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.