Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Seven Deadly Sins? Nay, Shakespeare Needs Only One: Jealousy, Iago’s Poison and its Abstract Implications

The immense and hadean world of literary villains is rife with irresistible personalities full of complexities and unanswered questions; however, there is no villain that has so captured the imagination of the world as Iago. Iago shows himself to be a heavily nuanced Machiavellian protégée whose schemes so are encompassing that even the audience falls victim to his wit and guile and whose motivations are so cast in shadow so as to only further damn his nature. However, possibly the most compelling aspect of this luridly deceitful man is just how he causes all that he does, how he causes the death of four people, the wounding of three others, the complete destruction of a man’s soul, and his own descent into madness. One might think that to engineer such a disturbing and varied set of results there would need to be a multidimensional and equally varied scheme; however this is not the case. Iago masterfully engages a single human emotion to bring about all of his ends, but he is only able to do so because of the raging agony of which that same emotion has caused within himself. Like drawing water from a poisoned well, Iago’s uses his own caustic jealousy to envenom nearly every character in the play; consequently, “Othello” and Iago specifically is an exploration of the corrosive nature of jealousy at the self, interpersonal, and communal levels which reveal Iago to not only symbolize jealousy but rather to embody it, prompting implications for an abstractive reading of the play. In order to properly engage these arenas, it is best to begin with the outmost and move towards the personal in much the same way one might trace the epidemiology of a disease.
The first analysis of jealousy working through and in Iago on the communal level comes in his exchange with Barbantio. At first glance this interaction may not seem to be any different than any of Iago’s exchanges, but when analyzed carefully it becomes obvious that Iago’s ploys go beyond that of a single person against another person but rather of a community against an individual. In act I, scene I, lines 108 – 110 Iago says “you’ll have your nephews neigh to you; you’ll have coursers for cousins and jennets for germans” taking the insinuation to a level beyond the immediate family and into a larger perspectives. Again then in the same scene only a few lines down in line 115 in response to being called a villain Iago throws Barbantio’s attention back to his place in society saying “You are a senator.” In each of these cases Iago is crafting Barbantio’s fury not in relation to the moor’s association to his daughter but in the context of a community in which he will be seen in a relation to a moor and the jealousy that is engaged by Iago in Barbantio of Othello’s having robbed him of his rightful place in society, a place that his peers will occupy without his company.  This theme is further carried through in act I, scene III, where it is settled in front of gubernatorial body, a prefecture of community. Iago is most silent during this scene, which if one accepts him to be a symbol of jealous is a demonstration of the omnipresent but hidden jealous present within society and communities. In the next arena of jealous, it is obvious to see Iago playing a more active role.
The most familiar theater of jealousy is interpersonally. This is also the most evident throughout the play, being most obvious and fully developed in Iago’s interaction with Othello, but also taking place with Iago’s interactions with Cassio, Rodrigo, and Emilia. Prime examples of Iago functioning as the interpersonal symbol and agent of jealous occur in act III, scene III, lines 93 when Iago prompts “Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady, know of your love?”, again in line 208 of the same scene recalling Desdemona’s initial deceit of her father, and in such prevalence throughout nearly every seen that it would be tiresome to note them all, rather it is better to note the conditions of each. In every instance of these interpersonal encounters with Iago, he always is pitting the gains or supposed gains of one against the reciprocal loss of another. In the case of Othello it becomes less about the loss of Desdemona as it does about her being taken by another man, the same is true for Iago, even Emilia is jealous of losing Iago’s attention and it being displaced elsewhere despite her knowing where or why. In this way Iago embodies jealous as a sort of universal scale to which all the characters are bound and by which the weigh their own value. This leads inevitably to a question of how could the same emotion, jealousy, function entirely within one’s self where there is no counter weight to judge by. For the answer again one returns to Iago.
When taken in isolation Iago is at the very least a mysterious if not entirely obfuscated figure. The plays offers flimsy and conflicting motives for Iago’s jealousy, both of which are only presented by Iago himself and neither of which would elicit the degree of malice that he unleashes in a rationale human. Iago jeopardizes his career, life, and reputation in order to achieve his revenge. Even in this extreme and maniacal internal strife Iago fulfills his symbolism and embodiment of jealousy. Jealousy, when taken in isolation, is not rationale, it is extreme, and its origins are often unclear and contradictory. Jealousy takes no account of anything except its satisfaction. In all these ways Iago mirrors jealousy exactly. This close relation and near perfect embodiment of jealous at every metaphysical level leads to abstract conclusions that begin with asking the question, could the play progress as it did without Iago.
If one considers, given the near perfect embodiment of jealousy that Iago has generated, that Iago does not embody jealousy, but rather in fact is jealousy, the abstract implications begin to unfold and the evidence for such begins to become clear. If Iago were not a physical character in the play but rather the abstraction of jealousy present in the community, interpersonal relationships, and selves of all the other characters in the play and they all were to fall victim to their own jealous inclinations, just as they do to Iago’s lures, then the play could progress as it does without fail. For isn’t it true that the desperate conclusions to which all the characters attend are drawn to by themselves and their own mental steering or in Iago’s own words in act II scene III, “and what’s he then that says I play the villain, When this advice is free I give and honest, probal to thinking.” Another avenue of evidence for this abstraction of Iago is his long addresses to the audience, which implies his ability to function both within the play and outside its boundaries, something no other character can do.

A critical review of “Othello” allows for the discernment of the depth of interconnectivity between Iago and jealousy. It becomes clear that Iago is a character composed of, driven by, representing, embodying, and possibly even abstractly existing as jealousy in the communal, interpersonal, and personal levels as a hidden omnipresent force, universal scale of worth, and mysterious incorrigible innate emotion. It is a testament to the ability of Shakespeare to so masterfully compose a character that absolutely embodies a single emotion without explicitly stating it and confining it entirely within the human experience.

Monday, March 3, 2014

My Struggle with Personal Statements

The personal statement is one of the strangest writing assignments that can be thrust upon someone. With almost no direction you are asked, in a 1000 words or less, to tell your story. This is ludacris. It is founded on several outlandish assumptions.

First the idea that I have idea what my story is or that it has any degree of a reasonable progression or plot that I can easily understand is wishful thinking at the best. My "story" is a series of impulsive decisions made moment by moment by former versions of myself that are as unrecognizable to me now as a stranger form halfway across the world. To hold me not only responsible to these former version of my self but to expect me to be able to justify them and assemble them in some compact linear form is simply asking the impossible. 

Secondly to expect me to be able to convey my entire essence of being in a form of prose limited to 1000 words is like asking Da Vinci to invent a helicopter with only lead as a base material. Prose is fine for stories, narrative, and essay but what in God's name makes you think that my heart and soul is most readily conveyed in any of those forms? And on top of that you impose a word limit! Oh tyranny! What if Dickens was limited to only 1000 words in writing David Cooperfield? Imagine the beauty of growth, the ebbies of conflict, the shades of morality that would have been forsaken for no other purpose than convenience! If you wish for convenience then please do not be so brazen as to ask me to lay bear my soul! 

Finally, and probably most idiotically, is the assumption that you or anyone is capable of assessing this rendition of my being. That you can somehow judge the quality of how someone chooses to present their "story". Were I too send you a black and white picture of Nietzsche or a Walt Whitman poem who are you to say that this some how lessens my potential contribution to the world? These things may hold unknowable value for which you could not possibly begin to understand and I certainly couldn't describe in prose in 1000 words. Ah but for convenience, for convenience and clarity it is that we must apply these assumptions and constraints. I only warn that these constraints for convenience will not end with application and paper processes that these constraints become a state of thinking and soon, if something is not convenient it is simply not worth doing.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

A place only we know

I've come to realize that some of the most enthralling parts of being in a relationship, involved with, or whatever you want to call it, with another person go well beyond the physical realm. Don't get me wrong. I love sex. I happen to like women and spending a lazy afternoon undressing a captivating feminine being is a great use of time. That however is only a single dimension of the relationship and also a subject for another time. Tonight I want to talk about the psychic place that is developed when two minds become intimate, the metaphysical state of reality that only you know through and with each other.

Becoming intimate with a person fundamentally alters your understanding of reality. The center of your university moves ever so slightly away from your own being towards another. Your perceptions are forced to accommodate the perceptions of another. The intersection of these realities becomes the defining space of your relationship. It is a way of viewing the world that you couldn't have discovered except through one another. The particularly difficult part is that from your respective poles in this shared space you cannot see the view shared by your partner. So while the space is shared you cannot know what it appears like to your lover. The crags and crevasses of your shared physic landscape that may be so endearing to you can be scars on the land to them.

This landscape is as scared as it is fragile. A misspoken word or forgotten date can send the whole scene into a torrent of uncertainty and desecration. A dangerous place it is to exist no doubt. But for its fragility and risk it is all the more beautiful.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Still Waiting on an Education



Just finishing up the first month of business school and planning to go on to medical school I am at an interesting intersection of education. As exciting as it all is I can't help but feel that in my 17 years of schooling that there have been some things that have just never been delivered. Perhaps working in higher ed has heightened my focus and perception of these things, but lately I can't stop thinking about them.

photo credit: http://technicalwritiertalks2.wordpress.com/
Probably the theme that has been irritating me most lately is the persistence of by-the-book teaching even in post high school, post graduate education. How far can being able to follow instructions and directions really take me and in what sense can that really be called an education? It seems that every time I try to do something out of the ordinary or not according to script my professors just insist that if I wish to do well in the class I ought to just follow the syllabus. It seems to make more sense to me that courses at this level ought to follow around the theme of "Here is how we do it now, imagine a better way". Is that not the kind of thinking that of the most social value in reality?

In the same line of thinking as my previous complaint, because let's be real for a second, this is just a rant, is the idea that failure is to be avoided at all costs. Taking a risk on a project that could result in getting a lower grade is universally advised against. Furthermore the immense amount of shame attached to failing or not achieving the expected grade or outcome is so enormous that it imprisons any student into walking the narrowest line possible. This paranoia acts as blinders, shutting out all the other wonderful and possible ways of getting from point A to point B and only showing the ones that have already been laid out. When in reality it is precisely the supposed mission of formal education to prepare students for the future, for discovering these new paths.
photo credit: www.sottt.net


An education should not amount to two decades worth of reading instruction manuals. There is nothing in a book that can equip a student to deal with the challenges of the future; the only thing that can do that is the student's own mind. Education has long been seen as the equalizer between social classes but how can it continue to hold this title when it seems perfectly designed to produce graduates whose primary skill is following the direction of others?

End rant. Comments welcome.



Wednesday, September 18, 2013

A Brief Figure on Barton Fink

I'm tired, so let's keep it short tonight. 


Photo Credit: tvtropes.org


Today a rewatched part of Barton Fink. It is a cult classic that everyone out to make time to see (See the trailer here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WK0WjWlVO9w). In the very opening of the movie Barton is asked "What do you do for a living?" to which he responds "I'm not sure anymore. I guess I try and make a difference."


This admission of confusion and helplessness beautifully captures the ever denied simple purpose of life. The desire that my existence has made the world some how different than it would be due to my absence. That through my being I have pushed the stream of time ever so slightly in a direction according to my will.


AJM

Monday, September 16, 2013

An Audience, You: The Potential of

Alright, well I have a blog now. Why? Good question. It has come to my attention that my best writing, thinking, eating, lying, sinning, and damn near everything else I do comes about when their is an audience involved. So it is in that spirit that I have created this. I hope that you, the audience, or perhaps better yet the potential of an audience, will compel me to continue to write and to give me cause. 

I don't have a terrible amount to write about at the moment, even less of it merits anything that I suspect you would enjoy. But a Jack Kerouac quote has been tumbling through the cervices in the space behind my eyes for some time now and it is the quote for which this blog has been named; so is rightly appropriate perhaps then to introduce it.


"the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'" -- Jack Kerouac, On the Road
Mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time. Let's burn.


AJM