Angry Noises

" A great thunderstorm of sound gushed from the walls. Music bombarded him at such an immense volume that his bones were almost shaken from their tendons; he felt his jaw vibrate, his eyes wobble in his head. He was a victim of concussion."

In this quote, Ray Bradbury uses two different semantic devices.  This first thing you probably see is the metaphor comparing the sound to a great thunderstorm.  I believe that he chose to compare the noise to something unpleasant, not necessarily because the noise was incredibly loud, but that Guy simply didn't want to hear it.  Mildred just sits in her chair and does nothing. Obviously there was no loud noise, it was just in his head, but guy got so overwhelmed at that moment that every worry, every fear swallowed him, and after, he mentions that the actors' conversation feels drained.  Just like him. 

Next, the author chooses to use a series of hyperboles to describe Guy's reaction to this noise.  With these few sentences, I wonder if really there was a noise, because how can your eyes wobble in your head and your jaw vibrate at nothing?  All they are doing is arguing with one another. Not to mention the fact that the arguments don't even have a point! You're mad. No you're mad. Why would you be mad? I'm not mad, you're mad! But I'm not mad! Then why are you yelling?  I'm not yelling you're yelling! What kind of argument is that? It has no point, no reason to argue.  Yet they do.  The only reason that they are arguing is because they have nothing to argue about.  These hyperboles describe the anger that just aches to be released by Guy.

That dude has some serious problems.

Courageous Dancer

In the story of Harrison Bergeron a young ballerina, whose name is unknown, decides to make a stand.  I think that she must have had a difficult time doing so, as the price of this outburst is her life, but nonetheless she still gets up and dances.  Towards the beginning of this short story the ballerina is ashamed of her gorgeous looks and her fabulous dancing, but as the story goes on, you realize that the only reason she is ashamed of these things is because she has been taught to. Illegally dancing happily in the air, the beautiful dancer is suddenly shot down as well as the criminal she is dancing with.  In the end, her end that is, I do not think that she was afraid of death.  Her only fear I believe was dying just like everyone else, and being forgotten because she was normal just like everyone else.  Not only did she make a difference in herself, but she made a difference in the world, just like she always wanted to. 

Cheerful Ghosts

“I am the ghost of Christmas Present,” said the spirit. “Look upon me!”

Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple deep-green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur.  This garment hung so loosely on the figure that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were also bare, and on its head it wore no other covering than a holy wreath, set here and there with long shining icicles. Its dark-brown curls were long and free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanor, and its joyful air.  Girded round its middle was an antique scabbard, bud no sward was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust.

“You have never seen the like of me before!” exclaimed the spirit.

“Never,”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Pg. 54

                                                                                                                        A Christmas Carol

                                                                                                                        Charles Dickins

The ghost of Christmas present was a sight to see for sure, as nothing so innocent had ever given a second thought to the likes of Scrooge.  This thing was perfect in every way, even in the clothes it wore there was perfection, nothing so beautiful as this creature, and although unknown to Scrooge, nothing so misleading either.

The description of the Ghost of Christmas Present is so full of symbolism that I might even call it overdone. The green robe symbolizes life, the new life that Scrooge will be granted after he repents.  The white fur is innocent and pure like a powdery new snow.  Unable to be disguised, the clothes have an elegance that was only completed with a wreath of holly around his jolly head.  This, the holly that there never seems to be enough of for the holidays, people end up mass producing it out of plastic.  Icicles hang off his head not in an ironic way, but in a romantic lovely way that makes onlookers blink at the phenomenon.  His face is peaceful; his chocolate curls hang unconstrained around his head.  He makes your pride melt away at the sight of him, but the heat radiating from him has to be very hot in order to melt the ice layered onto Scrooge’s soul.

I think that this ghost is used because he represents the joy of Christmas. This representation is different than the ghost of Christmas past because the other ghost is described as being an old man, but looking like a child, its features are old and worn down but it’s energy and light signifies youth.  I think that this ghost is described this way because depending on which eyes you see it through the past is completely different.  The ghost of Christmas Past is Old because the events that it will be retelling are long past, but it has a certain youth to it, because the true past never gets old, Scrooge can push his past out of his mind however much he wants, but it will still be there, each memory just as bright as they were the day they were made. 

The ghost of Christmas Present also differs from the Yet to Come Ghost, because that ghost is mysterious and unspeaking.  The future is also unknown just like the ghost, we all know that, but I also think that there was a specific reason behind why this ghost doesn’t talk. The ghost message needs to be interpreted individually by Scrooge.  If the ghost tells Scrooge why he should be afraid of the future, it wouldn’t nearly affect him as much as it would if he were to see and experience it himself. Many questions will drift through Scrooge’s mind, but they aren’t questions that he needs to ask, they are questions of doubt.  Scrooge cannot believe his eyes, and if the ghost were to snap its fingers and announce that none of it was actually real it wouldn’t influence Scrooge at all.  Fear and doubt are different, with doubt usually comes hope, but Scrooge has no hope so he cannot have doubt either.

                       

Christmas Present is a gift.  We can see and experience it, we can make the best of it and love with it and have joy with it. Christmas past is gone.  Christmas yet to come is unknown, you cannot love the unknown.  I believe that the symbolism in the ghost of Christmas present not only represents the joy the whole world is feeling, but it reflects on the joy Scrooge could have if her were to repent. 

“Yesterday is history.  Tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift, that is why it is called the present.”

-Alice Morse Earl

Slapping Santa

Every year for Christmas eve one lucky member of my family gets to dress up in the oversized Santa costume, beard, moustache, spectacles, and all.  I was that lucky member this year. 

After we got back from watching the Christmas pageant at my grandmas church I went into the master bedroom and dragged out the musty Santa costume hidden in the closet.  I swear that thing must have been like a triple XL and it seemed like mo matter how may oversized pillows I stuffed in the pants  they still kept falling down! Once I found out that I should probably just go get a belt to hold them up I was rolling.  Within 5 minutes I was unrecognizable under layers and layers of red and white.  I grabbed my bag of presents and headed out into the yard. 

My grandma has a pretty large yard, but the thing I think that makes her yard so big is that basically every room in her house has a door leading either to the front yard or the back.  That works really well so that if I walk out the master bedroom door and wander around some I can make my way over to the door leading into the living room, full of anxious kids waiting for the arrival of Santa.  Making my way over to the door I shake my jingle bells to signify my arrival.  The kids go crazy.  Running to the glass door they press their sweaty faces up against the glass door, leaving little nose marks on the layer of condensation from their breath.  They are so exited, they can't wait, they pull the door open, and I walk in. 

"Santa!" "Santa!" I hear shouted at me.  I keep calm and make sure a steady stream of HoHoHos flow from my mouth.  I trudge through the layer of children and plop myself onto the prepared chair in front of the couch.  Someone shouts out- "Where are the presents Santa?" I say- "HoHoHo I almost forgot!" but what I'm thinking is, come one, seriously, I just rode on a freaking sleigh over here from the North Pole and all you can do is ask for presents? Really? Wow. The saddest part was that he was probably like 35 years old.  Ha.  I'm being asked for presents by a 35 year old. 

I pull out my bag of little trinkets and toys wrapped in cheesy reindeer print and read the name of the first present.  "Steve," I say then my eyes scan the crowd searching for him as he makes his way to me. Steve is my uncle. He's the35 year old I was mentioning.  He plops himself on my lap with no thought to the fact that my leg might be breaking, and hugs me.  What can I do?  I smile under my layer of  fake beard and hug him back.  He walks off with his present and I call out he next name.

"Bill," he is my other uncle.  He walks up receives his present, gives me a hug and walks back to his spot. The name calling and present distribution continues uneventful  until I call out the name of my eleven year old brother, John. 

"Hi Sara," he mutters under his breath and I frown at him.  Party-pooper. I hand him his present and he agonizingly tries to escape having to hug me, but what can I say?  I would do the same thing.  Eventually he bends over and hugs me without much enthusiasm and then, making sure no one sees, slaps me across the face.  I really want to slap him back, but what will the little kids think of a Santa who slaps people?  Oh well I'll get him once I'm out of this sweaty costume. 

"Hey Santa? Do you want a cookie?"

"Sure I'd love a cookie! But don't even think about cheating me out here! I want the biggest one you got!"

Everyone laughs and someone runs off to grab a cookie.  They bring me a cookie and I graciously thank them.  Next thing you know Im on my way out the door when one of my younger cousins tugs on my shirt.  She asks-

"Hey Santa- can I see the reindeer?" Oh no now I am in trouble. 

"Well, HoHoHo little girl! You sure are curious aren't you! I'm  sorry but I parked them on the roof, and I doubt that you will be able to see them.  I would bring them down, but," I pointed at my imaginary watch, "I've got a tight schedule to keep!"  She smiles and I know I have somehow said the right thing. 

"HoHoHo! Merry Christmas everyone! See you next year!" I smiled, waved and left.