Shakespeare

In class yesterday, an interesting question was posed by a classmate of mine. "Why do we read Shakespeare? Why are his works so prominent and august in our curriculum?" I have though about this question a few times since it was asked, and to this point, I have not come to any straightforward conclusion. Yes, it is true that the language is obsolete and often requires a herculean effort to comprehend. However, it is important to understand various types of literature, included in which, is the rhetoric. For instance, many high schools offer courses in the Latin language. Latin has been a "dead language" for ages, yet it is still reinforced in various schools. Furthermore, the questions asked in Shakespeare's plays are certainly applicable to modern life. The characters, vendettas, and plots can just as easily exist in modern day America as it did in Elizabethan England. However, one of the major issues is that Shakespeare is almost OVER taught in our school systems. Other literary epicures are explored, yes, but never as much as the works of William Shakespeare. Each of these authors are equally erudite in the literary world. Why then, are Shakespeare's works treated with a certain predilection?  

Ode to Bianca.

Any outsider would have trouble comprehending our personal argot. Typically, we maintain a sang-froid, and often, we are very sarcastic. Many people think we are disparaging them, however, it is simply the way we banter. We have extremely good luck, as our past experiences in debate show, and consequently, people think that we win by doing something surreptitiously. Truthfully, this is not the case. Bad luck follows us, but in each situation, we come out victorious, parvenus, if you will. Due to this constant bad luck, she and I are typically scruple before heading into a debate. Our sense of humor is often misunderstood, as it is based upon things that only we understand. The cornucopia of inside jokes we share is humorous, but other people do not appreciate the underlying humor. Now I know this was not a very maudlin ode to my best friend, as far as you [reader] are concerned, but I'm confident that, as always, she will understand the truthful humor I have presented. 

Classical Conditioning.

In psychology today, we learned about Pavlov's theories of classical conditioning. The concept itself beguiled me, seeing as it was very fascinating and deep. Prior to the class, I had never really thought about why I prefer certain clothing stores, supermarkets, or clothing brands. Certainly, I'd like to think that the things I purchase are not tawdry, but other than that--I don't really know exactly why I prefer these things as opposed to others. Truthfully, there is no cachet or eminence in the clothing I purchase-so why do I feel such a strong attachment to these brands. After contemplating this for a good 25 minutes, I realized that there is, essentially, no reason. Sure, I think it looks good.. but that doesn't explain why I remain loyal to those stores/brands and not to others. I don't mean to disparage the concept, I just thought it was very thought-provoking, and thought that I would share. If anyone does figure out some sort of cryptic reason for these salient tendencies, I would be extremely credulous in learning the reasons.

Building Rome in One Day.

Today was absolutely miserable. First of all, it snowed. Alot. Additionally, my mother was an absolute lunatic today and decided to, essentially, build Rome in one day. If I had to count how many boxes I transported from my old house to my new one, I would have lost count hours ago. My mom was extremely quixotic in thinking that we could move everything in to our new house today. Because of her desperate desire to do so, my father pulled his back, and therefore, my grandmother and I had to be burdened with the task of moving, while my mother stood around and ordered us around superciliously. I felt almost like a sycophant and feared that if I stopped carrying the boxes, my mother would go absolutely berserk.

After running up & down the stairs so many times, I feel weak and maladroit, especially since I can no longer stand on my own two feet without leaning on something. Finally, I am home and have been exonerated from the responsibilities at the new house. However, my mom will not allow me to go to sleep. Why? I don't know. According to her, my room has not yet been packed. As far as I can see [and I am currently sitting in my room] my room is empty. In essence, my mother has usurped my right to a good night's sleep. I fear that if I do go to sleep, I will be castigated upon her return for being a perfidy.

Sick, Miserable, Lovely.

Unfortunately, this weekend was not a relaxing one. Starting on Friday night, I became very sick. My stomach was hurting me, and I had a fever of 102 degrees. For two days, I couldn't eat anything other than toast and ginger ale, which were supposed to allay the pain in my stomach. While cooped up in my bedroom, I could smell the scents of delicious food coming up from my kitchen and I became invidious of my family. In essence, they were deriding me by eating all sorts of delicacies that I was not allowed to enjoy. I felt like an anathema, especially since I wasn't allowed to leave my room for a full 36 hours. My mother gave me an indefinite moratorium on walking around the house. The next morning, I woke up feeling perfectly normal and healthy. I felt like a parvenu once I was finally allowed to consume food that wasn't a variation of plain bread.