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.