A survey

Alright, we were playing a new game at Rachel's called "would you rather." Basically a prompt to that the infamous, gruesome game you play when very bored. It sounded good at first, but it seemed to argument focused. Anyway, a question (player devised) came up of "Would you rather be knowledgeable and miserable or ignorant and happy?" Now, to me, this is a no-brainer. Being an existentialist, I know the price of knowledge. I also have little, if any, pride. So happiness trumped everything. But the other four players chose knowledge and misery. Is that a sign of bad priorities? Or what? I don't know. What would you have chosen (and why)?

Feelin' Frivilous

- Birthplace: The Pits of Hell
- B-day Month: Dawn of Time
- Current Location: K-town
- Eye color: blue
- Hair color: brown

- Height: 7' 22" 3"'
-Righty or Lefty: Yes.
- Zodiac sign: Virgo. What? Well I am!
- Your heritage: Satan. Or Mr. Clean. I can't remember...
- Shoes you wore today: Squirrels. Unskinned.

- Your weakness: Pain.
- Your strengths: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Aren't we all just comedians?
- Your fears: Torture.
- Your perfect pizza: Cheese. Maybe pepperoni if I'm feeling risky. I'm so naughty...
- Goal you'd like to achieve: Beauty.
- Your thoughts first waking up: "I hope I wore a condom."
- Your bedtime: 3:46 PM
- Your most missed memory: Where I left my... wait. What?

- Pepsi or coke: Cocaine, all the way. Pepsi's too mainstream.
- McDonald's or Burger King: Burger King. Because clowns in yellow body suits and I have a history of "unpleasantness" and bloodshed during immense turf wars.

- Best friends: Jack Daniels, Charles Kennedy, Paddy McSatanPants (the leprechaun on my shoulder)

-Boyfriend/Girlfriend: The latter, please.
- Adidas or Nike: They're both made by starving children in third world countries. What's the diff?
- Lipton ice tea or Nestea: I have no clue who broke your stereo with that cherry bomb, Mr. Wilson.

- Chocolate or Vanilla: Vanilla. Or Chocolate. Oh how I loathe you both...
- Cappuccino or Coffee: They're both made by starving children in third world countries, what's the diff?
- Smoke: There's fire? I LIKE FIRE!!!!
- Curse: You mother teresea loving son of a socialist, I want your badge number!
- Sing: I believed it's spelled "S-O-D-O-M-Y." Stupid internet surveys...
- Take a shower everyday: Only because I care.
- Do you think you've been in love: I've been in many places. What's it to you? No, I didn't bring you a souvenir. Jerk...

- Want to go to college: "Want" is such a harsh, unforgivable word.
- Where: The belly of an Iowan fisherman.
- Like(d) high school: Yes. With a bit of ketchup, most things are pleasant enough. Hmm... Now THAT'S a kinky thought...

- Want to get married: I'm all about efficiency!
- Believe in yourself: Do I exist? Sure. Will I exist tomorrow? You be the judge.

- Get motion sickness: Yes. And I'm also sick of your fat lip!
- Think you're attractive: Would that make me gay?
- Think you're a health freak: I wouldn't say "think" so lightly.

- Get along with your parent(s): Not talking does wonders.
- Like thunderstorms: Sure.
- Play an instrument: Yes.
- Country/Place you would most like to visit: It involves pants. That's all you're getting.

I n | t h e | p a s t | m o n t h . . .
- Smoked: Oh, I think that's a given.
- Done a drug: I think Bonnie said it best: "midol"
- Had sex : Yes. I've been a male all my life.
- Gone on a date: I don't know the exact number, but over 18 x 365 + 4months
- Gone to the mall: Why you gotta treat me like that, baby? You know I love you!
- Eaten an entire box of Oreos: If by "oreos" you mean "innocent, succulent babies snatched from the clutches of their unsuspecting, sedated mothers" then no you sick freak.
- Eaten sushi: I've two words to answer this question- Freud and Oratory
- Been on stage: All the world's a stage. So... salmon?
- Been dumped: No... my corpse was cremated.
- Made homemade cookies: SWEET MOTHER OF GOD. Sort of.
- Gone skinnydipping: I wish... I had more time.
- Dyed your hair: If I had any! Dye, that is.
- Stolen anything: yeah right.

H a v e | y o u | e v e r . . .
- Been extremely trashed or extremely intoxicated: Does cows think about sex more than nuns? I'm just curious.
- Been called a tease: I tease death AND LOSE!
- Gotten beaten up: And down. And... metaphysically.
- Shoplifted: MY WATERMELON!!!!!!!!!
- Changed who you were to fit in: To fit into your pants, I'll change anything! I guess my waist is the most important part though, eh?

- Age you hope to be married: 79
- Described your dream wedding: Hmm. Something involving sacrifices, police, and citywide socialist revolts.
- Thought about how you want to die: Yeah. Something involving drama, romance, and acts of defiance. Or penguins.

I n | y o u r | l i f e . . .
# of people I could trust with my life: It's my life! I saw it first! Mine mine mine! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
# of CDs that i own: CDs meaning cocaine deposits? Hah, you wish!
# of piercings: MINE SPLEEN!
# of tattoos: Wasn't he the guy who worked for the Lone Ranger? Or maybe the midget on Fantasy Island? That jerk stole so many kidneys...
# of scars on my body: Sporks hurt more than YOU'LL ever know...

F a v o r i t e . . .
- Color: Blue. The color of... blueness, blueitude, and blueosity.
- Food: Pizza. PIZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Squirrels.
- Subject(s): I will not let you subject me to that. You'll be wearing THAT? On second thought...
- Animal(s): She's a maniac! No, seriously. Help me.
- Sport(s): I'd like to favorite YOUR sport!

H a v e | y o u | e v e r . . .
- Bungee jumped? They're all made by starving kids in third world countries, what's the diff?
- Made yourself throw up? Mmm. Watching Sean Hannity. Bulimia for the amputee!
- Been in love? Oh, I've been there. Bring a flak vest. And the spleen of one pure black albino
- Made yourself cry to get out of trouble? no, but i do start crying.
- Cried when someone died? my first dog. Since then, I've been the one killing, and ,like pimping, it involves lots of strippers.
- Lied? Maybe?
- Fallen for your best friend? I did not have sex with that mountain goat. Those are doctored photos. Yes. I do think I look fat in them.
- Been rejected? I hate you all.
- Rejected someone? I didn't mean it guys. Really. I love you all.
- Used someone? Ok, I'm just having fun at all your expenses. I'm sorry. Um... cheers?
- Done something you regret? See "what I think when I wake up in the morning"

R i g h t | n o w . . .
- Clothes you're wearing: Not applicable.
- Music you're listening to: Like a Rolling Stone... OF DOOM!!!
- Time where you are: 11:24... wait... 11:25...wait... 11:26... gosh darn it, how long do I keep this up?

- Smell you're... eh, smelling: I have no clue.
- Current Desktop picture: Circle:"Sometimes I wonder if there's a point to my existence." ... Square:"Sometimes I think about gravy." Genius.
- Book you're reading: An Idiot's Guide to Illiteracy
- CD in the player: No. Oh, god, no.... stop the memories, mommy. Please?
- DVD in the player: ANGUISH LIKE MELTED BUTTER!!!

L a s t | p e r s o n | y o u . . .
- Hugged: Joseph Stalin's cold dead grandmother.
- IM'd: Rudolph Giulianni
- Yelled at: You.
- Missed terribly: You.
- Felt loved by: They're both made by starving kids in third world countries, what's the diff?
- Spoke to: Look into my eyes... Hah! Got your wallet, sucker!
- Cried to: My pillow

W h o | d o | y o u | w a n t | t o . . .
- Get really wasted with: The Dalai Llama
- Get high with: Jesse Jackson
- Look like: Fred Sanford
- Talk to face to face: Those jerks Ashley and Murphy from the Oldies station. I've a chainsaw that wants to ensure they've faces fit for radio...
- Talk to indirectly (on the phone, online etc.): The Governor of Kansas

R a n d o m . . .
- In the morning I look like: Death Incarnate if death incarnate wears dresses.
- All I need is: THE VOICES TO SHUT THE HELLO DOLLY RIDE THE TROLLEY TO THE DEPTHS OF OREGON
- Love is: Lovely.
- Flowers or candy: They're both made by starving kids in third world countries, what's the diff?

Much better than Synonyms

Hershey, I guess you tried, but you'rej ust not comparable. I'm sorry. *sigh* I am such a little girl...

Does that make me an underage lesbian? Hmm. David, you'd better go take a cold shower.

Addendum

Oh, congrats to me for making it one year wreck (my fault) free! This Christmas was much better than the last, let me tell you. I'll be leaving tomorrow for the grandparents, so no internet til late Tuesday. To those who are skimmers and join late, your Christmas whatevers are below. They may not be entirely accurate, but I tried to get across how I feel (and about people, that's quite difficult for me). Have a safe and happy duration of break. I'll talk to you all later. Farewell!

A Minor Retraction

Well, I figured a few things out tonight at our lil' Christmas Eve thing with my mom's side of the family (and the subsequent Christmas night, since I keep getting distracted writing this...).

1. I hate the gift giving aspect of Christmas because I simply can't do it. I can write poems (quality varies, of course), or when it needs to be less serious, "raps". And that's it. Poems are only good for a few people, and I have to be inspired to actually finish one, so they're rare anyway. So I feel particularly guilty because I get things and I have no idea what person wants in return. At the moment it's not a money issue. I've got plenty. I just don't know people like that. I don't form complex opinions and remember everything about them. It's the con side to not holding grudges or judging others, I also don't pry into their psyches unless asked. It's also probably the primary reason I'm so horrible at Loaded Questions...

2. The real reason I should dislike Christmas is because it shows what should happen the entire year. We had a great time last night, just hanging out with the family. They only live 25minutes away, tops. And yet, we never see them. It takes a holiday like this to get us together. And we think "we should do this more often." And yet we don't. That's what's wrong with Christmas. We shouldn't need a Christmas. We should get together quite often; we get along quite well, it's fun, everyone has a good time. But we don't. It's limited to the very rare holiday and it's not right. Everyday should be treated like Christmas, with togetherness, kindness, generosity, and whatever. Instead we have to be "reminded" about it. Meh. Meh I say!

3. I still dislike getting presents. No, I hate it. I don't want any. So... keep them away!

4. Well, in order to not be a hypocrite, I'm going to write things to everyone who's posted in my blog (because they're the ones who might actually read them). These are my Christmas presents, truthful sentiments about people and how much they really mean to me. Of course we don't say these things enough, and Christmas is a nice reminder. Hmm. I suppose, to avoid further hypocrisy, I should say them more often. Then again, that might get old in and of itself. So... Christmas works. Blast! It appears there is some use for this holiday. Although there shouldn't be. Because these things should already be known. But...anyway... before I talk in more circles... (I could send them privately, but where's the fun in that)?

Andy- You're quite an interesting character. You're like no one else I know (for better or worse). An almost paradoxical combination of personality traits, it provides a perspective I'm not used to and one that I really benefit from associating with. Not quite as romanticly inclined as I'd like, but it's good to have someone to talk about relevant world issues with. I actually do value your opinion, and I listen to what you say; you're one of my favorite people to seriously argue/debate with. I really hope this year you'll loosen up a little and stop worrying about love, life, and personal failure. Everything will turn out well if you plan a bit, but don't get caught up in the throes of life. Relax, enjoy, and let yourself be happy with the present.

Derek- Well, what can I say? It seems you've got most everything the way you like it. And if not you certainly do a good job of hiding it. I hope college goes well, I'm sure you'll succeed and do quite well in life as long as you stay away from cocaine and strippers. Separately they're assets to performance, but together they just get messy. Remember that!

Ellen- About the same as Derek. I don't really know you that well, but I wish you the best of luck when you head out to college. If your away messages are an indicator of college performance, you'll be a dean in no time. Enjoy the last legs of high school!

Catherine- I'm assuming you're still alive, so just incase I must say I think you're a good sinner with a person problem. Er... Well, you get the point. You've got a great sense of humor, a wild and crazy yet somehow not extreme (don't ask about that one) way of life I find intriguing and pleasantly disturbing. I also think you're quite a nice person, but I haven't seen you since college so you may no longer have a soul. I guess I'll settle for "keep your pants on, and when you don't just be careful."

Lauren- It's nice to have someone as often bored and available as me to talk to. Although I'm often distracted and not there as often as I should, I do appreciate our conversations. I hope you'll continue to talk to me through the loud noises and shiny objects. You really are interesting and creative, in your own way, and I hope you pick up some self esteem (and a good man!) this next year. You could really benefit from both, and you deserve them.

Erin- Meredith believes you're "amazing", and I'd say that's not far from the truth. We actually have conversations past the normal fluff most people discuss, and I really do appreciate them. Matters that aren't exactly of world import, but still deal with intriguing social issues that I normally don't get to talk about. You always seem willing to be helped, and that's quite an asset in our conversations. I enjoy assisting you and talking with you about things romantic, parental, or whatever and I'll continue to help in anyway I can. Hopefully this year you'll get a bit more perspective, but also stop so persistently doubting your own. You're a good person, don't forget it.

Lee- You may have slept with more of my relatives than the government has record of, but you're still a good friend. We may not talk nearly as much as we did in drumline, but I still appreciate your wonderful personality. Our fights should be the stuff of legend, but as it is they're just great fun. I hope your sister grows coherent or at least puts something in the vacant space between her ears; your patience with her is remarkable, evident by the very fact she is still breathing. I hope college goes well and wish you the best of luck in life, love, and the petty squabbles in between. I think you'll have good fortune in regards to all three.

David- As sad as it is, you're my best guy friend. You're a sarcastic jerk, but it's sort of endearing to someone who can appreciate good jabs and rarely be affected (Sticks and stones may shatter my malnourished frame, but words only cause superficial scrapes that have a low chance of infection). It's nice to have someone I can talk to about not doing homework relevant to me, classical music, and addicting crack-like online games. I certainly don't know you as well as the hordes of freshmen girls that I corrupt daily, but it's a working relationship. Strangely, unlike most guys, we don't talk about hawt chixxorz. We've got pr0n for that! Just don't get sucked in and use it as an excuse for the real thing! MMORPGS, I mean. We won't go into pr0n... Have a great remainder of your senior year, keep up the happiness (no more of the angsty David's of days long past), and good luck when you finally get into college. Hopefully we'll keep in touch (I'd like to be kept updated about the list of atrocities sure to be included in your surprisingly emminent obituary as they unfold. Should be an interesting few years...)

Elizabeth- You know, you may be one of the most annoying and infuriating people I know. Merry Christmas! Heh, really though, I appreciate that you're there for me even if you don't have the answers I seek. Whether I like it or not you care about me, and I do appreciate it. Heck, you probably saved my life because of it. I'm sorry I'm rather irritable around you, either familiarity breeds contempt or you just push my buttons (the wrong ones). I don't like hurting you, and although I forget, I'll try not to be hurtful. Although you haven't seemed to really require it from me lately, I'm here if you need me. I do care about your wellbeing, and I wish you the best of happiness. Hopefully you'll lose the all the stress, get out of your house for good, and let your prince charming sweep you off your feet (or him off his, as the case may be). Sitting next to you for band should be... interesting to say the least. I'm sort of looking forward to it...

Meredith- To avoid further acts of hypocrisy, I'll let "I love you" suffice. You know what you mean to me.

If I forgot anyone I'm quite sorry; most others I don't think read this; if you do, speak up and I'll give you your Christmas present as well. I really do appreciate all of you, even though I know I don't show it. Even if it seems like I don't need you, I do. You're parts of my support structure, people I can trust if I need to. And I may, eventually. I'm a hypocrite in that regard too, not talking about my problems as much. But I need to have more faith in your abilities to help. Certainly none of you should hesitate to seek my advice (however flawed and misguided it may be) and help on most anything. Even outside of the computer, if I can I'd like to help. Just get me too. I ought to get to know you all more, or at least spend more time with you; the internet is a fickle substitute for interaction. I can drive, drag me out of the shell sometime. Just not to a movie. Something... interesting. I've got the money, board games, and time you just supply the place and idea! At any rate, happy holidays. And happy thereafter. I know this sounds like a farewell post and in some ways it is, because after a quick downhill trot we'll be headed to a whole different world of college. For now, though, the best thing I can say is "thanks." Cheers!

It's funny cause it's true!

"Nothing says love quite like comas." -Meredith

Beauty

It's amazing. Everything. And nothing. I just watched "American Beauty" and although it wasn't exactly mind-blowing since it focuses on issues I think about quite often, in typical Dylan fashion I was moved, inspired (two or three more chapters worth! woohoo!), and quite effected. Oh, and envious as usual. I'm writing my novel next semester because it will be fun, of course, but also, as you all know, because I want the power that these things have. I want to move people. I want to create something that so profoundly effects a person all they can really say is "It's beautiful." Certainly there are themes, symbolically, behind everything. . But the ride there is more important. If it wasn't then I'd just flat out state them.

*sigh* I get inspired like this and, in the heat of the moment, I think , " This is good. This is a really good idea. This... this has got to be moving," and I can't wait to write it. The enthusiasm will fade, but I hope the quality of the idea won't. I want to give these ideas justice. I really do. I want to make you all laugh, cry, and smile warmly at least once. If I accomplish that, I'll consider it a success. Ok, maybe crying's a bit much (can you picture a tear-ed up Sugue? I can't!), but I'll settle for a deep, mellow, beautiful sadness. For, to me, beauty is that power. Or maybe because I've been moved the creation that moved me becomes beautiful. I don't know. I just know that I want to create it. It's the ambition deep within my soul. You thought it was dead. I know, I did too. But I want power. I crave it. But not over actions. I want power of emotions. I don't want it forced, though. I want to earn it. I just have to hope I'm up to the task...

Oh, I also think it's interesting how movies are so moving. Movies are the true example of what's important about music. Plot is great for movies, but music is the part that makes things beautiful. You don't notice it. It's quietly in the background, but it's working magic. That's a serious drawback of the novel, the lack of music. An author has a hard time working on your subconscious without you noticing. When it's achieved they call it "mood", or at least I would if I was them. Ah well. Hopefully I'm better at this stuff than I think I am. That will depend a lot upon you. But you'll find all that out in May. Wish me luck!

He's a mean one,

But he's got the right idea. Yes, I think it's about time I made my official Christmas rant. So sit back, relax, and skim this amazing block of thinly veiled laziness.

Alright, where to begin... I don't hate Christmas. I hate the modern idea of Christmas. Basically it's a holiday about gifts, for gifts, by...um... fat, rich, white men. That's not really fair though. I just think the idea that there is a designated time of year for "happiness", "cheer", and "giving" is a tad... ludicrous. For crying out loud, doesn't there seem something innately wrong about a holiday that supports being kind to others? We shouldn't need one! Everyone should do the sorts of things the do on Christmas year round. Jesus would rather have that than an annual birthday celebration I'm sure.

And then there's the problem of gifts. I hate gifts. Giving and receiving them. The whole practice and the popular perceptions of it oozes materialism and guilt. I don't want anyone to give me anything. Really. Whatever someone gives me will probably just go in a closet or trashcan or where-ever and I'll never use it again. Everything I actually want I'll buy myself, and I daresay this applies to most everyone else. The only people this doesn't work for are children, and parents ought to institute some sort of allowance policy to teach them about saving and fiscal responsibility instead of laying on a hoard of gifts they'll grow bored of in three weeks at once. Personally I'd prefer a "I appreciate everything you are for me. I don't say it much, but you do mean a lot to me." And I don't need to wait til Christmas to do that (speaking of which, I probably should do that sometime soon... remind me somebody). Which is another point. Why do we wait til Christmas to give gifts? If you insist on giving presents, don't wait til an "established day." Do it on a whim. Make it a surprise. Think of others year-round. That alleviates guilt because it's a complete surprise; you're not expected to return a spontaneous gift. And guilt is a big issue at Christmas. People give all these gifts and the receivers feel cheap or heartless or whatever when they don't return the favor. It's a pointless cycle of materialism.

I'm not too much of a Scrooge or Grinch. The former was miserly and compassionless, the latter bitter and lonely. I just don't think Christmas is a healthy idea. Instead, try to keep notions of generosity, happiness, and appreciation with you all year round. Randomly write poems for people. Do favors others may never know about just because you're a nice person. Give gifts because you want to, not because you ought to.

Alrigh, I'm done preaching. That was pretty painless, eh? I didn't even go off on much of a tangent about how material goods won't make you happy too. But there you are. So, in closing, have happy holidays, happy lives year round, and stay warm! Cheers!

I hate the modern idea of Christmas. I think I'll write a parody from the idea I got writing Meredith's poem (part 1: The Lame). If I'm not too lazy. You've got to give him that, Santa's an industrious fellow. Ah well.

A Good Day

Today was good. I got my Calculus done in school, I didn't have to do any work other than that, and I had a semi-philosophical conversation with Frank Ramey while Sarah Walker listened. I finally got to see how much of everything I've written I remember. It went well, I think. Keeping this journal has been quite influential upon me. It's helped me mature and really get inside issues that, although painful in the process, lead to a more fulfilling experience. I also remembered why I appreciate certain people as much as I do, as the past resurfaced. I'm quite thankful for what I have, I think.

And for those interested, the computer game is going well. I'm pacing myself a bit, and it's certainly much more entertaining than staring at nothing. I'll still answer emails if any of you want to try, of course. Catherine can try to pull me away, but I'm afraid whatever method she'll use will just scare me more... I talked to Mrs. Jackson a bit about my novel, at least setting up times, so I think that will work well. Lots of people have shown interest in reading it, which creates more pressure. It'll be interesting. I'd like to think everyone will enjoy at least part of it, I just hope I'm up to the task I'm planning. Well, I'm off. Have a good day, I know I am!

Hmph.

Stayed up until 2:15 playing game. Dreamt bad, stressed dreams. Got 6.75 hours of sleep despite weekend. Didn't want to make the effort to go back to sleep. Heart palpatations from unknown source, but disturbing dream may be a significant contributing factor. I fear for the future, for if I continue at this rate I will be swallowed whole. This cannot come to pass. Remorse, regret, and the perpetual defeatism take hold, and I desire, as I had so often in the past, to forsake reality and simply live in fantasy. The cure is slow in coming, and I fear it will have fickle effects, for my body is still rejecting such things my soul requires. 5 hours played yesterday. Many more today. Log out.

My Research Paper

(Or "Deja Vu" if you read my previous entry. The first few paragraphs are boring, but it gets philosophical towards the end. Hooray for late night existentialism!)

God According to "The Tempest": Old, New, and Thoroughly Confusing


Like many of Shakespeare’s plays, “The Tempest” has roots in classical mythology and folklore. The spirits, goblins, and magical powers that make up the fantastic tale all have links to the past and are steeped in lore. However, “The Tempest” is also interesting in that it has strong Christian undertones just below the surface. Although little to no mention is made of Jesus, God, and Christianity in general, Prospero himself mirrors God’s progression through the Bible. Prospero mimics God from creation and the Garden of Eden, to the angry, powerful force of the Old Testament, and finally ending with the benevolent, forgiving air of the New Testament.

Prospero’s banishment to his Island creates, in many respects, a facsimile of the Garden of Eden. It is isolated with only fantastic creatures, magic acts of great power, and only two humans present, Prospero and his daughter. Indeed, when more humans finally appear on the Isle, it is by Prospero’s power. Ferdinand could be seen as Prospero’s “Adam”, for his arrival on the Isle and the creation of such a bond between himself and Miranda would not be possible without Prospero’s magical intervention. Prospero’s rules and whims must be followed exactly, for no creature can resist his power. Prospero, like God, creates an idea of morality which must be upheld, or else the perpetrator must face his inescapable wrath. As Richard Hansberger states in The Explicator, “In order to survive under Prospero’s rule, Caliban must abandon his ‘gabble’ and his conceptual framework of the world and in turn adopt Prospero’s imposed language, Prospero’s imposed conceptual framework” (136).

In fact, Prospero’s punishments are much akin to the threats and plagues of the Old Testament. When Prospero’s minions, Ariel and Caliban, are ungrateful or
recalcitrant he resorts to a vast array of threats and hostilities to force them into obedience. The words Shakespeare chooses for Prospero seem as if they were inspired by the Bible, such as when Prospero proclaims “I’ll plague them all, even to roaring” (Act IV, Scene I, lines 191-192). Prospero threatens to unleash cramps, pains, and a variety of other ailments upon his disobedient servants. There is no kindness in this image of the magician, save towards his obedient daughter. The same is true for God. Those who oppose his children or go against his teachings are woefully punished.

Both God and Prospero do not use their powers only for punishment, though. Both have great plans and use their powers to manipulate reality to meet their goals. Their powers are so strong, in fact, that they trump the old Gods and spirits of the past. Prospero’s dominance of the Roman Goddesses suggests that he is greater than past religion; only a new God could be more powerful, such as the one he himself resembles. In fact, as Robert H. West writes in Shakespearean Essays, most of Prospero’s works are done using his spirits (66). As God uses agents, so does Prospero.

As time passes, Prospero, like God, changes character. Once his ends are accomplished, if his enemies are “penitent” (Act V, Scene I, line 28), then he is bountiful in forgiveness. As God admits those who repent into Heaven, so does Prospero allow the sinners on his Isle to leave, unscathed save for their harrowing stay.

However, there is a break in the parallel which is quite distinct. Prospero is not only the most God-like character, but also the most existential of the novel’s characters. In one of his more poetic speeches, Prospero says of reality that all “shall dissolve, and like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff are dreams are made on, and our little life rounded with a sleep” (ActIV, Scene I, lines 154-156). It is quite ironic, that this most powerful man, when all of his plans proceed without flaw and his success is imminent, would wax philosophical and essentially state that all his labors are for nothing. Or maybe Prospero, being the educated, higher power figure, has known this all along and proceeds despite his doubt. It seems as if Shakespeare is casting God, in the form of Prospero, in a light rarely seen, especially for his time. If this interpretation is continued, Shakespeare seems to imply that God himself knows of the existentialist nature of reality, yet plays the part of puppet master despite this knowledge. This method seems to work out in the end, as all the secondary characters are forgiven and given happy endings.

However, Prospero’s ending is left in doubt. In the epilogue, Prospero leaves his fate in the hands of the audience. This has often been called Shakespeare’s final plea to his adoring masses, but the God parallel still stands. In fact, it can even be applied to an artist such as Shakespeare. Shakespeare creates, he manipulates, he devises complexities of character and plot that even the greatest minds still try to unravel. Shakespeare may indeed be implying that reality itself is just a play, performed for some heavenly audience God seeks to entertain. Prospero says his project “was to please”


(Epilogue, line 13), but who is he seeking to please? The characters within the play
certainly end pleased. Maybe he is speaking directly to the audience, who he was merely trying to entertain. Or perhaps his words are directed at God himself, seeking forgiveness for whatever sin or blasphemy Prospero, or Shakespeare, may have committed. The situation is quite complex. Robert H. Ball, in a synopsis of “The Tempest” for the Encyclopedia Britannica, believes that the play is sufficient without the interpretations of critics “who try to make it something vast and monumentous or, on the other hand, autobiographic and personal succeed only in distorting or destroying its artistic beauty and poetic charm.” Then again, much of these same words used to describe a seemingly simple play can be used to describe life itself. Obviously beauty has not stopped attempted interpretation.
In “The Tempest”, the magician Prospero is portrayed as a God-like figure, angry and wrathful, but in the end forgiving those who seek his mercy, and yet the existentialist slant seems to indicate that Shakespeare’s intentions were not so simple. Prospero exercises his wrath, forgives, and completely controls his Isle, as God would. And yet, there are hints that for all his scheming, wisdom, and seemingly unfathomable power Prospero is still insecure, doubtful, and tired of his toil. Is there some hidden meaning within Prospero’s fatigue and philosophical quandaries? Is Prospero really Shakespeare speaking to his loyal followers preparing to end an extensive career of entertainment? Is Prospero God, breaching the realms of imagination into a higher level of thought where few dare venture? Or is this all merely drama, part of Shakespeare’s attempt to go out on top? That is for the audience, God, and whatever other forces there may be to decide.

I'm Sorry.

Blegh. Today was rotten. I was rotten. I am rotten. This whole project has come to head, my lines are nearly memorized, and I need only finish(start) my research paper, practice a bit, study Hamlet, and not kill anything til Thursday and I'll be set. Yet, even though it's quite doable, I got (and am) incredibly stressed today. It's not the workload, although that is indeed immense. It's not that I put it off until the last moment, for I always do that and use the stress as a focusing device. No, it's the underlying realization that this entire project is symbolic of my philosophical situation. I shouldn't really care about my grade, but I do. I'm essentially guaranteed a free, full ride to UT so it just doesn't matter. But it does to me. A very significant part is that I feel obligated to my group members, whose grades also depend on this. I have so many lines, though, I'm worried about messing up and destroying so much hard work. Still, it's not even that. I look at the previous presentations, and no offense to any parties involved, they just weren't as... long, for lack of a better word. We actually try to do most of our play instead of condensing it into a small time frame. We cut some scenes, but a very great deal remains. Of course, that very great deal prominently features me, so I have a lot to do. But it's all... unneeded. The complexities, the ideas, the desire for "perfection" or a better experience or what have you, it's all pointless. Our grade won't be improved. We could have put minimal effort in and been fine. But we didn't. Albeit, the complexities do make it somewhat fun, the obligations and responsibility I feel just weighs on me like thousands of tons of lead in my soul. There's no question, I have to do all this. And yet, it won't make any difference.

A play is, as it really does say in The Tempest, "an insubstantial pageant faded, leaving not a Rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life rounded with a sleep." (That's from memory, by the way) . We plan, we work, we memorize, we act, we pour our souls into the performance and what then? A group of people, already bored and daydreaming, is mildly entertained for one brief hour. After that, the set is returned, the lines forgotten, everything is as if the play had never been, save memory. And even that fades. It's a lot of work for little reward. You have to enjoy the process to make it worthwhile. And I can enjoy it, I'm just constantly reminded of the futility. We'll eventually forget it, it won't really be that great, I'll perform my pitiful role lifelessly, with feigned superficial emotion, and finally we'll move on. It's just too close to reality. It reminds me of my persistent delusion, trying to make the entire "production" seem worthwhile, when all the work has very little value.

Once again, though, I'm brought to the final verdict that one much enjoy the process. So I must remember this and strive to do so. *sigh* I just broke today. I was tired of trying to be responsible, trying to be controlled, trying to stem the horrible thoughts, feelings, and actions. Why should I make such an effort to understand, to help when it's needed, when it's as if so little is reciprocated? Because I want to. Why do I respond to the outpourings of one's soul with an elaborate, detailed response instead of an irreverent quip as most would? Because I want to. Why do try to act nicely and treat people as I'd like to be treated? Because I blasted want to. When I told Bonnie to "go to Hell", I didn't feel remorse, satisfaction, or vindication. I didn't really feel anything. What was the point in being cruel? There wasn't. And yet, Heaven forbid I expect the same from anyone else. In my negative mood, the stupidity and obliviousness of everyone just seemed to shine through. People are cruel. People are stupid. People just don't care. I used to think I was incredibly apathetic, but it turns out I actually care. I care about important things. Not always myself, not about being right, not about being the victor but about happiness, of myself and others. It's just hard when it seems like others are unable to reciprocate my feelings. When Bonnie's childish, guilt-tripping, and unreasonable, I feel like I ought to have a right to be like that too. Perhaps that's not it. I just feel frustration that I can't change it. I'm reminded of Erinelle, always saying she's sorry to end the argument. Why? Because no one else will. Life just shouldn't be that way. Why should one person always feel an obligation to be the "bigger man." The "smaller" ones never learn that they should. And yet, when you stand up, you're villanized. People refuse to change. Only you change, descending to their level. This afternoon, I didn't want to commits act of hate. I wanted to be loving, to be needy, to collapse on someone and have them take away my problems or tell me it didn't matter or something. But I can't do that. It's not the way things are done.

*sigh* And now I can't expect any of you to understand. Heck, the thought to try won't even enter the mind of the person(s) who really need to. It's infuriating. Living by example only goes so far. Perhaps some of you can grasp the despair and anger triggered by an existential pitfall. Perhaps some of you know what it's like to try to be nice, understanding, and helpful and seemingly never have it fully reciprocated. Maybe I just don't see it. Maybe I just don't accept help or know how to seek it. Maybe I know no one can help me but myself. Because my greatest burden is one with no right answer but "enjoy." And I want someone to answer it. It needs an answer. By all that is just, holy, and good there should be an answer other than "You're right. Just enjoy it while it lasts." Yet, as this time, the last time, the time before that and so on there isn't. All I can do is get over it. As I fall, my mind screams "Pull up! Pull up" yet I keep plunging. Perhaps the problem demands recognition if I ignore it too long.

I want to give up. I want to stop fighting, stop trying, stop living, stop dying each and every moment of existence. I want there to be permanence, to be something I can fall onto that will catch me and hold me up. But there's nothing. Before and after, there's only nothing. Or so my mind says, if that fickle advisor is to be believed. Is life but a precursor to nothing? Are we really "rounded with a Sleep?" Someone make me ignore the question. Someone distract me, cheer me, just be near me on some level so I won't feel so isolated and alone. You are, you must be, yet here I am sitting at my computer with no proof of anyone or thing's existence but myself. There is no formula, no equation that stands against the existential question. There is nothing. Before and after. But now, now I must play my role, bow to scattered, lukewarm applause, and depart the stage not to be seen again. A tragedy, comedy, romance, history it matters not. Why must I perform? Because my peers demand it? Because they need my presence and without me will plunge into despair and fail? Perhaps they can cope without me, they profess otherwise, but I'm not too sure. Is it because there's no other choice? There's always a choice. Perform or don't perform. And then, perform poorly or make it all it's worth. The more effort that is put in, the more that will come out. And then, looking back, one can be fully satisfied and move on to whatever else "outrageous fortune" throws our way. I'm sorry for what lines I've dropped, what wrong words I've spoken, what cues I've missed, what scenes my heart just wasn't in. But, all in all, the performance will be pretty good, don't you think?

I may not be a good actor, a good writer, a good teacher, a good lover, a good person, a good anything but then "nothing is good or bad but thinking makes it so." Play your parts to your soul's content. I've lines to memorize.

The Second Coming is Nigh

Well, I suppose it's more of a "Second and a Half" coming, but whatever it is, winter break will be when it starts. Yes, "The Great Sleep" may once again descend upon my poor, wretched soul and dull all my senses and cares, abducting my soul and transporting into a glass box where I once again watch all that passes without emotion. But it'll give me something to do in my spare time, eh? Ah, dear me.

In case you haven't figured it out, I bought another MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Roleplaying Game), and this one looks to capture my attention for more than a month unlike the last one. The last time I delved into the abyss of escapism that is one of these infernal fantasy parallels I was enveloped in a sleep so encompassing that I essentially ignored all but the game and school. The rest just didn't really matter. Then, when I broke the spell, everything I'd neglected (emotionally, philosophically, etc.) came down upon me in a colossal, immensely painful barrage. I'm a better person for it, but I fear another such sleep shall deprive me of the advances I've made. I don't know. On the way hand, it's entertaining. Heck, that's an understatement, these things are drugs that steal all of your spare time. If you let them. It's a creative outlet wherein one acts without getting nervous, memorizing lines, or anything. You simply make the story up as you go along in the confines of the world. It's the worst legal addiction I can imagine, if you let it be.

Of course, you can temper its effect. I just won't be as available (online/on AIM) as I've been the past year and a half. I guess I'll try to avoid playing too long, but one thing leads to another... Hopefully I'll pull myself at 10PM, since that seems to be AIM primetime. If you need me, I write a mean email, so vent it all in there and you'll get a typical Dylan response.

Meh, it might not be this extreme. I just fear the worse. We'll see. Try to pull me away, at least temporarily, cause I know I'll need it. But I look at winter break and summer break, and I can't forsee me doing much else but being on the computer. It may as well be focused, I guess. *sigh* I don't know. I want to do so much, learn the accordion, write something I know is powerful and beautiful, love and be loved in return, be there for everyone that needs me, and stay entertained. But I don't know if I can do all of it. I guess it depends on how far others are willing to go, as is usually the case with me. Make the effort and I'll try to respond in kind. That just means you have to make the first step. So... write me, talk to me when given the elusive chance, try to let me help you, and in turn you will be helping me. I don't have to get sucked into the void like last time. I can watch the players dance, throw in my own lines, but still remain necessarily detached, but only if you help me. Be my bungee cord. I'll be immensely grateful.

Creepy

Next time you're alone, confused, scared, and downright bewildered with some freak of existence, perhaps you should take a moment and ask yourself: Is it creepier than

THIS!!!??



That's right. LBJ in a dress. I was wondering who was the perceived recent President most likely to wear a dress, and that would be Jimmy Carter. But the one that would be the most surprising, and therefore the one who probably actually wore dresses, was LBJ himself. I can only imagine he and Richard Nixon having a little slumber party, doing each others' hair and nails, gossiping about all the other people in Washington. So whenever LBJ got too stressed out, he went back to his schoolgirl days and put on a dress. He was then transported to a simpler time, one of peace, tranquilty, and crossdressing *shudder*Props to Meredith. May the image haunt your very soul through Hell and back.

"Does the North Sea have water in it?" - An intriguing question actually asked by one of Mr. Combs' students. Think about it. But as soon as the suicidal urges get too much to bear, turn away and read some Stephen Hawking. That's the only cure I can fathom. *shudder* I guess in a few years I'll get questions like... "So... can 2+2 ever not equal 4?" "Yes. But the only way you'll discover the other answers is to let me hit you in the head with this salmon I conveniently have stored under my desk." Oh what fun...