Shakespeare version: from The Merchant of Venice Act II Scene ii, Lines 1-31
LAUNCELOT
I'm sure I'll feel guilty if I run away from this Jew, my master. The devil's on my shoulder, tempting me. He's saying, “Gobbo,” “Launcelot Gobbo,” “Good Launcelot,” or “Good Gobbo,” or “Good Launcelot Gobbo”—“use your legs and run away.” But my conscience says, “No, Launcelot, calm down, don't run away.” The devil's urging me to leave. “Go away!” he says. “Run away! Be tough,” says the devil, “and run!” But then my conscience, hanging around my heart, says very wisely to me, “My good friend Launcelot, you're a good boy, the son of an honest man,” really, that should be the son of an honest woman, since my father cheated on my mother. Anyway, my conscience says, “Stay put.” “Go,” the devil says. “Don't go,” says my conscience. “Conscience,” I say, “you give good advice.” “Devil,” I say, “you give good advice.” If I listened to my conscience, I'd stay with the Jew my master, who's a devil. But if I ran away from the Jew, I'd be following the advice of the devil, who's the very devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the devil incarnate, and my conscience is giving me a hard time by telling me to stay with the Jew. The devil's advice is nicer. I'll run, devil. Tell me to run, and I'll run.
My Version:
I stare up at the yellow and red bars of metal, winding there way through the dark sky in curves and deathly loops. The rumbling gets louder, and louder, and louder. It shakes the ground beneath my feat. sending more nervous vibes through my veins. My brain tells me no, "Caitlin, don't get on that roller coaster! Do you really want to risk getting sick, or worse, falling out of your seat, falling from the sky, and going *kerspalt*?" My brain has a point, do way do I want that. But my friends tell me go. "C'mon, you gotta do it. We're all going too. Nobodies going to dieeee." Wow, that's reassuring. "Don't even think about," says my brain. "Go for it," say my friends. "Don't ride it" "Ride it" "you're going to regret going on" Maybe I will. "you're going to regret staying off" I know I will. You're right, my friends, I have to live in the moment, take chances, ride into the unknown, literally.The ketchup and mustard color carts come rolling to a halt, and we stand at the front of the line. "You know you want to," say my friends. And I do. I get on.
Ilikerandom
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Boy&&Girl
Inspired by "Girl" written by Jamaica Kincaid
Boy
Rise with the sun, "the only things that come to a sleeping boy are his dreams"; clean your room when your mother asks; hide your mess when we have guests; give your mother a hug when she needs it; tie your tie like this; never use the clip-on; this is how you pound a hammer; this is how you pound a hammer, to pound a nail, to pound in the wood; collect the trash every night; carry the bag outside to the can; tie the bag like this so that it doesn't fall open, so that the cats won't have a feast; read the instructions before using dangerous equipment; read the instructions before grilling your meat; eat steak, and lots of it; don't talk with your mouth full in the presence of women; don't chew with you mouth open in the presence of mom; buckle up, always be safe; always be protected; always use protection; even if you think it was a mistake, never tell her or the baby; support your family; your word is your bond, so don't screw it up; stand tall like this when applying for a job; stand like this when hanging with your friends; stand like this when you want to attract a woman; shake hands with conviction, look people in the eye; never start a fight you are bound to lose; violence is not the answer; but when you do get into a fight, like I know you are bound to do, hold your punch like this; never place you thumb inside your fist; aim for the nose; keep you eye on the target; keep you eye on the ball; play for fun, and then to win; give the game all you've got; do not hit your brother; be patient, let the fish take the bait; let the fish come to you; work hard, play hard; say excuse me; hold the doors for strangers; never drink and drive; set a drinking limit; don't throw the L word around; don't honk the horn, walk up to her doorstep; take the special girl somewhere special; bring her mother flowers, bring her home by curfew; live your life with no regrets; live your life and don't look back.
Girl
This is how to get your needed beauty sleep; this is how to wash the dishes, and how to stack them to dry; this is how to separate the laundry by color; this is how to start the washer; this is how to stop the dryer; this is how to fold your father's aloha shirts; this is how to match his socks; this is why you shouldn't hide your face with makeup, God made you naturally pretty; this is how you buy your clothes; this is how I return your clothes when they are too tight; this is how you sit in a skirt; this is how you sit up straight; this is how you eat spaghetti; this is how you air kiss your aunties; this is how you bake a cake; this is how you bake one that tastes good; don't walk alone in dark alleys; this is how you pretend you're on the phone, when you don't want to talk to someone; this is how you hang up the phone, when you don't want to talk to someone; this is how you walk with confidence, and hold your chin up high, but not too high that people take you as a snob; stay away from mud when wearing good shoes; choose the right shoes for a rainy day; this is how to greet your enemy; this is how you greet your friends; this is how you greet your boyfriend; this is how you greet your mom; this is how to make a bed; this is how to fluff the pillows; this is how to write a thankyou card; this is how to wrap a present; this is how you check the expiration date before making a purchase; this is how to test the apples for bruises; this is how to give a hug; always go to the bathroom in pairs; ; this is how you keep a secret to yourself; this is how you whisper it to one special friend; this is how you stay true to yourself; this is how you don't give in to peer pressure; this is how you find a man that is in love with you; this is how you show a man you love him; this is how you stay out of trouble; this is how to wait until you are ready; this is how to stay safe; this is how you tell a jerk to go away; this is what you do if he won't; this is how you say I love you without using words; this is how to persevere; this is how to hope; this is how to love.
Boy
Rise with the sun, "the only things that come to a sleeping boy are his dreams"; clean your room when your mother asks; hide your mess when we have guests; give your mother a hug when she needs it; tie your tie like this; never use the clip-on; this is how you pound a hammer; this is how you pound a hammer, to pound a nail, to pound in the wood; collect the trash every night; carry the bag outside to the can; tie the bag like this so that it doesn't fall open, so that the cats won't have a feast; read the instructions before using dangerous equipment; read the instructions before grilling your meat; eat steak, and lots of it; don't talk with your mouth full in the presence of women; don't chew with you mouth open in the presence of mom; buckle up, always be safe; always be protected; always use protection; even if you think it was a mistake, never tell her or the baby; support your family; your word is your bond, so don't screw it up; stand tall like this when applying for a job; stand like this when hanging with your friends; stand like this when you want to attract a woman; shake hands with conviction, look people in the eye; never start a fight you are bound to lose; violence is not the answer; but when you do get into a fight, like I know you are bound to do, hold your punch like this; never place you thumb inside your fist; aim for the nose; keep you eye on the target; keep you eye on the ball; play for fun, and then to win; give the game all you've got; do not hit your brother; be patient, let the fish take the bait; let the fish come to you; work hard, play hard; say excuse me; hold the doors for strangers; never drink and drive; set a drinking limit; don't throw the L word around; don't honk the horn, walk up to her doorstep; take the special girl somewhere special; bring her mother flowers, bring her home by curfew; live your life with no regrets; live your life and don't look back.
Girl
This is how to get your needed beauty sleep; this is how to wash the dishes, and how to stack them to dry; this is how to separate the laundry by color; this is how to start the washer; this is how to stop the dryer; this is how to fold your father's aloha shirts; this is how to match his socks; this is why you shouldn't hide your face with makeup, God made you naturally pretty; this is how you buy your clothes; this is how I return your clothes when they are too tight; this is how you sit in a skirt; this is how you sit up straight; this is how you eat spaghetti; this is how you air kiss your aunties; this is how you bake a cake; this is how you bake one that tastes good; don't walk alone in dark alleys; this is how you pretend you're on the phone, when you don't want to talk to someone; this is how you hang up the phone, when you don't want to talk to someone; this is how you walk with confidence, and hold your chin up high, but not too high that people take you as a snob; stay away from mud when wearing good shoes; choose the right shoes for a rainy day; this is how to greet your enemy; this is how you greet your friends; this is how you greet your boyfriend; this is how you greet your mom; this is how to make a bed; this is how to fluff the pillows; this is how to write a thankyou card; this is how to wrap a present; this is how you check the expiration date before making a purchase; this is how to test the apples for bruises; this is how to give a hug; always go to the bathroom in pairs; ; this is how you keep a secret to yourself; this is how you whisper it to one special friend; this is how you stay true to yourself; this is how you don't give in to peer pressure; this is how you find a man that is in love with you; this is how you show a man you love him; this is how you stay out of trouble; this is how to wait until you are ready; this is how to stay safe; this is how you tell a jerk to go away; this is what you do if he won't; this is how you say I love you without using words; this is how to persevere; this is how to hope; this is how to love.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Mi Madre-take dos
-1-
Yesterday I saw a rainbow. It was the brightest one ever, with the most vibrant colors imaginable. The sky was clear, the sun ablaze. This rainbow wasn't like the ones whose blurry water-colors cast drops of hope on a rainy day. My mother asked me to capture the rainbow for her. This was not unusual, for she asked me this every time one blessed our Hawaiian skies. Instead of my normal, "that's impossible, mom," I made it my priority to capture that rainbow. I set off on my journey. It was one full of perseverance, hope, and love. I wanted my mother to be proud of me and my efforts. I traveled high and low, being guided by the end of the arch, which only seemed to recede farther and farther as I went. Finally, after many steps the end of the rainbow stood gleaming, inches away from my face. It was so close that I opened my glass jar and scooped in some of its ocean of colors. Mission accomplished. I skipped home, excitement and joy creating the bounce in my steps. "Look," I said to my mother, holding out the rainbow filled jar. She gave me a acquisitive look. "What? There's nothing in here." She gave the jar a shake, and I watched the colors bounce about, till they slowly faded into thin air. With feelings of anger and sadness creeping through my veins, I told her, "You're right. It's nothing." I took the jar from her hands and tossed it into the trash.
-2-
I sat beside his tomb stone, arranging the purple orchids and evergreen ferns in Papa's engraved, metal vase. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, and I brought my hand up in a useless attempt to keep them from falling. I rested my heavy head in the palms of my hands. My shoulders shook back and forth with every new sob. Slowly, an arm slid across my shoulders and brought me into a hug. I looked up to find the eyes of my mother, gazing forlornly at Papa's headstone. I noticed that she too held tears in her understanding eyes. I rested my head on her chest. Together we shared the sadness. No words needed to be spoken. Cars rushed by on the nearby road, the sun escaped behind the horizon, and darkness fell over the skies. But my mother and I stayed in the same place, unmoved. We stood, cherishing our connection: we were together, we were united, we were one.
Yesterday I saw a rainbow. It was the brightest one ever, with the most vibrant colors imaginable. The sky was clear, the sun ablaze. This rainbow wasn't like the ones whose blurry water-colors cast drops of hope on a rainy day. My mother asked me to capture the rainbow for her. This was not unusual, for she asked me this every time one blessed our Hawaiian skies. Instead of my normal, "that's impossible, mom," I made it my priority to capture that rainbow. I set off on my journey. It was one full of perseverance, hope, and love. I wanted my mother to be proud of me and my efforts. I traveled high and low, being guided by the end of the arch, which only seemed to recede farther and farther as I went. Finally, after many steps the end of the rainbow stood gleaming, inches away from my face. It was so close that I opened my glass jar and scooped in some of its ocean of colors. Mission accomplished. I skipped home, excitement and joy creating the bounce in my steps. "Look," I said to my mother, holding out the rainbow filled jar. She gave me a acquisitive look. "What? There's nothing in here." She gave the jar a shake, and I watched the colors bounce about, till they slowly faded into thin air. With feelings of anger and sadness creeping through my veins, I told her, "You're right. It's nothing." I took the jar from her hands and tossed it into the trash.
-2-
I sat beside his tomb stone, arranging the purple orchids and evergreen ferns in Papa's engraved, metal vase. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, and I brought my hand up in a useless attempt to keep them from falling. I rested my heavy head in the palms of my hands. My shoulders shook back and forth with every new sob. Slowly, an arm slid across my shoulders and brought me into a hug. I looked up to find the eyes of my mother, gazing forlornly at Papa's headstone. I noticed that she too held tears in her understanding eyes. I rested my head on her chest. Together we shared the sadness. No words needed to be spoken. Cars rushed by on the nearby road, the sun escaped behind the horizon, and darkness fell over the skies. But my mother and I stayed in the same place, unmoved. We stood, cherishing our connection: we were together, we were united, we were one.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Mi Madre
Inspired by “My Mother” by Jamaica Kincaid
-1-
I wiped the sweat off my forehead. My baseball cap was doing little to keep me cool. The summer heat beat down on my bare shoulders, scalding the flesh off bone. It was Saturday morning, noon on the dot. My mother had left the house to run her errands, with a quick, "It wouldn't hurt you to do a little yard work, you know." I sat on a garden stool, adjusting the thin plastic gloves over my sweaty hands. Holes already on the tips of my fingers where pesky dirt sneaked in and beneath my nails.
I wasn't doing this for nothing; I wanted to please my mom. For once, I wanted her to be happy and know that I wasn't just a lazy, good-for-nothing-teenager, who sleeps in late and never helps out. That's why I sat out in the front yard, during the hottest part of the day, seeing to my mother's wishes. I picked out each individual weed from the ground, poking into the nearby dirt with a weeder, and scooping out the roots, as if I was healing every cut in my mother-daughter relationship. With every lifted weed, a little part of the garden was renewed, purified. I was creating a clean slate for whatever new seeds would be planted next, for however the garden wished to grow and improve.
My shadow stood at two o'clock when my mother pulled into the driveway. She stepped out of the car and opened the trunk to unload the groceries. "Everyone out here now! Help unload the car!," she shouted to the rest of the family. I walked up to greet her, pointing out my labor. A look of disappointment crossed her face. "Why did you do that?" she inquired, "I wanted you to move those rocks, over there, to the back yard. I can do the weeding on my own." That was it. No thanks at all. Not an ounce of gratitude or appreciation. An instant rush of anger pounded through me. I dumped the black trash bag filled with weeds back onto the garden, and stomped back inside the house.
-2-
Church was almost over. As our pastor gave the benediction, my eyes followed the red carpet, until they fell upon my grandma who was sitting behind the grand piano. She was watching the keys with a look of deep thought and sadness. I stood in the wooden pews, with my sister to the left, and my mother to the right. My pastor had stopped speaking, and the church was filled with the introduction to a song I recently learned, and knew all too well. Grandpa had died last Thursday, and sorrow filled my whole family at the thought of that song. May God Bless You, it was called. It was written by my grandma and aunty. We sung it in the hospital room: cousins, aunty, uncle, grandma, sisters, parents, and pastor, all gathered around my frail, peaceful papa. Then we sang, at his funeral in the same wooden pews. And now it was playing again, and the church was filled with singing. All different voices sang together in unity, but I knew that not everyone else felt the way that I did. We were not unified in feelings too. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, and I had to pause from singing in an attempt to prevent those tears from falling. "Within the first light of the dawn, may God bless you. And when the light of day is gone, may God bless you. And in your smiles and in your tears, through everyday of all your years. His love will always, see you through. May God bless you. May God bless you." The song ended, and movement broke out in the sanctuary. People scattered every which way. An arm wrapped around my shoulders, and brought me into a warm hug. My mother was wiping the tears from her eyes, with a damp tissue. "Maybe one day," she said with a small smile of love, understanding, and sadness. "We'll be able to get through this song together." I didn't say anything, just cherishing the moment. Where my mother and I, differences aside, were one.
-1-
I wiped the sweat off my forehead. My baseball cap was doing little to keep me cool. The summer heat beat down on my bare shoulders, scalding the flesh off bone. It was Saturday morning, noon on the dot. My mother had left the house to run her errands, with a quick, "It wouldn't hurt you to do a little yard work, you know." I sat on a garden stool, adjusting the thin plastic gloves over my sweaty hands. Holes already on the tips of my fingers where pesky dirt sneaked in and beneath my nails.
I wasn't doing this for nothing; I wanted to please my mom. For once, I wanted her to be happy and know that I wasn't just a lazy, good-for-nothing-teenager, who sleeps in late and never helps out. That's why I sat out in the front yard, during the hottest part of the day, seeing to my mother's wishes. I picked out each individual weed from the ground, poking into the nearby dirt with a weeder, and scooping out the roots, as if I was healing every cut in my mother-daughter relationship. With every lifted weed, a little part of the garden was renewed, purified. I was creating a clean slate for whatever new seeds would be planted next, for however the garden wished to grow and improve.
My shadow stood at two o'clock when my mother pulled into the driveway. She stepped out of the car and opened the trunk to unload the groceries. "Everyone out here now! Help unload the car!," she shouted to the rest of the family. I walked up to greet her, pointing out my labor. A look of disappointment crossed her face. "Why did you do that?" she inquired, "I wanted you to move those rocks, over there, to the back yard. I can do the weeding on my own." That was it. No thanks at all. Not an ounce of gratitude or appreciation. An instant rush of anger pounded through me. I dumped the black trash bag filled with weeds back onto the garden, and stomped back inside the house.
-2-
Church was almost over. As our pastor gave the benediction, my eyes followed the red carpet, until they fell upon my grandma who was sitting behind the grand piano. She was watching the keys with a look of deep thought and sadness. I stood in the wooden pews, with my sister to the left, and my mother to the right. My pastor had stopped speaking, and the church was filled with the introduction to a song I recently learned, and knew all too well. Grandpa had died last Thursday, and sorrow filled my whole family at the thought of that song. May God Bless You, it was called. It was written by my grandma and aunty. We sung it in the hospital room: cousins, aunty, uncle, grandma, sisters, parents, and pastor, all gathered around my frail, peaceful papa. Then we sang, at his funeral in the same wooden pews. And now it was playing again, and the church was filled with singing. All different voices sang together in unity, but I knew that not everyone else felt the way that I did. We were not unified in feelings too. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, and I had to pause from singing in an attempt to prevent those tears from falling. "Within the first light of the dawn, may God bless you. And when the light of day is gone, may God bless you. And in your smiles and in your tears, through everyday of all your years. His love will always, see you through. May God bless you. May God bless you." The song ended, and movement broke out in the sanctuary. People scattered every which way. An arm wrapped around my shoulders, and brought me into a warm hug. My mother was wiping the tears from her eyes, with a damp tissue. "Maybe one day," she said with a small smile of love, understanding, and sadness. "We'll be able to get through this song together." I didn't say anything, just cherishing the moment. Where my mother and I, differences aside, were one.
7 Ways of Looking at an Oak Tree
Yeah, so I'm weird for posting my homework on this blog even though I'm not in Mr. Watson's class anymore. I think I'll keep a collection of my work this year on here anyways...
1st Poem of the year
---
I
A tiny oak seed
Placed in moist soil
Patted with wrinkled hands
Nourished by drops of sunshine
II
Her daddy built her a tree house
Ruby red like her favorite dress
Nail by nail, wall by wall
Sustained by firm branches,
Of the young Oak tree
III
Gusts of wind rushed through lush foliage
Moonlight shone upon the Oak tree
Her room was enveloped in a blanket of darkness
Monsters crept through an open window
Shadows danced across the walls
She clutched her teddy with fright
IV
He found a stone lying in the grass,
Beneath the red and white checkers of their picnic blanket
Solid and smooth in his fist
With careful strokes, he striped away bark on the Oak tree
A satisfied smile
His initials, next to hers
V
Fiery reds, pumpkin oranges, golden yellows
Leaves from the Oak tree crunched under the rusty rake
Its bare branches shivered in the chilly winds
VI
The owl sat in the old Oak tree
Wrapped tightly in his wrinkled wings
Quizzically watching the man and woman below
Mitten hands,
One
VII
Branches and leaves sat on the green grass
Red wood remnants and acorns, too
The Oak tree laid on the soil
Resting in peace
1st Poem of the year
---
I
A tiny oak seed
Placed in moist soil
Patted with wrinkled hands
Nourished by drops of sunshine
II
Her daddy built her a tree house
Ruby red like her favorite dress
Nail by nail, wall by wall
Sustained by firm branches,
Of the young Oak tree
III
Gusts of wind rushed through lush foliage
Moonlight shone upon the Oak tree
Her room was enveloped in a blanket of darkness
Monsters crept through an open window
Shadows danced across the walls
She clutched her teddy with fright
IV
He found a stone lying in the grass,
Beneath the red and white checkers of their picnic blanket
Solid and smooth in his fist
With careful strokes, he striped away bark on the Oak tree
A satisfied smile
His initials, next to hers
V
Fiery reds, pumpkin oranges, golden yellows
Leaves from the Oak tree crunched under the rusty rake
Its bare branches shivered in the chilly winds
VI
The owl sat in the old Oak tree
Wrapped tightly in his wrinkled wings
Quizzically watching the man and woman below
Mitten hands,
One
VII
Branches and leaves sat on the green grass
Red wood remnants and acorns, too
The Oak tree laid on the soil
Resting in peace
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
AMND: Performance Ideas
These are my thoughts, in preparation for the class acting we are going to be doing for A Midsummer Night's Dream. Honestly though, I wil act in whichever scene I need to.
Characters to play:
*Hermia:
Scene.o1 Confused, and distressed when she wakes up and finds Lysander gone.
Scene.o2 [Not in the second scene]
*Helena
Scene.o1. Dissapointed with Lysander, baffled by his sudden interest in her. Feeling lost, and undeserving of his "mockery."
Scene.o2 Mad at the other lovers, thinks that they have set her up. Feeling bad for hersel, downer.
*Titania
...I don't really care, as long as I don't have to try to change my voice and be a male character.
Scenes:
.o1 Act III Scene ii, 140-170...
DEMETRIUS
[Awaking.]
O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
HELENA
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment.
If you were civil, and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so;
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
And now both rivals, to mock Helena:
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes
With your derision! None of noble sort
Would so offend a virgin, and extort
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
LYSANDER
You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
For you love Hermia: this you know I know:
And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love and will do till my death.
[and so on...]
.o2 Act II Scene ii, 130-163
HELENA
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can
Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth, you do me wrong,—good sooth, you do—
In such disdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well: perforce I must confess,
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady of one man refus'd
Should of another therefore be abus'd!
[Exit.]
LYSANDER
She sees not Hermia:—Hermia, sleep thou there;
And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings;
Or, as the heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive;
So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!
And, all my powers, address your love and might
To honour Helen, and to be her knight!
[Exit.]
HERMIA
[Starting.]
Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!
Ay me, for pity!—What a dream was here!
Lysander, look how I do quake with fear!
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.—
Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord!
What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?
Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear;
Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.
No?—then I well perceive you are not nigh:
Either death or you I'll find immediately.
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