It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

Hamlet. What a guy. He’s a real character. To put into simple terms: he is a little crazy, mad even. But in all honesty, he is the only character with some sanity. He sees everything with a clear point of view. He sees everything as it is. No more, no less.

He is able to see right through everyone’s lies and charades. For example, Hamlet confronts Guildenstern, “…how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me… Call me what instrument you will, though you (can) fret me, you cannot play upon me.” He detected Rosencrantz and Guildenstern evasiveness throughout the play. Hamlet is not one to mess with. He will call you out on your own faults and insecurities.

Hamlet is an actor in himself, while he is an actor in the actual play Hamlet. He plays everyone else while pretending to be mad, which he is mad. Pretty much this whole play is an inception of inceptions. Yes, he sees his dead father. And yes, he obsesses over getting his uncle/stepfather (gross) to admit to killing his true father. But he is just a paranoid boy seeking some clarity in all this madness.

I mean put yourself in his shoes. Your mother married your uncle, who is your father’s brother. Also, the same uncle killed your father for the throne. And everyone is against you. I would say Hamlet has a right to be a little mad and paranoid.

A Drop in the Ocean

            More than once in our lives, we’ve looked at a celebrity, a professional athlete, or a friend thinking “I want her hair” or “If only I could throw a baseball at 95 mph”. We are never satisfied with our life. We always want more.

            David Sedaris creates a compare and contrast essay showing the differences between his own childhood and his partner’s childhood. They lead completely diverse lives; Sedaris living in North Carolina with his family, while Hugh is living a life of instability never knowing what’s going to happen next. They do similar activities, however not to the same extent. Like Sedaris says, “The verbs are the same, but he definitely wins the prize when it comes to nouns and objects.”

            The same thing happens in our normal lives. We want, want, want something, yet, never stopping to think how great our life actually is. We’re not shivering in the cold like the homeless; we aren’t dying of an incurable disease like some patients. We take our life for granted, thinking that failing a quiz is the end of all humanity; however, we don’t have to worry about where our next meal is coming from. We need to become more grateful for what we have, rather than worrying about what we want. You never know how great you have it until you lose it.

Heaven is a Place on Earth

     Expansive and wild, untamable, invincible, defender of the unrefined, buffalo and elk, mother of nature, father of survival, soul of tranquility, Yellowstone National Park is the sanctuary of character, the sanctuary of title, of knowledge, of mystery. It gives birth to Old Faithful Geyser and Yellowstone Lake, extending over 2,219,789 wildlife-inhabited acres, rocky as the mountains. Over two million and two hundred thousand acres of clawing, stampeding, grazing animals, of waterfalls and lakes and hot springs, of mountains and forest, of grass, meadow, pasture and vastness. Things get eaten here, things boil over, explode, graze, forage. The park is home to sixty-seven species of mammals, three hundred and twenty-two species of birds, sixteen species of fish, six species of reptiles, and four species of amphibians – all diversely equipped with beaks, claws, wings, fangs, antlers, hooves and fur – not to mention the pronghorns, moose, and black bears, white-tailed deer, mountain goat, and bighorn sheep, grey wolves and mountain lions that exist only to compound the beauty and perfection of life. There are lynx here, black bears, bobcats, and cattle, there are wolverines, bald eagles, and cutthroat trout. They feed on each other, in the prairie and plains they lay eggs, they scratch and sniff and peruse the enormous land, growling and howling through the long nights until the earth echoes a sweet lullaby.

Thriller

Death is a funny thing. It’s the circle of life. It’s inevitable. As mortal creatures we are obsessed with death. We like to think that maybe there is some fountain of youth out in this massive world just waiting to be unveiled; however in reality, there isn’t. You can’t escape it.

Another funny thing about death is that we think it’s so fascinating. For example, have you ever noticed that in every Disney movie there is someone dying or dead? I thought Disney was a happy place; yet, when you begin to analyze the story of the main character and their life, it’s actually pretty tragic.

We enjoy seeing people die in any circumstance. Bad guy. Boom. Dead. Yippee. Blond chick that has been irritating throughout the whole movie. Dead. Awesome. Dog. Dead. NO!

However, it’s not really the death that fascinates us; it’s the anticipation and the struggle right before the act, the final stand. For example, in The Death of the Moth, Woolf stares at this moth that is confined in this window pane. She watches as it resists death, the legs twitching desperately trying to stay alive. In the end, it’s too much. Death had taken over the moth.

We have a twisted wish for death. It’s different, mesmerizing, intriguing. It reels us in with the emotional attachment, filling us with joy or sorrow. Filling a void within us that craves for this dark demise.

Man in the Mirror

            A man wheels down the street. He has a physical disability to where he is stuck in a wheel chair for the rest of his life. Would you have guessed he is one of the smartest men on the planet? His name is Stephen Hawking.

            A frail, forty-two year old African American woman takes a seat on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama. She takes a seat in the white section of the bus. A white man told her to move to the back of the bus where she belonged. That day she had had enough. She said no. Would you have guessed she was the mother of the civil rights movement? Her name was Rosa Parks.

            We judge. It’s how we were raised even though you didn’t know it. We singled out the people who we thought we were weird or not quite like us. We create stereotypes also so we can clump the different types of people into groups.

            We read a short story that exposed the negative side of judgment. A black man named Staples was thought to be “a mugger, a rapist, or worse” wherever he went. A woman ran at the sight of him walking down the street. He was thought to be a robber in his own company. He had to watch what he was doing at all times. No one should have to live like this.

            We need to accept everyone. We need to accept their differences. We need to think before we act. We need to observe before we react. We need to think.

The Climb

            Death is a funny thing. It’s fascinating yet dark at the same time. It draws you in with the mystery of what is after; however, the unknown creates a hesitance.

Woolf explores the negativity and darkness of death in The Death of the Moth. She had been struggling with depression throughout her adult life and committed suicide to end her life.

In the piece she writes in the perspective of a human observing the struggle of a moth. It has to put so much work and effort in to survive yet it dies. She watches as the struggle ends and comes to a conclusion, “Death is stronger than I am”.

Life. It can be a gift or a burden. If you look at it from a positive perspective, it is to be cherished because every waking moment is a time to, well, live. I know it’s a cliché but live life to the fullest. You never know when you’re going to die so live as if you’ll die tomorrow but dream as if you’ll live forever.

The burden of life is the struggle. That feeling when it feels like nothing is going your way and it just feels like the end. But it’s not. Like Miley Cyrus says, “There's always gonna be another mountain/I'm always gonna wanna make it move/Always gonna be an uphill battle/Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose". Basically, you have to keep moving forward. It's not always about the destination but about the journey.

Be positive. Be the light.

It's Time

                Anxiety takes over my whole being as I hear the Star Spangled Banner. Two teams divided however striving for the same goal: the ticket to the Olympic Gold Medal match. I’m on the edge of my seat awaiting the whistle for the start of the game.

Old Trafford, Greater Manchester, England

            “Well it’s a wonderful day here at Old Trafford. The players are on the pitch, ready for the start. The United States take on Canada in the women’s semi final Olympic match.”

            The 22^nd minute hits. My heart stops, visualizing the play before it even happens.

            “Tancredi settles the ball. Quick feed to Sinclair. Touch and shot. And it gets past Hope Solo. Canada now with a one to nothing lead.”

            I let out a small cry of defeat. I can’t lose hope. This is our time. The rest of the first half flashes by in a blur, the US can’t get anything on the board. The teams go into their separate locker rooms while I sit and wait for the second half to commence.

I have faith. I believe.

            “Now onto the second half, hopefully the US can create something up top to get a goal.”

            I watch as the US begin to connect their passes and build from the back. Cheap shots are thrown around. This game will not come easy. I sit and wait in desperation for a goal. The US has a corner kick. I pray that something can come of it. Megan Rapinoe places the ball right where she wants it. She strides back, raises her hand, runs forward and kicks the ball.

            “And the USA gets a goal. Megan Rapinoe scored it.”

            I jump into the air with triumph, not being able to hold the excitement in.

            I have faith. I believe.

            Now that there is an even playing field, we have to concentrate on winning the next goal. However it doesn’t happen. Christine Sinclair gains another point for Canada by a header goal. I can’t lose hope.

            Two minutes later. The US scores another. Megan Rapinoe, once again, taking the ball, traps it, a little touch to the right of the defender and hits the ball perfectly. The ball flies right by the goalies fingertips.

            However, Sinclair gets another goal and a hat trick for the game.

            I have faith. I believe.

            My emotions are on a never ending rollercoaster.

            Wambach, somehow, ties the game up. It’s 3-3. The game has ended. There has to be a winner. The players are fatigued. It has been a solid 90 minutes of playing time. The game will now go into overtime.

An additional 30 minutes are played. No one has been able to put one in the back of the net. The referee’s add on three minutes for the time lost for an injury.

            My heart is racing, thinking this game will go into penalty kicks.

            I have faith. I believe.

            Then the unthinkable happens.

            “One goal wins it now. O’Reilly. Morgan in the box. Wambach in the box. Here comes the cross – OH! IT’S IN! Alex Morgan has done it!”

            Alex Morgan scored a header goal in the 123^rd minute of the game.

            I have faith. I believe.