Just Keep Going

I had started off the year in Literature 12 Honours with a bit of overconfidence, having done well in my previous English classes.

I soon discovered quickly that my confidence was misplaced. My once-strong essays weren’t bringing me perfect scores, and I could not, for the life of me, understand why. My essays had followed the strict formula in my mind, but I was wrong.

A few weeks into Literature 12 Honours, my mindset changed drastically. My focus instantly went to analytical essay writing, obsessing over how I could get those perfect 6’s, never once stopping to focus on maturing as a writer. At that point, it was only about marks, marks, marks. Unsurprisingly, my efforts to improve were in vain as a result of this. I was determined to improve, but wasn’t willing to get out of my writing-comfort-zone.

When it came time to write the first narrative of the year, I was surprised to see that we had complete freedom. It caught me off guard, and I found myself asking fellow classmates what they had chose to write about so that I would at the very least, have their example to follow as a guideline. My friend realized this and told me to take advantage of the freedom I had, and break free from analytical essays. She called it my escape.

Since then, I started paying more attention to my writing and put more thought behind my words. I was steadily improving, and although my marks weren’t improving as much, I could see the small differences in each writing piece I produced. From hooks that were better phrased, to satisfying conclusions, I was elated to see my progress. For once, I was excited to go to English class.

In terms of Creative Assignments, I found myself challenging myself by straying from art (which is a big interest of mine, as I take an art class every year and spend most of my time at home drawing). I had initially wanted to tackle an analytical essay piece for the first few Creative Assignments, but decided against it as I already had enough analytical writing to show. A Celine of the previous year would have definitely done her best to make every Creative Assignment a visual piece, or at least somewhat visual, but I chose to challenge myself.

My experience in Literature 12 Honours was a pleasant one, but it proved to be quite stressful in the beginning. Luckily, thanks to the help of those around me, (including the lovely Mrs. Smith’s pink words of encouragement and advice on each writing piece!) I was able to grow and mature as a writer, in a variety of different areas. Essays that I once viewed as merely tedious work are now an effective vessel for exploring the unwritten in literature that I am excited to use.

A joy of writing has been rekindled in me, and I would like to thank Mrs. Smith’s Block 8 Literature 12 Honours class.

The Middle Ages (Anglo-Saxon & Medieval)

     Beowulf Rap Assignment

     A Hero of His Time : Beowulf | Analytical Paragraph

     Unit 1 Creative Assignment : Grendel’s Blog

     Chaucer’s Prioress : Character Analysis Paragraph

     Chaucer-Style Mockery

The Renaissance

     Sonnet 29 Presentation

     Sonnet Presentation Synthesis Image

     Unit 2 Creative Assignment : Sonnet 116 Found Poem

     Sonnet 116 Found Poem Comparison to Original

     Optimism at its Lowest - Analytical Paragraph

     Narrative #1 : I Was Crying Last Time

Shakespeare’s Macbeth

     BBC vs. Polanski - Macbeth Synthesis Essay

The Restoration & 18th Century

Unit 3 Creative Assignment : Chimney Sweeper (Songs of Innocence) Illustration

     A Modest Proposal Satirical Assignment : Wineglass Economy

     Narrative #2 : 6 Months

The Romantic Age

     Percy Bysshe Shelley : Romantic Poet Presentation

     Romantic Poet Quotes (Personal Connections Assignment)

     Unit 4 Creative Assignment : She Walks in Beauty, From Her Perspective

The Victorian Age

     Narrative #3 : Guilty

     Close Reading/Analytical Paragraph Response for The Picture of Dorian Gray

Rosy Glasses

I used to feel him

     under my fingertips, the texture of his skin

I used to smell him

     it nipped at my nose, a familiar scent

I used to hear him

     the soft whisper of friction in a silent room

I used to see him

     every dimple, every crevice in his exquisite face

He came to me untouched, so pure

He came lacking the soft lines and folds that others possessed

He had not seen enough,

     known enough,

          loved enough

and had nothing to show for it

but not today

we share a room but he is of another world

that i just can’t

     seem

          to

               reach

he shifts in his seat

a small twitch briefly disturbs

the soft harmony of his delicate expression

i shift the brush in my hand

a slight flick of the tip

sends a vermillion streak across his neck

no, no,

that won’t do

furiously, a new shade of his porcelain skin is mixed

the offensive red is gone now,

and the light reflecting off of the still-wet surface

gives his skin an appropriate

ethereal glow

eyes that once lingered longer on the subject than the canvas

now seldom stray

for it is not him that i paint anymore

Explanation

(I used to feel him .... exquisite face)

Despite the sexual undertones of the first stanza, the descriptions are of Basil’s interactions with his canvas (also indirectly Dorian), in previous experiences painting the young man. The sexual undertones come from Basil’s feelings of intimacy during their painting sessions, and his desire to be with Dorian sexually.

The “texture of his skin” describes the physical paint that makes up Dorian’s face on the canvas.

“a familiar scent” refers to the strong smell of oil paint.

“whisper of friction” refers to the friction between a paintbrush against the canvas surface.

The next stanza is Basil reminiscing, remembering how pure Dorian used to be, without wrinkles that come with feeling emotions, a blank slate. He was curious to see how Dorian would mature, but things took a turn for the worse, and Basil notices in the last line.

In the following stanza, Basil is well aware that Dorian is no longer the person that Basil used to know, and that he’s beyond saving. They are too different at this point, and Basil expresses his frustration about this fact with the spacing of his words, almost in a desperate attempt to close the gap.

The “small twitch” could be interpreted as the evil that’s residing within Dorian showing through in the slightest of ways, revealing itself to Basil, the one person who would notice.

The “vermillion streak” across the painted Dorian’s neck foreshadows both Dorian and Basil’s death: both die from bloody stabs.

“no, no, / that won’t do” Despite the changes in character, Basil still has feelings for Dorian, and he must be nothing less than perfect in Basil’s portrait of him - even though he is far from that in real life now.

The “ethereal glow” is an interesting choice of a word that uses a ‘supernatural’ word to describe Dorian, like the supernatural process that Dorian went through, selling his soul.

In the final stanza, Basil no longer looks at Dorian when he paints him in order to paint in his likeness - partly because he’s memorized his face out of love and pure repetitive practice, and partly because he knows that the face he’ll see may physically look the same, but doesn’t reflect the person Dorian has become on the inside. Now, Basil paints Dorian the way that Basil remembers him: perfect.

In Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, an influential character, Lord Henry Wolton, single-handedly causes the main titular character, Dorian Gray, to undergo a transformation with a single conversation. “Some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, … you will feel it terribly. Now wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it always be so?” are the words that lead Dorian to confront the topic of his own mortality. With this, the story truly begins.

This conversation, containing the most important quotation in the novel, is necessary to the plot of the story. If not for Lord Henry’s warning to Dorian about his very temporary youth and beauty, Dorian could have lead a different life - one without corruption and deceit in order preserve himself. This quotation also pinpoints Dorian’s vanity and appeals to that side of him, resulting in the words having deeper meaning to Dorian.

Lord Henry’s words also give him the chance to assert himself to Dorian as a person to respect and look up to - this successfully allows him to get closer to Dorian and influence his young, impressionable mind. by bringing up an idea that does not occur to Dorian until that conversation, Dorian is lead to perceive Lord Henry as wise and experienced. Since Lord Henry desires to “experiment” on Dorian, this works well for him as he now has his respect. trust is also garnered because the words have an undertone of concern on Dorian’s behalf. Influencing someone close is far easier than influencing a stranger.

Guilty : Our Decisions Can Have Powerful Outcomes

“I love you.”

His normally confident voice seemed to take on a softer tone as the three words were spoken. Maybe it was the fact that I was listening to him saying it over the phone, but there was something in his voice that I had never heard before.

He was never one to settle down and commit to one woman or a child, and as a result, I was raised by his parents. When he finally decided to move back in with us, he didn’t know what to do - at that point, he was a stranger to his own daughter.

The emotional chasm between us grew as he slowly started to take his anger and frustrations of his own life out on me, who only wanted love and approval from the person who was introduced to me as my father. Every encounter introduced me to words of hatred like I had never experienced before. He reminded me time and time again that he was ashamed that I was his daughter, dismissing my words of admiration and love. He raised his voice on purpose, just to see my frightened reaction, and threatened to hurt me whenever I sought his attention.

Despite all that, I told my teacher how talented and handsome my father was, and put as many heart stickers that I could onto the Fathers’ Day cards that we made at school. I did all this, knowing that I was leaving out important details about my father, and that the card would be swept into his trash can without a second glance.

My young self knew of the word, “abuse”, but never thought that it could be applied to a father-daughter relationship.

Of course, as I grew up, I realized that other fathers did not act the way that mine did. I avoided him, and did my best to ignore his hateful remarks. The offhand critiques about my physical appearance that meant nothing to me suddenly mattered, and echoed in my head every time I saw my reflection. The once happy-go-lucky child warped into a cynical, self-loathing girl.

I even celebrated the day he left us for good.

Yet here I was, years later, with the words, “I love you too,” aching to burst out in response to his. I had every reason to just hang up on him. I had countless memories of fear and misery from my time with him, countless scars. But a part of me was willing to move past all that and forgive.

I bit my lip and let static fill the silence before I muttered curtly, “I'm hanging up.”

He laughed weakly. “Alright… bye.”

My heart pounded painfully in my chest as the dial tone rang out in my ears.

I figured it out then, what I had heard in his voice, because I was feeling it too.

He walks in my shadow, in the night

When the world is asleep, I hear his breath,

A ragged noise, chasing me as I write;

Haunting me like the dagger does Macbeth

But when I turn around, he takes flight,

Leaving behind the smell of death

I know not of his face, or of his name

So why he follows me, I cannot say

Fear burns me with the coldest flame

My hope for safety has lost its only ray

To him, this is but a twisted game

That will end with him having his way

His steps sound faster than mine

My heart starts to beat erratically

Is no one there? I see no sign

Of help, he’s calling me emphatically

I am alone with him in this moonshine

William Wordsworth

Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey (l.l. 62 - 65) : “While here I stand, not only with the sense / Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts / That in this moment there is life and food / For future years.”

This quote stood out to me on my first time reading, and stuck with me. Because of the concept it brought up of preservation of nature, and delayed gratification. Although many poets may claim to appreciate nature by praising its beauty, Wordsworth seems to be the most sincere about his love for the natural world - he cares about conservation as much as he does appreciation. He knows that Tintern Abbey will be able to provide life and food for future years because it is a safe haven of his that is not threatened by urbanization. Wordsworth knows not to take advantage of the nature around him, aware that his actions will have consequences in the future. This will always be relevant to us as humans.

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways (l.l. 7, 8) : “-Fair as a star, when only one / Is shining in the sky.”

I feel that this quote could be interpreted in different ways, which makes it rather interesting. Although the negative connotation is clear, there are ways to spin a position outlook on Wordsworth’s words. After all, the speaker does choose to compare the subject’s fairness to that of a star, even if it may not outshine the other stars in the sky. It is important to note that the only time that a star will shine lonesome in the sky is when all others are hidden. This may suggest that the subject shines in times of difficulty, rather than in times of ease and simplicity. It is very romantic, and makes the reader pause to think about what the writer could have possibly meant with this line.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner Part II (l.l. 139 - 142) : “Ah, welladay! What evil looks / Had I from old and young! / Instead of the cross, the Albatross / About my neck was hung.”

In this quote from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner Part II, the ancient mariner himself finds himself scrutinized by his fellow crewmates on the ship after he kills the Albatross that everyone had been revering as a ‘good luck charm’. He finds that even his juniors or those who should be respectful towards him are giving him “evil looks”. Rather than a cross, he finds that the death of the Albatross hangs from his neck; a consistent reminder of his sin and guilt.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner Part IV (l.l. 288 - 292) : “The selfsame moment I could pray; / And from my neck so free / The Albatross fell off, and sank / like lead into the sea.”

Linked to the first quote from Coleridge that I had chosen, the reader is back to the issue of the dead Albatross. However, the mood contrasts with the mood of the first quote. There is a sense of hope for the future as the metaphorical Albatross falls off from his neck and into the sea. He is free from the Albatross that signified his killing of the bird that everyone held sentimental feelings towards, and most likely the freedom from the evil looks, shame, and guilt. It could be similar to the feeling of relief that one gets from finally apologizing and revealing what they truly think.

George Gordon, Lord Byron

Stanzas Written on the Road Between Florence and Pisa (l. 5) : “What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled?”

I would like to interpret this line as saying something along the lines of there being no point in decorating a face that will not smile. Whether it be due to the wearer not being able to appreciate it properly, or that putting such lovely decorations to one that will not complement its beauty with a smile of their own, the message is clear. To deserve the “garlands and crowns” of Lord Byron, one must be able to do something as simple as demonstrate appreciation somehow, or something as complicated as to accept the position and provide strength and inspiration to others with their smile. Unfortunately, there is not a clear outline on which wrinkled brow was referenced. This quote reminded me very strongly of the phrase, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” in the way that garlands and crowns (normally considered treasures) mean nothing when given to someone who doesn’t need or want it.

Apostrophe to the Ocean (l.l. 1 - 5) : “There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, / There is a rapture on the lonely shore, / There is society, where none intrudes, / By the deep sea, and music in its roar; / I love not man the less, but nature more,”

I chose this quote from Lord Byron because of how ‘unusual’ his sense of pleasure is. Although solitude can be nice, every one of his listed “pleasurable” items do not seem as pleasurable as one would normally prefer. The writer finds peace and happiness in being alone, but makes sure to clarify that it is not because “I love not man the less, but nature more”. This means that he does not harbour any negative feelings for man, and only feels this way because his love for both are not lacking, but that there is more love for nature than for man. It contrasts to the very aggressive approach that we readers, as a society, tend to react to nature vs. man discussions. (I find that we tend to be more quick to blame man and defend nature blindly.)

Percy Bysshe Shelley

To ---- (l.l. 7, 8) : “And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, / Love itself shall slumber on.”

This quote brings me back to when my grandmother would reassure me that just because a person isn’t there does not mean that they are forgotten, and vice versa. It helped me deal with goodbyes, and allowed me to appreciate the opportunities that come with them. It is closely related to the phrase, “as one door closes, another opens.” In my mind due to how frequently I used both pieces of advice to deal with my emotions as a young child. I appreciated knowing that I would not be forgotten upon physically being separated from the people I love.

Ozymandias (l.l. 12 - 14) : “Nothing beside remanis. Round the decay / Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare / The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

This quote resonates with me and reminds me of the Latin phrase, “memento mori”, or translated to English, “remember that you will die”. The quote I chose touches on mortality, and despite how permanent our man-made creations may seem, everything is reclaimed in the end. Invincible towers get reduced to small pieces of rubble lost to the winds of time. Ozymandias’s grand kingdom that once ruled over the lives of many could not stand the test of time, and ultimately ended up leveling out into minute grains of sand. It’s quite terrifying to think of, but at the same time, it is a comforting thought to know that we all share the same fate, albeit in different rates.

John Keats

Ode on a Grecian Urn (l.l. 11, 12) : “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard / Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;”

Assuming that Keats is holding the meaning of things higher than the actual thing itself, this quote stuck out to me. It is reminiscent of the common phrase, “actions speak louder than words” in the way that both value the unheard, the hidden. The best things you can do to save or ruin a relationship can be the melodies unheard.

Ode to a Nightingale (l.66, 67) : “Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, / She stood in tears amid the alien corn;”

Play the Jeopardy game here!

6 Months

9 months ago, he was just a friend of a friend.

The people around us seemed rather startled by the sudden eruption of laughter. I muffled my giggles in my scarf and quickly shuffled away to a different exhibit. Still riding out the tailwind of his happiness, he made his way to me.

“Are tortoises really that funny to you?” I asked, still a bit red from the incident. He never really did have an ‘inside voice’. But that’s what drew people in. He never holds back. He’s always sincere.

“Of course! Did you see that thing go? He was zooming.” Shaking my head at his reply, I pat him on the shoulder.

6 months ago, he was just my best friend.

He flashed a grin at me before pointing straight at the ceiling. My eyes followed his finger as he kept watch of my expression.

There were jellyfish, albeit plastic ones, glowing in swarms above us. Soft blues, purples, and pinks lit up in seemingly random order. They were almost like raindrops. A small gasp escaped my lips as I watched the display of jellyfish in child-like wonder. A warm hand slipping into mine brought me back.

We stood still for what seemed like hours, just gazing up at the jellyfish while the crowd moved around us. Surrounded by moving bodies, it almost felt as if we had switched places with the jellyfish. In that moment, we became the exhibit and the jellyfish were the ones watching us from above.

Despite the loud buzz of conversations all around, it was a rather silent moment between us. When my eyes finally strayed back down to his, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Ready to go?”

He could have meant anything, but I didn’t care. I squeezed his hand back and smiled.

Wineglass Economy 

theory. A concept of an economic society modeled after wine glasses stacked in a pyramid; as “wine”  is poured into the top-most glass, it overflows into the ones under it, and so on, until all glasses are full. This is but an ideal, it is not true to reality.

On looming glasses, stacked up to the sky,

a surely corrupt chief glass is perched high

The wine that’s supposed to be trickling down

collects at the top, I hope they don’t drown

Refined, at the top of society,

The elite live without sobriety.

The glasses held by the percentage one,

Seem to be bottomless and never done.

Meticulous, they catch every stray drop

At times I wish they’d leave something to mop.

They’ll never understand for why we plea,

or just how heavy one percent can be,

(of course, I mean this in more ways than one;

their wallets aren’t alone in weighing tonnes)

More work, more money - that should be the case

They’re born into a head start in the race

The lower class give from their barren hands,

aristocrats’ cups fill at their command.

The sticky fingers and clouded minds are

a common predicament for their kind.

Oh, even their trash ranks higher than us!

This topic? For hours, I could discuss.

Let’s say a Prada scarf and Gucci cloak,

are given to thrift stores for plain folk

although it’s only been through one wear.

We prize what they don’t want, without a tear

Of course, they also eat premium food:

their plates of morsels covered in grease, stewed,

is the price of their waiter’s monthly rent,

or the joy of which they haven’t spent

Each day, their accounts gain bigger figures;

they go from gold-diggers to grave-diggers-

It’s only a matter of time before

we break for good, all will fall to the floor.

The rich get richer but it’s at a cost-

BBC’s Macbeth and Roman Polanski’s Macbeth - Synthesis Essay

The BBC version of Act I, Scene 7 of Macbeth delivered a more emotional and moving cinematic rendition than Roman Polanski’s version of the same scene from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Though the two directors were in charge of presenting the same play, the final products had many differences, and deviated from the original play in their unique ways.

The first and most obvious difference between the two movies is setting. BBC chose to physically isolate Macbeth and Lady Macbeth from their guests, while Polanski decides to keep them all in close proximity, save for the brief balcony scene. This results in a different mood for each movie, with the first being more serious and dramatic, while the other is more “realistic” both physically and verbally. The mood that accompanies the BBC version of Macbeth is better-fitting for this scene because this is the scene where Macbeth struggles to decide whether or not he should murder King Duncan so that he may take the crown, which is a very morally weighted decision to make; Polanski’s realistic take on this moment is distracting, and takes away from the severity of the consequences that Macbeth’s decision has the potential to have. Additionally, Lady Macbeth is given the chance to approach her husband in privacy in BBC’s version. This allows her to be more dramatic with her lines, compared to the soft-spoken Lady Macbeth of Polanski’s version.

Another notable difference between the two movies was Lady Macbeth’s character. Polanski portrays her as a delicate, sensitive, and manipulative wife whereas BBC portrays her as more of a straight-forward, ruthless, and ambitious partner for Macbeth. Even in the script, there are differences, as Polanski chooses to leave out Lady Macbeth’s most ruthless line in which she claims that she would have “plucked [her] nipple from his boneless gum / And dashed the brains out” (referring to a hypothetical baby if she were nursing one) to prove the point that she would follow through with any promises she makes, in order to encourage Macbeth to stick to his decision to murder Duncan. Polanski’s decision to leave that line out makes Lady Macbeth more likable, reinforcing her “soft” image. On the other hand, BBC’s Lady Macbeth does not hesitate to yell and spit her lines at Macbeth. Her words are more venomous, and are delivered with more urgency, which actually would be more realistic than Polanski’s Lady Macbeth’s soft pleas in their situation. BBC’s Lady Macbeth understands that in order for them to get away with murder, they must not hesitate, and relays that same urgency to her husband.

I was crying last time.

I remember it all too well: how tight my throat felt, how flushed my face was… and how much self loathing I felt, glaring through hot tears at my distorted reflection in the mirror.

My father’s words from just a few seconds ago were still ringing in my ears. My face that sticks out too much, my chin that’s too big, and my eyes that are just too small, all seemed alien to me suddenly. He was right all along- I’m ugly, and will never have a chance at finding happiness.

“Plastic surgery,” my father determined, was my only hope.

“But even then,” he drawled, turning his back to me, “it can only do so much. It’s not magic.”

My chest rose and fell rapidly as my lungs made a desperate plea for air. This wasn’t the first time, but it hurt so much more this time around. I wiped my tears away and stepped away from the mirror. The very sight of my disgusting self was enough to make me nauseous. Through the closed door came the muffled sound of my father’s phone conversation. I tensed up as his sudden laughter filled the small apartment.

My phone buzzed on the dresser next to me. A quick glance at the clock told me that I still had time. Smoothing out my skirt, I gave myself a small nod. It’s the first time in five years that I’m wearing a skirt out. The sunlight filtering into my bedroom seemed to dance along the flowing navy fabric, just at my fingertips.

He left abruptly one spring, a week before my birthday. I told myself that I was happy to see him go, but I felt an ache in my chest as I said goodbye. My words went ignored, as per usual, but I expected nothing less. As soon as the door closed behind him though, a sigh escaped me. I didn’t realize that I had been holding in my breath.

Oddly enough, nothing seemed to change, except now, I was the one reminding myself of all my imperfections in his place. I was frustrated most of the time, because I knew that in order to fix myself, I needed to be the one to take the first step. However, at the time, that first step seemed like an infinitely long leap across an infinitely deep abyss. Little did I know that I was allowed to slowly build myself a bridge across.

I ran a hand through my hair, that was still slightly damp from my shower. Two more minutes. Things have changed since I last gave my reflection a proper look. Maybe I’ve actually changed physically, or maybe the changes can’t be seen. Or both.

Optimism at its Lowest

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