Kovo Twenty-Nine of Twenty Eleven

Star Wars anyone? Or, should I say Star Wars=Frankenstein. I have discovered this as the truth and it shall be exposed to the world!

Yes, followers of the infamous Star Wars, you have copied a novel for England! And written by a woman (shame on you!). Victor Frankenstein is completely obsessed with life and death when his mother dies. Sound familiar? Anakin Skywalker became obsessed with power as his mother died. But this power was only so that he could control life and death and stop death completely. The idea is common, yes, but the idea here is definitely copied. How could anything be so similar. Please, don't tell me the rest of it isn't the same, I knew that already. But this point (above^) is true, so STFU.

Anyways, my topic of the day is patience. I love patience, I practically worship it. But, there will be days when I don't want to wait. It's not that I can't, but sometimes I'd rather know and let life go forward than wait and wait and wait and then break out due to stress of waiting. I want to know ahora mismo!

Thanks.

White trees and songs,
she crawls beneath the stars.
"Forgive me, hearts of Gods,
I have broken words.
The promises I held to heart
were crushed beneath the power of love."'

Kovo Twenty-Six of Twenty Eleven

"I miss you, maturity. I loved you with all my heart; why aren't you here anymore? I saw you yesterday. I tried to love you again. But then I remembered, I'm in love with someone else. I'm kind of tied down right now. Don't worry, I will have you soon enough." September Seventh would like to mention September Sixth.


It's only my sixty-sixth post, but I feel the need to finally relate change to my first blog.

"Change" by Taylor Swift isn't exactly the perfect representation of the difference I feel in myself between a month after my age to a two month away from the next. But, as they say, "The only constant thing in life is change," and so it stands true. I can't say I'm disappointed in my changes, nor can I say that I regret anything. (okay, maybe some geometry stuff, but other than that!)Things are definitely more exciting and I love it.

Thank you. I'm sending this out now, rather than later, rather than before, to put the true meaning behind it. Thank you, for you are my catalyst.

When I think back on my "car ride contemplations," I realise two things: one, that I don't have the time for that sort of stuff anymore; two, that fear of self cannot be overcome alone. When I say fear of self, I mean the fear that oneself will fail and thus, you fear your own failure. (It makes sense, doesn't it?) But my point is that the specific fear of failure (otherwise known as atychiphobia) can be overcome by oneself, but I wouldn't recommend it. Becoming confident enough to overcome a fear and go out and live a normal life is something that can be done, but is significantly easier when it comes to encouragement from someone else.

I feel that confidence gains comes from courage and effect. The courage is built up in the way that everyone knows: self-encouragement, persistence, positive thoughts, and (sometimes) peer pressure. (Oh, and also- theme music helps, depending on what you're doing). It just takes mental dedication and hope. Something that we all deny, but truly can't shake.
The harder part comes next: effect. This part is more difficult simply due to the fact that the effect is unpredictable and based solely (before it happens) on what the person wants. However, what we want and what we get are rarely ever the same. No, most of the time we never get the exact wording or the same amount of compliments that our immense brains have the capacity to think through instead of doing trigonometry. Yet, how is it that what we expect and what we get go together? This is solved by the simple addition of self-hatred to an equation. When you don't even have the confidence to try new things, why wouldn't you have some amount of self-esteem issues? That's the thing. Since we hate ourselves, we expect people to bash us, destroy us, and be rude. So, when it happens, we were prepared. Is it defense or the messed up patterns of society? (Or both?)

My point is that I am not longer afraid, the way I once was. With encouragement and praise, I believe in myself and I don't hate myself the way I used to. I am me, and I love me. (That will always sound conceited!)

Tipsy staggers up the stairs,
break-away to hell.
Religion follows me in,
"Mr.Anderson."
Questioning heartache,
but overcoming hate.'

Six Kovo of Twenty Eleven

ALT key=love

And then he tells me he wants his friend back. Has he lost her? I didn't remember stopping being her. But, maybe I did. The question becomes, who am I now, then? Am I everything he wanted? Because that's who I was trying to be.

But where am I? Why am I different? Am I floating in the limbo of a deeper dream? This is reality.

So, here I am. Sorry, angry, working, tired, and knowing there's still more I'm hiding from. Because I remember being here and you left. Now that you're back, I've changed? All I've ever done was change.

Change is the only constant thing in life. "If you were to kill me, the last thing I would say would be an apology for bleeding on your shirt."

Girls and calculus,
the number twenty-seven can't break through.
Time breaks all barriers,
even love can't be forever.'

Three Kovo of Twenty Eleven

^Picture unrelated
Just going to throw this out there, but Kovo is the best month so far (word-wise).

I wanted to start my blog today with the concept of hatred. Only a few nights ago, I was introduced to it in it's purest form. The form that goes beyond my understanding. Maybe it's because I'm not them, I wasn't there to know, and I'm not there to understand now. What I do know is that I see hatred in it's purest, simplest, and most evil form inside a family. You cannot deny your connection. When families cast away a child, that is truly hatred. When someone can completely give upon the possible bonhomie of a person, there is break-up. Although, it is entertaining to see. Not in the way of fun and games, but to understand the calumny of a person through bias eyes. And who knows if the person who is remembered is a canard or the same person who bilks people. It's not for me to determine now, but in a few months I will determine the chicanery truth.



"Kiss Me Through the Phone" Parody-"Making Love to Tissues"
"Celery"

A teenage girl is always capricious. Her life is a system of well-oiled ups and downs that slip and slide together causing an array of disastrous events. The worst part is that there is no augury to tell where her life will lead (whether horror or prosper); no one knows until they are there. I love the aspect of family here. Because now I get it, why parents don't take kids seriously. I look back on myself. When I thought I was so "in love." I believed that I possessed cogent argument at fourteen. It's just ridiculous. What I took as disrespect then now is simple circumspect. Oh, how contumacious I was then, believing I could fight my innocence. Yet, by doing that, I allowed my naive-ness to burgeon. It was an infinite declivity that I lead myself on. "Parents Just Don't Understand"


^I would like to relate this picture to me. Solemn black cat. Friendless. Heartless. Alone. But does he care? Never. He's a stone cold loner.

The concept of self-respect is a catholic one. That the human body is something that needs to be cosseted. It's not just a moral issue, but becomes and ethical one when it comes to assisted suicide. I would say it were a strange concept, but I know where they stand. The coterie who can sit in a circle and play their game at fate because they have nothing to lose. To them, there is no way to assuage the situation of life. The pain they experience can only be lightened by pain of another nature. It's nothing deleterious to them because once it starts, it's like an addiction. The cupidity of it is so powerful. I would sit on my hands and cry, begging myself to be disabused from my past. Only one girl broke my harmful and destructive ways. My diffidence kept me from going forward, or being anything diurnal.

Love-

To end in my melancholy way, I'd like to quote Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and explain my feelings. "He already had one or two little wives...a pretty little girl of five years of age." My immediate response was to convince myself not to cry, although I may tonight. Why is it that no matter how much I move forward, change, accept, and cope, it's the little things that plunge into my heart and stop the beating? I'm trying to corroborate my point, but it would reveal too much, And as I don't describe, I get further and further from my intent at all making a desultory paragraph in the end. In the end, the best thing to say is that there's a reason I don't keep best guy friends.

'Divined by goddess wisdom,
time follows between the wisps and cracks of parallelism and space.
A distaff has the longing arms,
but diaphanous blank leaves light to blind.
The rain patters in the window
washing away the sins of filibuster and dilatory senators.'

Twenty-Six Vasaris of Twenty Eleven

I realize now that the last few posts I've had are only for English class. She's taken over my blog, that English teacher has!

It's funny how easy this is. Moving forward and loving on. There's no need to look behind. Everything that was left behind you is what you left behind, by choice, by heart, with mind. There's nothing left to say about it.

I become faced with my own dilemma, however. In that week, where there was so much conflict, risk, possibility. Where I had everything I wanted and spent (collectively) twenty dollars in consequences. Where did that lead me. And the longer I thought, the harder it was. To say that I would let go. That was a scary thought. I hated everything about that subject, but there was a flash-a moment where I didn't want one stripe. Luckily, I got what I wanted in reality (not in craziness) and went on my merry way.

Here we go with boys again.

'Geometry is about circles,
with play about cats.
Boys with crushes,
and girls who blush.
Don't trip in the upward sand,
kiss in the cracks.'

Seventeen of Vasaris of Twenty Eleven

Running through the mysterious woods, who cries more than the lone girl? Everyone. She runs away from her life, her morals, her beliefs. She abdicated her security and standards for a life of risk. "Would you like to play a game?" And no one runs and strays from the path quicker than her. No one has fallen to their desires faster. Her alacrity led her somewhere new. She is the easiest corrupted, changed, and conquered. And this is not something she arrogates. The proof is what has not yet been determined. To use a cliché, like an angel, she fell from her Heaven. And the question becomes, why would even leave glory? Why would anyone walk away from the beautiful approbation that they worked so hard to achieve?

Can I borrow your phone?

The answer is simple. Okay, that's a lie. Life was made to vex it's players, and only a zealot could make it through. Everything is a trick of the light, and nothing will be anodyne. Anyways, the answer is simple, but with complex reasons and though processes behind it. Because I want to be yoked to you. It's all a concept of love and wants. Because that winsome boy came and swept me off her feet. Sure, his love didn't come to her easily, more like something vicious. However, every day now is beautiful. Sure, her wantonness isn't how her parents, or herself, saw her future self, but she loves it. She embraces who she is now. "I'm not fat."

However, I'm going to abscond from the above conversation and move on to a topic more serious. There's no way to phrase this that abates what it means, what it involves, what it represents. Who knows what could happen before the end? Everything whirls in my head and is variegated. For this could possibly be a debt I cannot pay but with suffering, nothing I could amortize and get rid of. I wish it were something I could walk away from, something that I could abjure and be like, "Peace, bitches." However, it is not. This is a situation of antipathy. For, when I think of it, an acidulous note hits my heart, and I think about the consequences. Why did I have an aberrant moment?! The thoughts of this make my brain feel wizened.

The coincidence is that a drunken girl is is a situation similar to mine but more likely. I am a similar situation with a drunk girl. FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.

'Tired, abstemious food breaks not the bland barrier,
With the verdant forest to cover the mistakes.
The superego abased me,
and the wan face of a girl with a rubber band.
And the xenophobes cry
for the anachronistic Italian lovers.'

Seven Vasaris of Twenty Elven

I would just like to say, before I post this, that I hate my English teacher with my heart and soul.

Now, "Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold

"The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.


Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night."

Let's start with the first stanza:
Personally, I think the first six lines have a calm, slightly happy, tone to them. The mood is light and calm, but I can picture the setting being dark, so it has this foreshadowing to darkness. I can, almost, see foreshadowing in the actual text as Arnold writes, "the light/Gleams and is gone;" which is the only sad part (in between lines three and four). The lines eight through fourteen are more sad and depressed, but just kind of disappointed, really. [Ebb: a flowing backward or away; decline or decay]. In these last few lines, Arnold addresses the back and forth pattern of the oceans waves and refers to it as the way people come and go to faith. (I will now allude to the Mormon reference of the hand: There are five prophets to be true to God and in between them are the low spots where people fall away from God. Rise and fall of faith.)
Some figurative language here is the personification in line two ("the moon lies fair"). This not only personifying the moon by giving it the ability to lie down, but personifies it by calling the moon "fair," in the sense of being beautiful and young. Like, the way a woman would seem fair. The next is in line six, when the speaker states, "sweet is the night air!" This is gustatory imagery, but describes a touch imagery thing. When I think of sweet, I think of that classic sugary taste from a lollipop that is sugary, but not too overwhelming, so it's pleasant. However, when I think of night air, I think of that soft breeze that's just too cold to be pleasing, and raises the goosebumps on your arms. But, this synaesthesia, used by Arnold, portrays and odd sense of warmth at night. It's kind of comforting, even though it shouldn't be at all. In line nine, there is hyperbole as Arnold says, "you hear the grating roar/Of pebbles." Come on, seriously? Unless it's a tsunami, the pebbles are not roaring with the sea. Get it together, Arnold. And in line ten, the speaker writes, "waves draw back and fling". This is a metaphor for the pull and push that people have from the goodness of religion.
The first stanza also helps to identify the speaker and the listener of this DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE. Place is identified in lines one through five as, obviously, being Dover Beach (in England). The speaker, which is oddly William Arnold, is in his home with his wife and addressing her. We see this in the way he says, (in line six) "Come to the window," so it must be someone in his home.

Stanza Two:
Stanza two follows promptly along with the end of stanza one, mimicking it's mood-disappointed. Arnold mainly refers to how humans, through the centuries, come and go with God, and thus, see happiness and tragedy. The flow of the ocean is also stressed in this paragraph. This overall metaphor (which keeps appearing throughout the monologue that could be a badly formed sonnet, since it isn't argumentative, could be considered conceit, but don't count on it).
SINCE ALLUSION IS NOT FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE: The two allusions in this stanza are in line fifteen and line sixteen. Arnold alludes to Sophocles and Aegean. sophocles is the author of Antigone, and I guess Aegean relates somehow too. [Antigone stuff and Aegean sea?]. Okay, scratch that. Anyways, Sophocles talks a lot about human misery in his plays especially, but he stresses (to quote bitch), "rising above misery and tragic circumstances." Then, when Arnold says (in line sixteen), "Heard it on the Aegean" he i alluding the Aegean Sea, which is below the Mediterranean. (Makes since that Sophocles would hear it there, considering he was Greek).
I can only find one figure of speech in this stanza and is in lines seventeen and eighteen. Arnold says, "turbid ebb and flow/Of human misery". This goes along with the overall metaphor (which, once more, is the rise and fall of human faith blah blah blah).
It's more of an external perspective of the loss of faith.

Stanza Three:
I feel that stanza three is when Arnold goes back and reflects on how people were with solid faith. Arnold seems very nostalgic, especially with his word choice. When Arnold uses phrases like, "Was once," or "But now" he implies that he is reflecting on a time he once knew and comparing it to the time that is present. [Girdle: a lightweight undergarment, worn especially by women, often partly or entirely of elastic or boned, for supporting and giving a slimmer appearance to the abdomen, hips, and buttocks; furl'd: to gather into a compact roll and bind securely, as a sail against a spar or a flag against its staff]. Arnold goes on about how the sea (faith, religion, goodness, et cetera) was once large and expansive (as it should be), but that now the ocean simply is "getting smaller" and leaving pebbles behind (because they want to leave; the pebbles are people). [Shingle:a thin piece of wood, slate, metal, asbestos, or the like, usually oblong, laid in overlapping rows to cover the roofs and walls of buildings.]
There are three (four-ish) figures of speech in this stanza. First is in line twenty-one, when he says, "sea of faith." This is obviously a metaphor. (Please now refer to anytime I have mentioned the overall metaphor previously). The second is in line twenty-three as he says, "like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd". This refers to how the ocean was, in the good times, and strengthens the connection between the past and present. This also clarifies the speaker's mood, being sentimental/nostalgic, about the past. The third is from line twenty-six to twenty-seven, "the breath/Of the night-wind". This is personification because wind can't have breath. It has no lungs; it cannot breath. But, this personification does help to illuminate the feeling of the wind (especially relating back to line six-with the night air reference there). The fourth figure of speech (which is kind of sketchy) is the last line of the third stanza (line twenty-eight). "And the naked shingles of the world." This is possibly a metaphor roofs tops, but I can't figure out what it would go with. However, it could just continue on and be details to the overall metaphor.
The whole stanza refers to how faith was once strong, but is now sad and exposed by human greed and stupidity. (Okay, not stupidity-I can't back that up. But it always feels like poets are trying to say it but never do!)

Stanza Four:
In stanza four, I feel that lines 29-32 portray happiness, hope, light, and positive emotions. Arnold, here, using words like: love, dreams, beautiful, new. This diction is here to sharply contrast the rest of the stanza. The rest of stanza four (lines 33-37) is worried and depressed. This part leaves a tone of anxiousness and fear (like impending doom) upon the reader. [Or, maybe just some sadness.] The diction here is incredibly different from the beginning of the stanza, with words like: neither/no/nor, darkling, confused, struggle, flight, ignorant, clash, night. Anyways, the first two lines (29-30), seem to me like a plea. Or, asking questions like Why? Is it really that hard to get along? I see as more of a desperate call out to the world. I see a lot of anxiety in the diction of the second-to-last line (36), when Arnold writes, "confused alarms of struggle and flight". This seems very anxious to me because it makes me picture war alarms and people running around and trying to pull it together.
Figures of speech here are kind of complicated, but both anaphora. The first example of this is in line 32, when he says, "So various, so beautiful, so new" where So is the word repeated. In lines 33-34, Arnold writes, "nor love, nor light,/nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain" where Nor is the word repeated. Anaphora is typically used to place stress on important phrases and use certain words to tie them all together. So, here, Arnold is stressing the different moods in the stanzas with back-to-back anaphora.
This last stanza covers the speaker's views of appearance versus reality. (The two moods of the stanza relate back to that). Also, in lines 33 and 34, I wonder if Arnold is suggesting that people are better ambivalent than emotional.

Other Sources:
"Dover Beach" Analysis
"Dover Beach" Analysis
"Dover Beach" Analysis

'Tried begins to fall away,
but true stays to pity.
With hope just like Tinkerbell,
it flies away fickle.
Late nights and green highlighters,
they complete the broke stream.
And along toys jingle,
when mother sings this song.'