The narrator here is a dead guy who's a bit miffed at the military for shooting off cannons in the middle of eternity. To put it simply. There is a rhyme scheme here, ABAB iambic, and it most definitely has an impact on the poem. Firstly, having the dead guy speak results in a much better read than having a living person talk of the dead. Hearing it first person adds to the credibility, and also the understanding, because otherwise it's all interpretation of who the speaker is, what their fictional profession is, the story of the story, etc. Here it's reduced to a simple answer: first-hand opinion from the dead guy. Secondly, having it in a rhyme scheme helps add to the sarcastic wit of the poem. It gives it a sort of weary beat, like someone woken in the middle of the night to blaring loud music. The rhyme also makes it more personable, as if it were a children's rhyme. The overall effect is that it makes the dead less detached from the living, and makes us more able to relate to them. You almost want to agree that those ****in' kids better turn down that racket, because you've been down that path before, I'm sure, someone waking you in the night, and likely for a stupid reason as well.
One interesting technique used is the allusion. It brings to mind some of the more famous English sites, where bloody battles were likely fought and, of course, the English would really like to stay. The date is 1948, so WWII will have passed, but not long ago. Obviously, the guns could be blazing away for that, the attacks on England by Germany. Hence the "readiness to avenge" (34). Regardless, though it may seem like little to us Americans, being as we don't know the history behind these sites, we can all agree that some places we really like to keep under our thumb. We wouldn't, for example, want Nazis having a picnic on Mount Rushmore, or perhaps building a missile site under the Statue of Liberty. Some places are special to us, and likewise the English really want to fight for their places. But then again, it's only a small tourist attraction. The fact that mere tracts of land and all on it hold such a grip on us that we must blow each others' heads off for it is a little disappointing. Think of Jerusalem. Holy place, I understand, but why are you unholily killing thousands of people there? Secondly, the tone of the poem is quite amusing. It helps convey the friendly nature of the poem, the comic situation of old bones cranky at the young making such a heck of a noise. For one, a deceased priest says it would have been a better idea to drink for 40 years rather than preach, given the idiotic battling going on. For him, nothing's changed, so why did he bother? And, of course, God comes down to joke with the dead how the soldiers should be lucky that it's not time for the Final Judgment, "For if it were they'd have to scour Hell's floor for so much threatening..." (19-20). He also jests that he might not pass the Final Judgment soon after all because "you are men and rest eternal sorely need" (23-24). That's like saying, "Well, old guys, if you really need that much sleep, you might as well just sleep forever, you're so darn tired." This is most certainly a comic approach to a fairly serious topic; mindless slaughter, countered by a good-humored God and the undead.
Personally, I liked this poem. As far as a correlation to the world today, I can agree that people can fight over the craziest of things. But when it comes to war, people can really be dense. Tons of people die. It's not a very pleasant thing to experience should you live through it either, I'm sure. But, of course, we fight on...and on...and on...............Kinda makes you seem hopeless about the future. There will always be fighting, but I found this humorous approach to the subject quite amusing. Though, if I were one of those skeletons, I'd be more likely to get out of my grave and tell the noisemakers to SHUT UP. Whether or not I scare them into the grave next to mine is of no concern to me.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Sound and Sense -Poem 212
The narrator is more or less anybody speaking a warning about money, in free verse and no rhyme scheme. This accomplishes several things. First, it allows for the nature of the poem to be felt. The poem has a simple and friendly nature at first, giving an image that money is in fact quite friendly. The way the poem is written, it is casual like a regular conversation with a friend, adding to the quiet and gentle way the story seems to progress. The other thing is that the lack of structure allows for the end of the poem to have a greater effect. Since the poem is not structured, the ending seems to come out of nowhere, again following the style of the story of a sudden ill end. The poem itself is able to reflect the tone of the narrator. If the poem was structured, then it would almost assuredly lose something in the steady beat of a rhythm, making the poem seem to glorify money rather than convey the outer image of it, or sing of its good nature rather than let it come to the reader.
Firstly, the similes and metaphors are very effective. One compares money to an amoeba, which "makes love in secret only to itself" (13-15), conveying the idea that money really has no affections for anything else but itself very well. Amoeba, in fact, simply divide themselves, making the simile even more effective that it really loves nothing, but is merely a simple being if anything at all. Comparing it to a dog also helps convey the sense that money can be beneficial to one to the point where one might cherish it as a friend. The other important technique for making money humane is personification. The narrator describes the money as wanting to "nest in your pocket or curl up in a corner" (3-5), and also how it will "turn its head as if for a kiss and bite you gently on the hand" (23-26). These lines also help to make the inanimate and far from living money more alive, more personable. The narrator is trying to make you consider for a moment a living, breathing, and especially conniving, money.
Personally, I agree with this. Completely. Money will most certainly "delight your friends, shake hands with men" (8-9), or at least will allow you to do this. Everybody likes a rich friend, or having one at least, and you'll definitely be meeting a lot of people who take interest in the well-to-do. And I doubt it's necessary to explain what it means to "lick the legs of women" (10-11). But, of course, money never likes being alone, and you'll be more than happy to find more, to keep all of together, nice and happy. In short: eventually you'll go corrupt and be a greedy little miser. It'll happen suddenly, and from that moment on, you're not going to ever be the same again.
Firstly, the similes and metaphors are very effective. One compares money to an amoeba, which "makes love in secret only to itself" (13-15), conveying the idea that money really has no affections for anything else but itself very well. Amoeba, in fact, simply divide themselves, making the simile even more effective that it really loves nothing, but is merely a simple being if anything at all. Comparing it to a dog also helps convey the sense that money can be beneficial to one to the point where one might cherish it as a friend. The other important technique for making money humane is personification. The narrator describes the money as wanting to "nest in your pocket or curl up in a corner" (3-5), and also how it will "turn its head as if for a kiss and bite you gently on the hand" (23-26). These lines also help to make the inanimate and far from living money more alive, more personable. The narrator is trying to make you consider for a moment a living, breathing, and especially conniving, money.
Personally, I agree with this. Completely. Money will most certainly "delight your friends, shake hands with men" (8-9), or at least will allow you to do this. Everybody likes a rich friend, or having one at least, and you'll definitely be meeting a lot of people who take interest in the well-to-do. And I doubt it's necessary to explain what it means to "lick the legs of women" (10-11). But, of course, money never likes being alone, and you'll be more than happy to find more, to keep all of together, nice and happy. In short: eventually you'll go corrupt and be a greedy little miser. It'll happen suddenly, and from that moment on, you're not going to ever be the same again.
Sound and Sense -Poem 206
The narrator here seems to be an omnipotent being, describing a particular house on a bad night. The rhyme scheme happens to be an ABAB iambic poem. Now although the narrator does not have much of an impact on the poem itself, in its being omnipotent it prevents any other form of narrator from affecting the tone of the poem. If another person were to be telling it, it would have a much different effect on the reader. A caretaker or traveler could easily make this a horror poem, which it of course is not meant to be. The meter, though, helps develop a rhythm that makes the poem not as much of a horror story as a depiction of the haunted house and its former "tenants." This is not trying to tell any specific story as much as it is trying to describe the house and the fears sometimes brought up by a storm. Obviously, the dead are not roaming the halls, but the storm is frightening other people inside. The rhythm and rhyme help to make the poem lyrical, and relieves some of the pure fright from the scene. Rather than an eyewitness's account in random, free verse terror, the omnipotent speaker allows for a neutral description of the setting.
The particular imagery in the poem helps give us a better idea of the house and its inhabitants. The poem details how the storm is powerful enough to make the house shake as if it were "smitten as with a flail" (line 3). The phantoms are described as "Old terrors...Creep[ing] from their caves to life again" (7-8), and "the packed Pollution of remorse and time, Slipped from oblivion" (13-15). The imagery helps to give an idea of both how bad the storm is and how terrified the residents become. Another useful technique is the use of alliteration, assonance, and consonance. Phrases like "guardian grasp on blood and brain" (6), "assert their squalid lease of sin" (11) help to establish further the flowing quality of the poem. It is orderly, lyrical, and not necessarily meant to evoke mass fear. The use of these techniques help to stress the focus is not on phantoms and the undead but on the fears of the residents.
To me, the poem seems to convey a common pain-in-the-neck. Sounds in the dark often frighten people, primarily because you don't know what made the sound. If you've inherited a creaky old house, chances are it has a long and likely not-too-favorable history. All the ghost stories you've ever heard, and all the rumors about the house, all come to life in your mind. Being half asleep, one can easily think they've seen a ghost or heard some piercing scream. I know personally that when you're just drifting off you might think you see or hear something, I've had that happen before, but at that point, at least I wake up and know that it's nothing. In the middle of a storm, though, there's always going to be creaking and whistling, and then it's bound to get creepy to some degree or another. And as the poem states, we can't believe there's nothing there until there is calmness or light. Of course, you're exhausted by then, but what else can you do about your own mind?
The particular imagery in the poem helps give us a better idea of the house and its inhabitants. The poem details how the storm is powerful enough to make the house shake as if it were "smitten as with a flail" (line 3). The phantoms are described as "Old terrors...Creep[ing] from their caves to life again" (7-8), and "the packed Pollution of remorse and time, Slipped from oblivion" (13-15). The imagery helps to give an idea of both how bad the storm is and how terrified the residents become. Another useful technique is the use of alliteration, assonance, and consonance. Phrases like "guardian grasp on blood and brain" (6), "assert their squalid lease of sin" (11) help to establish further the flowing quality of the poem. It is orderly, lyrical, and not necessarily meant to evoke mass fear. The use of these techniques help to stress the focus is not on phantoms and the undead but on the fears of the residents.
To me, the poem seems to convey a common pain-in-the-neck. Sounds in the dark often frighten people, primarily because you don't know what made the sound. If you've inherited a creaky old house, chances are it has a long and likely not-too-favorable history. All the ghost stories you've ever heard, and all the rumors about the house, all come to life in your mind. Being half asleep, one can easily think they've seen a ghost or heard some piercing scream. I know personally that when you're just drifting off you might think you see or hear something, I've had that happen before, but at that point, at least I wake up and know that it's nothing. In the middle of a storm, though, there's always going to be creaking and whistling, and then it's bound to get creepy to some degree or another. And as the poem states, we can't believe there's nothing there until there is calmness or light. Of course, you're exhausted by then, but what else can you do about your own mind?
Sound and Sense -Poem 203
I'm going to assume that the speaker is in fact a teacher teaching his/her students, as the narrator mentions going home while the students go to another class. There is no set rhythm to the poem, no meter or rhyme scheme. This makes the poem more powerful because of what it is about. The narrator mentions that he/she "tried to drown them with my words" (13-14), so having a poem in free verse style like this helps convey a feeling that speech and poetry is almost natural to human beings, and that most can in fact understand it well and enjoy it and will, using the extended metaphor, take to it like a fish to water. Were the poem actually set to a rhyme scheme and meter, it might not have the same impact, and might actually be less entertaining to the point that others might take the idea to be that only versed poetry can be understood or appreciated.
One of the obvious literary devices is the extended metaphor. The entire classroom ends up becoming a fish tank, and all the students fish. Figuratively, of course. This helps to give an idea of how, though the teacher was expecting the students not to understand or take interest in what he said, that they would all figuratively drown, they instead understood everything fairly well and were soon "[swimming] around the room]." The metaphor gives a known experience to colorfully describe the situation, and help to give a sense of remorse even as the class leaves. Out of their natural element of language and back in the real world, they return to their normal lives unable to have the same level of freedom as in the class. Another technique used is the alteration of tone. In the beginning, the narrator seems to be almost surprised at the students' appreciation and comprehension of literature, and then becomes a little remorseful when the class finally lets out. The narrator seems to be slightly upset throughout the piece, though, conveying the idea that he believes literature is not...how do I say this...either really understood or well liked, and that whoever does is often busy in the rest of the boring world, or is only appreciative when it is required as class work.
To me, the poem seems to be from a teacher, surprised but happily surprised at his/her class's understanding of literature. The narrator is a little upset at returning to the real world at the end of class, but there's not much to be done about that. Perhaps naming the cat Queen Elizabeth was to signify history classes, possibly stating that the other things taught in school take the life out of the students and the rest of the day. The narrator would prefer to have that eager class throughout the day because of the freedom that the literature brings, and wearily goes about the remainder of the day as lifeless as his/her class originally was.
One of the obvious literary devices is the extended metaphor. The entire classroom ends up becoming a fish tank, and all the students fish. Figuratively, of course. This helps to give an idea of how, though the teacher was expecting the students not to understand or take interest in what he said, that they would all figuratively drown, they instead understood everything fairly well and were soon "[swimming] around the room]." The metaphor gives a known experience to colorfully describe the situation, and help to give a sense of remorse even as the class leaves. Out of their natural element of language and back in the real world, they return to their normal lives unable to have the same level of freedom as in the class. Another technique used is the alteration of tone. In the beginning, the narrator seems to be almost surprised at the students' appreciation and comprehension of literature, and then becomes a little remorseful when the class finally lets out. The narrator seems to be slightly upset throughout the piece, though, conveying the idea that he believes literature is not...how do I say this...either really understood or well liked, and that whoever does is often busy in the rest of the boring world, or is only appreciative when it is required as class work.
To me, the poem seems to be from a teacher, surprised but happily surprised at his/her class's understanding of literature. The narrator is a little upset at returning to the real world at the end of class, but there's not much to be done about that. Perhaps naming the cat Queen Elizabeth was to signify history classes, possibly stating that the other things taught in school take the life out of the students and the rest of the day. The narrator would prefer to have that eager class throughout the day because of the freedom that the literature brings, and wearily goes about the remainder of the day as lifeless as his/her class originally was.
Monday, March 24, 2008
James Joyce -Symbol Analysis
One of the more prevalent symbols in the book is one of individual freedom. The ability to be the person you want to be, the person you really are, and to do what you enjoy doing and say what you think without detriment. The ability to exist, one could say. This is expressed in several ways. Firstly, his name's Dedalus, for crying out loud! You can't be more obvious than that! Dedalus (the Greek one) made himself a set of wings to escape the maze he had built for another king. To escape the confines that his intellect and talent had made for him. Dedalus (back to the future) is faced with endless problems to being himself. His family's politically divided, and after a while is poor. His school is religious to the nth degree. He's unsure of himself for most of his youth. He possesses radical ideas and opinions frowned upon by most of the rest of Ireland. He doesn't fit in. To make a long story short, his life is a cage. No matter what he might be, he is locked into this cage of Ireland. His religion, his family, his nation's beliefs trap him. And his opinions only seem to make everyone else push him further away.
He has to escape. At the end of chapter (is it a chapter, or a segment, or what?) 4, Dedalus suddenly has this great realization of who he is and what life means. He's at first trapped by his childhood, not knowing what kind of person to be, going along with the only advice his family can give. His mother says to follow the school's and church's teachings. His father talks about himself. He doesn't know what he is. Then he turns to sin and prostitutes for a while before realizing that this isn't him either. He goes back to everything he was taught before. If it isn't one hand, it must be the other. But he doesn't fit in there, either. And it's not as if he isn't a good Jesuit. His teacher asked him to think about taking a position as a priest, and he gets several positions of merit, let's call them, while in the schools. He's a pretty good religious kid, but that's not who he is. Dedalus, myth, was not just some genius who existed for building mazes. He wanted to live on his own. Sure, he was great, and I'm sure being the king's mazemaker gets you some perks, like a home and food, but it wasn't him. Neither is Dedalus, Stephen, religious. He doesn't belong there. He isn't who his parents and teachers keep telling him to be, he's something unique. He realizes that there's more to life than the extremes he's been experiencing. But he still doesn't really know who he is.
He keeps talking with Cranly about what to do. Now that he's free, he doesn't know where to go from there. All he does know is that his mother and society keeps telling him to change his radical and wrong ways. As he puts it, "You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets" (Joyce 220). He can't quite figure out where to go from here, what to become. All he does know is that he can't stay there. All he knows is that to become an individual he must throw off entirely all expectations of others and live entirely on his own. But he can't even decide whether or not he should receive Easter Communion because his mother asked him to. He's not completely free yet. He has begun to flown, one could say, but isn't accustomed to flying and wants to rest for a bit on land. The only question is, what land? Being free is not only to fly away, but to know where to fly. Dedalus, myth, was still restrained in that he could not fly high into the air. Dedalus, Stephen, does not now where to go from here, or how high to fly. Should he not go because he does not fully believe in the church, or should he be kind to his mother despite his lack of belief? Should he fly high and far away, or stay close to the ground and run along it for a while? Freedom is useless if one doesn't know what they're going to do with it. What is the point of being free if you don't know how you will use that freedom?
He has to escape. At the end of chapter (is it a chapter, or a segment, or what?) 4, Dedalus suddenly has this great realization of who he is and what life means. He's at first trapped by his childhood, not knowing what kind of person to be, going along with the only advice his family can give. His mother says to follow the school's and church's teachings. His father talks about himself. He doesn't know what he is. Then he turns to sin and prostitutes for a while before realizing that this isn't him either. He goes back to everything he was taught before. If it isn't one hand, it must be the other. But he doesn't fit in there, either. And it's not as if he isn't a good Jesuit. His teacher asked him to think about taking a position as a priest, and he gets several positions of merit, let's call them, while in the schools. He's a pretty good religious kid, but that's not who he is. Dedalus, myth, was not just some genius who existed for building mazes. He wanted to live on his own. Sure, he was great, and I'm sure being the king's mazemaker gets you some perks, like a home and food, but it wasn't him. Neither is Dedalus, Stephen, religious. He doesn't belong there. He isn't who his parents and teachers keep telling him to be, he's something unique. He realizes that there's more to life than the extremes he's been experiencing. But he still doesn't really know who he is.
He keeps talking with Cranly about what to do. Now that he's free, he doesn't know where to go from there. All he does know is that his mother and society keeps telling him to change his radical and wrong ways. As he puts it, "You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets" (Joyce 220). He can't quite figure out where to go from here, what to become. All he does know is that he can't stay there. All he knows is that to become an individual he must throw off entirely all expectations of others and live entirely on his own. But he can't even decide whether or not he should receive Easter Communion because his mother asked him to. He's not completely free yet. He has begun to flown, one could say, but isn't accustomed to flying and wants to rest for a bit on land. The only question is, what land? Being free is not only to fly away, but to know where to fly. Dedalus, myth, was still restrained in that he could not fly high into the air. Dedalus, Stephen, does not now where to go from here, or how high to fly. Should he not go because he does not fully believe in the church, or should he be kind to his mother despite his lack of belief? Should he fly high and far away, or stay close to the ground and run along it for a while? Freedom is useless if one doesn't know what they're going to do with it. What is the point of being free if you don't know how you will use that freedom?
James Joyce -Passage Analysis
I think I'll go from the last full paragraph on 150 to the last full one on 151. This is the long detailed hysteria of Dedalus after he hears the long hell sermon and has the freaky nightmare, as he runs through the streets to find a priest to confess to. Solely for the sake that Dedalus is completely nuts right now. He continues on and on about how he absolutely must confess, how he's no more than an animal, how it's so terrible what he's done, etc. etc. etc. This particular stream of thought seems to occur in a relatively short span of time (while the following run through the streets occurs over a longer span of time), and is there only to convey how upset and repentant he is. He was never particularly interested in prostitutes. Even on that night where he first went to one, he was more interested in just standing there in her arms, rather than having sex. But he more or less got hooked on it and even then wasn't too particularly proud of it. He's really sorry for what he did, but now he's just in a state of panic.
The previous hell sermon was one of the longest and most detailed descriptions of hell I've ever heard, and am likely ever to hear. Of course, this sermon scares Dedalus stiff. It affects him so much he goes straight into this panic and goes tearing through the streets, thinking "Confess! Confess!" (Joyce 150). Relax, Dedalus. You're not going to suddenly up and die. He's that panicked that he's afraid of dying and then going straight to hell, or even, judging from the top of page 151, sinning again and making it worse. He's a complete nervous wreck. This passage was particularly effective for two reasons. One, the short sentences and many exclamatory sentences help to convey the sense that there is some grand emergency. Knowing that there isn't really that much of an emergency, we know that Dedalus is pretty miserable right now, and feeling very guilty. The second reason is because, unlike the hell sermon, which was long, detailed, and despite being quite detailed, a bit boring. It was just descriptions and scripture, and seemed to drag on and on. This segment, though, is written in short shouts and bursts, and gives a better sense of the emotion involved. Where the preacher seemed to be just up there giving a speech, Dedalus seems to be almost being chased by oblivion. Quite effective if not a little over-dramatic.
This also seems to reflect how overly pious Dedalus still is. Despite his sinful habits, he still is actually quite religious still. In fact, he's able to reflect back on religion frequently. This stresses, though, that religion still forms the basis of all of his opinions at the moment. Religion still rules his mind.
The previous hell sermon was one of the longest and most detailed descriptions of hell I've ever heard, and am likely ever to hear. Of course, this sermon scares Dedalus stiff. It affects him so much he goes straight into this panic and goes tearing through the streets, thinking "Confess! Confess!" (Joyce 150). Relax, Dedalus. You're not going to suddenly up and die. He's that panicked that he's afraid of dying and then going straight to hell, or even, judging from the top of page 151, sinning again and making it worse. He's a complete nervous wreck. This passage was particularly effective for two reasons. One, the short sentences and many exclamatory sentences help to convey the sense that there is some grand emergency. Knowing that there isn't really that much of an emergency, we know that Dedalus is pretty miserable right now, and feeling very guilty. The second reason is because, unlike the hell sermon, which was long, detailed, and despite being quite detailed, a bit boring. It was just descriptions and scripture, and seemed to drag on and on. This segment, though, is written in short shouts and bursts, and gives a better sense of the emotion involved. Where the preacher seemed to be just up there giving a speech, Dedalus seems to be almost being chased by oblivion. Quite effective if not a little over-dramatic.
This also seems to reflect how overly pious Dedalus still is. Despite his sinful habits, he still is actually quite religious still. In fact, he's able to reflect back on religion frequently. This stresses, though, that religion still forms the basis of all of his opinions at the moment. Religion still rules his mind.
James Joyce -Reaction to the Novel
Long title. Well, longer than most. Hence I title the blog with his name and not the title as I usually do.
I found the novel moderately interesting. Often it became a little uninteresting due to the experience being described, and his blending of imagination and reality, but being a stream of consciousness writing you can't expect much else. Especially since he was frequently trying to describe emotions. Most times emotions are difficult to describe shortly due to their complexity and intensity, which often led to a paragraph or even page be listed to a few moments or even seconds of his thoughts. Then the shift back to reality, which proceeds comparably faster... I suppose the most irritating thing was the progression of time, for me. I like when everything moves at a constant pace. The long segments left to vivid descriptions, followed by a skip to a few hours later, or the next day or next year... It was sort of just a sit-back-and-go-with-it type book. Though I must say, that's the most descriptive explanation of hell in the entire world. Remind me to burn those college descriptions from Jesuit schools.
Seriously, as kooky as the book was, as complicated and emotional as it was, it was fairly interesting. I don't think anybody ever understands everything about themselves or the world around them, ever. Definitely not as kids, but not even fully as adults. And everybody changes a good deal based on their experiences, and will undoubtedly not find out who they truly are until they are ready to make their way into the world. I still don't really know what profession I want to be part of, and in a year and a quarter I'm out of high school. And I've been thinking about it since I was about six. Every time I thought I knew what I was going to be, or where I was going to go, within a year my mind was set on something else. Dedalus switched between an obedient religious child to a sin-heavy reclusive ferret to a pious freak to an I-don't-really-give-a-blast kind of thinking guy. Though I haven't gone through any of those radical extremes, my long-winded point is that I still don't know who I am as a person, but I'm fairly sure I'll figure it out in time.
And as far as a connection to the world in general... Stay away from Jesuits, or something, I don't know.
I found the novel moderately interesting. Often it became a little uninteresting due to the experience being described, and his blending of imagination and reality, but being a stream of consciousness writing you can't expect much else. Especially since he was frequently trying to describe emotions. Most times emotions are difficult to describe shortly due to their complexity and intensity, which often led to a paragraph or even page be listed to a few moments or even seconds of his thoughts. Then the shift back to reality, which proceeds comparably faster... I suppose the most irritating thing was the progression of time, for me. I like when everything moves at a constant pace. The long segments left to vivid descriptions, followed by a skip to a few hours later, or the next day or next year... It was sort of just a sit-back-and-go-with-it type book. Though I must say, that's the most descriptive explanation of hell in the entire world. Remind me to burn those college descriptions from Jesuit schools.
Seriously, as kooky as the book was, as complicated and emotional as it was, it was fairly interesting. I don't think anybody ever understands everything about themselves or the world around them, ever. Definitely not as kids, but not even fully as adults. And everybody changes a good deal based on their experiences, and will undoubtedly not find out who they truly are until they are ready to make their way into the world. I still don't really know what profession I want to be part of, and in a year and a quarter I'm out of high school. And I've been thinking about it since I was about six. Every time I thought I knew what I was going to be, or where I was going to go, within a year my mind was set on something else. Dedalus switched between an obedient religious child to a sin-heavy reclusive ferret to a pious freak to an I-don't-really-give-a-blast kind of thinking guy. Though I haven't gone through any of those radical extremes, my long-winded point is that I still don't know who I am as a person, but I'm fairly sure I'll figure it out in time.
And as far as a connection to the world in general... Stay away from Jesuits, or something, I don't know.
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