Sonnets

And now, for more about sonnets. Not that I have spoken about sonnets before, but it is more added to what Dr. Sexson talked about. In fact, it involves doing exactly what Dr. Sexson talked about.

This evening I completed the first sonnet I am giving to someone. This one is not, unfortunately, anonymous, as it's meaning depends on it being attached to me, but the others will be (I have six planned, but I rarely do all I plan to do). There will be further reports as I get responses to this sonnet (and the others, as they go out), but without further (or really any) ado, here it is:

Friendship: A sonnet

The book of lives of man is new an ope’
And to the weary page I rest my eye
And see your story laid in healing hope,
Not how once thought, but rather as must be.
I took upon myself that restless trip,
To heart and mind and soul, the way to find
For joining earth to heaven’s loving grip,
To walk the wounded right in way of mind.
And now the final curtain here does close
On us not, but on this act of our play,
Now actors’ part their ways, their words morose
For all to hear, as falls this living day.
And yet I think my heart is not yet sad,
For still I count those past moments as glad.

Metablogging

I am going to take a moment to blog about my blog.

I'm sure those of you who regularly read the blogs have noticed I have not posted much recently (compared to my earlier postings, anyway). I variety of reasons have conspired to bring this about, but the most critical is the fact that the thoughts I think are interesting turn out to be not so interesting.

How do I mean (the word order is wierd, but the meaning comes across)?

During class, I come up with a single thought that seems to offer so much potential in the realm of blogging, but when I get down to it, there is little more than that single line of thought currently available to my brain on that subject, and thus I don't write on it.

So now I will fulfill some assignemnts I have neglected.

I can't remember my first memory (the earliest memory I have is in a third person perspective, so it is likely based upon a photograph and not real memory), I rarely remember my dreams (though I did record them for a couple weeks one year), and the first experience with death came when a friend's dad died in a car accident a couple of years ago.

As for an 'Ah ha' moment, I will touch on this in a later post, looking at the 'ah ha' and scenes of revelation in Shakespeare. Speaking of Shakespeare, look for an interesting development coming shortly.

Twelth Night in Proscaenium

Yesterday (Saturday the 18) I saw an ametuer production of Twelth Night, performed by mostly school children (the youngest was around 12). Watching the play produceded was a very unique, and shall we say enlightening, experience, as I spent a majority of the production thinking about how I would have done it differently.

I am going to 'rant' about the production for a minute, but it is to make a point.

Two issues irritated (well, that isn't the right word, but it is better than any other I can think up and are really English words - maybe bother would be better) me more than any other.

The first was the manner in which Malvolio was played. The actor affected a rouch and abnormal voice for the part, sounding more like a cartoon villian than a real person. This placed Malvolio off immediately, seperating him from the rest of the house by a very noticable action. I found it difficult, later on, to rouse any sympathy for Malvolio, for he was hardly presented as a real person.

The second (and I think more glaring) issue was the way the final scene was played. The actors seemed to wonder on stage in random areas, making the regonition rather odd. Sebastion literally walked right next to Viola, turned a full circle past her, yet later affected surprise at seeing his double there.

I am not putting down the production, for it was an ametuer production, but I had to bring up this issues so that I could actually make the point I wrote this post in order to make. This play has done a lot toward answering the question I proposed near the beginning of our class, namely "Why?"

Being able to watch this production and say "Do this differently," "do that differently," helped enlighten me to something about Shakespeare. I cannot say he is the best English author ever, but I can say I see much more of why he is considered great, in that there were so many nuances to Twelth Night that were not captured in this (arguably well done) production, simply because it was Shakespeare and there was so much more there.

Names

I recieved a comment asking why I changed by blogger name from Kasier Soze to J.M.R. Burgard, and it got me thing about names themselves (yet again).

The decision to change this name did not change who I am on this end of the computer, yet it is likely to change others perception of me on the other hand. That is, in fact, why I did it. Because that name appears on all eleven (at last count, I think) of my blogs, some of which are being operated on a semi-professional basis (in effect, they are scholarly but only because I want them to be). In an attempt to further the view that my writings are of an at lest semi-high calibur, I choose to switch my name from that of a fictional chracter to my pen name (it is my real name, just not the way I usually write it).

Taking this around to Shakespeare, it is the name, I think, more than the 'disguise,' which keeps people from recognizin others. Poor Tom is not Edgar because he is Poor Tom, not because he is wearing rags. Viola is Cesario and a man not because she is no longer in her 'womans-weeds' (or at least not only), but because she has adopted the name of a man. Likewise, I am no longer a reflection of a fictional character, but now have a scholarly appeal (okay, so that may be pushing it, but meh).