Glad to not be Isabella right now...

First of all, I'd like to welcome you to the land of chaos that is my brain. 

I'm basically catatonic on my bed while eating my bowl of cookie dough tonight (Web MD whispering in my ear that I might get salmonella from the raw eggs). There's obviously a big dilemma that Isabella faces in Act 2 of Measure for Measure. It's a pretty heavy question. Do you give up your virtue or your brother? Angelo…gah. I acknowledge his crazy with a short haiku.

Angelo, please chill

You are all over the place

Plus, you are creepy

Honestly for me it would be pretty simple. I have a brother and I'm pretty sure I'd rather prostitute myself out to Angelo (urgh) than let my brother die. But it's easy for me to say that, because it's all hypothetical. I see where Isabella's coming from: she's a nun-in-training after all.  Thus I'm getting in my bi-monthly existential crisis in just past the middle of October, basically right on schedule. Isabella gets too options:

1. Lose something
2. Lose something else.

Great options. (Am I getting botulism from this cookie dough? I should probably hit up the Mayo Clinic website)

But back to my bi-monthly existential crisis: I am struggling with quantifying the worth of things. The value of things. The weight of things. I've recently developed an obsession with American Doctor Duncan MacDougall. He was rather unextraordinary except for one thing: he had this theory that the human soul weighs 21 grams. Basically he did this fairly unethical experiment where he weighed people were dying of tuberculosis on these beds that were actually scales and determined that after they died the average weight lost (not including bodily functions etc) was about 21 grams. Turns out I'm not the only one who is fascinated with this. There was even a movie called 21 grams. So what does this have to do with anything? Despite the fact that Dr. MacDougall's theory has been disproved, people hang on to the idea, because we like to quantify things. Several doctors from Cornell quantified pain on a 1-10 scale using units of "dols". There's also the Holmes and Rahe stress scale which is pasted below:

So…hypothetically:

If I get a mortgage (31)

+ I get pregnant (40)

+ I contract ebola (If you haven't noticed yet, I'm a hypochondriac) (53)

+ I jaywalk across i-40 (11)

_____________________________

My stress level will be exactly 135. According to the website (http://www.stress.org/holmes-rahe-stress-inventory/) having this score means the chances of me having a mental breakdown are unlikely, but you can't trust the internet now can you?

But I digress….how is Isabella going to make this decision? We still haven't come up with some machine for making these decisions for us (thank goodness) so in way-back-when Vienna I guess that leaves going with her gut. Quantification isn't an option here. I feel as if this level of stress this decision would put Isabella under is way more than the 135 score theoretical-me earned. The pain of losing a brother, or of losing her virtue and thus her god, probably cannot be measured on a 1-10 scale. And I don't know how much the souls of this characters weigh, but it's probably more than 21 grams.

Now, knowing how Shakespeare operates these comedies, he'll probably write the problem away somehow and then people will get married at the end without any bloodshed; but I still get some serious pause from this quandary. For some reason it hit me right in the feels. One bowl of cookie dough later though, I feel as if I'm seeing the light a little bit (or maybe that's just an oncoming sugar coma, who knows?)

TGIF fam,

Anne

Duke Vincentio, Care to Explain Yourself?

About halfway through Act I of Shakespeare's Measure for Measure, I had to take a quick break from the page to adequately roll my eyes at the Duke's logic.

So let me get this straight: We have this Duke and a set of laws but the Duke never actually follows them. Suddenly, he has a change of heart, perhaps some sort of cosmic energy coursing through his veins, that gives him the motivation to leave the entire kingdom in the hands of a man named Angelo, all so he can be sure that his kingdom no longer slacks off on these laws. Why couldn't he have just cracked down on the citizens himself, instead of playing "Undercover Boss" and disguising himself as a friar to watch Angelo rule the kingdom with an iron fist? He felt like he had lost the authority, he feared that people would not take him seriously, and altogether he just didn't feel right doing it. So instead he feels the need to go through this whole ordeal to put Angelo in his shoes. Newsflash, Mr. Duke, anybody can order an execution. If you really want a stricter kingdom, do it yourself.

I just don't understand why the Duke felt the need to go through all of this extraneous drama. If he was really that worried about his kingdom "slacking off" then couldn't he have started enforcing more laws gradually until his kingdom has been whipped into shape the way he wishes it to be? Apparently not. After all, Shakespeare is the king of "Go Big or Go Home."

Don't get me wrong, I understand that the Duke feels uncomfortable enforcing these laws that he has let slide for so long, but I also think he should feel equally uncomfortable appointing Angelo, not even Escalus, the man who really deserves the spot, to take his place all so he can watch his little "experiment" unfold. That's quite an ordeal for a man too chicken to enforce some laws himself.

Maybe the Duke's reasoning will pay off in the course of the novel, but right now I am not impressed. If anybody wants to enlighten me on the Duke's actions, by all means go ahead. For now I will sit back and read, waiting for Shakespeare to explain what in the world Duke Vincentio is thinking. I hope for his sake that this works out because, quite frankly, I am embarrassed for him.

Yours truly,
A very exasperated Sarah

The Beginning (10.5.15)

Today, after the interruption of the fire drill, we began class with two writing prompts- one that dealt with the epigraphs before the novel even begins, and the other with the very first chapter. Personally, I chose the epigraphs. I wrote that the lost generation applied to everyone of that age group. I did not exempt those who never served like Robert Cohn because they were affected through their relationships with those who experienced "shell shock" and other roles in the war. The horrific event of the war and the consequences permeate through the generation. Certainly it affected those who lived it more, but it applies to the others as well. Such negativity is not confined to one group.
With the second epigraph from Ecclesiastes, one would think that a book of the Bible would be used to spread a hopeful message. However, as usual, Hemingway used the cyclical repetition of the sun, wind, and water in the passage to turn the meaning of the verses on its head. I interpreted that Hemingway is saying that being cyclical is not only a part of nature but a part of OUR nature. Intrinsically, we, just like other forms of our environment, are designed to keep a general pattern. Unfortunately for the characters in The Sun Also Rises, we tend to stay along with bad cycles as well. However, breaking it can be done, as hinted by Brett's actions in the end of the novel.

Is that what Hemingway intended for us to understand? If so, what does that inspire y'all to do?

xoxo Annie

Brett's Iceberg

We spent the last class talking about the end of The Sun Also Rises in an attempt to wrap up any loose ends. In some areas we were successful, while in others we couldn’t quite decipher Hemingway’s cryptic style. However, not once during the discussion did we mention the abuse Brett went through regarding her previous relationship. Although it was only briefly mentioned, Brett’s abuse makes up a significant part of the novel, as it indirectly affects each character. We see this with Jake, Cohn, Mike, and Pedro Romero. Last year in English class we often talked about abuse, discussing how it basically destroyed a person’s confidence in relation to any and all relationships. 

Hemingway only touches on Brett’s previous abusive relationship, yet again using the iceberg method to leave the reader in the dark. Brett’s abuse could more than likely be the reason for her masculinity. Brett makes herself appear more masculine with her hair and her actions. She ultimately fears being too feminine. When Romero asks her to grow out her hair she declines, stating that she would look ridiculous with longer hair. Furthermore, the abuse could have propelled her promiscuity. Brett chooses to portray herself in a more masculine manner when she decides to sleep with a wide array of men. Whether she realizes it or not, Brett cuts herself off from relationships before they go too far due to that subconscious fear of being abused again—even leaving Pedro Romero because of that fear. 

It is Our Responsibility to do What?

            What is our responsibility? Faced with this question last class I am torn between numerous worlds and communities in which I feel obligated to be responsible for others and the success of our group. This question is too familiar as it is an underlying theme to numerous essays and applications that we feel obligated to respond and answer to over the course of our high school career. I wish I could say that it is the responsibility of a teenager to stand up for her beliefs. But by saying that, I feel as if I am cutting myself short and simply classifying myself as a teenager whereas if I say: it is the responsibility of a Harpeth Hall student to stand up for those who are oppressed and speak with conviction, I am only labeling myself as a Harpeth Hall student, excluding personality.

            If we let society and outside pressures dictate who we are, than for whom are we responsible? In Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, Jake, too, finds himself stuck under societal pressures to hide his wounds. But rather than taking responsibility for his actions, he does not act much and simply observes in fear that if he acts, he will not get what he desires: masculinity and Brett. For Brett it is the responsibility of coping that builds her character as one who is promiscuous yet secretly vulnerable. Jake’s character is relatively open-ended without much depth as we only see his thoughts and opinions that are never voiced, but Brett’s character is three-dimensional through her choice to do as she pleases and disregard societal expectations. Through these characters, the reader has the opportunity to understand how many reply to outside pressures while some remain individuals. It is the responsibility of a teenager, a Harpeth Hall student, an athlete, an actress, a believer, a ginger, a girl to let the young adult have her voice be heard through power and conviction and accepted with tolerance and respect.