A Reflection on Saturday's Decathlon Scrimmage

Quote of the Day: “Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us wordy evidence of the fact.”

― George Eliot

          A few days ago we had our first decathlon scrimmage. It consisted of seven tests crowded into six hours. After the second test I started to have trouble focusing. One of the worst parts about decathlon is the tests are designed to be so difficult that even the ones pertaining to subjects such as art and literature require deductive reasoning. Decathlon tests take the idea of educated guessing to a new level.
          After about the third test I started to get drowsy and hungry and I started pausing between questions to think about how much I disliked the sweater of the girl sitting in front of me and what would happen if, hypothetically, I dropped out of choir second semester and took an art class instead.
          Around the fifth test I started thinking about how, since it was a scrimmage, these tests really didn't count for anything and maybe it wouldn't be all that terrible to just give up and allow Vanessa to get the higher score for once. Then my mind started to drift away to explore new thoughts and ideas and I started thinking about how I could avoid the last few tests. I briefly contemplated pretending to faint but that seemed a bit excessive. Besides, I'd never actually tried fainting before. Then I thought about pretending to take a phone call during the break and claiming some relation had died but I figured that since that didn't physically prevent me from taking the test, I'd probably have to finish it. I would also have to create a back story to deal with any questions regarding my loss from my decathlon coach who is a very shrewd and threatening person. One day after school my sister called me during a decathlon meeting to tell me that she needed me to drive her home. When I asked my decathlon coach if I could leave he told me no, I could not and if she really needed a ride he would drive her. He also has a history of calling both me and my parents whenever I'm absent from a meeting (which, by the way, has been happening quite frequently ever since they added three hour weekend review sessions).If my mother was to suddenly die, he would probably reason that an extra hour or so taking a decathlon test wouldn't make much of a difference.
          Anyways, by the seventh test I felt thoroughly disgusting, lethargic, and ill. I was tired of hearing Vanessa complain between tests about how stupid she was for forgetting whether Ernst Ludwig Kirchner or Wassily Kandinsky was associated with the Die Brucke movement and I was thoroughly irritated by  the two students in front of me who were laughing and poking each other with their pencils. I was exasperated by the phrase "In the Decathlon Resource Guide..." and questions that asked which of the following did NOT pertain to this movement or that time period. My sweater felt constraining and uncomfortable and I wanted to go eat the leftover sushi in my fridge before my dad did. By the time I finished the seventh test my vision was a bit blurry and I hated decathlon. I spent the rest of my day lying supine on my couch, eating cashews and listening to Barbra Streisand. I think instead of going to the next few meetings I'm going to sleep instead.

Painting of the Day:

Madame Henraux by Edouard Vuillard

What's So Great About Great Literature

“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.” 
― Ernest Hemingway

 In Buddhism, there are four stages of enlightenment culminating in the attainment of Nirvana. I think understanding great literature comes in stages as well. The first time I read The Scarlet Letter I was in eighth grade. I finished it in about a day or so and after I was finished I didn't think much about it. I didn't dislike the novel but it really didn't affect me in any way. However, when I read it again as part of our school's 11th grade curriculum, I found myself extremely moved by the relationship of Hester Prynne and Arthur Dimmesdale. When I heard my classmates describe the book as uninteresting, unsurprising, and overdramatic I was very confused. 

I think that when a great writer tells a story they are giving you a piece of truth. But such truth can only be attained when one has reached a stage where they are able to understand the authors and the characters in the story. It's hard to be moved by a book when you only think of it as a plotline; a series of two-dimensional characters whose experiences are as far removed from your own as the kings that reigned a thousand years ago or the elephants in Africa. 

When I was younger it was very difficult for me to be moved by anything I'd read. I read Don Quixote, Moby Dick, and The Great Gatsby indifferently. I felt a sense of accomplishment at having finished such highly regarded works but nothing more. Now however, I realize that that sense of accomplishment was unjustified. All that I gained from such superficial reading was a slightly more sophisticated vocabulary and an antiquated writing style. 

 I can't quite say when I really began to read great literature; when characters such as Jane Eyre, Rodion Raskolnikov, and Lily Bart began to inspire weeks of reflection and emotions I had previously only experienced due to events that had actually happened to me personally. I'm not quite sure when my perspective on literature changed but I think when it did, I became, in a way, more enlightened. I don't want to pretend I'm a deep, spiritual person who is in some way superior to those who read books such as The Scarlet Letter and Crime and Punishment and are as unaffected and unmoved as when they pulled the book from the shelf. But I do feel that because of the way literature has affected me, I see the world in a way that makes me a happier and more complete human being. I don't believe that I've reached the highest stage of understanding when it comes to literature, but I believe that I'm better off today than I was in eighth grade. What's so beautiful about literature, and I think this applies to art and music as well, is that when you really understand it, when you achieve that state of enlightenment, you become a more complete human being because you are able to experience emotions and thoughts and ways of understanding, both new and old, that once belonged to other people and now belong to you as well. Classic novels are about more than having an impressive literary resume; they should change you in some way. We often hear about the importance of character growth in a story but what really makes great literature great is its ability to promote growth in the reader as well. 

Painting of the Day:

Four Trees by Egon Schiele