"But I Didn't Do Anything Wrong!"

"Are you sorry for what you did or are you sorry you got caught?" My teacher/father/mother/coach/whoever stares at me and waits.
I'm sorry I got caught, obviously. Instead, I say, "I'm sorry for what I did." My teacher/father/etc continues to look at me, studying my face; he tries to discern if I'm telling the truth or not. He wants me to feel that I am sorry, the sorriness that I claim I feel. He is appeased with my omission...for now. With one last stern look, he walks away, leaving me with my shame of the crime I committed. Wait, not for what I did, but for getting caught. When I arrive home, my mother has obviously by now heard the news of her disobedient child, she reiterates the same question: what am I sorry for? Despite my height on her, I can feel her looking down on me. My brother, however he found out, joins in the shaming. I retreat to my room to escape their damning gazes. Around 7, I tentatively venture out, eyes peering around the corning, hoping to be alerted their presence before they take notice of mine. It doesn't work. They see me and immediately stop what they are doing. They do not stare, but the silence in the room is deafening; their stolen glances are painful. I am not sorry for what I did, I do not see how it is wrong, but nonetheless, I wither under their judging eyes. I cannot retreat to my room, not yet, I have too much pride, and life must still go on, yet each passing second urges me to get what I've come for and leave just as quickly. I grab a small plate of dinner with the hopes my appetite will soon return. As I leave, eyes averted, my father walks down the hallway. I pause at the beginning of it and wait for him to pass, the hallway being too narrow for the both of us. He does not say excuse me or offer any apology, the look he tosses at me proves that I am not worthy of that respect. Whilst feeling the betrayal and rejection of my humanity, I cast a longing gaze toward the rest of the family. They do not meet my eyes. With no words spoken, but everything being said, I rush to my room and close the door to suffer in silence. If I hadn't gotten caught..., I think, what did I do to warrant this?

Woah, that escalated quickly. This was my best take on how Hester feels, please let me know if I missed anything. Now, I understand in The Scarlet Letter, we know that Hester committed adultery, but I chose to leave out my crime so that my didactic story contained as few fallacies as possible (What up vocab. reference?) I also understand that to fully convey the emotions she felt, the story would need a lot more development. If any of you thought this actually happened, no worries, it didn't; my family is not that cold, and I love food wayyyy too much to lose my appetite and only take a small plate. I just wanted to try out a different introduction.

To get to the main point, I was thinking about how Hester and Dimmesdale are different. However, we're not going to talk about Dimmesdale for the sake of space. Any ways, Hester has her sin out in the open. She's suffering, each time someone looks at her, it hurts. I'm under the impression that she understands adultery is wrong (just like I, in my little story understood that what I did was wrong), but she feel she has done nothing to warrant this pain and suffering it--people--bring(s) her. So I asked myself (what is that beautiful house, Talking Heads anyone?) is she sorry she did it or is she sorry she got caught? I don't think she suffering only because she was caught, but I feel that if this love affair were to go on uninterrupted, she would not be phased, because like I said, I don't think she thinks what she's doing should be punished. She knows adultery is wrong, but I don't believe she feels that what she is doing is wrong. I don't think she can or wants to or is trying to make that connect. This all seems quite confusing, but Dimmesdale has not been found out, and differing from Hester, he feels immense pain. Maybe it's because she's in pain, maybe it's because he knows it's wrong. Regardless, I personally believe that Hester is completely unapologetic for what she did and cannot understand why the Puritans are being so unforgiving for something she feels is not wrong. Maybe my example will provide a better exposition that my explanation can give.

This is Swimming

Yes, my title is cheesy. No, I couldn't pass that opportunity up. Other titles included: This is (what you get at) 1:40 am, This is Tired Personified, This is I Really Should Just Wait Another Day and Do This When I'm Alert and Coherent, and last, but not least, This is Life.

David Foster Wallace's commencement address was amazing; it captured the hectic, day-to-day, stream of consciousness, default setting focusing selfish views of our current lifestyles--our society. The main point of the whole speech (that I got out of it) is that we go through our lives, day in and day out, focused on ourselves, so much that we become complacent to life. We literally become so involved in our own life (I am aware that should be plural, but for the sake of parallelism), that we literally become complacent to life. Just like the fish didn't know they were in water, because that's all they knew, we forget we're living, because that's all we've done. That's really what I've been obsessed with all week; thinking about how we could forget about something so there. In fact, I wondered how I could apply this to swimming, so here we go:

Here's a story. It 4:30 am and a swimmer is on her way to practice, texting her other swim friends to make sure everyone else is up. Once she finally gets there, she heads into the locker room and exchanges her usual complaints about swimming and kicking and what will the set be today, oh I don't know, we did major stroke yesterday, cool, I hope it's not IM, until someone notices the clock and silently curses and reluctantly heads out to the pool room; she doesn't want to be last, so she hustles to change and grabs her gear and follows and stands by the deck and waits for instruction. The coach moseys on over, oddly awake for 5:00--she notes silently, and begins to explain the warm up. It's pretty basic so she zones out. Fast forward a painful hour and a half later: She's sitting in her first hour class, hating her coach and practice and swimming and oh my god this is so unfair, so she starts complaining to her desk mate and inevitably, she says, "So why don't you just quit if you hate it so much?" "Well...because..." She really doesn't know how to respond.

Well, because, This is Swimming. If you suffered through that stream of conscious, you can stick it out 'til the conclusion. The swimmer in this example (*cough* me *cough*) has become so complacent to swimming, that she's forgotten what it is. All of that pain and exhaustion comes with the territory. Anger and frustration come with life. You can change your outlook, as Wallace was saying, you can put yourself somewhere else other than first and most important. You can not be on your default setting in life like a swimmer is with swimming. It's difficult, as he also said, but a swimmer that's excited for a tough day will invariably be better than the swimmer that could barely get out of bed. As Wallace, I'm not here to tell you I've got it all figured out. I'm the swimmer that can barely get of bed, but I can tell you not to make this reality the hardest one to see. Don't forget that you are living, in life. Yes, we are constantly exposed to it, and it can be difficult to remember, but we have to not become complacent, because This is Life.

To completely emulate Wallace, I need at least one cliché:

The True* Kind of Freedom

We talked about a lot over the week, but most of it revolved around freedom. So, today, boys/men and girls/women, let's talk about the true* kind of freedom.
     Now, I understand that there are many kinds of freedom or at least, interpretations of it; however, this is just about the true* kind. Have I said that enough times yet?
     In World War Z by Max Brooks (definitely check it out), under The Great Panic section, during the interview Maria Zhuganova in the Holy Russian Empire, at the end of her interview (prepositions make the world go 'round), she says, "We relinquished our freedom that day, and we were more than happy to see it go. From that moment on we lived in true freedom, the freedom to point to someone else and say 'They told me to do it! It's their fault, not mine.' The freedom, God help us, to say 'I was only following orders'" (Brooks 83).
     I read that over a couple of times, then I compared that with 1984 by George Orwell's freedom: Freedom is Slavery.
    THEN, I compared that with Declaration of Independence's freedom: to be free from the tyrannical reign of G.B.; to be their own nation; to be free from slavery.
    Then I stopped comparing. In World War Z's case, being free is being able to do what you're told without fear of consequence because you were just following orders; to be able to redirect the blame to whoever told you. They gave the order, after all. If so, what freedom did they relinquish? Their freedom to be in control of themselves. You can't say "wasn't me" when it's convenient. You're either always responsible for your actions, or never. There's no flip flopping on this one. Because I don't want this to distinction to be missed: They didn't do it, they did what they were told, which just so happened to be it. They no longer have to think about what they're doing, only do what they're told. By releasing their control, they received the freedom to act without fear of consequence; without guilt.
     Okay, so when someone relinquishes control of their actions, and is instead, subservient to another, they're...what's that called again? Please, don't be so politically correct. They're pretty much voluntary slaves. And slaves are generally in what again? Slavery, right. So their freedom lies within their slavery. We can simplify this: Freedom is Slavery. Well gosh darn it, Orwell was right; at least, Brooks also came to that conclusion. As we all (hopefully know), by the end of the novel, Winston has given himself to Big Brother. He's relinquished his fighting spirit, and simply accepted everything they've told him. He allows himself to become a slave, and in this thoughtless way, he has become free from Thought Crime. How can he commit it, if he doesn't have to think--just do?
   "Wait Paityn," you're saying to yourself, "but the Declaration of Independence was all about escaping their slavery and becoming a new, free nation, oh silly, you've entirely missed the point." Or maybe you're just skimming this because this is borderline rant now, either way, I'm getting there. I'm talking about true freedom, here, not good freedom. If America had just stayed subservient to G.B., they would have eventually learned through forced submission to just do whatever they were told. They would have become free in its truest sense. The Dec. of Ind. might have served to a higher, better freedom, which eventually led to a (usually) wonderful nation, but it didn't serve the truest freedom: the freedom of slavery.

The Beauty of the Rhetorical Question

(This relates more to the homework and less to The Crucible).

When I was younger, I learned a lot about rhetorical questions. Mostly from my parents. "Who do you think you're talking to?" "What, you think money grows on trees?" "Why isn't your room clean yet?" "Why do you have to do chores--oh, so you're not a part of this family?" "So I guess you're too sick to go to practice?" "Are you giving me attitude?" "Did you roll your eyes?" "Is that disrespect?" That's just to name a few. And after each of these questions, there's the infamous pause, where they look at you intently, daring you to answer. Then, after one or two times of you making the mistake and thinking that they genuinely care about what you have to say, you catch on you're supposed to either not respond or mumble what they expect to hear. Once, I remember my dad asking me, if I thought the "world revolved around" me? He looked at me for a few seconds: waiting. I waited. And he waited. So I said no. What else was I suppose to say? I wasn't even finished the word when he said, "You're not supposed to answer that, because obviously you do." The only thing I could think was, "Well, why'd you ask if you knew the answer?"   

    The big takeaway I missed--and am still sometimes missing--is that the pause isn't for you to insert a witty, sarcastic remark that will get you grounded for the foreseeable future, but to think, not about the question, but of the glaring lack of answers with the exception of one. Usually, the answers are yes/no. Rhetorical questions are there to let you understand that there is only one right answer, and if you have to say it, then you're wrong. It need not be spoken, because only one answer fits; it's process of elimination if it only had one option. Patrick Henry used rhetorical questions in his speech. When I read it aloud, and paused after each question, I finally understood the pause. All of these respectable men faced with an imminent war, holding on to this eluding idea of hope, when this person says, let it go, you wanna know why? Actually, you all already know why, but this series of questions will show you what you already know. 

     The rhetorical question is so beautiful because it does just that: it shows you what you already know. It puts your thinking back on track. For the sake of repeating myself, you don't ask the question because you know the answer; you ask because they know the answer and the questions makes them see that. 

A Motif in the Real (Literary and Movie) World

    I've literally started over this blog post 9 times. So let's just jump right in.
    This blog post contains minor spoilers, so spoiler alert. Viewer discretion is advised.
     A motif we see in the real world is sickness coupled with hysteria. One does not imply the other, but we do see them together an awful lot. Recently, I finished the book The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey (great book, might I add). The third wave is referred to as pestilence. Basically, 9 out of 10 people get sick and bleed to death from the inside out. It is extremely contagious, extremely painful and extremely hard to avoid. So now you have a good deal of corpses covered in blood that is basically a death sentence on contact, what do you do? You burn that all up. People that were unconscious were thrown into these great fires on the outskirts of cities and burned to death. It was an accident, sure, but no rationally thinking human being just grabs anyone that's not moving and throws them into a fire. Some type of medical check is recommended.
    Another movie, Contagion, is about a mysterious new illness that breaks out and slowly begins to sicken the world. The people in the movie rally behind a person with absolutely no grounds or evidence who recommends a drug to cure this mysterious illness. Naturally, people take everything he says with a grain of salt and go to their homes to sit this one out. Oh yeah, no. They flock to their pharmacies, buy up all of this miracle drug and--can you guess? Loot everything. When one person rushes the Red Cross trucks full of aid, everyone rushes the Red Cross trucks full of aid. That kind of behavior? Not recommended.
   Let's also not forget The Crucible. Betty is sick. Sick with what? Sick with the Devil's evil spirit or with witchcraft or with trippy fungus or with a curse put on her. It doesn't matter what she's sick with, only that, coupled with the fact Ruth is also sick, drives the town into hysteria. I am aware there are other forces, but for the sake of just examining this motif, we'll stick with my awful summary.
   I'm not sure if maybe it's not a motif, but a way of human nature, but I've found (in books) that when people get sick, other people get crazy. They are directly related. Sickness does more than attack the body; it attacks the chains that hold society together. As soon as any number of people are infected, the whole system falls apart.  
  This is a screen shot from Plague Inc. (an app where the main goal of the game is to eradicate all human life on earth) After a certain number of people are infected and subsequently killed, governments breakdown and anarchy sets in. Coincidence? I think not.