her death.

But I think the piece also plays off a bit of irony as well. The soon-to-be corpse is surrounded by butterflies–essentially a universal symbol of life. Hamlet has not suddenly transformed to into a comedy nor a play where everyone discovers that they’re just not being smart people. The play is still a tragedy and nearly everyone dies which is contrasted by the explosion of life around Ophelia.

The Norse “Havamal” is a collection of small poems that offer fundamental yet all too uncommon wisdom for smart human beings. After sifting through it, I found that the 23rd verse connected best with me.

23. A foolish man
is all night awake,
pondering over everything;
he then grows tired;
and when morning comes,
all is lament as before.

Few poems relate more to high school students or academics in general. In a way, the poem suggests that it is unwise to spend the night dwelling on problems that cannot be solved because it will change nothing and they will only return in the morning.

This passage has a good deal of exigence especially for students (not to mention AP students) who are notorious for staying up hours past a decent bedtime to think about grades, upcoming tests, and the like. While it is important to work until the job is done and to not quit halfway through, it may take more wisdom to know when to go to bed especially when staying up longer will not accomplish anything more. Spending more time worrying about that English timed writing will only leave you more fatigued the next morning to worry about it again. Instead, getting some needed rest could lend its own clarity in the morning and leave you with a clearer and more focused mind.

We see a similar condition plague Grendel when he spends every waking moment of Grendel dwelling on his many existential crises only to find that they have not disappeared the next day. While he admits to having fallen asleep (more like passing out) in the second chapter after being trapped atop a tree, the event is preceded by Grendel wandering out much past his bedtime to quench his insatiable thirst for knowledge of self and nature.

Merely Players

After looking over various folios and versions of Shakespeare’s Othello, I started noticing several peculiar if not almost seemingly insignificant differences. To start things off, I think it’s safe to say that there is more than just a difference in font that separates the styles. While I thought it was interesting to observe the progression of fonts and written language style through the folio’s, I impulsively began searching for influences of other languages (namely German and Latin as these are the main languages from which English evolved) because English was a relatively fluid language before and somewhat during the debut of the printing press. One thing I did notice was that the text in some of the older folios up through newer editions seemed to almost (not completely) follow the Germanic style of writing which is to say that nouns are capitalized regardless of their “importance”. However the printer only capitalized nouns that represented or consisted of people :”Creditor”, “Battalion”, “Thick-lips”, etc. with the addition of a few nouns here and there with no human-significance.

Next, there were Latin influences. Words that today end in a Y to denote a long EE sound were suffixed instead with an IE. Other orthographical differences included slight random spelling differences from today’s words: “Bataile”, “Knowes”, “Cittie”, etc. As for differences not related to linguistic evolution I only noted how the first word on the next page already existed on the first. I can only guess that perhaps that was intended to make it easier to read the play aloud? When I was in theatre, I encountered a plethora of bizarre script versions but most tried to pioneer a new system to facilitate an easier read-through.

But as a language guru, I couldn’t help but try to compare and contrast the differences in the same text through the years. It’s a little difficult to trace the evolution of English and how other languages and dialects changed it. But comparing the “old” spellings of the same words helped shed some light on what the language looked like a few hundred years ago.