"The deepest sin against the human mind is to believe things without evidence." //Aldous Huxley
Monday, April 13, 2015
Meet Macbeth
Macbeth is indirectly characterized by Sergeant in Act I Scene II. He parallels the "common war hero" seen in most literature works. Macbeth is characterized as "brave," which he accordingly deserves. Macbeth, unlike others, has (consciousness) self-reflection. The witches contribute marginally to the audience, foreshadowing clear in the text. They tell Macbeth about the trouble that Lady Macbeth will cause, warning him about her ambition and lack of self-reflection. They also allude to Lady Macbeth's shaming of his masculinity and her easy manipulation of his emotions. Unlike having scenes play out alongside the characters, Shakespeare uses the witches as "godlike figures" (yes, dichotomy is hard on that one). He gives the witches the power of seers, gives them the strength to act as puppeteers (all-knowing).
Sunday, April 12, 2015
The Everyday Blogs
There are blogs that I continuously find myself hovering over at a constant rate. These blogs have appealed to me in some way or form. Some of them for their "ahead-of-time-before-it's-due" posts (that never fail to save me) to blogs that are a little bit more personalized. Other times, I find myself unconsciously clicking a blog because, for lack of a better term, their pretty, aesthetically pleasing. So here they are, the long awaited "everyday" blogs
- Lupita Pliego - Her blog is the blog I continuously check at a day to day basis. It's aesthetically pleasing enough, is easy to read, and utilizes tabs so that visitors are easily able to configure what they want to find. She's also the one that gets assignments done (like a month a head). Whenever I think I'm missing an assignment, I go over to her blog and see if I am missing some things. Not only that, but it's personalized enough that I see slivers of Lupe in her blog. The colors, the quotes, and heck, the "book tree" screams Lupita Pliego, book-lover extraordinaire.
- Jayce Alegre - The funny thing is a majority of Jayce's posts aren't AP Literature related. His posts, although not assignment based, are distinctive and honest, their new and exciting. Looking through my feed tend to get boring really quickly because of the same 'ol boring "let's get this done quickly, sometimes sloppy, assignment post," but Jayce tends to stray away from that.
- Henry Freeborn - Similar to Jayce, his writing strays away from the typical assignment based post. The difference between the two is the style of writing. I particularly enjoy reading Henry's writing because of the gritty style. He writes with the full bluntness of a guy that doesn't give any cr*p about what people think of it. His writing is hauntingly beautiful, and once again, very gritty. He takes stances on otherwise politically gripping topics, be it national or local, with elaborate ease.
- Yesenia Beas - Her words flow out with the fluidity of water. Well, her whole writing can be described like water (when she decides to post). She can easily manipulate her words to a whim. She is able to write about something she does not care for with the utmost passion. Her words can be as turbulent as a current ridden river or as calm as a lake.
Dulce Et Decorum Est - Poem Essay
Prompt #2: Read the following poem carefully. Then, in a well-organized essay, analyze how the speaker uses the varied imagery of the poem to reveal his attitude towards the nature of war.
“Dulce Et Decorum Est”
It is easy to mistake Wilfred Owen’s Dulce Et Decorum Est as a pro bono, pro-war work of literature. A simple glimpse at the title of the poem, a deceitful latin phrase that literally means “sweat and right,” might imply that the author was giving a message for war. Upon further investigation, the reader might realise the dichotomy between the title and the meaning of the work. Wilfred Owen’s Dulce Et Decorum Est tells of the hauntingly realistic story of war. Owen is insistent for society to reevaluate its stance on war believing war shouldn’t be romanticised, because war is grit, it is sunken eyes and hunched backs, dirt and blood not the “roses and hearts” that young men and women believe it to be.
The tone of the poem is somber and realistic, it grips the reader’s attention by vividly describing the reality of war. Owen mentioned soldiers as “old beggars under sacks” to ratify the fatigue and dwindling morale that often takes a hold of soldiers. The poem further exemplifies Owen’s claim as the work openly talks about the grotesque deaths soldiers might encounter. There isn’t anything romantic about dying for a country, nothing honourable. The death of a soldier isn’t slowed down with dramatic, classical music beating in the background, it’s dirty and grotesque. Death in the middle of the field is “guttering, choking, drowning,” it is utterly painful and ugly. The work belittles the way war is often time interpreted as something sort-of romantic. It’s similar to how living in a small town gets over romanticized. People don’t see that living in a small town isn’t as romantic as it seems with its lack of diversity and lack of acceptance. War isn’t romantic, it’s not “sweet” and “right,” it’s blood and gore and death. It is taking hold of young men and women to use as triggers, using people to do the dirty work so that they’ll be the one’s that dirty their hands. Soldiers are sheeps waiting for the slaughterhouse, “trudging” on, all the “limping on, blood-shod.” The fatigue etched deep within them, the horrors of bloodshed and the dwindling light of a candle, soldiers, lied to, turn their backs on their innocence.
War is like “gas! gas!” It poisons children to believe it as right, in exchange for “desperate glory.” Owen continues to reiterate the “old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori (it is sweet and right to die for your country).” Potential death does not equal glory, nor does being plagued by the trauma brought by war. Owen’s own experiences with war extends the haunting reality of death, “of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues.”
Friday, April 10, 2015
Poem and Prompt Choice(s)
"Dulce Et Decorum Est"
Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Prompt #1:
Read the following poem carefully. Then write an essay in which you
discuss how such elements as language, imagery, structure, and point of
view convey meaning in the poem.
Prompt #2:
Read the following poem carefully. Then, in a well-organized essay,
analyze how the speaker uses the varied imagery of the poem to reveal
his attitude toward the nature of war.
Prompt #3:
In a brief essay, identify at least two of the implications implicit
in the society reflected in the poem. Support your statements by
specific references to the poem.
Battle of the Blogs: Bracket Voting
Battle of the Blogs has finally started. The competition is intense, competitors ready. Bring your "A" game on!
POST IS UP
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