n0w0nd3r is one of the most popular hubs in the campus. It was founded by close friend Srijan Choudhary(called n0w0nd3r since) during last year’s compreez in May.`  Ever wondered how the name n0w0nd3r came up? Well there is an interesting story behind it.

It seems that n0wond3r saw an English movie called Dead Poet’s Society when he was in class six or seven. The language was incomprehensible to my friend but one word caught his attention. The word was “Nuwanda‘.  It appears in a conversation between 2 characters when one of them says, “Damn it Neil, the name’s Nuwanda.” Our little friend then could gather it as “No Wonder!!”. Then all day he kept mumbling the same words to himself. Anyone asked any question, the answer from Srijan was-”No Wonder!!”.

Person1:”Hey Psrijan,  you  haven’t taken bath for a month”

Srijan:”No wonder”

Person2:”Hey Tsrijan, you got a B in CP”

Srijan:”No Wonder!. Hey wait, what?

Then when all the hubs began shutting down during the compreez, Srijan set up the n0w0nd3r hub with help from his wingies. The venture was successful and in the second year at BITS he went full time. And now we all know how it has turned out, n0w0nd3r.

Ah, another “Dead Poets Society” poem. Poor Knox.

Discuss.

She Walks in Beauty
George Gordon Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” ~John Keating, Dead Poets Society (1989)

You’re never too old to learn a new skill. The MIT Ballroom Dance Team is certainly a testament to this philosophy. Most team members join the team as college or graduate students with no previous dance experience, and a number of dancers make it to highly advanced levels in just a few years. In a world where the news laud talented athletes and artists who  started playing hockey or swimming or figure skating when they were five, or first picked up the violin when they were three, or performed in their first theatrical piece when they were eight, watching grown adults learn dance from scratch and succeed at it is a refreshing reminder of what human potential can achieve, no matter the age.

One of the most wondrous things about dancing is the limitless possibilities and the steep learning curve that becomes evident as ‘mere humans’ become dancers. Watching some of the first year dancers in my rookie class, it’s amazing how much we’ve all progressed in the few months since we took our first lesson in September. Today we’re dancing in ways we did not conceive possible just a few weeks ago, and watching the higher level dancers, we realize how much more there is to learn. As we learn, we move from thinking “How is that dance move even possible?” to “Oooo, I think I see how it’s done now. Maybe I can do it too.” and then we pick another more mysterious dance sequence to temporarily believe to be impossible, until we grow and realize that this impossible routine is in fact also possible.

Such is it with every subject in the world. As you become initiated into the field and start understanding how it’s done, you push yourself further and further through the layers of what you are capable of doing, and as you explore the depths, going deeper and deeper, you find that it is a bottomless ocean. Every layer conquered reveals a new layer in an ever-expanding universe of possibilities. There is no end, no limit. There is no end, no limit to art. There is no end, no limit to what we can do, experience, achieve, and it’s pursuing this path that makes the MIT Ballroom Dance Team amazing.

MIT Ballroom Dance Team. Go team!

Another reason that makes the members of the MIT Ballroom Dance Team inspiring is that the team members are all amateur dancers who have careers in other professions. Neurologist by day, chacha instructor by night. Computer scientist nine-to-five, then waltzing in the moonlight. Whatever these people are choosing to do to make a living, they are drawn time and time back again to the dance floor, putting in much of their free time to become impressive dancers. It reminds me that while many people at MIT are technology and science focused by trade, they still need art in their lives, whether dance, music, writing, designing or photography, and find something missing in their lives if they have to go without art, beauty, and creativity.

Why? Maybe it’s what Keating said, that these artsy things add meaning and are what we stay alive for.  We all need something beautiful every day, so maybe it’s time to carpe diem, turn the music on, and dance!

Why do we cry when we see a sad movie? It usually isn’t the movie itself that makes us cry. It is when the movie stirs up some memories inside you, when you start to think of your loved ones or the things you feel guilty about. I have been depressed for almost ten years now, and it is a daily struggle for me to keep my spirits high. As I made this list of movies that have made me cry and browsed through youtube clips for you, I had a hard time holding back my tears. I had a fight with my mother a few days ago, and watching these clips made me realize how stupid I was. At first when I wrote down these movie titles, I just thought that this would be another one of those lists. Maybe I could generate some traffic to my blog. People like these things, as do I, but I hope that this post might make you think about your loved ones. It is Christmas again soon. Hug them, kiss them, tell them you love them.

Making this list made me so depressed that I think I’ll make a comedy list next. A cure for this goddamned thing.

This list isn’t in any particular order. The youtube clips are for people who’ve seen the movies and don’t care about the spoilers.

Terms of Endearment (1983) Director: James L. Brooks
Marley & Me (2008) Director: David Frenkel
The Godfather: Part III (1990) Director: Francis Ford Coppola
Dumbo (1941) Director: Ben Sharpsteen
Click (2006) Director: Frank Coraci
Hilary and Jackie (1998) Director: Anand Tucker
Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) Director: Blake Edwards
La vita è bella (1997) Director: Roberto Benigni
Up (2009) Director: Peter Docter, Bob Peterson
Schindler’s List Director: Steven Spielberg
Forrest Gump (1994) Director: Robert Zemeckis
The Kid (1921) Director: Charles Chaplin
Dead Poets Society (1989) Director: Peter Weir
E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982) Director: Steven Spielberg
Old Yeller (1957) Director: Robert Stevenson
Field of Dreams (1989) Director: Phil Alden Robinson
Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) Director: James Cameron
My Girl (1991) Director: Howard Zieff
Love Story (1970) Director: Arthur Hiller
An Affair to Remember (1957) Director: Leo McCarey
Return to Me (2000) Director: Bonnie Hunt
Dances with Wolves (1990) Director: Kevin Costner

Have a tissue ready… (WARNING! Spoilers)

(c) 2009, Christiana Lambert

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
Kahlil Gibran

What parents don’t project themselves on their children? Their values, dreams, goals. But at some point many parents realize they aren’t “us” and that we must let them be who they were destined to be. Or not.

As hard as I have tried to do that, I still have fallen short.

Sometimes we simply have a mismatch in our families between what makes us happy. Jackson loves to play long, complicated, competitive games, something that is very difficult for me to do—I know I have not played enough with him, but have tried to convey he is OK for liking to do so. The problem is mine, not his.

Earlier this year Christiana thought her father was saying she wasn’t good enough to be an artist. What he was trying to convey was that she needed to enter the field with her eyes wide open, being prepared to make the necessary sacrifices to make a living in such a difficult profession. After she gained some distance, she could see that in addition to working on her craft, she did need to look at viability issues. She’s begun studying business subjects—to take care of her own art business—and believes that by studying at a four-year college, versus an art college, she can emerge better prepared to meet the non-art challenges of such a profession.

However, my heart breaks when I hear of parents who refuse to validate that children have a right—even an obligation—to pursue their own paths.

(c) 2009, Christiana Lambert

Undiagnosed ADD has not broken me in the ways many of these women have felt broken—but perhaps that’s because my family never treated me as if I were defective and let me know I could be who I was, even if we didn’t know ADD was part of that who.

As a society, many question the validity of how many more mental health conditions are treated in children these days. At least those of us in the group know that such treatment is necessary for many kids—and something that was sorely absent in prior generations. Still, there are those skeptics who refuse to see mental health conditions in their own families, despite fairly obvious signs. Such attitudes can be deadly, especially when combined with beliefs that parents can control who their children are.

Last night’s group was exceptionally large, with a few women in their 30s and 40s, but more in their 50s and 60s. Our usual custom allows us to tell our stories, moving around the table, in as orderly a fashion as you can expect from a group of women with ADD! As Linda states, many people with ADD have suffered the shame of being told they were talking out of turn (“I will not talk in Mr. So & So’s classroom”—oh yes, I’ve written that one over and over!) so she wants to make the group a safe place for being a little windy, if that’s what someone needs on particular night.

A beautiful, young woman patiently waited until her turn came at the end of the night, all the while making supportive suggestions to others. But soon after she began telling her story, validation from a sixty-something woman led her to burst into tears. At just twenty, she suffers from her family and friends’ refusal to see the bipolar symptoms. If only she could stop being so flaky and get down to the business of getting educated for taking over the family business.

If only she were supported for the artist she is and the help she needs for her condition. How is it strangers can see this, but those who love her cannot?

(c) 2009, Christiana Lambert

Do people like this ignore the lessons from movies like Dead Poets Society, where a son can be considered so rebellious for wanting to act in a play and study literature?

You may give them (children) your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.

Years ago I worked at a financial services firm with Rick, a business major who was envious of my “worthless” English degree, yet really wanted to pursue a master’s in literature. Once he asked me if my parents thought I had wasted a good education to work where we worked. I was stunned—my parents just wanted me to be happy. When his father called him at work, he became Richard and his voice took on a more business-like tone. Yet after I left the company, one morning he didn’t come in to work, seemingly due to a burgeoning drinking problem. That’s when they discovered he had been hiding unfinished work for weeks.

A year ago, just after Suicide Prevention Week at the kids’ school, a girl we knew tried to kill herself, but, thankfully, did not succeed. A multi-talented girl who earned good grades, she composed music, sang like an angel, and could design and sew clothes, as well as do so many other artistic things. But she wasn’t one of the top students like her cousin. Like the boy in Dead Poets Society, she too joined a drama production against her parents’ will. She didn’t expect them to attend, although they grudgingly let her continue. What I saw was a joyful, talented stage presence. Still, I guess she got tired of acting in her own home—and then set out to prove she was not who they wanted—by destroying herself. This formerly active honors student has left home and seemingly disappeared. It didn’t have to be. She was more than enough.

Perhaps having strong-willed kids from the beginning taught me early that control is an illusion. As much as I’d like a less complicated life with my kids, I am proud they do know who they are. I ask for their forgiveness for those times when I unintentionally made them feel they were not enough, just because they weren’t easy to parent or didn’t do things my way.

My own treatment for ADD has made it easier for me to be able to raise kids with ADD. Each family member in our home is difficult in his or her own way, but the more we understand our own biology and the condition, the more we are able to have tolerance for each other and make changes that allow us to live together with less stress.

It just makes my heart hurt that there are parents out there who don’t even believe their kids have the right to be themselves—and who will ignore biological mental health conditions just as easily as they ignore who their kids really are.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

Not all bows bend in the archer’s hand quite the way Kahlil Gibran stated. Not all bows are stable. May that beautiful young woman find the support outside her family, even if the family cannot accept what she needs and who she is.

(c) Christiana Lambert, 2009

Oh dear. I’ve been putting this off. Look, Dead Poets Society is a very nice film. Very inspirational. Very Robin Williams. Very Carpe Diem.

But the script is just so dull! It’s just a big pile of disjointed dialogue, a series of vignettes vaguely unified by one or two faint story threads.

I think the problem is that I just never cared that much about the characters. I’ve been wondering why that is, because they portray some pretty fundmental behaviours: heroic inspiration, railing against authority, thwarted love, treachery and betrayal and – ultimately – self-slaughter.

But my question throughout was always why? Why are you behaving like this? We’re given few clues. There are one or two big signposts: the stern father, the nice-but-unavailable girl. But subtlety? No. None of that.

I finally worked out why. What we’ve got here is a case of implicit characterisation. We’re meant to know and understand these young people and this teacher because, hey, that was us back at High School. Remember those New England autumns? Remember those pacts we made at graduation? Remember our authoritarian fathers who demanded that we become lawyers?

No. Sorry. I’m English. I mean, I get what you’re saying here, but it’s not my experience. That’s not where I’m from. I’m understanding it second hand. I appreciate it, but I don’t grok it. Get where I’m coming from?

So is it lazy scriptwriting to rely on the audience’s collective experience to illuminate the story? No, it’s not. In fact, it’s very smart indeed. Great storytellers tap into the psyche of the audience. They know what scares you. They know what inspires you. They know what disgusts you. They know what makes your heart melt. And all they have to do is hint at it and point the way. You make the journey at their behest.

So Dead Poets Society is a classic example of a story that surfs on the collective memory of the United States of America. It probably inspired a whole generation of Americans.

It just doesn’t inspire me. Sorry.

Before this begins, I’m going to say that I had a very difficult time with this decision. I watched 4 movies in their entirety, listened to a few albums and pondered and researched some pretty significant events.

1989 saw some pretty great things. Back to the Future II, The Little Mermaid, Phil Collins’ …But Seriously, John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany, Tiananmen Square, the Exxon Valdez oil spill, and the collapse of the Berlin Wall. This is a list of honorable mentions. A list of things for which I either started or completed entries (well, aside from Tiananmen Square). A list of things that may as well be screaming, “SARAH IS TOO INVESTED!!”

Ultimately, though, Dead Poets Society takes the cake for 1989. It is one of few films that can bring an actual tear to my eye, and while it is in all likelihood incredibly far-fetched and unreasonable and 100 things about it piss me off, I wish it could be real so badly that I can’t help being in love with it.

I never had the amazing teacher in high school who inspired me to do great things, so I was left with Robin Williams’ portrayal of John Keating as my guide. There’s nothing particularly original about the film or its execution or about my interpretation of it, which is kind of sad considering that it is simply an applied interpretation of Transcendentalism. It speaks to everyone with a soul who has ever felt forced or confined.

Set in 1959, Dead Poets Society follows a group of boys as they attend a prestigious private school in Vermont on their way to following the paths laid out for them by their fathers. They are expected to fall in line, work hard, and never question anything. Until Mr. Keating comes along and encourages them to question everything.

I can’t watch the film without questioning my own choices and if I’m living as fully as I can, pursuing every option, taking chances, and generally doing myself justice. The answer is simply that I’m not, and I appreciate having Dead Poets Society around to remind me to feel bad about that once in a while (and maybe, just maybe, to do something about it).

A commentary on the evils of conformity and the danger of not living life to the fullest, Dead Poets Society is a seriously great film (maybe especially if you’ve spent 4 years of your life pursuing a degree in literature).

O captain, my captain.

Aujourd’hui je n’ai pas, mais vraiment pas envie de bosser. L’idée de pâlir sur ma thèse me donne des boutons. Tout ce que je veux, c’est rester roulée dans mon plaid sur le canapé et regarder, pour la trente millionième fois, Pride&Prejudice en sirotant du thé.

Je veux m’extasier sur le sourire d’Elizabeth, les yeux noirs de Mr Darcy et pester contre le vilain Wickham. J’ai envie de rêvasser en m’imaginant dans la campagne anglaise au tournant du 19ème siècle, Pemberley apparaissant devant mes yeux ébahis.

Evidemment, vu que je suis une grande fille raisonnable, je vais plutôt aller prendre ma douche et filer à la médiathèque m’enfermer tout l’après midi avec Julius (c’est le petit nom de mon macbook) pour avancer ce satané article que je dois rendre dans quinze jours. Surtout qu’il est déjà midi et que j’ai passé la matinée devant Dead Poets Society, que je n’avais pas vu depuis des années. Et qu’hier, j’ai passé ma journée à faire les boutiques.

La vie de doctorant, parfois, c’est brimant.

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada

Lá sou amigo do rei
Lá tenho a mulher que eu quero
Na cama que escolherei

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada
Aqui eu não sou feliz
Lá a existência é uma aventura
De tal modo inconseqüente
Que Joana a Louca de Espanha
Rainha e falsa demente
Vem a ser contraparente
Da nora que nunca tive

E como farei ginástica
Andarei de bicicleta
Montarei em burro brabo
Subirei no pau-de-sebo
Tomarei banhos de mar!
E quando estiver cansado
Deito na beira do rio
Mando chamar a mãe-d’água
Pra me contar as histórias
Que no tempo de eu menino
Rosa vinha me contar
Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada

Em Pasárgada tem tudo
É outra civilização
Tem um processo seguro
De impedir a concepção
Tem telefone automático
Tem alcalóide à vontade
Tem prostitutas bonitas
Para a gente namorar

E quando eu estiver mais triste
Mas triste de não ter jeito
Quando de noite me der
Vontade de me matar
— Lá sou amigo do rei —
Terei a mulher que eu quero
Na cama que escolherei

Vou-me embora pra Pasárgada.

(Manuel Bandeira)

Não importa onde você parou…
em que momento da vida você cansou…
o que importa é que sempre é possível e
necessário “Recomeçar”.

Recomeçar é dar uma nova chance a si mesmo…
é renovar as esperanças na vida e o mais importante…
acreditar em você de novo.

Sofreu muito nesse período?
foi aprendizado…

Chorou muito?
foi limpeza da alma…

Ficou com raiva das pessoas?
foi para perdoá-las um dia…

Sentiu-se só por diversas vezes?
é porque fechaste a porta até para os anjos…

Acreditou que tudo estava perdido?
era o início da tua melhora…

Pois é…agora é hora de reiniciar…de pensar na luz…
de encontrar prazer nas coisas simples de novo.

Que tal
Um corte de cabelo arrojado…diferente?
Um novo curso…ou aquele velho desejo de aprender a
pintar…desenhar…dominar o computador…
ou qualquer outra coisa…

Olha quanto desafio…
quanta coisa nova nesse mundão de meu Deus te
esperando.

Tá se sentindo sozinho?
besteira…tem tanta gente que você afastou com o
seu “período de isolamento”…
tem tanta gente esperando apenas um sorriso teu
para “chegar” perto de você.

Quando nos trancamos na tristeza…
nem nós mesmos nos suportamos…
ficamos horríveis…
o mal humor vai comendo nosso fígado…
até a boca fica amarga.

Recomeçar…
hoje é um bom dia para começar novos
desafios.

Onde você quer chegar?
ir alto…sonhe alto… queira o
melhor do melhor… queira coisas boas para a vida…
pensando assim trazemos prá nós aquilo que desejamos…
se pensamos pequeno…
coisas pequenas teremos…

Já se desejarmos fortemente o melhor e principalmente
lutarmos pelo melhor…
o melhor vai se instalar na nossa vida.
E é hoje o dia da faxina mental…
joga fora tudo que te prende ao passado… ao mundinho
de coisas tristes…

Fotos…peças de roupa, papel de bala…ingressos de
cinema, bilhetes de viagens…
e toda aquela tranqueira que guardamos
quando nos julgamos apaixonados…
jogue tudo fora… mas principalmente…
esvazie seu coração… fique pronto para a vida…
para um novo amor…

Lembre-se somos apaixonáveis…
somos sempre capazes de amar muitas e muitas vezes…
afinal de contas…
Nós somos o “Amor”…

” Porque sou do tamanho daquilo que vejo, e não do
tamanho da minha altura.”

(Carlos Drummond de Andrade)

I attended Leigh’s memorial service on Friday.  I seasoned the adventure by leaving my driver’s license at home, but TSA proved generous (and/or careless) and I arrived in San Francisco as scheduled.  I promptly won the slots when a BART ticket machine returned two dollars of change in nickels.  Fortunately, I was admitted to the gate for the return flight (in the international terminal!) and was not obliged to hitchhike home.  Now I can feed parking meters for weeks.

Although I was grateful for the opportunity to mark Leigh’s passing, the service was heavy on ritual and light on remembrance.  That is understandable given the burden on her family, but I left feeling that I needed a round of storytelling over a round of drinks to conjure her.  There was a reception but we failed there:  either too much catching up was required or our high school memories are too remote.  I’m told mai tais were served following the family service, in honor of Leigh’s Hawaiian heritage, and I dare say that everyone should be toasted to eternity with a rum drink.  For the record, I hope you’ll lift a Hemingway daiquiri in my memory when I go.  Perhaps you can hire a bartender from the Hungry Cat.  In any case, I’d like to gather my friends on a lanai and hold a memorial service of our own.

The loss of someone young causes everyone to rethink their priorities, at least briefly, and we were all taking stock.  One friend, who passes year after year in an unhappy marriage, engaged in a very serious reappraisal which I expect will have very serious consequences.

I thought, “Carpe diem!  Seize the day!,” invoking the Dead Poets Society of my Leigh era.  Together with Say Anything, Dead Poets Society reinforced the  unrealistic social expectations instilled by John Hughes.  My friend Cortney divided her affection between romantic Knox and charismatic Charlie (“Nuwanda”), but I lived for Todd alone.  Apparently, the image of the latent artist resonated with me even then.  In my favorite scene, Todd unleashes his inner poet, spouting under duress about a “sweaty-toothed madman” threatening to choke him:

It seemed like fate when I later worked for the film’s producer, who had the certificate of nomination for Best Picture framed on his office wall.

It’s easy to say “seize the day” but harder to what to do or how to do it.  I would like someone to cover my eyes, spin me around, and draw it out.  Honesty?  Action?  Self-overcoming?  How much trying eradicates the prospect of regret?  Let’s honor Leigh by finding out.  My captain.

Carpe Diem

These lines are the movie `s short script. I`ve watched this movie before, and this movie was so impressive that I want to tell you about the story.
This well-known movie was made by Peter Weir in 1989. Originally it was a novel written by Tom Schulman. And Robin Williams was given the roll of John Keating who is the new teacher of Welton Academy.
Welton Academy, which is very strict school, had good reputation. But tearing a first page of textbook, Mr.Keating started his first English class. And he emphasized ‘Carpe Diem’ which means ’seize the day’. He encouraged students to against uniformity and tradition. Students were affected enough to make a circle named ‘Dead Poets Society’. In this circle they read poems and discussed about dream, future, anguish, and love.
Especially, there was a boy who wanted to be a actor, but his parents wanted him to be a doctor. On the night that he performed his first play, he committed suicide in agony of conflict.
Welton Academy examined cause of his death, and imputed a guilt to Mr.Keating because of his instruction. Unavoidably Mr.Keating was forced to leave Welton Academy.
In last class, standing up on the desk, and calling ‘oh captain, my captain!’, students paid their honor to Mr.Keating.
Actually, I wanted to be a ‘just’ teacher. But after watching , I decide to be a teacher like Mr.Keating. Because he taught ‘true guidance;’ to students. He loved his students. So he took a risk. If I were him I could not do that way.
And He gave me a great lesson ; seize the day. As a highschool student I have to endeavor to achieve my future dream. In order to achieve my future dream I should seize the day. I think seizing the day is not waisting time, but lead my life. As long as I can lead my life I will make it. So I remember this in my mind.

‘Carpe Diem, seize the day’

Dan, a mid-20 student and gymnastic trying out for the Olympics, is lost and disturbed by his current life situation; by developing a relationship with Socrates, an old wise mechanic working at a gas station, he finds many answers to his questions.

Being on the same category as Karate Kid, Tuesdays With Morrie, Dead Poets Society and Matrix in my film library, Peaceful Warrior, based on a true story, is a refresher of life’s most relevant philosophies. It isn’t possible to watch these movies and not have a different outlook on life, among many incredible insights following is some of the most eye opening quotes I captured:

“Wisdom is doing it”

“There’s no higher purpose than serving”

“Everybody tells you what to do, they don’t want you to find your own answers”

“Stop getting information from outside, and start getting it from inside, it’s the only place we find what we need”

“The trash is everything that’s keeping you from everything that matter, this moment, now”

“You have to lose your mind to come to your senses”

“When you become a warrior, you learn to meditate in every action, let go of attachments”

“All you have is right now”

“You are a jackass, when you let your emotions control you”

“The first realization of a warrior is not knowing”

“Habit is the problem, all you have to do is to become conscious about your choices and responsible for your reaction”

“The ones that are hardest to love, needs the most”

“A warrior doesn’t give up what he loves

“Life is full of choices, you can choose to be a victim”

“A warrior acts, only a fool reacts”

“There’s no stopping or starting, there’s only doing”

“When you don’t get what you want – you suffer, when you get what you want – you suffer, because you can’t have it forever”

“Don’t surrender the dream, surrender the thing you will never have or never will – control”

“Keep a sense of humor, especially about yourself, it’s a strength beyond all measure”

“Journey is what bring us happiness, not the destination”

Não por acaso, inicio esta página citando a extraordinária obra do diretor Peter Weir, “Dead Poets Society”, ou mais famoso no Brasil como “Sociedade dos Poetas Mortos”. Afinal é justamente ela que neste momento me inspira a criar este canal, uma forma de expressar a minha visão, tanto das obras que admiro (seja cinema, musica ou qualquer outra manifestação artística), como do mundo que está ao meu redor.

Críticas,  citações, dicas, observações,  tudo cabe aqui, além do objetivo princial deste veículo  que é “criar”, seja na forma de “rabiscos, palavras ou notas musicais”. Assim como o professor Keating aponta outro lado da poesia para seus alunos, o lado em que é possível sentir, vivenciar e exportar o que se passa na mente humana.

Só para demonstrar um pouco da importância deste filme, e o impacto que ele gera em muitos que o assistem, cabe aqui narrar um pequeno fato. Na época do seu lançamento no cinema (1989),  eu tinha apenas 11 anos, mas alguns primos meus (que já estavam no fim da chamada adolescência), junto com um grupo de amigos foram assistir a “Sociedade”  num feriado de 7 de setembro. Inspirados pelo filme e pelo dia iniciaram um grupo chamado Comando Independente. Este grupo criou vários programas de rádio caseiros, fanzines, entre outras coisas.

Infelizmente o grupo não cresceu e não durou muito, mas a idéia de reunir pessoas interessadas em se expressar e fazer algo diferente sempre esteve presente comigo, tanto pelo filme que também me impressionou muito na época, como pelo eterno Comando Independente. A cerca de um ano atrás iniciei um blog em parceria com minha amiga jornalista Stephanie Kohn, nele iniciei minhas primeiras críticas cinematográficas, coisa que peguei gosto e pretendo continuar neste humilde espaço.

Today I want to talk to you about a film. It’s not my favorite, but it has shaped who I am today.

The Dead Poets Society. Have you seen it? If you have not close your browser, drive to your local video store, rent it, and fall in love.

If you haven’t and you need some convincing here is a brief summary, which leaves out every important detail possible. The bones of DPS, if you will.
* There are a group of boys at a Prep School.
* They receive a new English teacher, Professor Keating. (Robin Williams)
* A bunch of cool shiz happens but I can’t tell you because that would ruin it.
Yep. There you have it. haha

Okay so here are some quotes from the movie that I find particularly appealing:

“O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It’s from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating, or if you’re slightly more daring, O Captain my Captain.”

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

“I was the intellectual equivalent of a 98-pound weakling! I would go to the beach and people would kick copies of Byron in my face!”

“This is a battle, a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls.”

This film makes me feel… hopeful. Hopeful, sensitive, emotional, daring, and rigid. It makes me feel as if I can find an issue, take a stand, and make something not only out of it, but out of myself. It also makes me feel a bit discouraged. I look around me and I see individuals who have never expressed an original thought in their lives, either because they’ve never had one or out of fear… their quiet is deafening.

This film inspired me to major in English Education. Upon later self reflection I realized that what I am drawn to is not the aspect of teaching, but that of the literature itself. I love to learn; I could not stand to teach. When I realized this I changed my major to English Literature and I have never regretted the decision.

Lately I have been thinking a lot about my life and what I am going to do with this oh so expensive degree that I am working so hard to obtain. I hate the idea of working, of having to conform to this system. I have the bureaucracy and how political the workplace is.

I want to make things. Beautiful, heart wrenching things. It’s frightening. I’m not sure how to go about it… but I’m willing to try.

I realized that I have been stuck with this fear of embarrassment and I can’t bother with it any longer. It’s exhausting, frustrating, and not worth it.

You, my readers, (if you exist) are worth it. I am worth it. Language, beautiful language, is worth it. So I sit here and I write. Maybe it’s shit… but it’s out there.

FS

The prof who thinks he’s Robin Williams in Dead Poets’ Society.

I knew I wouldn’t get much accomplished today due to feeling so tired, so it’s a good job I didn’t really need to do much! Needless to say there was more Annie-bedding to wash! My poor washing machine has never worked so hard.

Mr Mutterer hasn’t been too well, so we decided to ignore any other jobs, and settled down to watch a film together instead. Mr Mutterer has a huge film collection, and we chose Dead Poets Society. What a fantastic film, I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before! Annie sat with us and watched the whole thing, she is so unbelievably cuddly.

Two o’clock was time to go to the vets again. This time she made more noise in the car until we turned the radio on; it seems to comfort her to hear the voices. We saw a different vet and he was more frank with me than the last one. He said it’s fairly common for a lamb who hasn’t received colostrum from its mother to not be able to fight an infection like the one Annie has. He said quite often when you look after a lamb like we are, you can come down one morning and find them dead. That’s not really what I wanted to hear. She has a slightly high temperature, but he was happy with her weight, and pleased that she is feeding well. We are determined to help her get better as she’s been through too much to give up on her now. She still seems quite bright in herself, even though her legs are obviously sore. The vet gave her a different antibiotic, and said leave it until Friday before coming back. So between now and Friday we will carry on as we have been doing, giving her lots of love and attention, plenty of warm milk and a comfy bed to sleep in, I’m even going to try a bit of Rescue Remedy in her milk…anything’s worth a try!

But it wasn’t all bad at the vets. A very old lady had come in to the waiting room with her pet, and was very surprised to see a little lambs head poking out of the bundle of towels I was carrying. She asked if she could stroke Annie, and as she did, Annie did what she always does and nuzzled the lady’s fingers. A huge smile came across the lady’s face and she said “well, that’s the first time I’ve ever stroked a real lamb!” I think it really made her day!

Right now Annie is sitting under my desk nibbling my slippers. I’ve had to rearrange the cardboard boxes and bins under there to make a barrier between her and my six plug adaptor with all the cables coming out of it as she keeps trying to nibble those too! She seems to nibble at everything at the moment…I wonder if she’s teething?!

After last night’s episode, Community has won me over.  It wasn’t even that the episode was that strong, the second episode was much better.  The reason that this show won me over is that it’s good, it really is.  The characters are strong, and while Joel McHale’s Jeff is indeed the main character of the show, the fact that the supporting cast works so well together really makes watching it enjoyable.  I’m even starting to see the appeal of Gillian Jacobs‘ Britta to Jeff, which I couldn’t understand initially.

Last night Jeff is looking for a “blow-off” class where he can get an easy A.  He finds a class taught by the incredibly funny John Michael Higgins who plays accounting Professor Whitman who’s seen Dead Poets Society a few too many times.  Instead of teaching accounting he tells his students if the can “Seize The Day” then they will get an A.  The homework for the class is to swim in a lake and tell ten people you love them.  Of course Jeff doesn’t realize that he’s going to have a much harder time than he thought BSing his way through the class than he thought he would.   Throughout the episode, Jeff goes out of his way to convince the professor that he is seizing the day.  He dresses funny, he flies a kite, and even plays double dutch; but the professor sees right through all of it.

Of course Jeff isn’t the only one with problems in this episode.  Abed wants to take film classes, but his father will pay for classes that will help him run the family falafel business.  Britta is upset by this so she gives him a check to pay for the class he wants to take.  Throughout the episode Abed is making a movie about his father.  When his dad shows up to confront Britta and Jeff (despite the fact that Jeff warned her not to get involved in other’s lives) he is very angry and tells the pair that they can raise him now.  Abed becomes obsessed with the film and even begins to skip the classes that Britta pays for.

Troy sneezes like a girl, and Pierce takes it upon himself to mentor the young man on how to sneeze like a man.  The scene with Pierce’s sneezing is one of the funniest of the episode.  Despite Chevy Chase’s reputation as being one of the world’s biggest jerks, he is great on this show, and I’m happy to see him back on TV.

In the end Abed finishes his film and sits Jeff, Britta, and his dad down to watch it.  It is a short film full of pretty some unintentionally (at least to Abed) funny animation that depicts Jeff and Britta as Abed’s parents.  Jeff and Britta don;t really understand it, but in the end Abed’s dad is crying.  He realizes that Abed feels like he felt like his dad was blaming him for his mom leaving.  He agrees that Abed can study film, with falafel as a back-up.

Jeff and Britta walk outside, and she thanks him for getting involved after all and tells him that he should kiss her now.  The two share their first? kiss and as they do Professor Whitman walks up and gives him the A for seizing the day.

Like I said, this episode wasn’t quite as strong as the previous episode, but still very good.  Some of my favorite moments:

• Abed explaining the downturn of the falafel business: “9/11 was pretty much the 9/11 of the falafel industry.”
• Pierce trying to eat pizza.
• When Whitman has the students stand on his desk he asks, “Why shouldn’t you stand on your desks?”  Only to be answered with a desk collapsing and student falling to the ground hurt.
• I was disappointed that there were no announcements this week.  I was hoping that the running gag would start each show as it had previously.

“Introduction to Film”

October 1st, 2009

I feel a little bit awkward writing a review of “Introduction to Film,” as if I should be out impulsively making out with someone or climbing a tree or telling 10 people I love them. The week’s class, considered a bird course and a chance at an easy grade, is all about “carpe diem,” with a professor straight out of Dead Poet’s Society and the kind of class that seems like the ideal fit for this cast of characters in that it is in fact that most awkward fit imaginable.

It’s an episode that, like the class in question, lulls us into a false sense of awareness, making us believe the episode is about one thing when in fact it’s about something else entirely. It does it in a really subtle way, like a sneeze that just keeps threatening to arrive but doesn’t, as the show demonstrates a mastery over the sneeze that one did not expect.

All in all, it’s a simultaneously funny and kind of heartbreaking episode that continues to show some really great tones to the show’s brand of humour.

I generally love John Michael Higgins in things, but he was perfectly cast here as Professor “Dead Poet’s Society come to life in a community college environment” Whitman. The class offered the requisite laughs that it needed to, with the girl falling after standing on her desk and the general sense of shoe-throwing madness he created. However, when he identifies Jeff as a cocky opportunist, you realize that this wingnut is not the first person to make this observation, and he isn’t wrong. Of course, the other people in the class are probably mostly there for the grade as well, but moreso than Jeff they seem transformed by the message. Pierce is all about siezing the day (being older than the rest of the class and overly aware of it), and Shirley is at community college for reasons that run deeper than personal gain which emerge in the context of the class. Even Troy’s sneeze subplot stems from the idea of seizing your weaker qualities (his baby sneeze) and turning it into something that can be used to your advantage.

But Jeff isn’t at Glendale for any such reason, so the class really is just an easy grade for him. And when the professor calls him on it, he goes about doing what he always does, pretending to care and staging an elaborate show with a light-up Christmas tie and suspenders. When that fails, and when his efforts to seem spontaneous unwittingly turn him into an apparent pedophile, he’s forced to resign himself to the grade and turns his attention elsewhere. That elsewhere, however, is his role as Abed’s father in his video he’s producing for film class, as Britta takes the role of his mother after his father refuses to take part in the project. At first, it seems like an annoyance for Jeff and a chance for Britta to become more and more frustrated with Abed’s misuse of money as her own parental issues make her feel responsible for him.

And, simultaneously, the show gives Jeff something to accomplish (bringing Abed’s father and Britta together with Abed to remind them that this is really about Abed’s freedom to seize the day) and a stunning moment where (as contrived as it may be) all of the dialogue from Jeff and Britta is turned into an abstract representation of Abed’s mother leaving them alone and Abed’s belief that his father in some way blames him for that departure. When Abed, at one point, noted that Jeff “even knew the lines,” I thought it was just Abed being clever, but at the core of that project was a personal pain that honestly really punched me in the stomach. Suddenly, the behaviour that we thought was all one big joke returns to a really honest and emotional place, and what I had expected to be an epic laugh out loud sequence (ala Jeff and Pierce’s moment last week, which was also somewhat heartwarming but also an unmitigated farce) was instead something that emphasized the heart the show has, and that there is something under the surface that can be tapped into.

And when Jeff and Britta had that moment on the stairs, where Britta told him to kiss her knowing that the professor’s presence would ensure him a good grade and as a result make them even for the favour he just performed, Higgins exclaims that that was a life-changing kiss if he has ever seen one. And while we know it to some degree was not, as Britta had no such intentions, it did feel like more of an awakening for Jeff, and with the show’s current track record there is every chance that could really be a turning point in someone’s life. It’s showing itself to be a far more human show than I would have imagined from that pilot, a streak that I really enjoy and that makes me very excited to see build in the future.

Cultural Observations

• I like that Jeff got Britta to visit the school by telling her about a Ravi Shankar concert, and that Abed’s father came in order to see Weezer.
• On the note of Abed’s father, Britta’s sudden explosion of racial stereotyping seemed a bit out of character even taking her daddy issues into account – maybe needed to get dialed down a notch.
• Also on the same note, really loved Iqbal Theba (who’s currently playing the Principal on Glee) as said father.
• My favourite moment in the episode might have been Chevy Chase’s delivery of “These are both mine” with the cokes. I was devastated when he eventually gave one to Troy, was hoping they’d keep the bit intact.
• Loving the totally random and disconnected codas: “Am I krumping? Am I krumping?”
• The one supporting character who got largely shortchanged was Annie, and because I love Allison Brie I want this to be remedied in the future.

On my homepage for MSN when coming on line, I noticed that one of the sections was on “Movies Men Cry to”. So decided to not only read it but blog about it and see whether I can actually imagine any of my male friends crying to these movies.

E.T. The Extra Terrestrial is the first up in the list, I can imagine possibly a boy crying if they relate to Elliott and would had to say goodbye to there best alien friend.

The Shawshank Redemption – I have to admit that I did not cry at this one, but have seen it in a few lists of movies that make men cry.  Maybe its the male bonding factor?

American History X – I have yet to see this movie.

The Champ – I have seen this and cried, can understand more why men would cry as well.

Dead Poets Society – Carpe Diem . . . I think anyone of either sex who does not shed a tear or at least fill up at this movie is made of stone or something.

Field Of Dreams – a story about a son’s search for his father “build it and he will come . . . can understand with the father/son relationship being the main topic how it could effect men of all ages.

Forrest Gump – Everyone must shed a few tears at different parts of this film, as Forrest is just not smart enough at times to realise what is going on around him.

Gladiator - I guess this one is because of his love for his family.

Glory – Another which I have not seen.

The Green Mile – This one actually broke my heart, and has to be another of the if you did not shed a tear or fill up you are made of stone movies.

Kramer vs Kramer – The breakfast scene at the end is so sad, can understand the father/son relationship again.

My Life – This is really is heartbreaking, a man making videos for his child to watch so he knows him.

Hotel Rwanda – Have yet to see this movie.

Saving Private Ryan – I found this really hard to watch, mainly for the reason that its so heartbreaking with how real it all looks and seems.

Schindler’s List – This is on my Sky+ to watch

Seabiscuit – Yet to see this movie

Stand By Me – Yet to see this movie

United 93 – I found this really awful to watch, and I am sure everyone else who has seen it has as well.

Watership Down – I cried my eyes out when watching this as a child, although cannot remember much of it now.

It’s A Wonderful Life – It must be quite impossible not to cry to this, what would happen if you were never born.

Original Source: MSN Entertainment

So my question is to the male population out there, which movies make you cry?

Do they feature in this list?

1) No more hiding inside where the air conditioner is and pretending it’s not 33C/92F outside, at 9am. You know who you are. Time for a trek and to rejoice! Sweater worthy Autumn has not only officially arrived but also arguably the best month of the year, October.

2) Flip Mino in High Definition at a decent price. The anticipation of fall field trips and touring just jumped 1000%!

3) Pumpkin everything. Carving, candles, pie, lattes, ravioli, soup, cookies, scented oils, seeds! Especially toasted pumpkin seeds.

4) The arts. Local workshop theatres and coffee houses are cozy and very welcoming right now with the influx of energetic university population. And poetry feels… right at the moment either reading while tucked under a soft blanket or milling around in thought during long walks among golden leaves. Also re watching Dead Poets Society is in the queue, the scenes of New England autumn are gorgeous.

5) The moon, bonfires, and hot drinks. Life is good in these small, treasured moments.

By an Autumn Fire by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Now at our casement the wind is shrilling,
Poignant and keen
And all the great boughs of the pines between
It is harping a lone and hungering strain
To the eldritch weeping of the rain;
And then to the wild, wet valley flying
It is seeking, sighing,
Something lost in the summer olden.
When night was silver and day was golden;
But out on the shore the waves are moaning
With ancient and never fulfilled desire,
And the spirits of all the empty spaces,
Of all the dark and haunted places,
With the rain and the wind on their death-white faces,
Come to the lure of our leaping fire.

But we bar them out with this rose-red splendor
From our blithe domain,
And drown the whimper of wind and rain
With undaunted laughter, echoing long,
Cheery old tale and gay old song;
Ours is the joyance of ripe fruition,
Attained ambition.
Ours is the treasure of tested loving,
Friendship that needs no further proving;

No more of springtime hopes, sweet and uncertain,
Here we have largess of summer in fee­
Pile high the logs till the flame be leaping,
At bay the chill of the autumn keeping,
While pilgrim-wise, we may go a-reaping
In the fairest meadow of memory!

]]> http://bigredpoet.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/it-never-fails/ Wed, 30 Sep 2009 15:33:26 +0000 bigredpoet http://bigredpoet.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/it-never-fails/

99 days out of 100, I absolutely love my job. Every year, though, I can predict without fail one day that I’m going to want to scream: the last day of Dead Poets Society. We take the time to watch this film each year as a preparation for the novel A Separate Peace, since my students have no concept of what life is like at an all-male boarding school. They need to understand this setting before they can fully grasp the novel. DPS prepares my students to read ASP successfully.

Sounds like a great idea, right?

I’ve always thought so, but I’m proven wrong by at least a few students every year. Think back to this scene:

(Thanks to FlashCap for providing a new link when the old one quit working.)

Every time I watch this scene, my stomach turns over on itself with dread and sympathy–for Neil, for Todd and the other boys, even for Neil’s jackass of a father. How do my students react? Every year, a few of them laugh.

They laugh.

One of my strengths as a teacher–my primary strength, really–is that I understand teenagers, but I cannot grasp this reaction. Are the laughing students so terrified of their actual emotions that they substitute an inappropriate one to mask what they’re really feeling? Are they so insensitive to the plight of the characters on screen that all they see is Todd falling down in the snow like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel? Do they misunderstand the intent of the film so badly that they see the slow-motion shot of Neil’s father as a goofy exaggeration rather than a moment of overwhelming terror, guilt, and shock?

I want to grab them, shake them, make them SEE, but some of them just can’t.

I don’t get it.