All About Richard

So you probably remember me saying that whilst in Kansas, I watched the movie “All About Eve”. It was a pretty cool movie, I have to say… Quite quotable, and I loved the (very creepy) ending. Well, today Mom and I went to see one of our Shakespeare plays: “Richard III”.

Dun. Dun. DUN!

OK, first of all, I need to read this play just so I can be a smarty pants and quote it (especially in front of people who say “Now is the winter of our discontent” and then leave off, because that is stupid seeing as that’s only half the sentence) (and the rest of the sentence is basically the opposite meaning… ugh, quote misuse! Like how the “six impossible things” quote is much abused…). I really would like to memorize part of Clarence’s description of his dream, his dream of drowning in the sea with heaps of pearls and skulls of dead men from the eye sockets of which wink gems, et cetera. Also the line, “Shine out, fair sun, til I have bought a glass, that I may see my shadow as I pass.”

Then, at intermission I suddenly thought: This is a lot like “All About Eve”.

Shakespeare’s tales of kings ascending the throne through deception and violence is oddly like that movie’s story of Eve ascending to stardom through less bloody but definitely twisted means. For one thing, the way that “All About Eve” ends insinuates that the weird cycle of the new girl pushing out the old will continue, turning over and over. Shakespeare tells a similar story, the usurper becoming the usurped.

There’s also a part where Richard says in the play: “What do I fear? myself? There’s none else by:  Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.” Which makes me think of how both Eve and Richard were truly alone in the world. They lied to everyone, manipulated everyone, everyone was a pawn or a player in their games (or someone to be beheaded, whatever). Ew. Creeps, both of them.

And apparently I am in a mood for analyzing things. Sometimes I get flack for the way I tend to stare deep into things (literature, plays, movies, whatever) and try to discern the meaning, or to find connections (like how shadows are continually referenced throughout Richard III– I thought it was really interesting and have been pondering what it meant in terms of revealing his character, but that is a whole different discussion nothing to see here just move along now), but to me that’s what makes these things all the more enjoyable. So whatever, you dissidents, you discontents!

Now I am off to memorize quotes… Or possibly sleep.

…Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(as ‘t were in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems. …

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thy canopy is dust and stone.

Having to title blog posts lends itself to a lover of randomly discovered quotes. The above is from Romeo and Juliet, and is part of what Paris says over her tomb. “Muffle me, night, awhile.” is another good one from the same. I can’t wait to read the full play for school! But I have to finish that blasted book Frankenstien first. Sigh. Hopefully Dracula will be better.

Anyway…. I needed a brain break. My head is partially exploding because, well, I have a lot of things to get ready for the new house (we signed the lease yesterday… woot? yay?) and the thought of going through the chaos of my bedroom is enough to give a delicate creature such as myself a headache.

[This is a bit off topic, but yesterday we all got our pictures taken for this parish directory thing, and the picture-taking lady kept calling me “princess”. I was like I HATE PRINCESSES inside, but on the outside I just smiled and went along with it. Why do picture taking people always rub me the wrong way? They’re always tilting my head and pushing my shoulders back and saying inane things in an attempt to make me smile. “On a count of three, say ‘We never fight'” she said while taking a pciture of me and the brothers. “We cannot tell a lie,” I said through my teeth.]

Wow, that was a long tangent. Anyway, yeah. I’m excited, but also procrastinating by first trying to work on writing, then by writing a blog post. Then by eating a sandwhich while writing a blog post (why didn’t anyone tell me we had lunchmeat? Food hoarders).

Now I am staring out of the front window. Sometimes I do this in the middle of writing things. I stare out, and depending on my mood, I might contemplate the sky, the clouds, the trees… or smashing the asphalt open with a sledgehammer. You know. Peaceful, happy thoughts.

~Pen

PS: “sword” is “words” rearranged. That’s telling, no?

Halalala

Dodge: “What was that country? It was on TV last night. Something with an H…”
Poncho: “Halalala?”
Dodge: “You should never be allowed to name a country.”

Well, I am having terrible allergic reactions, or it might be a cold. Not really sure of anything except the fact that I can’t breathe properly, and my head feels like it weighs a ton. Last night I was sitting in the dining room with a headache and I felt like my forehead must have become like Poe’s in “The Exiles”, overly huge and faintly glowing. Plus, I think my subconscious has been affected because I had a dream that involved Lady Gaga, my new Irish dance steps, and a yellow ceramic chicken.

And a few nights ago I had a dream that I was reciting Lincoln’s Gettysburg address in the rain, in the middle of a strip-mall parking lot, in order to convince someone to lend me their cell phone because I was lost. Weirdly, my tactics worked and I got the phone. Unfortunately, I realized I didn’t know the number. Then I said, “What the heck? I can memorize the Gettyburg address, but not my best friend’s phone number?”

Maybe the point of the dream was that I need to rethink my memorizational priorities. However, there was also a sinister pumpkin-murder scene, so… what? ‘By the way, be on the lookout for vengeful jack-o-lanterns?’ Thanks, Subconscious. Very helpful.

Anyway… Randomness commence!

I am turning into a squirrel… I am harvesting things madly and storing them away in all manner of ways. My bedroom (or should I say nest?) smells “earthy” as Mom says. Also, I ran into the road and was nearly hit by a car.

This weekend I am going to see “The Taming of the Shrew” with Mom. (Hopefully I will not cough/sneeze in the middle of it.) Yay, Shakespeare! And here is the illustrious Bard himself, on my closet door, helpfully saying one of his best quotes.

"If words be wind, then break them in your face!"

That, my friends, is why Shakespeare is classic. Sure, his language is different, but the main points are things we all experience. (Also: proof that boys never change.)

The cricket outside my window just made a depressed little “crick-crick” noise. Usually he is enthusiastic to the point of almost becoming obnoxious, but now I feel bad for the poor guy. “Crick-crick”, there he goes again, slow and quiet. I know, little guy, summer is o-ver.
Mom: “Remember just a few weeks ago, it was so hot we couldn’t stay at our house?”
Me: “Remember how I had a mental breakdown like every five minutes?”
Mom: (with a pained look) “Yes.”
Me: “I think my brain cells were getting baked or something.”
Mom: just sips her Coke knowingly.
Me: “I’m going to say I’m sad summer’s over. But I’m really not.”

(Augh! A gnat was flying at me so I waved it away, and touched it by accident! Gross.)

Well, I think I shall bid thee good day…

~Pen

A Coon’s Age

My Williams grandparents (ie, not the ones I normally talk about here) were from Kentucky and used to say things like, “I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.” I have been dying to use that phrase on someone for the longest time– not that I intentionally abandoned you! I swear!

So what HAS been going on to keep me away from thee so long, mine readers? I shall fain tell thee. (I have no clue what ‘fain’ means, or even if ’tis a word real. And that last bit sounded more like Yoda than Shakespeare? I digress.)

First of all: Dance. Oh MY. I had a dance camp somewhere in this month (what day is it? huh?) and it was basically 4 days straight, 3 hours each day, with Rebecca as the teacher. She has the sweetest Irish accent, the most kindly demeanor– and she is a slave driver. A very nice one, but still. While the other teacher attempts to bribe me into higher leaps with “pretend Justin Beiber is on the ceiling. Like baby, baby, baby, o-oh!”, Rebecca just says, “better lift, PLEASE” and you do it. She’s amazing, though, and taught me a great hornpipe step and was very helpful and encouraging. Plus, how scary can you be when you say “us” like “oos”? And oh, speaking of dance teacher accents, there is one teacher who is Scottish and no one, absolutely no one, can understand what he’s saying. He was teaching the younger kids a ceili dance called High Caul Cap, and we could hear him calling out, “Get all ghetto!” (Translation: “Grab your girl!”)

 Also, Writer’s Conference!!!!! For the past two weeks it’s been all about finally wrangling everything together for the conference, which took place today. And it went great. Huge sigh of relief/contentment. Just the right amount of people showed up, the speakers were great (especially the ones I found, cough cough) and I left feeling inspired and a little bit starry-eyed because I met real authors. But they’re not like Cinda Williams Chima, where it’s like their success was so big that it seems unattainable for me. I looked at these authors I met today and I thought: that could be me. Not a titan of the literary world, but still successful and with a career in Writing Books. I mean, I’m all for being a titan, but it’s nice to see that you don’t need to be you-know-who (not Voldemort, but his creator) to have a writing career.

Oh, what else? Yes, the garden of course, but that is another post. So is my experience with a certain movie, a certain new book (I feel slightly guilty that I am getting so much enjoyment out of Borders closing, but hey, lemons into greatly discounted Penguin Classics lemonade), etc and so I think I shall say good night for now.

On the morrow we shall converse further! Oh, that which we call a wookie by another name, would smell as– never mind.

~Pen

PS: I keep having this weird hallucination that my phone is ringing. All day, I swear I kept hearing “yeeeeeeaaaaaahhh, oh-oh-oh-woahwoahwoah-oh-oh” even though I knew it was on vibrate. Have I gone mad?
PPS: A shadow moved and I thought it was a mouse. Someone please force me to go to sleep now.
PPPS: “force” pun not intended.
PPPPS: because it was a pretty crappy pun.
PPPPPS: that is all.

Paris and Juliet

So this morning, over my usual bowl of cereal, I had a very long and detailed train of thought, which I will now share with you in its condensed form.

Romeo and Juliet: the much-plagarized and re-imagined classic star-crossed love story. (wow, that was a lot of hyphens.) Look at Juliet, the lovely girl character. She is supposed to marry that guy Paris or whatever his name was, right? Now think about it. Juliet meets Romeo. You know the rest of that.
But look at this: when she’s “dead” (aka under the effect of the sleeping-so-she-looks-dead potion thing) Paris comes to her grave. Paying his respects to a girl who was supposed to marry him, who he cared very much about, who he was rejected by. He probably knew all about her and Romeo, in fact. But he still comes to her grave. He’s not off sulking in his bedroom, clinging to bitter feelings against her and her descisions. See, I think he still loves her anyway. Poor guy.
Then Romeo shows up. We all know he’s supposed to be the good guy, but see this from Paris’ POV! Paris is probably thinking, “This jerk has the nerve to show his face? After Juliet killed herself because she couldn’t marry him? He made her kill herself, which is basically like him killing her because he had to be an idiot and yell nice poetry up to her balcony and–” Well, then when he fights Romeo he’s kind of just defending Juliet’s honor because he loves her, blames Romeo for her demise. We all want to blame someone in a situation like that, and from Paris’ point of view Romeo is a nasty Capulet who ruined everything, which is what Paris has been raised to believe Capulets do by nature. Then Romeo kills Paris. The End.
Paris never knows that his love Juliet is actually alive. (Romeo doesn’t either because of the whole personal messenger mix-up… perhaps this play is not so much a tragedy as an advertisement for unlimited texting. can you imagine? “rmeo, jus thot id tell u im not rly ded ;]” ) 
And maybe…. maybe if Paris had known Juliet’s plan all along, he wouldn’t have fought Romeo that night. Maybe he would have loved Juliet enough to want her to be happy, despite his personal thoughts (none of them very nice) about Romeo. Certainly, if he loved her, he would rather have seen her and Romeo escape into the night instead of both lying stone cold in a vault somewhere.

That, I think, is the real tragedy of this play. Paris.

AHHHH! *shrieks* Paris is Peeta!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG. Just made up my mind.
Dang. I am gonna so hate the ending of the third Hunger Games book now. Because you know Katniss is so not going to end up with Peeta. 
I can’t believe I never saw it before… Wow. about ten minutes ago I didn’t care if she picked Gale or Peeta, but right now I see that if she picks Gale I would not like it very much at all. Curses on thee, Capulets!! But at least Katniss realizes that she’s going to hurt someone either way, and that it’s going to hurt Peeta the most. At least she understands that he really loves her. I wonder if Juliet was aware of the extent of Paris’ devotion.

Sigh. Shakespeare thought of everything. His story has just revealed a layer that I am sure he thought about, but we watchers of plays never saw before. Another round of applause for the Bard. ;)

Beddor and the Bard

Grr. It really bothers me that on the title of my blog, Mayonnaise and Moonlight, the ending T is cut off. That really gets my goat. I mean really. I want to know how to fix that, but it seems I cannot. GRRRRR!!! I wanna make the ‘and’ into a ‘&’ sign. Sheesh. Isn’t technology supposed to make life easier? Sheesh again. So if you’re reading this and you know how to fix it, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease tell me, I beseech thee! (yeah, a little old time talk there. I do that a lot.) Hey speaking of old time talk, I have this list of Shakespearan (is that spelled right?) insults and boy is it fun! of course there’s more to Shakespeare than his ingenious insults, but it is a plus. I’m going to see a play of A Comedy Of Errors with my mom soon– I’ve forgotten when exactly. I’m going to read it first, of course. That’s my Rule. Rule 3, in fact, stating this: ‘Thou shalt not go and see a movie, show, play, or other performance based on any book, story, play, poem or other writing without beforehand reading the aforementioned writing all the way through, and in a close time before seeing the movie, so even if one has beforehand read the aforementioned writing, one must read it again if they read it subsequently years preceding the date of the show.’                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             I bet you didn’t understand that. I didn’t really either. But I still follow it anyway. So bad that once my dad took me to this mall where they have a cinema, and he was going to see The Spiderwick Chronicles with me, but I declined because, “Dad! I can’t! I haven’t read the books yet!’ so we walked around the mall instead. It was fun. But I felt kind of bad. Then again, I liked the books but the movie was sort of different so all the better, I say. But I still feel sorta bad.

Alas.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Aaaaaanyway…..        Ha. I just thought: “‘Rule 42: All persons more than a mile high must leave the court’!”  “I am not a mile high.”        “Yes, you are. Nearly two, in fact.” “I’m not leaving.” “It’s the rule” “It is not, you made it up just now!” “It is, a very important rule.” “Then it ought to be Number One.”          

That’s without the book, people! Sorry if i said it wrong, or wrote it wrong, or whatever. You got the gist. I thought it was funny, anyway. I wish i could think up comebacks as quick as Alice in the books. She’s awfully clever for such a young kid, don’t you think? Maybe you don’t know because you haven’t read the books. People at school, when I still went there, tried to read them and found them boring, so i sort of ignored the books until i read the Looking Glass Wars, which are amazing. And then I was like, hang on, I have to read the real ones now– so I did. And I loved them. Obviously. It is sort of annoying how she keeps growing and shrinking, but they’re really good all the same.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Have you heard about how people are mad at the guy who wrote ‘The Looking Glass Wars? They say he wasn’t true to Carroll’s version or something like that… anyways all these stuffy old people are ticked about it. I think they should be glad. The Looking Glass Wars made me want to read the real Alice books, and now I like both for different reasons. It also made me interested to learn more about who Lewis Carroll actually was. So take that, stuffy old historian people! And thank you Dude-Who-Wrote-Looking-Glass-Wars. You rock. Oh! Beddor. That’s his name. I forget his first name, though. I think… James. Something like that. Something English-ish. (Say that: English-ish. it’s fun!)                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Anyways, I think that some rules are made to be broken. Especially when they’re about writing, or art. I mean, (back to Shakespeare, see me tie this all together like a pro) if Shakespeare had listened to the rules he wouldn’t have made up new words, words that we still use even today! I bet people were like, “That’s not a word!” and he was like, “It is now, thou artless beef-witted lout!” Ah yes. The author of the most beautiful prose in the English language (according to some, I’m not so sure… I mean, they are pretty, but still hard to understand sometimes) and I must say that he was truly an artist. Even I, with all my spare time, could not think of better insults than the Bard. Thank you, Bard. Thank you, Beddor. Thank you, all. We are truly grateful.