|
Short Statement #2
My favorite anything, eh' Pretty simple question, I suppose; I'm prone to
categories and lists anyhow. My favorite books, by far, would be anything
written by either Carl Sagan, William Gibson, Tim O'Brien or J.R.R. Tolkien
(minus The Hobbit, because it's drab...) Where music is concerned,
"melancholic, twee Scottish pop" is what my favorite band, Belle &
Sebastian, has been referred to as; although I'm also overly fond of Garbage
and Japanese pop. Techno never became popular inside my room because I
consider it an exercise in masochism, paying for the pleasure of having
someone hammer your eardrums for hours on end... Movie-wise, I'll confess to
having seen Disney's The Lion King a few times too many for someone my age,
but it's just... perfect. I have developed a distaste for European movies,
because they're overly dramatic; I like Asian cinema 'The Smell of the Green
Papaya, Raise the Red Lanterns, Farewell to My Concubine, Tokyo Eyes,
Welcome Back Mr. McDonald, and assorted others I've watched, Akira Kurosawa
included; although his takes on Shakespeare sometime bother me, since Hamlet
actually happens to be one of my favorite theater pieces, alongside with
Medea (although I have a grudge against feminist interpretations of said
play). Poetry-wise, I have two favorite poems, There Will Come Soft Rains,
by Sara Teasdale, and Porphyria's Lover, by Robert Browning. Why I like
them, I don't know, it's a completely visceral thing... And that's the short
version of it all, I suppose. I could list many more, but the ones above are
the ones I'm most attached to.
By: Irene Romero
Comments On Short Statement #2
Comments can be sent to uchicago2006@hotmail.com
It All Boils Down to Elves...
I seem to have a one-track mind. Everything can, through an occasionally
intricate network of thoughts, be traced back to what I would have to admit
is one of my defining characteristics. And that would simply be my passion
for mostly anything authored by J.R.R. Tolkien, but more than anything else,
his The Lord of the Rings.
After finishing said book the first time (back when I was a wee 10 years
old, and still adorable), I went back and reread it, straight from the
beginning. Ever since I have read the book at least twice a year, never
being able to pinpoint exactly why I do that; never having an explanation as
to why I go back to Middle Earth time and again.
But about six months ago, it finally dawned on me what it is that enthralls
me so: elves. I didn't care much for them the first few times around, but
recently I've become more and more fascinated. Elves are lofty
isolationists. Here they are, immortal creatures in Middle Earth; a place
being steadily covered by darkness, yet they keep to themselves in their
secluded cities, watching the world from afar and knowing that if darkness
takes over they're pretty much done for, but not doing anything much asides
from holding councils and sending their archers to defend the borders of
their realms.
Oh, they are the wise ones, sure thing. They know their history, have
fought their wars before. They are tired of battles, and have learned that
to destroy evil, they must attack it at its root -but that's too farfetched
a plan, so they stand by and sorrowfully watch the lands fall to darkness.
Because, in truth, they are cowards. They can jump on a boat at any moment
and simply sail away to heaven, a privilege denied to anyone else in Middle
Earth. And they do that.
It is not escapism per se; they are too high-bred for that. But it is
passing the buck. A few of them are brave enough to get themselves actively
involved in confrontations, but always with the knowledge that should they
be slain, their souls will go somewhere, that they will meet their loved
ones again. They are not throwing themselves into the abyss, they are
bungee-jumping into it. They have a security catch. Like an old man who has
seen war before, they know that rare is the time when something good comes
out of it. They have the gift of knowledge -and it has granted them latent
apathy.
And as much as I love them, they worry me. I can't help but think that,
were they real, they would be doomed to imminent imperializing. They have
taken the road to self destruction -or, at the very least, to exile from
Middle Earth- simply by caring but not acting. Which of course brings the
inevitable comparison to humans today. We act -and care only on occasion.
The opposite of elves, you could say, so it can't be all that bad. But,
truth be told, extremes are not healthy. Balance is what matters. A certain
amount of apathy will never kill anyone, but then again, nor will some
interventionism. The elves doomed themselves to become creatures of
legend -in a land of legend- because they were too troubled being
existentialists to really consider what went on around them. "Oh, the
angst," you can hear them say. "Oh, the weariness," but it truly is
something along the lines of "oh, the apathy." Oh, how dangerous knowledge
has become -we have too much of it, so we don't care. And as much as I worry
about them... I worry about us. We are nothing but elves without pointy
ears.
By: Irene Romero
Comments On It All Boils Down to Elves...
Comments can be sent to uchicago2006@hotmail.com
|
Admission Essays