Is Shakespeare really who he said he is?

So there have been debates about Shakespeare's identity. That his name was a pen name and that he was really a Baron of sorts or the Queen or something and I don't mean to discount the scholarly work out there that has been found to support this.

But I think that William Shakespeare could have easily been who he said he was. That is, he came from a working-class family and made himself famous. I mean we have so many of those stories now, why couldn't those stories have existed then? I suppose the whole thing about upward mobility being more difficult, access to education and all that is a viable argument, but then again, isn't the argument simply showing that it's more difficult, but not impossible?

It makes the a lot of sense, actually, that Shakespeare was from a lower-class background because he was closer to human nature (I have this rose-colored vision that nobles masked their humanity in cloaks of manners and traditions). Or I would have assumed that he saw a lot more of how evil or bad people could be.

Not only that, he worked in entertainment. And speaking of his comedies, some of the most acute observations about society and its downfalls; some of the most jarring insights into human nature are done by comedians. I feel like comedians sometimes are the most aware of the world and its dirtiness, its problems and its barrenness. Instead of despair, they choose to laugh at it and to point out the follies of society and of human nature.

By that same token (though I'm using a reductio ad absurdum argument), by saying that Shakespeare, because his work is so brilliant, could have only been nobility is the same as saying that only nobility, or to translate to modern times, the rich, is capable of any kind of poignant and intellectual insight that is worth keeping over the decades.

I suppose at the time, it makes sense that they were more likely - they had the free time and the economic freedom to do so. Yet if one's occupation asks one to be creative and to appeal to a large audience that spans more than one class of people, wouldn't it make sense that with the education that he's been exposed to (Shakespeare had an elementary education, where he studied Chaucer and Homer among others), he would be able to utilize past knowledge and present experience to create what we now celebrate as masterpieces?

Well, regardless of who he really is, it doesn't change the fact that his stuff is pretty gosh-darn good.

A city is poetic

I mean there's the obvious - it's got nuances and moments of beauty that are only appreciated with one looks closely enough and chooses to focus on such moments or such nuances.

But E.B. White put it so well:

"A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning. The city is like poetry; it compresses all life, all races and breeds into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines."

He's talking, of course, of New York City and to me, NYC is the epitome of American cities.

Yet all cities have their own poetry and it's beautiful to see.

The city, whose poetry is the most apparent for me, is Tokyo. It's got the fusion of nature and city - where the plants don't look like they're choked by the waste and smog of the city. Walking around Tokyo, listening to Nujabes and all of a sudden, I realize his music makes a lot more sense.

And it's beautiful.

Oh the frustrations of writing

I suppose my writing could be linear or that I should writing linearly, but in writing this essay, I realize that neither my thoughts nor my writing is linear. I go back and rephrase something differently (and perhaps in a better way) but that it connects with an idea I said two ideas before. Yet it still works dammit!

Ugh. I hate conforming myself to boxes that don't seem to fit.

Maybe I'm just telling myself this because the editing process can be so tedious.

Time is gold

"At your age, time is gold."

I suppose the more hackneyed phrase is "time is money," but I prefer what my aunt told me.

I think that in having a flexible (note: not free) schedule, I forget about time. I think that I can rearrange things to my favor so that what is pleasant is done first and the unpleasant is pushed off. So much so that I end up pushing it to the next day, and then to the next, and the next and nothing gets done.

I realized that this attitude is much like eating all the things you like first on your dinner plate, only to have the things you don't like left. You're not only getting full, you have to ruin your palate with such unpleasant things. I used to save the best for last and it makes sense. You're full or getting full, but you can still savor that last bit and you're left with a happy memory of that meal. Of course, because food is such a big deal for me, this parallel is a powerful one.

I keep leaving unpleasant things last and when I'm worn out, tired, and irritable, I try to do what I least want to do and the obvious happens. I procrastinate.

The best time to get things done is in the morning, when I'm less coherent. Then I think less about how much I don't like said task and (somewhat) mindlessly get it done.

Augh, in trying to be productivity, I am again, inundated with all that I want to do and accomplish (oo, while I'm being productive, let's reorganize all my files, both physical and electronic!). Obviously, this will lead to disaster.

One thing at a time, let's create a routine that embeds happiness into one's daily routine so that even the mundane and unpleasant become palatable.

Meaningful Times

Times of fruitfulness.

I like being busy.

I like working.

Ironically (or not so?), every time I find myself in front of a computer to work, I end up playing facebook games or just generally wasting time. Reading blogs, articles people posted, etc.

I have a deadline coming up for work and when I had to sit down and crunch through it (I'm a little more than halfway through now), for some odd reason, I was happy.

Deep down inside, something (me, but not me?) rejoiced. Funny word to use, but apt in this case.

It reminded me of the verse in Ecclesiastes:

"I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil - this is the gift of God."

It's that ridiculous quote: "Happiness is not a destination, but a journey." or whatever.

So hackneyed, but so true. :)

The Labyrinth of My Mind

(of course it's a cliche title... but it works)

Sometimes, I read some of the old stuff I wrote, and I can't tell what the heck I was thinking. Sometimes, the trails of thought I leave behind can be picked up again and continued. I do that with some of my old (extremely unfinished) stories. Yet, with others, I'm just baffled because I really don't write or think in lines or in any logical order. I like to think that most people don't, they've just learned to present it to themselves and the world in a logical/linear manner.

Looking back at my old private thought-files makes me realize my propensity for writing. I'm glad I'm in the field that I am. :)

I am, first and foremost, a human being

We compartmentalize. It makes the cognitive load on our brains lighter.

We categorize. It makes the world an easier place to understand.

We theorize. It makes the way the world works more palatable.

The aftereffects of my literary theory class are so ridiculous, yet I do enjoy the thinking behind what all of them did.

Gender boundaries. Age boundaries. Class boundaries. Racial boundaries. Cultural boundaries. Intellectual boundaries. Religious boundaries.

So many boundaries, while all the similarities across them are glossed over as anomalies.

Yet, in the end, we all have body parts. We all have a brain, more or less.

Citizen of the world.

I really like that idea because yes, there are differences among people - everyone is different - but those boundaries mean little with the similarities that exist.

What's funny is that I find myself having characteristics of a man and of a middle-aged woman (아즘마). I also have a lot in common with the 4th grader that I'm teaching.

Obviously there are vast differences. Perspective, where we're in life, opinions about the mundane and the important, and all those boundaries.

I think what bothers me about those boundaries is that they exist to classify people and those that don't fall under those classifications are weird, different, free-spirited or what have you. What ends up happening is that those classifications are what people see when they look at a person.

She's a white, female, middle-aged woman who is both blind and deaf.

Knowing those simple things automatically makes us categorize her into certain circles, stereotypes and assumptions. She may not be any of them, but instead of denying our stereotypes, we deny her individuality.

"Oh, she just happens to be different."

There are importances in such categorization, but it's definitely irritating to be subject to such categorization when it's inaccurate.

Sadly to say, despite my dislike of it, I am guilty of doing it as well (try as I might not to).