[Anxiously] Awaiting End of Finals/Winter Break/Graduation.

December 6, 2013

The end of the week is near, this does not, however, mean that the end of the work is near. So much to do, so little time; I didn’t understand this “November blues” (if that is indeed what is truly was), until my senior year. There is not enough time in the day to complete all that has to be done. Finals are coming – ready all of the internet posts – and that also means the time for stressing is upcoming, and immediate. I am beginning to feel the intensity of the work piled on my shoulders; so much to do, so little time. Waiting, and waiting, and even more waiting is all that I can do to see myself out of this horrible nightmare that is these last three weeks. Projects are due now, homework is being piled on, and social life is ultimately dead. I've said it before, and I’ll say it again; this is the work year of high school so far – not academically, but in terms of stress and business. I’m done; waiting for the day I can stand up on stage and not look back, ready to be done with school entirely; if it were possible to fast forward through the borings-academic parts of high school and college, that would be greatly appreciate, so get on that scientists. A time machine would also suffice, I wish not to take my finals; I would not, if I didn’t fail the class because of it. Saying winter should be brief should be an outlawed statement, get me some days off. 

The Beginning Posts of Frankenstein.

December 2, 2013

Hiking the beautiful and serene terrain as he had at an earlier stage in his life, Frankenstein crosses over many miles to a place he knows well, but he is being followed. The monster has found his creator. Frankenstein, hateful and full of disdain expresses his anger and threatens to end his own creation. Able to speak well, the monster expresses a story that makes himself appear as any other human, as though he has a heart; the life or death of the monster is to be determined, and was directed to be determined, by Frankenstein.

The creation/monster/creature has had a difficult time acclimating himself with human beings; those that he appears in front of are either frightened, or end up following him with torches and pitchforks in an attempt to hastily end the abomination. Running rampantly away from the treacherous towns, the creature hides in the forest, starving and parched. Discovering a small hut, its homeless inhabitant runs away, terrified. The fire taking place is savored, and warm. Berries and nuts have become the regular diet, but have provided little saturation. After continuing to move, the monster discovers another hut close to one with humans. The humans later became his friends, even if they had little idea that he existed. Having learned language and various duties of the people after intense surveillance and captivation, the monster felt attached to the beings. The one called “son” disappeared frequently, whether to obtain fuel for the file, or working for other farmers. During the high of night, the monster, having learned what tools to use to obtain wood, began to collect for the humans. Though there was little knowledge of his presence, the monster felt at his best with these beings nearby to observe. 

This Thanksgiving Break - School Edition.

November 25

There are only three days left until Thanksgiving, and as any senior high school student does, I am going to play the game and tell everyone what I am thankful for.

I am thankful for a five day break; I would have been more thankful had it been a full seven days, but you can’t get everything you want in life. I am thankful that there is a day dedicated to eating – few celebrate unité this millennia. I am thankful that tests are over with for the next five days. I am thankful for the ability to sleep in and walk around all day in my pajamas if I so please. I am thankful for the future five day avoidance of the noise and stupidity in the hallways – seriously, some people need to grow up. I am thankful that we will all get a break. I am thankful Thanksgiving is so close to winter break now that the district has decided to make it a week longer – so few school days left! I am thankful for the math I won’t be required to do, but not even math. I am thankful for the halt of biology labs and the cessation of counting of cyclic cells – even if it is only temporary. I am thankful that this break affords so many freedoms from school, as long as the homework is done ahead of time. I am thankful for the advent – or rather recognition – of rhetorical devices, without anaphora, none of this would have been literary or shaped in any way or form to any English class I have taken since first grade; so thank you, Aristotle, Martianus Capella, and their teachers (or whoever the first to use this rhetorical jargon were), I appreciate you. 

The Finale of Hamlet - Act 5 Analysis

November 21

“No, faith, not a jot”

            In the first scene during the final Act of Shakespeare’s play “Hamlet”, Horatio and Hamlet are in a churchyard discussing the death of Alexander the great, and whether or not he died and was buried just as any normal man. “Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust, the dust is earth, of earth we make loam”, Hamlet explains that Alexander died, and was buried just as any other man. Man rots and turns to dust in the earth, and that very same dust is used to fill in the holes in beer barrels. Caesar, a great king as well, died and was buried under the same process; his body could have been clay used to keep wind away by the construction of a house. “Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay, might stop a hole to keep the wind away.” They come to the conclusion that all, noble or peasant, end up as dust in the earth, and are used to keep others living and for the benefit of others; there is no difference between the poor and the haughty.

            “Here comes the king, the queen, the courtiers—who is this they follow, and with such maimèd rites.” The pair comes across the sight of the royal family, Laertes, and a priest; there is much question as to why the four are in the churchyard with small ceremony. Smaller ceremonies led to the belief that the deceased had committed suicide. “The corse they follow did with desperate hand fordo its own life”. Curious to see who was being buried, Hamlet and Horatio remained in the shadows, waiting to see the identity of the lost soul. 

Issues with Memorization.

November 19

I have been sitting here, for the past few hours, attempting to memorize these four lines with no luck. I am ready to be done, ready to be finished. Instead, they give me nothing by difficulty. It has been written out, still no luck. Thanks, Shakespeare, I appreciate these four (some aren’t even full) lines.

Tis sweet and commendable in your nature hamlet to give these mourning duties to your father, but you must know, your father lost a father, that father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound in filial obligation for some term to do obsequious sorrow. But to persever in obstinate condolement is a course of impious stubbornness, tis unmanly grief, it shows a will most incorrect to heaven, a heart unfortified, a mind impatient. An understanding simple and unschool’d. for what me know, must be and is as common as any the most vulgar thing to sense. Why should we in our peevish opposition take it to heart? Fie. Tis a fault to heaven, a fault against the dead, a fault to nature. to reason most absurd whose common theme is death of fathers and who still hath cried. From the first corse till he that died today. ‘this must be so’ we pray you, throw to earth this unprevailing woe and think of us as of a father, for let the world take note, you are the most immediate to our throne, and with no less nobility of love than that dearest father bears for his son do I impart toward you. To your intent of going back to wittenburg, it is most retrograde to our desire. And we beseech you, bend you to remain in the cheer and comfort of our eye our chiefest courtier, cousin and our son. 

(Very) Short E.R. Story and Miscellaneous.

November 14

All of this year, I have yet to turn something in, an assignment specifically, late. Assuming blogs do not count. On top of all of the other work, college shenanigans and life, blogs aren’t exactly something I am remembering to do anymore. Behind a week, or a few days, who knows; all one can do is hope that it doesn’t have some adverse effect and ruin everything I’ve tried to work for. That reminds me, I have to wake up early to finish homework. I thought senior year was supposed to be fun.

On to something exciting – I saw a man with twenty-four broken ribs. His entire chest, completely bruised, his skin, beginning to peel and bleed. His heart began to beat. How much strain it must’ve gone through for that man to have gone through what he did. More than three hours of CPR, a pulse caught and lost a minimum of six times within those few hours; Enough epinephrine to make up 90 per-cent of his blood, so much epinephrine. After an ultrasound, a lung x-ray, and being diagnosed with both pneumonia and sepsis, it is difficult to determine if he will make it through the night. I can only imagine that, if he does indeed wake up (not that I will find out anytime soon, if at all) he will be hurting, a lot, and for an extremely long time; doctors cannot do much about a broken rib, but this man will have to go through many surgeries. 

Even More Hamlet - Act 4 Analysis with Formatting Issues.

“Follow her close” Ophelia is not well; she speaks and sings of death and despair. Her father Polonius has been killed by the one she once loved, and the loss has greatly affected her; even more so than Hamlet's loss with his father. Due to Ophelia's outburst in front the queen, and then the king, Claudius orders men to watch over her so that she does not perform an act as to hurt herself or another. "O, this is the poison of deed grief; it springs all from her father's death". Ophelia’s reason for insanity is derived from her father’s death. "When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions. First her father slain. Next, your son gone." Claudius points out that unfortunate occurrences come in two. Horrid events do not occur alone, they come in an army. First Ophelia's father is killed, then Hamlet (Gertrude's son) is sent away to England, where he is to be killed (unknowingly to the queen) by the King of England. The happenings, specifically the death of Polonius, are already a large topic amongst the people of Denmark. Claudius portrays both his worry and sympathy of Polonius' death. He buried him too soon and too quietly, he is unaware of the consequences that will occur in doing so; additionally, Ophelia has reached a maniac state due to these circumstances. "Poor Ophelia divided from herself and her fair judgment". "Her brother is in secret come from France." Laertes has arrived after the rumors of his father’s death, and has walked into an even larger crowd, filling his head with the tales of Polonius' death – that same crowd soon advocate for Laertes to be king. Claudius is sure that Laertes will kill him due to the lack of evidence on who truly killed his father. "O my dear Gertrude, this, like to a murdering piece, in many places gives me superfluous death." Finally, Claudius expresses his self-pity by explaining to the queen that he feels as though he has been killed many times over.

The Year Progresses.

As the year continues to progress, I continue to complain about the same things. All of the deadlines, the dates, they are all much too soon. It’s redundant. Get this done by this date, make sure to have that done; do this, do that. Don’t be a child and have fun, work on your homework, and study for an exam. Do a semester project. Get a B in a class; get mad about it, senior year in a nutshell, utterly terrible. December cannot possibly come soon enough. Time for relaxation, time for fun, presents, friends, no homework. June cannot possibly come soon enough, graduation, real life; no homework (for at least the summer, unless you take a more permanent break from school). Do you know the best thing about graduating? No labs in biology, that’s what! Nothing conceptual, just analytical, just something reasonably fun; textbooks and lectures are fun, informative.

I do not mean to rant, nor do I mean to talk badly about an activity that is done in class (even though everyone, literally, complains about the same thing). So, thankfully, there is nothing much more that I can say about this same thing without it becoming too over repetitive, before I completely kill this school-ish topic. I don’t know what I will do with my life, what I will amount to. But if my biggest issue is doing labs in biology, just because they are more conceptual, then I must not be doing too badly. That is a problem I am willing to continue to have, as long as it ends as soon as possible. 

More Hamlet - Act III Analysis.

Within in the third act of Shakespeare’s play, “Hamlet”, the main character, Hamlet, contemplates suicide following outrageous events in the previous acts. This famous soliloquy, “To be or Not to be”, displays Hamlet’s inner confliction on living and dying, and whether it is in his best interest to be dead versus alive.

Whether ‘tis nobler” to put up with life’s hardships, and all that lady luck throws ill in his direction, is, in short, the question. Hamlet then juxtaposes dying and sleeping “To die, to sleep”. By this, he means that there is no difference. Dying is an indefinite form of sleeping; dreams occur once the dead have reached the afterlife. This is where uncertainty begins to prevail. To convince himself of not being, he states “For who would bear the whips and scorns of time. Th’ oppressor’s wrong.” Who would put up with the difficulties of life, the corruption and misconduct from leaders, and those that are superior? Who would deal with heart break, “insolence of office” and so on?

Again, swaying back and forth the idea of both life and death, Hamlet thinks positively. “But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveler returns.” Essentially, the young prince exhibits his fear for the unknown. His father, in act 1, describes (whether out loud, or to himself) the never ending trail he walks, from purgatory to earth, day and night. For this very reason, the end, or the unknown, is terrifying to those that have no indication of what will happen once death occurs. “Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.” The mind it over thinks, makes men afraid, makes them cowards to their own earth. Deep thought is what ruins the plan; deep thought is why Hamlet cannot kill himself, he is too afraid of what will occur after death. Hamlet has officially, after much open thought, decided that is better to live than to die. Following this part of the speech, Hamlet notices Ophelia arriving, and is quiet with his thoughts. 

Waiting for the End.

The days are beginning to blend together. I don't even remember what I am doing with myself nowadays. Homework is all the same, projects are still uninteresting - and who has ever heard of a major semester project in an AP class? In the sum of the, now five, AP classes I have had/am taking, I don't believe that I have ever had a major semester project. Having one, majorly sucks. It's additional work on top of a class that is too difficult to have any extra work in. Oh these days, I cannot wait 'till they are over.
Some get upset when they think about graduating, moving out, and such. But I do not; I embrace my seniority status. I am ready to leave, to work, to move out, to be done with assignments and grades and all of the above! I'm ready to be my own. I'm ready to be done with high school. I am ready to be done with AP tests. I think that's all it is, I am ready to be done with major testing.
My thoughts are no longer organized. I write randomly, I write the words and sentences that pop into my head. It is no longer clear, I know what what I need to do, what needs to be done when. It is all just a blurr, as I am sure is depicted through this current writing. --- I have never been thankful for Thanksgiving, other than for the food, now I will appreciate it as a time in which homework does not exist, and relaxation is plentiful. The holiday could not come sooner.

More Hamlet.

It is getting increasingly difficult to write academic blogs. The thought, the topic, it is just not there. Hamlet is discussed so frequently, that there is little left to analyze. Ophelia kills herself (or is drowned by someone, the answer is not quite clear), Hamlet is sent to England, where he is to be killed by the King. Oh, but wait, the plan changes. He is to be killed by Laertes, who is getting revenge on his fathers’ (Polonius) death, by stabbing him with a fencing sword with poison on it. That cannot be the only plan though, no, it has to become more complicated and full-proof than that. Once Hamlet begins to sweat and is parched, a servant (or whomever), is to give him a chalice with some sort of liquid, and in it, poison. Perhaps it cliché, or perhaps it be under some other word, but Shakespeare only allows the majority to be stabbed or poisoned. Lesser characters, like Ophelia, get more outstanding deaths. The main characters receive generic deaths. Julius Caesar is stabbed, Macbeth stabbed by MacDuff, Romeo poisoned himself, and Juliet stabbed herself; (SPOILER) Hamlet will be poisoned by Laertes’ rapier, and confess his death as he is dying, just like every main character, in every play written by him. Oh Shakespeare, so very random deaths your characters die – not really. If I am a character, make me an unimportant one. I would wish to die as Ophelia had, in a non-generic Shakespearean death. 

Counting.

I am running out of subjects, so I am going to do something completely different.

One hundred thirty-two, one hundred thirty-one, one hundred thirty. One hundred twenty-nine, one hundred twenty-eight, one hundred twenty-seven, one hundred twenty-six, one hundred twenty-five, one hundred twenty-four, one hundred twenty-three, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-one, one hundred twenty. One hundred nineteen, on hundred eighteen, one hundred seventeen, one hundred sixteen, one hundred fifteen, one hundred fourteen, one hundred thirteen, one hundred twelve, one hundred eleven, one hundred ten. One hundred nine, one hundred eight, one hundred seven, one hundred six, one hundred five, one hundred four, one hundred three, one hundred two, one hundred one, one hundred. Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-six, ninety-six, ninety-five, ninety-four, ninety-three, ninety-two, ninety-one, ninety. Eighty-nine, eighty-eight, eighty-seven, eighty-six, eighty-five, eighty-four, eighty-three, eighty-two, eighty-one, eighty. Seventy-nine, seventy-eight, seventy-seven, seventy-six, seventy-five, seventy-four, seventy-three, seventy-two, seventy-one, seventy. Sixty-nine, sixty-eight, sixty-seven, sixty-six, sixty-five, sixty-four, sixty-three, sixty-two, sixty-one, sixty. Fifty-nine, fifty-eighty, fifty-seven, fifty-six, fifty-five, fifty-four, fifty-three, fifty-two, fifty-one, fifty. Forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven, forty-six, forty-five, forty-four, forty-three, forty-two, forty-one, forty. Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven, thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three, thirty-two, thirty-one, thirty. Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six, twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three, twenty-two, twenty-one. Tjuo, nitton, arton, sjutton, sexton, fjorton, tretton, tolv, elva, tio, nio, åtta, sju, sex, fem, fyra, tre, två, ett,

There we have it; by no means was this entertaining, but it was creative. Have you ever noticed that words or names, once repeated many times, sound utterly ridiculous, and do not even sound like proper words anymore?

Various Hamlet Movies.

There is not much to say about what we have been reading in Hamlet these past few classes. Everything has already been analyzed for me. We have read the third scene twice in class, and the second time was thoroughly explained. All of the possible ideas for an analysis or academic entry have been taken. I certainly cannot speak of answers that were on the quiz. So, I supposed a simple recap will suffice. No, I know of something better. Something that has not been discussed extensively in previous classes, the various movies we have been watching.

Now obviously no two movies can be portrayed in the exact same way, there would be many copyright issues. However, the different versions of Hamlet are so entirely different; it is very odd watching them all. It is as though we are watching one movie (throughout multiple class periods) with completely different plots. In some of the movies, Hamlet is crazier; there is more shouting, emotion, and so on. Some of them are much better than the others. I have never imagined any of the characters being any such way as they are in the movies, but that’s Hollywood. How was Hamlet to be portrayed at the time Shakespeare had written the play? Is he being accurately represented by producers and directors in these new movies, or would Shakespeare roll over in his grave knowing that such horrid renditions are available for viewing? From watching bits and pieces of all the movies, it is certain that everyone has a different view on Hamlet and those around him. 

Writing Songs.

I’ve always wanted to write a song. No, this probably will not be an interesting blog of any sort; however, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I have always wanted to, but have never had the means to complete the task. A piece of paper and a pencil are not difficult to obtain, and are quite numerous in the backpacks of other children in a school, but that is not all that is included in a song. I cannot just get those two and magically make the pencil write words (if I could, I would never do any of my own homework). I am a horrible story teller, I can barely make up random things to say and make it sound interesting – most of what I say is, in fact, completely and utterly uninteresting, I’m sure of it. Even if I could tell a story, what would the story be on? What direction would I take the lyrics? Would it be repetitive like most main-stream pop music? Would it contain no chorus? There are so many directions for writing something such as this. I could write about the detestable nature of people and their capability of doing no good in life, but I’m not sure how many people would actually have any interest in something like that; everyone likes their happy endings and upbeat music too much. The complication of writing such things and my conflicting feelings of humanity are too much; I have decided that I do not want to write a song. Too much work, too complicated, and too much related to poetry. Maybe one day, but not today. 

What I Will Do Over Break -No- What I Meant To Do Over Break.

(Meant for) October 10, 2013

Sunday morning, I shall no longer be in this state. I will be making my way up to Idaho with a friend and his family. For the length of this trip, I know, for a fact, that I will be doing little academic work. This is the purpose of a break, to give the mind a rest from stress and academics. I have to spell everyday, that will suffice.
If I do indeed do work over break, I will work diligently in the beginning so that I have the remainder of the week to myself - if only that were true. And so, I will attempt to get my act together, complete a few college entry-essays, and possibly some applications, all in addition to my regular class work that all of the mean teachers bestow upon us during these times of perceived solitude. Reading will be done, analyses will be done, Internet work, and so on. Throughout the week, I will (obviously) view my progress, and hope that I have gotten something done.

----

As expected, I have not completed much work and my week of relaxation and catching up is almost over. Nothing, including this blog, has been completely finished. I am posting this days late. This is uncommon for me, so hopefully my penalty will be lightened or nonexistent. I had hoped to have many things completed. My hopes have been crushed by my own procrastination, how pitiful. It appears as though I will be doing last minute work a day or two before my classes. This is nothing out of the ordinary, so it shouldn't be that difficult to complete. However, I do wish that I had completed my assignments and other duties, at a much earlier time. I'm blaming Idaho and all of it's activities.

Analytical Hamlet.

Motives are created when either a character or person is attempting to hide their contemptible acts, or a guilty conscience from another person or group, if not from themselves; in doing so, deceit and further reprehensible acts are committed, often without anticipated consequence. In his play, Hamlet, Shakespeare informs that all fathers die, that all men are terminal; however, his assertion of this information poses as a façade to hide events that have occurred within the play.

King Claudius, Hamlets uncle, and now father, has developed an attachment and begins to really depict his affection towards Hamlet. However, preceding the expressed love towards the end of the soliloquy, the King explains the horrors, and ungodliness of Hamlets mourning. It can be interpreted that mourning is a fine and acceptable way to cope in the event of one’s death, but when done in excess "'tis a fault to heave, a fault against the dead, a fault to nature,".

The king's soliloquy is nothing but foreshadow, a highly indirect foreshadow. No one, nor the audience (dramatic irony is not occurring), is truly informed on what the king means when he is telling Hamlet to give up his mourning and understand that his father is dead. However, when a clear answer is given to the King's death, it becomes apparent that the current king was attempting to hide his sins, by making all forget that it had previously happened; in doing so, he would become loved by Hamlet, and all others are none the wiser towards done deeds.

Following his speech on the death of fathers, the King expresses to Hamlet his fondness. Hamlet, chiefly after the death of his father, premeditated his plans for leaving the royal family to return to college in Wittenberg; the king had deplored him to remain with him and his mother, thus expressing his overall love. Subsequently, he had begun to disclose to Hamlet that he is the heir to the Danish throne that his father had held, thus constraining him to remain with the family so that he may fulfill his duties after the passing of the present royalties.

The king’s soliloquy had both direct and indirect meanings within. Much of which was expressly stated to gain the trust of Hamlet, and remain undetected by those suspicious of his activities and the death of Hamlets father, this however does not lead to the idea that the king’s endearment was ersatz. He has a genuine fondness for the young Hamlet, whether it is because they are naturally kin, or he really does consider Hamlet a son, is open to interpretation by audiences alike.

More Shakespeare.

It is beginning to become apparent, that Hamlet is mad. Not mad as in crazy, however - though, he must be a little crazy, everyone is crazy. His anger and wit are being shown to the audience. Such a man seeking revenge, and still mourning for his father, should go back to the way he had been, preceding the meeting with his ghostly father. But who am I to say he should continue to mourn and hide his feelings and work on his ideas for revenge. What shall he do for revenge? This is a question that must be answered, and will be answered.

There is not much recap or analysis to be done. Most of it has been completed in class whilst we act out the play, and discuss the play with each other. There is not much I can say that one does not already know, because of that discussion and exposure to the play. Additionally, we are each assigned to do specific assignments to summarize each scene, and then an analysis for each act. My home work does my blog work for me. So, from now on, I just might point out key events instead. Unless, of course, I am attempting to use as many words as possible. Even then, the key events to each scene (that my summary will pertain to) will be here. For no one but I - As no one will care what I think the main or key events are.

- Polonius is a man that likes to hear himself speak, thus he enjoys repetition. He sends another (Voltimand) off to keep tabs on his son Laertes, in addition him keeping tabs on Hamlet.

- Hamlet, as I have said before, is beginning to show his wit and anger. The appearance of his father’s ghost does not seem to have been the best thing for an attitude adjustment.

- The King receives word from Fortinbras that they would like to peacefully cross his lands to reach the Polacks. He agrees quickly, without taking any consideration that Fortinbras would want his land back, and attempt to kill the king.

- Players that take roles in nontraditional plays are introduced. Hamlet messes with one of them, just to test out how incorrectly the playmakers have been teaching them to act, in addition to how incorrect the plays are. He is going to use such inexperience to his advantage, and test his uncles conscience.

Nap Time.

I begin to come up with an idea, something to right about, an interesting point, so on an so forth. Then I immediately lose it. This is completely awesome, makes writing so simple.
Do you remember, in kindergarten or preschool, nap time? I've never really understood why they would designate and implement an activity such as that for small children that only attend school for four hours anyway. Was it just so they were not complete brats? Everyone is cranky when not on enough sleep. Maybe the same rule should be applied to us too. Especially since ours brains at this age, don't develop near as quickly.
The younger the child, the faster the brain development. For this reason, teaching children two languages is much easier until the age of five, than teaching a teenager or an adult. The development of their brains are so great that they could, more than likely, sit in a room as long as a high school student and absorb two-times more information. Instead, they play, and get nap time.
I remember, in kindergarten, learning the alphabet in sign language. It took about a week. I also remember dress up, and painting. Besides some sort of motor skills, what does dress up do for learning development? If it was a way to teach kids to use their imaginations, boy did I sure fail that course. I look back, and really wish I would have learned something more. I was never really one that wanted to play. I wanted to get school over with. Now I want both, but can only have one. I can't have them both, so can I have nap time to compensate?
Nap time would be highly beneficial for high school students. Information is retained better, and for a longer period of time whence something is taught or read or learned before a brief napping period. Imagine how much smarter we would all be. Imagine how much more rested we would all be, especially considering most teenagers are not well rested. So, being beneficial to both our health and our education, we should have nap time.

Shakespeare. The(More) Academic Entry.

 

I am still not entirely sure what constitutes as academic writing. Obviously, academic writing is on a specific subject assigned or that has to do with something pertaining to some sort of knowledge. I am, as usual, referring to these blogs. If I mention Shakespeare, and discuss my understanding - what a one sided conversation, a conversation with myself - does that constitute as the academic piece for the week? Am I then allowed to write what I please, or rather, will I still receive points if I write this blog about something that comes to mind, instead of an in-depth analysis? I don't think just mentioning Shakespeare in a blog automatically makes it an academic writing piece of sorts. However, because I had discussed my understanding, perhaps it does, or should, count as some sort of academic writing. Though I am still not entirely sure. I suppose the rest of this shall consist of a recap-type summary or an analysis on the remaining pages until Act II, to assure myself that I will obtain the full amount of points possible for this week!

Finishing Act I was not all that difficult. The understanding of the words seems to occur, as though I have learned this way of speaking, this language, during my early years. I still question, if it is this way now, why it was so difficult but a few years ago.

Regardless, Hamlet has now seen the ghost of his father for the first time. The ghost does not speak still, even in his presence. The ghostly king lures him away from Horatio and Marcellus, whom advise Hamlet to stay, to tell him something in confidence. They are alone. The scene has ended. In the next scene though, the ghost begins to speak for the first time. He explains to Hamlet of the snake that had killed him. This snake, however, was no reptile, this snake was indeed Hamlet's incestuous uncle, of whom poured poison in his ear and determined his brothers fate. Hamlet knows what he is to do, as well, he is instructed to do it. He is to take revenge so that his father may exist somewhere other than the purgatory, or not exist at all. So he may be in peace.

As the sun rises, the ghost leaves, and in his place, arrive Horatio and Marcellus once more. They are to swear by Hamlets sword, to never speak of the phenomenon in which they have been experiencing this night, and the nights preceding. They do so, with help of the ghost who tells them to swear from below, and part for the day.

Understanding Shakespeare.

This reading, 'twas difficult throughout the better part of high school. Dense text, though, was not. This reading, however, is the densest of texts. This reading is Shakespeare - Hamlet, if we are to specify.
I spent the first couple years of high school, and maybe even before that, with an ignorant look on my face whenever I read a sonnet or play by William Shakespeare. They were not the easiest to understand. It was some sort of jargon, another language from another time in which I was not acquainted, it resembled speech that I hoped I would never hear, one with many meanings. More connotation, hooray.
I would always be a speaker in the small class play-like functions we had had. In part because it was for a grade, and because a pupil was generally not asked about what one character had meant by a certain phrase of sonnet, if they were the one speaking. It may have been to get up and be center of attention as well, but that is well beside the point. I had no idea what I was saying; it was as though my white brain matter had taken over, causing me to speak before I truly listened to what I was saying, thus ruining my overall understanding.
This, thankfully, has changed. As I finish my English assignment, I realize that I no longer have such an ignorant look nor do I lack understanding (okay, sometimes I do. . .). Finally, as a senior, I have been able to somewhat accomplish a task that has caused me much difficult over the years. I can understand Shakespeare, for the most part.

Lack of Ideas.

Already it begins to set in, the lack of ideas to talk about. Rants are always great talking points; however may be unacceptable, and quite frankly annoying to read for extended periods of time. Because of this, I'm going to sit here, typing random thoughts.

We have just begun, and already these blogs are posing difficulty. Not that they are difficult in any way to write, but finding a concept to write about becomes increasingly difficult. If only it were easy to come up with different talking points.

One day, I hope that this writer’s block disappears so that I may effectively write my blogs for class. Until then, I shall continue to write nonsense, as I am doing right this very second. Nonsense that, more than likely, does not intrigue deep thought by the persons reading. I am no Shakespeare, I am no Einstein, I cannot write stories, or in this case blogs, that provoke certain feelings or thoughts. I am by no means an influential person. I will have to stick with my pointless compositions for the time being.

Seventy more words, this is all I need to fulfill my duty of this assignment. Fifty-three more words and I will be done with this entry indefinitely. These last few words linger and are scarce in the world that is my conscious. Twenty-six is all I have left to complete. The remainder of my time writing this will consist of fluff, in an attempt to complete this assignment. My work is finished.

Music and Poetry.

I have never thought of lyrics and music as another type of poetry. The two, in my mind, have never really been related. Until now. When I look at poetry, I think of many different characteristics and attributes. I have not, however, previously associated poetry with music.

Listening to different songs and attempting to find one sophisticated enough (and appropriate enough) to analyze during class has really changed my opinion on poetry not being remotely related to music. The song, without music behind it, is pretty bland and academic. Nonetheless, the lyrics contribute to the work as giving meaning, depth, and story to the song. Regardless, after deep thought, lyrics should not be heavily considered as music. The beat is music. Acoustics are the basis of music; they provide all that any genre of music is.

When looking at the lyrics of a song without it's designated beat, the song truly does become poetry. It becomes difficult to read and understand. It becomes a regular poem that grants aggravation and loathing whence one cannot find the true meaning. It becomes something I don't want to read. Literal and straightforward poems are the right and fun type of poems, and that now too applies to lyrics when without music.

In conclusion, music is poetry. Rather, the lyrics in music are poetry. The two relate well, they have either hidden or explicit meanings to be determined/ noticed, and they can both be awful forms of writing due to the fact that they can be completely incomprehensible.

Imagery.

Titles of poems often represent an overall meaning of the specific poem, obviously. However, a line in a given poem may be used as the title to reiterate (such as in “I felt a Funeral, in my Brain” by Emily Dickinson), or emphasize, a certain theme or meaning the audience is to look for or notice about the writing; in this case, what the audience is to look for in a poem. An examples of these are “Meeting at Night” and “Parting at Morning”, both by Robert Browning. In these two poems, the audience notices the relation between the title of the poem, and the poems overall context. Furthermore, these two poems are written as a turn of events.

The occipital lobe in the human brain may be easily tricked. Anything, or any place can easily be imagined; you can imagine yourself in a specific place, or imagine a scenario depicted by others’ words, all just by the thinking. For this reason, imagery is an effective literary device.

Imagery, though to either explicitly or implicitly gain a reaction or thought, is often difficult to decipher in large quantities. Whilst reading and attempting to analyze the poem “To Autumn” by John Keats, I found myself frustrated beyond compare. Keats’ consistent use of multiple forms of imagery makes the poem that much more difficult to decipher. However, it may add to the emotion the poem is to convey, allotting for more relation between the audience and the speaker. Additionally, this poem specifically portrays the stages and beauty of autumn through various types of imagery, as well as personifying the season to a woman.  

In my opinion, the excessive use of imagery made the poem that much more difficult to deduce, thereby detracting all possible interest.

Late Nights.

It is a difficult task, breaking a habit. We all have so many different habits, some good and
others, not so good. It is understood that we are creatures of habit, our bodies like schedules, and
our bodies like sequence, therefore our bodies must like consistency. To maintain equilibrium,
this could be a possible reason for habitual actions or processes. However, if a certain process
was in fact harming the body, why would it be so difficult to stop? If it were easy to cease, it is
certain we would have fewer terminal diseases, of course, the body would not harm itself, but
habits are not a disease.
They say that it takes twenty-one to break a habit. Twenty-one what, days, or times, tries? Who
even came up with that specific number anyhow? Everyone is different, correct? If I could do
something good twenty-one times, so that it became habitual, I would probably be much better
off. It doesn’t seem to work that way, I still go to bed late.
Over the course of the summer vacation, unless you have a job or something to contribute to
society, but even then, most teenagers stay up late. Stay up late; wake up late-morning, if not
in the afternoon. This became habitual, and it is not necessarily a problem either, ‘till the end
of August – or in the event of this year, the beginning of August – when school begins. These
early mornings wreak havoc on the minds and bodies of those that have developed the habit of
staying up late. It’s ruining thought processes; the minds of many are slowly shutting down from
overuse. If this is occurring, why is it so difficult to break this habit? There is little benefit to
being sleep deprived. Perhaps certain habits can be juxtaposed to diseases, difficult to get rid of,
generally not beneficial.

Poetry.

   September 4, 2013

It’s not that poetry is bad, it’s that those that teach it – not that it is necessarily their fault by any means; they have a certain curriculum to follow – shove it down our throats at the time we begin to read. Haiku's  limericks, we are forced to do it all, starting from a young age. It gets repetitive and old. It’s like going to work, or even to school. If you do the same thing every single day of your life, in this case, a couple times every school year, you get bored with it. It begins to be less tolerable every single time you go over it in class and write one more note. Acceptable poetry is Poe poetry.

No one wants to be a pessimist, so they derive poems of happiness and rainbows - those are nice, if you’re not me. (I’m not referring to all poems either, mind you.) I desire to hear a story. Morbid and scary is entertaining; it’s different than the typical poem we were taught to read or analyze. Appropriation is more important than entertainment, apparently.

When being taught poetry, a large factor of its enjoyment is brought by the teacher teaching it. I have been fortunate enough to have a teacher that can explain the meaning of different poems, which can peak an interest. If one does not understand the meaning of a poem, it is by no means enjoyable. It’s rather irritating, actually. The poem “Terence, this is stupid stuff” by A.E. Housman was one of those irritating poems. Though entertaining because it talks about drunkards and the benefits of getting drunk, my initial lack of understanding led to an overall distaste for the poem.

As Mr. Burge began to discuss the poem in class, and the story of King Mithridates, the poem became interesting. Poetry was portrayed as though it had great influence on many lives; poetry could make one’s life better, keep people sober and on the right path, whereas alcohol makes life better until the hangover abruptly ruins everything. Additionally, the skepticism King Mithridates felt towards humanity and other people in order to endure hardships and drink poison, made the poem appear more realistic, and gave it more appeal.

Poetry can be described as a teaching of previous experiences, or a writing portraying immense emotion and truth, an interesting way to tell a story either fictional or nonfictional. There is not one correct way to describe poetry. It is used in forms of song and lyrics, to give definitions, and so on. There is not one best way to describe poetry, nor is there one way to describe all its use. Poetry is like medical terminology, it is a different language. It must be deciphered to be understood and enjoyed. 

Realizing Individuality

September 3, 2013

I've always been very conscientious of the things I've done, walking, talking, eating, drinking, you name it. It’s like I thought there was some sort of written social order that dictated how everyone is to do the simplest of activities. There was no realization that I did something as equal as another; everyone does everything differently, nothing is done the same, or so they tell us. They call us individuals, a singular person or thing. I’m not so sure about you, but I always thought of an individual as a person or thing with original characteristics or traits, defining characteristics and traits, only given to that individual person or thing. Even the idea that they, whoever “they” are, group us all together, and refer to us as ‘they’, is an obvious sign that we are pretty similar, that we are not truly individuals. All of our thoughts, defining characteristics, quirks, everything about us that make us unique, are shared.

Most, if not all, of our thoughts have been thought by someone prior to us. For example, take an inventor, obviously the inventor is thought to have developed an idea that no one has ever thought of before. In all reality, there was some person, somewhere, that had had that same exact thought. That’s right, your million dollar idea has already probably been thought of and could be in the process of being tested or utilized somewhere right at this moment. The only difference between your invention, other than a few parts and methods, and theirs is that you may actually patent it and make money off of it. Congratulations, you have committed idea theft, and were paid for it.

Anyways, the point is, there is someone out there that was just as conscientious as me about the little things, how loud it was when they ate, or if they walked a little weird. It does not matter now; everyone does the same thing at some point, or thinks the same thought.