The End of the Blog as We Know It

"Strange how the half light
Can make a place new
You can't recognize me
And I can't recognize you"
   -Half Light, by Arcade Fire


To begin with, that's a rather cynical quote, which is, in part, what this post is about. But more than that, I have learned in English this year to look beyond the surface, in literature and with people. These three quotes represent to me the natural consequence of English. The first represents seeing a place an entirely different way upon a second look, and the consequences of this. And yes, one of the consequences of this is an increase of cynicism, of refusing to take things at face value. One can see this in the books we read, going from the idyllic, almost childish story of To Kill a Mockingbird through the wry social commentary of The Importance of Being Earnest, and moving on all the way to, for me, the bleak tale of nobility among violent chaos that is A Tale of Two Cities. Some may disagree with me on that one, but I must point out that at the core of the novel, many innocents die, including the character who the reader may sympathize with most. That novel also teaches the lesson that I have learned best this year, that surfaces are silly, unimportant things, with the complicated, although originally boorish Sydney Carton winning my affection much more than the almost mechanically "nice" Charles Darnay. This theme has also appeared in nearly every novel we have read this year, in some way shape or form, and I have been able to reflect on these themes. Looking back at my blogs on To Kill a Mockingbird, I see a still somewhat-innocent freshman speaking of the fairly obvious about Boo Radley. Boo Radley, really is a very obvious character in his role, and reinforces the moral of the story, admittedly, quite well. Still, even at the time, I wasn't terribly satisfied with my rather mediocre writing, not being able to see the subtleties as well I would like. As time went on, I began to understand better, particularly with Animal Farm, which I wrote about several times on the blog, and eventually made a radio drama for, which was also posted. The cynicism of the book, its intrinsic belief in the malcontents of society, also had a significant impact on me. Still, my blog posts were, although better than the early ones, still lacking a bit. Gradually, however, I learned from my mistakes. By TIoBE, I could see the subtle undercurrents within Oscar Wilde's witty dialogue, the class commentary and the gentle rebuffery of his era. I wrote a post on the central importance of lies in the book, a concept a bit new to me still, and that English has instilled in me, for better or for worse. Cementing the theme, we read Great Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities, both Dickens novels. I've discussed the second already, but the first made almost a greater impact. It is a novel, at its core, about how the shiny, happy, rich things we may want in life are, in actuality, fairly pointless. Dickens' dissatisfied cynicism, his entreaty for his readers to realize this, rang true to me, and saved what otherwise might have been a long and boring book, in my mind. This growth, inspired by the literature, may be considered a bit negative, as the loss of innocence is portrayed in Harper Lee's novel, but cynicism can be seen almost as protective. Despite what the two men who's names begin with J say, while other people may be the primary source of discontent in life, they may also spark its interest, primarily by seeing them as people. A belief, for me, has emerged through all of this self reflection. By understanding the depths of people, and life in general, one realizes they are much more subtle than idealism, or idealistic freshmen, make it out to be. People are deep, complicated, curious things, and so second impressions are much more important than first. Without this weekly filtering of ideas, I might never have come to my conclusions, and so I thank you, Ms. Gilman, for presenting me this forum of ideas to thing with.


Fin

Thank you, Pip

     By far, my most memorable assignment, and certainly the one that I worked hardest on, was the essay on Great Expectations. The essay itself was a fairly standard, three-chunk, five-paragrah essay. However, there were a few complicating factors. First of all, although this was not the first of such essays I had written, it was the first the use chunks, and to enforce them stringently. Secondly, I had not particularly enjoyed Great Expectations, and I especially disliked Pip, the subject of the essays. Additionally, the prompt was a bit confusing, requiring connecting the apparently disparate elements of Pip's character development, and another, separate aspect of the novel. And to cap it all, I had gotten what I consider a rather subpar grade on my immediately previous effort, the TIoBE group essay.

     However, I managed to recognize the main issue with my previous essay was my rather weak point sentences, and busied about fixing this. The prompt, additionally, settled itself once I made my choice and began thinking. The chunks were not that difficult, and although the paraphrasing required some thought, Dickens' almost obscene verbosity helped in finding useful quotes. And, most interestingly for me, the more I analyzed Pip, the more I could understand and sympathize with him, and the more real and less annoying he became. In the end, I got an A on this essay, which I was quite proud of, particularly for learning from my mistakes in order to finish.

Poetry Experience

     My most interesting experience with poetry also happens to be one of my most recent; as of this writing, it occurred three days ago, at the final Oly orchestra concert. The poem itself was called, if I remember correctly, "Thank You for Being Awesome," written and recited by James Lee, a junior at Oly and a violinist in the Symphony Orchestra. The poem was recited, and, at parts, sang, as a parting gift to the seniors in the orchestra who were departing. As the poet openly admitted, this poem had been recycled from the previous year, with only a few words changed. Still, it was extremely interesting to listen to.

     At first, I thought that James Lee had only began digressing before he started his poem proper; he would not have been the first person to forget what was going on that night. He spoke dramatically, melodramatically, perhaps overdramatically. He undulated back and forth, his voice oscillating between pitches as if trying each out for fun. The stanzas either rhymed rather predictably (years with tears, for example) and used a very simple rhyme scheme at that, or did not rhyme at all. Combined with his delivery, this poem had the audience, including my self, laughing out loud by the first few lines, even the seniors who it paid homage to. Midway through the recitation, the poet began singing the lines, in a warbling, jumpy voice, then abruptly reverting back to his normal tones.

      This probably makes the poem sound terrible, but it really was not. As a matter of fact, it was the antithesis of a weepy good-bye anything, acknowledging the good times that would be missed by spawning a few more. His delivery made the entire work hugely entertaining even to those who were freshmen and had never had a class with those seniors, such as myself. And that leads into the reason this poem is being written about right now. James Lee's poem demonstrated brilliantly that poetry can entertain, captivate, and control the audience incredibly effectively, and that while deeper meanings to be pondered over thoughtfully are nice, a poet can still tangibly connect with his audience, and, rather than letting them overfill with the pretentiousness of poetry as an archaic, literary concept, understand the poem as performance art. In a phrase, the poem stated clearly that there is more to poetry than Robert Frost and his ilk, with no insult meant to Mr. Frost.

     Up until now, I've had two separate teachers, my third grade teacher and and seventh grade English teacher, who enjoyed poetry a great deal. Some of this has rubbed off on me, and so I view poetry as an interesting concept that I still can explore, with as much variation in concept as is found in fiction.