Death by irony...

Ironically, I'm blogging to take a break from writing. The irony of writing such a long paper on intentionally short works of literature is killing me. ;)
I am tempted to leave this sentence in my paper, "Rather than utilizing unnecessary amounts of signifiers to beat a theme to death, a somewhat apt description of this essay, poets such as Pound carefully chose their words to have meaning". However, I have enough common sense left to know that would be an unwise move. Really, in the words of Bill Nye,“Humor is everywhere, in that there’s irony in about anything a human does". I wish other people realized that...I could speak my mind more often. I see humor everywhere all the time. It's not that I fail to see the seriousness of life, but so many times we make mountains out of molehills. In the grand scheme of things, this paper won't matter. It doesn't affect my eternal destiny. And I've been stressed out about it all semester, especially as the deadline inches ever closer. It's due tonight. It's not going to be done. But that's ok. I'll get docked some points, but turn in something that's actually complete. The dragon of stress cannot steal my joy. 

Writing about nothing

People ask me, "Kelsey, why don't I ever see you around?". . .Here's some of what I've been up to:

Using comedy, Shakespeare devotes this play [Much Ado About Nothing] to the exploration of this concept of “nothing”. While the word nothing would seem to imply the play is a trifling affair, this “nothing” actually shapes our lives, for they are, for the most part, filled with ordinary occurrences, or nothingness (Goddard, 271). . .Indeed, the whole of Much Ado is a masterful “escalati[on]of recriminations based on purely a chimerical assumption that must eventually be deflated” (Bevington, 221). Claudio and Hero’s naive love, the bickering Beatrice and Benedick, and the people that interfere with their respective stories intentionally employ these very lies, or nothingness created in the character’s minds, to further their own ends. . .This theme of nothingness resonates deep within the reader or observer of Much Ado. William Shakespeare adeptly utilizes what Carl Gustav Jung would later call a “Literary Archetype”, or our “innate, apriori impulses to organize images and ideas; tendencies to produce form, relatable to instincts and representing ‘the precipitate of the psychic functioning of the whole ancestral line, the accumulated experiences of organic life in general, a million times repeated, and condensed into types’ ”(Carl Gustav Jung). Deep within our very being, notions of what should be or patterns of what we deem familiar emerge, categorized by our minds, though often not realized to be existent. Writers create characters using these forms, causing them to be comparable to the archetypes in the reader’s mind. The more one has read, the more archetypes one may recognize and patterns one may observe. While archetypes certainly appear any work, they are perhaps most obvious within the genre of comedy. 

So I'm noticing that several of my recent posts have been on Tuesdays...keeping with this theme, here's a word from a neglectful blogger.
Currently, my life seems to be ruled by the o'er looming mountain of homework, all to be accomplished before April 9. Between now and then, I have to teach a class period on Orientalism, act out scenes from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, write between 26-32 pages (and research for it), study for and complete 4 finals, a choir concert, and pack up my life and move back to America. I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed. I can't help but return to Romans 8, "What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?. . .Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?. . .No, in all these things, we are more than conquerers through Him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord".

Much Talk of Nothing

Today, in one of my lit. classes, I read Earnest Hemmingway's "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place", "The Lamp at Noon" by Sinclair Ross and "Why I live at the P.O." by Eudora Welty. Only Hemmingway was required. It's always severely tempting to have a literature anthology full of classics at your fingertips and be expected to pay attention to the lectures. At this point in the semester, much of the material from one class seems to bleed over to another and focusing is becoming much more complicated. Prime example: I'm writing a paper which will hopefully explore both the concepts and meanings of "nothingness" in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, and how comedy is a fitting medium to discuss these deeper themes by introducing literary critics from my theory course ; We spent this morning's representative literary works class discussing "nothingness" in Hemmingway's work (nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada). Si, "otro loco mas".

Currently posted on my desk is this list: 

1. Grades are an illusion.

2. Your passion and insight are reality.

3.Your work is worth more than mere congruence to an answer key.

4.Persistence in the face of a skeptical authority figure is a powerful ability.

5.Fitting in is a short-term strategy, standing out pays off in the long run.

6.If you care enough about the work to be criticized, you've learned enough for today.

It's been rather helpful whenever I start freaking out about the looming mountain of coursework to complete ere the semester ends. Not to mention the old Richard Bach quote that's been on my desk for years now, "Here is your test to find whether your mission on earth is finished: if you're alive, it isn't". It seems there are yet things to accomplish. Now, to get back to writing for school rather than leisure...

The thought process behind writing fascinates me. Any writing I would consider my best has come about seemingly on the spur of the moment or under great pressure ( as in, " Gee, I've got a paper due tomorrow morning, don't I?"). It's well-nigh impossible to replicate these circumstances, and unfortunately, I can't seem to pick which piece of work ends up being of above-average quality. Why is it that sometimes my thoughts seem to flow out in a concise and elegant manner, when at other times I can scarcely construct a sentence? Am I not still myself? Does my mind alter so much? Really, I ought to figure this out before I write the 4 papers I have yet due before the end of the semester. 

Musings on a Winter's Day...

"Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit,serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope,be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them.Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.' To the contrary, 'if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.' Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." -Romans 12:9-21

This passage is one of my all time favorites (really, all of Romans is...); it's posted on my wall. The title of the section, "Marks of the True Christian", really challenges and encourages me. When I'm wracked with doubt, it's a reminder that these things are outward evidences of the redeeming work of Christ in my life. When I'm overconfident, it reminds me how short I fall of the glory of God and how much I'm in need of grace and growth. I will never fully succeed in accomplishing this list until I reach heaven, but the Spirit has promised to intercede for me with groanings too deep for words, and the Son's blood has satisfied the Father's wrath. May I never outgrow the wonderful conviction that this passage brings my soul! 

On a lighter note, I'm sad to see the end of this Chinook. It was quite the blessing, making my return to Canada after break much easier. But now, the sunshine and warmth are gone and the flakes are starting to fall. A cold wind is blowing, the sky is grey, my window is closed and the space heater cranked to protect my poor little plants. I sit quietly indoors with my tea, happy that I'm not working gloveless at the construction site next door like so many of those poor men. As I was watching out my window, I noticed a small insect, probably one of the first of the year, trapped between my screen and the closed window, trying vainly to escape to the outdoors. How often am I like that little insect, chasing after what I desire or what I think I need rather than laying those things at the foot of the cross and trusting that my sovereign God knows best? (ok, perhaps this isn't a lighter note after all)

Truly on a lighter note, I miss swing dancing. I haven't gone for months now, and my feet start twitching whenever I hear anything with that beat. We'll have to deal with this or I might just spontaneously burst into dance in class sometime. 

Hiding in my book...

Recently, in one of my Lit. classes, my prof. decided to "pick on Kelsey" (she regularly does this with her 300-400 level English students). She then mentioned how I had done a phenomenal job of improving as a writer in the last few months, giving details of my grades from last semester compared to now. Needless to say, while happy that an essay I literally wrote the night before and thought was poorly-done turned out getting an almost perfect mark, I regretted my decision to sit near the front of the class. She continued to lecture the class on how if you pay attention to what your prof. scrawls in the margins, "like Kelsey" (gestures), you too can improve. Ironically, I made the same mistake in the essay I got back today as I did in a previous one I turned in to this same professor...In all honesty, a lot of it has to do with the fact that I put minimal effort into my Literature class last semester because I needed to focus my attention to Biology and Philosophy. Without trying, I still got a B+ in the class, and managed with effort to pass both my hard classes with a decent grade. Granted, I'm working to improve my GPA this semester, and it seems to be paying off...we'll see when I get my midterms back. There are certainly worse things to get singled out in class for.


On a different note, reading in Isaiah this morning, I was particularly touched by a certain line in chapter 16. Not because it convicted me of sin, but because the beauty of the poetic metaphor used does a wonderful job of describing how my feelings work. Isaiah has spent 10 verses describing the fall of Moab and lamenting for the destruction there. In verse 11, he introduces his simile: "Therefore my inner parts moan like a lyre for Moab, and my inmost self for Kir-hareseth". As I read, it struck me; in my rare sorrow, my depths of emotion, my heart also moans (though I would tend to compare it more to a cello or violin). That's one of the reasons I love stringed instruments so much; I do actually feel the sounds in my heart. It's hard to describe, but I think Isaiah captured it well.