A Scapegoat, an Excuse

I'll tell you what, the second time around there was much more to Ivan's "poem," which is more of a backing to his argument against the existence of God. The first go'round was tiring, the pages are jam-packed full of description, but there was an inspiration to focus and better understand the second rodeo.

Although Ivan's big-picture opinion differs a bit from my own, a lot of his work's/argument's elements made sense and they stood for something, involving religion and other delicate matters, in our world. Words and ideas such as freedom, miracle, mystery, and authority stay with you after reading, although the middle of the chapter lost me for a bit. They are well emphasized and repeated, as they should be. Nonetheless, the endgame shows why a lot of people accept their happiness. Their ignorance makes them happy, and they accept, although they don't understand, that others (say, authority) will take the emotional and spiritual [or lack there of] hit. Their ignorance gives them freedom, freedom instead of a lifelong endurance of hopelessness, freedom from pain, happiness.

Ivan forms this Grand Inquisitor to act as an allegory of Jesus, the church, and other religious branches. Moreover, this Grand Inquisitor is a scapegoat for people's beliefs. If the G.I. helps uphold religion and God then people have reason to believe. The G.I.'s purpose is to be an excuse for people, a truth and a false truth simultaneously. His job is to uphold a lie, to let ignorance flourish, to let freedom reign. If [most] people are ignorant then they will truly believe a false truth, it's a sort of faith. The G.I. has the view that if he takes part of the burden [along with his few authoritative counterparts, those few who know the "real" truth], if he understands the true "truth" then the rest of the world's people will be free, they'll be happy. The Grand Inquisitor is like Jesus, except Ivan's Jesus doesn't believe in God. Why is this, though? His views are based on a mystery, ah, mystery, as are those who believe in God.

Halfway

It's been 324 pages (of the 'bout-750), and I still don't have a set-in-stone opinion of The Brothers Karamazov. It's like a day where your family attends a professional baseball game: The kids make sure to bring their mits. The family shows up to the stadium a few hours before gametime right in time for batting practice. You know what my family always wanted from a baseball game? A baseball. The family thinks that attending batting practice is a promising idea. So they show up and they think they have a good chance to get some action, but as batting practice commences, continues, then begins to wind down the family is still empty handed. Nonetheless, their experience is only half over and they still know that they have an entire game to get a baseball, which might be a larger reward.

You could say that I had high expectations for a novel which was hyped-up and wanted immediate results. I really wanted to have a ball (pun intended) right off the bat when I began reading The Brothers Karamazov, but it looks like I'm going to have to be more patient. Then again, batting practice is only half the battle. The climax usually arises around the seventh-inning-stretch.

Moreover, is attending a baseball game more about getting that coveted souvenir, having your team come away with a victory in the end, or is it the experience? Alas, a problem I'm having with The Brothers Karamazov is I don't know which team I'm rooting for, but I also don't know if I should be choosing sides. I suppose the experience is necessary for your views to be formulated or understood.

I guess I'm trying to figure out what The Brothers Karamazov's batting practice does for me since I haven't gotten my baseball, yet.

A Bad Day?

Have a bad day; that's what was recommended to me. Today, I already had the jump start. Must've been fate or some unrecognized intuition, the bad day had a jump start on me. It started with me waking, taking a shower, brewing some coffee, and doing all that everyday-like routine thing. Then the bad started, something that a student like myself fears, a midterm exam. But how is that a truly bad thing, this fear? Well, if you forget when your midterm is then this fear thing exponentiates. Thus, the beginning of my bad day. It was quite funny after the conclusion of Lit. class. I was told that if I had a bad day then...who knows? I'll be glad next, I'm presuming? Something will come of it? Maybe it's a cause-N-effect/pain-pleasure/good-evil deal, a fluctuation of events and emotions, a recession of my personal, poly-variabled economic status. Shoot, if I have a bad day then some good must come of it, right? Hmm, well, considering it's still that bad day, my intellect and sophistication or something like that tells me that I best sleep on it.

Since were already on the issue, I might as well confess what my others pains from today were. Let's see: I went for a run (it sucks compensating good habits for the bad ones. [We could be hitting on something here, but we needn't pry.]), I did some homework (naturally, not that much fun), and, oh yes, I read some that darned book, The Brothers Karamazov (oh how I believe in that one saying, "patience is a virtue," A virtue which I have yet to find, develop, acquire, or however the hell it goes around the way).

But you know what, when I look at my so-deemed complaints it seems like these activities are what . amounts would love to do everyday, except for maybe the "homework" part. But, to make it sound more positive, we'll call it learning instead. Good comes with the bad and bad comes with the good, I think. When you run (especially if you just started), you hurt, you get tired, you get sore, you suffer. But you know what they say - "It's good for you!" Much like doing your homework; if you do your work then you get good grades and you learn. Much like reading, you'll learn and develop your skills if you do that work, too. And also, work is boring, it's hard, it's lengthy, and, shoot, it flat-out sucks, but if it's done or given some true effort then you'll find its worth, the good.

Think of it this way, and correct me if I'm retelling the story wrong or misconstruing my not-so-well-known history, but I remember the story from Lit. class about Fyodor Dostoevsky being brought out into some square because he was condemned to death for some reason (the place and reason I don't recall). At that point, F.D. probably was thinking something like, "You know what, I'm having a bad day." Alas, the condemners' plans abruptly change and F.D. lived and he was pardoned, back-to-back-to-back. I'll go out on a limb and hypothesize that Fyodor Dostoevsky found the good in his experience the bad. He probably did a lot of thinking after that incident, and then he went on to write quite a piece of work, The Brothers Karamazov.

I'll admit, this "bad day" of mine was probably somewhat mild as opposed to Fyodor's. I suppose I could pay some dues to F.D. by reading his book, and this will elongate my bad day. Wouldn't that be cool if the bad was prolonged then the good might be prolonged accordingly? Nonetheless, it's still hard to find the good in forgetting about a test, but, hey, I haven't seen any score, yet.

The B.K. Whomper

No, B.K. doesn't stand for the famous fast-food franchise, but The Brothers Karamazov still takes a toll on its audience. Most particularly, in my current situation, me. The book whomps on me. The characters are hard to understand, the scenes and characters are, well, quite descriptive, the dialogue is, well, quite the same, and I find it incredibly difficult to keep up with who's talking. I'm not bashing on the book, but it's nothing like I've ever read before. I guess that's why they call it "literature."

The factors which have been accounted for must be a part of the reasons why our Professor calls this novel "the greatest novel of all time." I'm not going to lie, I'm farther behind than I should be, but for me to understand the information I must the time I need, especially with a novel of The Brothers Karamazov's magnitude. It's quite an "experience," I suppose.

Nonetheless, although I'm [far] behind, I still have the motive to finish the novel. There's too much that may be potentially learned from the book's thick content. Why, though, do I have this drive? I 'spose that I have the drive to continue on this journey because I have some "experience" with the culture of the matter. To simply put it, I enjoy reading this novel because of the six-month hiatus my family and I spent in Moscow, Russia. Although my skepticism of the novel has been expressed, I still am forcing myself to want to learn about, for lack of a better term, Russianism; Or Russia's background, literary contribution, culture, or whatever this book may potentially offer to its readers. You could call it a passion of mine, to learn about Russia, its people, the lifestyle, and its historical implications.

I 'spose I believe that The Brothers Karamazov offers me some sort of hours-and-hours-long lesson which might act as a catalyst for my interests and inquiries about Russianism, per se.

Robert Frost

We hear his name is we're in ear's reach of a Lit lover, poetry person, or my grandpa. Robert Frost must be famous, but what does he have to bring to the table. Hows about "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," granted the given assignment. To be honest, what is this poem about? What's the endgame? I'm following the 'story,' the man?, and the horse, but what's the predicament? Must be the snow which is halting the en route, thus the twofolded "And miles to go before I sleep." Are the snowed-in journeyers waiting for their break or are they enjoying the ambiance and scenery? I reckon that the teammates weren't planning for this roadblock, but they're not necessarily unhappy with their situation. It's not an ideal situation for the mates to be stuck in the snow, but, hey, they're enjoying it while it's here and there. They stop their trip, they have a ways to go, and, right then, it doesn't matter that their blockaded; it's a deep, dark, white wonderland. The woods are their home for now and it's worth the wait.

Rough Sonnet 'N' Found Poetry

Sonnet -

I guess you say…dashing eye games of play.

She is a know-it-all, per say. Look here.

Say you see. What can make me feel this way?

Look empirically, my girl. My fear.

The vitals inside slither and wither.

Slim impression. Will this one be worth it?

How shall’st such gal come o’er hither?

Then, our eyes click. Initiative’s hit!

This instant, neither good judgment or luck,

Hit me. This moment, I needn’t a coach.

No need to act or move. He’s right there, stuck.

Just be my girl, by making the approach.

Y’all’s sight is no worse than hers or mine.

All’s thinkin’, be-shortsighted sometimes.

Found Poetry -

Original:

Of course, not all thermometers are reliable, and even a reliable one may be accurate only under certain conditions.

Remix:

Certain all condition are, of’, under

and, ‘course, reliable only thermometers.

May even a reliable one be accurate?

Da Sonnet

Derived from some language, sonneto in means "little sound." I think one of the reasons "sonneteers," Shakesphere for example, are so famous is because they put this little ring in their iambic pentameter. This "litte sound" is the art of the ring, perhaps? Now you ask, what are some of the elements in this ring, this iambic pentameter?

For example: The rhyme scheme from a Shakespherean sonnet.

a-b-a-b

c-d-c-d

e-f-e-f

g-g

So what of this, perhaps? Does this complex scheme give the "sonnet" an edge of sorts, considering the most famous, perhaps, story-teller and poet, William Shakesphere, was heralded as a genius, all things considered. You have to admit, Shakesphere comes of with some pretty witty grittiness. Wit, charm, dueling, death, love, sex, you name it; it's engaging, relatively speaking, and it just works and it just happens to put a stamp on history. Are these storytelling and character development techniques enough? No. On top all those prime Shakespherean story-telling qualities, he still has to stick to the rhyme scheme. Did he? Probably.