Trey+Shore

Assignment Seven, due June 1, 2011: When asked to connect the story of Aeneas to a modern work of art depicting nationalism, the first thing I thought of was Emma Lazarus' famous poem, "The New Colossus."

 The New Colossus This poem depicts a dual sort of nationalism for the huddled masses: that of their motherland, and that of their destination, the United States. Although the poem (written by an American) wishes to place the American culture over that of the "ancient lands," the immigrants to which the poem was dedicated quite often wished to preserve their native culture, while at the same time living the "American dream." This fusion of multiple native cultures in one melting pot formed the American culture. This story of dual nationalism directly parallels Aeneas' story. Like the immigrants to which "The New Colossus" was dedicated, Aeneas was also exiled from the shores of Troy, his homeland. Moreover, Aeneas falls right in line with Lazarus' description of the immigrants, "tired...yearning to breathe free...homeless, tempest-tossed," Aeneas' journey in the //Aeneid// is a lot like (a more turbulent version of) the immigrants journey from their homelands to the United States. (Coincidentally, I imagine Aeneas would also enjoy the shout-out of sorts to the Greek Colossus. Lazarus wishes to differentiate the United States' benevolent, merciful attitude toward foreigners with the Greeks' "conquering limbs astride from land to land," a goal I am sure Aeneas also kept in mind as he was founding his new country.) The Colossus depicted in the poem could also be compared to Venus/Aphrodite. Like the Colossus is the "Mother of the Exiles," so too is Venus/Aphrodite mother to Aeneas. Moreover, both mothers strive to aid their children in any way they can, whether it be giving them "world-wide welcome" after a long voyage, or thwarting Juno/Hera's plans to kill them. Despite the hardships of their journey, both Aeneas and the immigrants entering the United States do not give up, because they know that their destination is worth it. This is why both the //Aeneid// and "The New Colossus" are, at their heart, tales of nationalism.
 * Not like the **** brazen giant of Greek fame, **
 *  With conquering limbs astride from land to land; **
 *  Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand **
 *  A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame **
 *  Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name **
 *  Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand **
 *  Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command **
 *  The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. **
 *  "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she **
 *  With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, **
 *  Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, **
 *  The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. **
 *  Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. **
 *  I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" **

Assignment Six, due April 17, 2011: The story of Niobe kinda reminds me of that of Angela Petrelli from the NBC show //Heroes//. (I can't find a good clip of Angela, so I'll just link to the [|Angela Petrelli Heroes Wiki page], hope that's okay.) First and most obviously, both Angela and Niobe start out as proud, loving mothers. Whereas nothing pleased Niobe "...the way her children did," so too does Angela make it clear "...that her family [complete with three sons, an illegitimate granddaughter, a dead (yet secretly alive and comatose) husband, and a few lovers] means everything to her." Moreover, both Angela and Niobe come from a powerful background. Niobe boasts, "Tantalus is my father, who is the only man to eat the food of the gods. My mother is one of the seven sisters, the Pleiades. Great Atlas, who carries the axis of the heavens on his shoulders, is one of my grandfathers. Jupiter is the other, and I glory in having him as my father-in-law as well." Similarly, Angela is born into a family fraught with "special abilities," the genes of which give her the ability to see in the future. Angela also marries one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, further cementing her family's might. But unfortunately, despite their love for their family, both Niobe and Angela desire more. Thus, while Angela conspires to set off a bomb in the middle of New York City, thus establishing a new world order run by people with abilities, with her son at the helm, Niobe stops a ritual to the goddess Latona, claiming that she (Niobe) is a far superior mother because she has more children. However, the plans of both women fail, as Angela's bomb is prevented from exploding and Niobe's subjects are still able to pray to Latona "...in a secret murmur." Finally, both Angela and Niobe are punished in extremely similar ways. For Angela's part, two out of three of her sons are apparently killed (though both actually end up surviving, but some of her sons are killed again later. //Heroes// is kind of annoying like that ), including the "bomb" (who was actually her son, Sylar, or her other son, Peter, both of whom gained the ability to explode) who was supposed to detonate in New York City. Similarly, but perhaps crueler and more vengeful, all of Niobe's 14 sons and daughters are shot by the gods Apollo and Artemis/Diana. Niobe's husband is either shot too, or commits suicide as a result of the loss of his children. Either way, because both Angela and Niobe exhibited a bit of hubris in their desire for more power or recognition, both women also experienced ate (I think that's how you spell it), or a fall from grace. The result is that both mothers are "transformed," and left as broken, pained women who have lost all (or most) of the family they once held dear.

Assignment Five, due March 11, 2011: The story of Pygmalion and Galatea is similar to the story Pinocchio. media type="youtube" key="tefyCG5Yftk" height="390" width="640" First and most obviously, both Galatea and Pinocchio's "births" are the same: they start off as inanimate, man-made works of art and are given life by supernatural powers. But going slightly deeper, both are brought to life by a blond, female, quite attractive (Pinocchio by the Blue Fairy who makes Jiminy Cricket blush, and Galatea by the goddess of love herself) goddess. Moreover, both Gepetto and Pygmalion refer to their creations almost as if they were alive before they actually are. Pygmalion is said to have adorned the stone Galatea with clothes, jewels, and the like, even before she was given life by Venus/Aphrodite. What is more, Pygmalion also talks to his statue, caresses it, and kisses it on a regular basis. These loving actions are mirrored in some versions of the story of Pinocchio, wherein Gepetto is said to talk to Pinocchio as though he were his son, and dress him as a little boy (seen above). Either way, both Gepetto and Pygmalion wish for their creations to come alive. Pygmalion is said to wish for a wife "like my maiden of ivory," and the Blue Fairy remarks in the clip above that "Gepetto wished for a real boy." Also, both Gepetto and Pygmalion are rewarded by their "patron" goddesses for living moral lives. The Blue Fairy says upon her arrival in Gepetto's house, "Good Gepetto, you have given so much happiness to others. You deserve to have your wish come true." Perhaps less obviously, Venus/Aphrodite seeks to reward Pygmalion for his chaste life in the company of the Propoetides, enemies of Venus/Aphrodite and the world's first prostitutes. Finally, both Pygmalion and Gepetto create their respective creations because they have no other way of attaining the relationship that those creations bring. An old, seemingly unmarried man, Gepetto would have no way of fathering a son of his own. Comparatively, having sworn off the women of the world due to his disgust toward the Propoetides, Pygmalion is virtually out of options in the dating world. Thus, two lonely, old, male artists create works of art depicting what they want most: in Gepetto's case, a real, human son; and in Pygmalion's case, an innocent, yet beautiful wife.

Assignment Four, due January 7, 2011: Horace II.10 reminds me of Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity. media type="youtube" key="6JzGOiBXeD4?fs=1" height="385" width="480" First, the main message of both the Ode and the Rally are essentially the same: everything in moderation. For Horace's part, he opens his ode by telling its subject, Licinius, that he will live a better life "...neque altum/semper urgendo neque,.../...nimium premendo/litus iniquum" (by neither always sailing the deep sea nor...hugging too much the uneven shore). As we have discussed, Horace wishes for Licinius to neither take too many risks, nor play it too safe. Similarly, in his keynote address (embedded above), Jon Stewart reminds his audience, "We live in hard times...not end times." While the problems we face today, Stewart says, are certainly no picnic, or "uneven shore," neither are they signs of the turbulent, world-ending destruction, as seen in the "deep seas." (Stepping away from the Ode and the Rally for a second, both Stewart and Horace are respected scholars in their own way and society. While Stewart is revered as one of the most honest and independent (albeit fake) journalists, Horace is one of history's most respected philosophers.) Additionally, both Horace and Stewart seek to destroy the illusions of false security that their audience may see. For Horace, wealth and power are the origins of this illusion; Horace tells Licinius that despite the fact that a sizable object may seem powerful, "saepius ventis agitatur ingens/pinus et celsae graviore casu/decidunt turres feriuntque summos/fulgura montis" (the huge pine is more often shaken by the winds and lofty towers fall with a heavier crash and lightning strikes the talles mountains). In Stewart's speech, the target is paranoia seemingly leading to security, "...just like the ability to distinguish terrorists from Muslims makes us less safe, not more." While one's wealth or prejudice toward a religious group might make its owner feel secure, Stewart and Horace maintain that this security is merely an illusion, and that that illusion could come toppling down at any second, leading to a "heavier" fall than one who is not wealthy or prejudiced. Both Stewart and Horace continue to a bit of a hopeful note. Horace reminds Lucinius, "...si male nunc, et olim/sic erit: quondam cithara tacentem/suscitat Musam neque semper arcum/tendit Apollo" (...if it is bad now, and some day it will not be this way: sometimes Apollo awakens the silent Muse with his lyre, he does not always stretch his bow). This optimism in the face of overwhelmingly pessimistic circumstances is mirrored in Stewart's speech, "...there will always be darkness. And sometimes, the light at the end of the tunnel isn't the Promised Land. Sometimes, it's just New Jersey. But we do it anyway. Together." (In addition, both Stewart and Horace invoke a godly element, with Stewart's reference to the Promised Land and Horace's reference to Apollo and the "silent Muse.") Although things may seem bad now, they will get better soon. "There are a lot of tomorrows out there, one of them has got to be better," as a good friend of mine once said. One must always leave the "harsh winters," or Brooklyn tunnel, for better times, a Promised Land, or at the very least New Jersey. Finally, Stewart ends his speech much how Horace begins his poem, "If the picture of us were true, of course our inability to solve problems would be quite sane and reasonable. ... We hear every damn day about how fragile our country is, on the brink of catastrophe, torn by polarizing hate. And how it's a shame that we can't work together to get things done. But the truth is, we do. We work together to get things done every damn day." Despite the media's radical portrayal of the "average" American (on both sides of the political spectrum), the average American is actually quite sane and reasonable, and indeed willing to work with people whom he/she may disagree with. Just like, contrary to popular belief, power does not guarantee security, the average American, quite like Apollo, does not always react with hostility and immediately "stretch his bow" when faced with someone who disagrees with him. Like Horace and Stewart themselves, the average American is much more moderate, as Horace contends that Licinius should be.

Assignment Three, due December 5, 2010: I daresay this isn't the //best// connection I've made all year, but if I've learned anything recently, it's to "muscle through." That being said, Catullus 12 kinda reminds me of this scene from the Phineas and Ferb episode titled "The Chronicles of Meap." media type="youtube" key="d9nLBobjAb4?fs=1" height="385" width="480" media type="youtube" key="WUQQmVKJMoI?fs=1" height="385" width="480" (Note: I will focus on around 6:15 to 8:11 of the first clip and 6:10-6:20 of the second video clip.) First, both Catullus and Dr. Doofenshmirtz have clearly lost something valuable to them. In Catullus' case, his favorite napkin has been stolen by Asinius Marrucinus. In Doofenshmirtz's case, his only companion, "Balloon-y," has been taken from him by the wind. Moreover, both Catullus and Doofenshmirtz were distracted during the time of the "theft." Catullus notes that only the napkins of "neglentiorum," (rather careless people) are stolen by Marrucinus. Similarly, Doofenshmirtz was unable to rescue "Balloon-y" from the wind, as he was "protecting [his] garden as a lawn gnome." While Doofenshmirtz vainly attempts to reach out to his departing friend, he is forced to stand still by a harsh voice from a figure seen in the window. Going slightly deeper, both Catullus and Doofenshmirtz lose a symbol of friendship in an otherwise hostile world as a result of the "thefts." Catullus remarks that the napkin, "non movet aestimatione," (does not move [him] by its value), but instead that "haec amem.../ut Veraniolum meum et Fabullum" ([he] love[s] this napkin.../as [he loves his] little Veranius and Fabullus). The worth of the rare and exotic "sudaria Saetaba" (Saetaban napkin) does not matter to Catullus so much as the fact that it was a "mnemosynum mei sodalis" (keepsake of [his] comrade[s]), and was sent to him as a gift to him from his close friends (Veranius and Fabullus) in Spain. In Doofenshmirtz's case, he can easily get a new balloon and draw a new face on it, but it is "Balloon-y" who has become his "best friend in the whole world." Additionally, both Catullus and Doofenshmirtz seem to be going through some inner turmoil. As evident in poem 8, Catullus is going through a bit of a "rough patch" with Lesbia, whereas Doofenshmirtz has a variety of painful back stories (many of which are referenced in the "Balloon-y" back story). This turmoil may serve to intensify their reactions to their respective "thefts." Finally, both Catullus and Doofenshmirtz react to their "thefts" in a way to be expected of them. Catullus threatens Marrucinus with "hendecasyllabos terecentos" (three hundred hendecasyllabic lines), whereas Doofenshmirtz chooses to unleash his "Static Electro-Amplifinator" on the tri-state area, thus ripping every balloon "from the hands of children, and clowns, and clown children." Both characters seek revenge on those who they blame for the "theft," Doofenshmirtz seeks revenge on the world through his machine, and Catullus seeks revenge on Marrucinus through his poetry.

Assignment Two, due November 1, 2010: Catullus 8 reminds me a lot of a not-so-new song I've gotten into recently: Bohemian Rhapsody, by Queen. media type="youtube" key="irp8CNj9qBI?fs=1" height="385" width="480" First, there's the obvious, almost creepy changes in mood that take place multiple times in both the song and the poem. Both Freddie (the writer of Rhapsody) and Catullus are trying to account for their multitude of emotions, and the fact that they are both extremely confused about a variety of things does not help their cause. In addition, both Catullus and Freddie try to coach themselves out of their respective ruts in similar ways. In Catullus 8, the word "obduro, -are" (to endure) is used no less than three times, where as Freddie seeks to remind himself multiple times that "Nothing really matters." In the first segment of both the song and the poem, both Catullus and Freddie establish their inner turmoil, Freddie remarks that he is "just a poor boy," whereas Catullus refers to himself as "miser," (miserable). In addition, both offer preliminary advice to themselves. For Freddie, it is the aforementioned "Nothing really matters," whereas Catullus implores himself to "desinas ineptire,/et quod vides perisse perditum ducas" (stop playing the fool/and recognize as lost what you see has perished). As both the song and the poem progress, they suddenly move into a dreamy, somewhat disturbing atmosphere. Lines 3-8 of Catullus 8 show Catullus' inner conflict with "ceasing to play the fool," and thus letting go of Lesbia: he had fun with her, even when they were doing things (like following each other) that were not so fun. Although he recognizes that it will probably end a lot of his pain, a strong part of Catullus still loves Lesbia, misses the times when "the bright suns once shone on [him]," and vehemently opposes letting go of her. Similarly, the "opera" segment of Bohemian Rhapsody, specifically the "Bismillah/We will not let you go" part, expresses the millions of different conflicting voices in Freddie's head. Whereas Queen relies on tempo/instrumentation changes to symbolize these changes in atmosphere, Catullus relies on the repetition of "fulsere...candid tibi soles," to symbolize his changes in mood. After seemingly resolving their inner conflicts, both Freddie and Catullus emerge with an air of both strength and defiance. Both express this with biting rhetorical questions. Catullus takes (almost) the entirety of lines 15-18 to ask Lesbia a variety of discouraging questions such as "Quem nunc amabis?" (Whom will you love now?). Freddie, on the other hand, merely asks his "baby" how she could be so cruel as to "love [him] and leave [him] to die." In addition, both Catullus and Freddie bid farewell to the people they are directing their questions at. Catullus simply says "vale, puella," whereas Freddie remarks that he "Just gotta get out." Finally, both the song and the poem end how they began. The energy and tempo of Rhapsody decrease as all of the instruments drop out, leaving only Freddie (accompanied by the piano, as in the beginning), reminding himself one last time that "Nothing really matters." Catullus 8 ends with a similarly simple message to the author, "destinatus obdura" (endure obstinate[ly].)

Assignment One, due Octover 4, 2010: The first thing I thought of upon translating the first lines of Catullus 5 was this scene in Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. media type="youtube" key="ZX4U0ZiiAic?fs=1" height="385" width="480" (Yep, I'm a nerd. Deal.) Cringe-worthy overacting aside, this scene shares many common themes with Catullus 5. The first and most obvious one is of course the love Anakin has for Padme and Catullus has for Lesbia. Both will eventually lose their lovers, and are probably aware of that fact at this point. Moreover, both are losing their lovers due to rumors spread by "old men," (specifically Obi-Wan Kenobi in Anakin's case) and the mere fact that both are in love is enough to inspire disapproval from their "old men." While the rumors surrounding Anakin happen to pertain more to his immorality in the murder of innocents and role in establishing the Empire, the rumors surrounding Catullus merely stem from the fact that he is "immorally" in love with a married woman. Both Catullus and Anakin take a sort of desperate tone when talking to their lovers. They both know that, should their lovers choose to heed their words and return to them, they will need to face even more disapproval and judgment from their respective societies. However, both Catullus and Anakin share a desire to stop hiding their love despite society's qualms. Catullus asks Lesbia to "value the rumors...at one penny," whereas Anakin tells Padme that "[they] don't have to run away anymore." Finally, both Catullus and Anakin are in a position where they would not need to fear society. Anakin is now one of the most powerful and fearsome people in the Galaxy, not to mention the Emperor's right-hand man. Comparatively, Catullus is (as we learned) of patrician descent and so does not need to fear his fellow Romans, often openly attacking them through his poetry. So in conclusion, Catullus' love for Lesbia is similar to Anakin's love for Padme in that both men wield power much greater than that of their lovers and so do not need to fear the disapproval of their society. What both men do fear, however, is the impending loss of their lovers due to that same fearful insecurity.