Bozeman's Museum of the Rockies presents: Frederick Turner

The night of Thursday April 4th, 2013 a really good friend of mine and I went to dinner together at Sola Café on Kagy and 3rd. We discussed and debated the norm for us (mutual friends and their lot in life, moral issues of ours and others, personal life updates and the possibility of her joining me for class) in anticipation for the impending presentation provided to us by Frederick Turner in the Museum of the Rockies.
My friend that accompanied me to the presentation happily obliged to join me for this event for a few reasons: she's interested in my life and what's involved within it, she loves the museum (any museum, actually) and she would've have done anything more enlightening or meaningful with her Thursday night.
The dinner discussion wasn't incredibly lively by any means but she asked me about my class and what it's like and the writer himself, as she knew that I had read something that he published: "School of Night". At this time she revealed to me that she almost decided on attending the University of Montana instead of Montana State University because they have a good journalism program. This caught me a little by surprise because I heard she enjoyed writing but I didn't know that she ever considered a future in it (she's now a psychology major). Anyway, once dinner was over, we made our way up to the museum.
Walking into the room, we both make observations of general demographics that the room incorporated and conclude that opposite ends of the spectrum have made an appearance: 40/50 year-olds and over crowd, mixed with college students (people in their 20s). After about a 10 minute wait we finally get ushered into the auditorium to experience Frederick Turner. We quickly find seats and make even more observations about the activities around us, noting conversation topics that we rudely eavesdropped on.
Turner's introduction is made and we both turn our full attention on the speaker. I was surprised to hear such a strong British accent come from him even though I had no expectations. The way in which he presented was interesting to me because, though he is a published writer and poet, neither of us expected him to read verbatim from his book of poetry that's yet to be published. I did like a lot of the poems he read, like the poem about the relationship he has with his wife, which was mildly humorous. I think, however, that the best part of the night was the time allotted for questions from the audience. Specifically, when the gentleman on the far left side of the auditorium asked a question that began with, "So I know that you voted for Obama...". The two of us found that question entertaining because there seemed to be no necessity to include a political comment and because of the response from Turner which was simple and easy to understand. He said, in effect, in his response, "I believe there are people that make actions and people that react to those actions". Both my friend and I agreed that he handled the answer to the question perfectly.
We were eventually told to leave which then prompted more discussion between the two of us about reflection of the presentation and plans for the night which turned into meeting our mutual friend for frozen yogurt. In summation, the night was a relative success and she was the decidedly the best person to invite to an event such as that. This experience definitely made me feel much more open and willing to discover the things that visiting speakers have to offer an audience.

A surprising response to my open expression in written words...

I am not typically one to share my written words with others, especially someone that I am romantically inclined. After patiently awaiting the reception of my mailed sonnet, the letter arrived on the last Saturday of Spring Break. As my “significant otter” opened the mailed poem in the passenger seat of the car loaned to me by a close friend, spending her spring break in sunny, warm and most importantly, FAR San Diego, I anxiously anticipated his response to the words he would soon read to himself. I don’t consider myself and expert in expressing my emotions verbally or incredibly openly, so I knew it would be a bit of a surprise to be hit with so much feeling at once, seemingly out of nowhere. To my surprise and delight, the lucky recipient of my first attempted love sonnet was speechless, knowing full-well that his mere silence would prolong my anguish and impatience. Once the moving vehicle was made stationary, he affectionately comforted me that he liked it and then proceeded to ask questions (he’s a Business major…), including clarification of the word “ev’rything” and if it’s “allowed” and what the last couplet meant in English. Later, he’d ask me what the entire sonnet itself meant after much contemplation… I had my doubts about this exercise but it was nice to vulnerably put my writing out there to be judged and receive a welcome and appreciative response. Thank you, Dr. Sexson. Your enlightening activity has brought me a new perspective on not only my own writing abilities but also allowing others to fairly judge my thoughts and ideas.

First attempt at a love sonnet...here it goes!

Again we share another night alone
Together, when the light leaves and we soak
Into night. Intertwined, the gentle tone
Of your rhythmic sighs. Remembrance of jokes.

As mockingbirds, we laugh, joke and tease like
Those without thoughts or cares of others. Thinking
Of your welcome touch. We are too alike.
In your eyes, I see the ev'rything linking.

When too much is said, all is forgiven
Yet so much is said without words that with
Sense and instinct we know the forbidden.
And the song we share will be like a gift.

Quand je suis avec toi, je suis contente.
Tu n'es pas comme toutlemonde dans ce moment.

(translation from French to English of last two lines:

When I am with you, I am happy.
You aren't like everyone in this moment.)

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes...

Sometimes I feel the term “dream” is thrown around a little too freely these days. To go into more depth, I mean to say that a dream these days is usually more of an aspiration of aim (which I can’t help but think that it holds a correlation with the forgetting of dreams people have during sleep, even though it’s obviously entirely unrelated altogether). Remembered dreams are sometimes entirely unbelievable, even while asleep, but they also can lend a very real feeling. An example of this that I can recall is the dream I once had of my mom getting terminal cancer. Within this dream state, I felt a very intense sense of grief and sadness and cried throughout the duration of the dream. I somehow realized this was nothing more than a dream and after eventually waking up; I had dried tears on my face. There must be something to be said about the effect dreams have on reality or the contrary. To this effect, my initial comment and reflection on the play in general is that of the resonance that the character “Puck” leaves in his closing monologue of the conclusion to the play performed. As the lowly characters finish their performance of “Pyramus and Thisby”, there is commentary made on the death of the characters Pyramus and Thisby which Puck attempts to reconcile with the notion that the audience may just imagine the actors as characters from a dream and that it was a fleeting moment that may vanish forever. Maybe dreams are merely glimpses into our imagination that we cannot otherwise access. Maybe they’re to be paid more attention as a learning opportunity to be applied to real life circumstances. From a physiological standpoint, dreams are deposited knowledge or memories that are unnecessary to withhold and the ones remembered coincide with the moment one wakes from sleep. But as a romanticist, I can’t help but hold on to the idea that dreams signify an important concept or moment in life that leads to an enlightened understanding.

In a clarifying moment, Titania wakes and suddenly realizes her fabricated love for an ass (Bottom) which was the first thing that she saw after waking. Before her slumber she held primary interest in her fairies and their duties (mostly maintaining the wood as their queen sleeps as to not disturb her) and her fairy king, Oberon. So in this instance the queen of the fairies wakes with a different mindset and in a dream-like state of imagined love/admiration. If my entirely fictional idea of dreams being a reflection of or future prophesy of memories or life circumstances then Titania’s momentary lapse of rational and logical judgment and thought process would be a good reflection of this.

And this ends my incredibly irrational expression of unrealistic ideas…

School of Night/Hughes' Essay Response

           Many people hold William Shakespeare in such high regard as a poet and playwright and many people even consider him to be the founder and originator of the modern play as we know it. When asked, a friend of mine freely associated Shakespeare with Romeo & Juliet, Hamlet, tragedy, Othello and forbidden love that ends badly. The source of his legendary resonance in English literature probably is founded in his ability to write to and entertain all facets of his audience. Not only did he create in a language that wasn’t exactly used and spoken in daily life but he also possessed relatability in his works that blanketed the entirety of English society. Ted Hughes provides a detailed background and description of influences and effects of Shakespeare’s plays in that a lot of his monologues and dialogues included both “high” language of the times as well as lines and parts understood by the masses. Hughes provides a good example of the opening speech from Twelfth Night:

If music be the food of love, play on,

O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,

That, notwithstanding thy capacity

Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,

Of what validity and pitch soe’er,

But falls into abatement and low price,

Even in a minute.

Hughes evaluates this further:

                “The three words here that might have given his groundlings pause are ‘capacity’, ‘validity’, and ‘abatement’. On the other hand, they were all words that some other Shakespearean character might have pounced on, fondled and turned: ‘Fine word, capacity!’ (as several here and there are inclined to do). And they are all words that would be appreciated by that higher audience, the classically educated phrase-collecting lords.
                The striking thing is what Shakespeare does with each of these words. ‘Capacity’ is immediately reduced to a plain image: ‘Receiveth as the sea.’ In other words, it is translated: capacity=spaciousness, roominess, infinite ability to contain.”
The ability to speak to literally any audience is one of the most difficult challenges an author or artist faces in attempt to create an original, relevant and entertaining piece. This, I believe is exactly the reason for the appreciation and use/reference of Shakespeare often still today. William Shakespeare has resonance!

Emily Harris' comment on "A Room of One's Own" by Virginia Woolf

Last semester I was introduced to Woolf's essay "A Room of One's Own" and at the time a particularly enticing section sparked my interest and that was the discussion of William Shakespeare's fictional sister. Although this essay doesn't have a substantially strong connection and relation to the playwright and poet himself, it does raise a very interesting and insightful inquiry: what if Shakespeare had a sister? Obviously this question is easily responded to with acknowledgement of the time and societal expectations of a woman.
Anyway...as for my very first blog post EVER, I decided to share my initial thoughts and comments on connections to William Shakespeare. Much, much more to come!