***Okay, so this is a World Lit II paper I wrote during my second year of college that I came across during the move.  That is all.***

Homer and Sophocles create complex plots and characters in two of their major works.  The story of The Iliad is involved and complex, as are the characters presented in the epic.  Antigone presents some of the same characters present in past works by Sophocles, and his plot presents difficult situations and actions.  Although the two works differ in time period and subject matter, there are many similarities between the two leaders of each work.  The Iliad’s Agamemnon and Antigone’s Creon are alike in their personalities as men and leaders.  The two monarchs are also viewed quite similarly by their people.

Homer’s Agamemnon is a rather complex individual.  Although he possesses a position of authority, there are many instances in The Iliad in which he displays a puerile disposition.  He is a selfish person who, like a child, refuses to give up what he feels belongs to him.  In Book I, he refuses to give up Chryseis, whom he has claimed as his prize.  By doing this he altogether ignores the reason of the girl’s father, his own men, and event the will of Apollo.  ”The girl – I won’t give up the girl…Now go, don’t tempt my wrath,” (I, 34-38). By his own selfishness and seemingly violent attacks on Chryseis he exhibits ate, or excessive behavior, a negative aspect of the code by which he should live.

Agamemnon is a proud man who will do anything to get his own way, rarely considering the consequences of his actions.  In the case of his refusal to give up Chryseis, the Greek army suffered tremendous losses at the hands of Apollo.

Creon shares many of the same selfish characteristics as Agamemnon.  He is a rash man who is quick to condemn those who happen to disagree with him.  This nature is clearly exhibited in Creon’s dealings with Haemon, his own son.  In episode three of Antigone, Haemon begins to voice his disapproval of his father’s jurisdiction.  Creon, angered at this point, is quick to insult his own blood rather than listen to reason.  ”You, you soul of corruption, rotten through – Woman’s accomplice!” (835-36) Creon’s insults and rash behavior are significant causes of his eventual downfall.

As leaders, Agamemnon and Creon are very similar.  Agamemnon is an irresolute but well-meaning king, and, beneath his pride, his interest lies in the well-being of his troops.  ”What I really want is to keep my people safe, not see them dying,” (I, 136-37).

It is clear that Agamemnon sees that he must do what is necessary in order to keep his army alive.  Well-meaning as he may be, however, Agamemnon cannot seem to overcome his own ego.  He feels as though his authority places him on the same level as the gods, and that no man equals his power.  His quarrel with Achilles, however, in Book I indicates that Agamemnon feels as though his leadership and power is threatened by Achilles.  ”He wants to rule over all, to lord it over all, give out orders to every man in sight,” (I, 337-38).

A paranoid Agamemnon tells Nestor that he fears this threat to his authority.  It is perhaps this deep-seeded insecurity that forces him to develop such an arrogant attitude in his reign as king.

Creon is just as well-meaning in his leadership.  In his first public address as king of Thebes, Creon states that “Our country is our safety,” (211). He declares his laws with his country’s best intentions in mind.

One is able to see a similar sense of insecurity in Creon as is present in Agamemnon, through Creon’s distinct hatred of women.  His misogynous attacks stem from a feeling that his authority is threatened by Antigone’s challenge to his laws.  His fears grow as Haemon doubts his father’s judgement.  Haemon informs the king that many of the people of Thebes feel that Antigone has done no wrong, and Creon feels even more threatened by this.  In discussing public opinion, Creon remarks, “and is Thebes about to tell me how to rule?” (821)  This also demonstrates Creon’s belief that his power places him among the gods.  He is convinced that whatever action he takes, the gods will support him, and not a traitor.

Unfortunately for the two leaders, their concerns for the well-being of the respective people are muddled by each man’s egotism.

In The Iliad, the Greek troops’ collective opinion of Agamemnon is displayed through individual reactions to the fight that occurred between the king and Achilles.  In Book XVIII, Odysseus clearly tells Agamemnon that he is the cause of the loss of Achilles.

Great marshal Atrides, lord of men Agamemnon -

if only you’d never begged for the dauntless son of Peleus

holding out to Achilles trove on trove of gifts!

He’s a proud man at the best of times, and now

you’ve only plunged him deeper in his pride. (XVIII, 850-54)

The Greek troops understand that it is because of Agamemnon and his pride that they have lost their best warrior, Achilles.  Eventually, Agamemnon sees the error of his ways, though not taking responsibility for his actions, and is bent on setting things right for the Greeks.  Fortunately for Agamemnon, this realization comes in time to correct his ways.

Creon is viewed by his people much in the same manner.  In Thebes, the public opinion is that Antigone committed no crime.  To the people, she did a noble act of familial loyalty to her dead brother. Creon appears as the criminal for condemning Antigone to death.

Creon experiences a similar realization as Agamemnon.  His change of heart, however, does not come in time to set things right.  He has already lost his wife and son, both committing suicide, and Antigone is already dead.  It is too late for Creon to correct his wrongdoings, although he has recognized them.

As men, leaders and public figures, Agamemnon and Creon are extremely similar and share the same nature and motivations.  Perhaps the only difference between the men is the tragic timing of Creon’s repentance, wherein he fully suffered the consequences of his actions.

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With increasing traffic to this site (thank you, thank you), I thought I’d take a moment to remind, or let you know for the first time, about my other gig as the Boston Comedy Scene Examiner.

Here you’ll find all of the latest news on all things comedy in Beantown, including shows, contests, professional opportunities and in-depth interviews with some of your favorite comics. You can also follow the Boston Comedy Scene Examiner on Twitter or on Facebook!

So stop by, take a look, and get to know the lighter side of Boston.

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So I decided to make some changes to my lifestyle this past weekend – changes which were much needed, long overdue, and made out of utter necessity.

And I frickin’ hate it.

But I’m supposed to hate it, and it’s supposed to drive me crazy, and someday, maybe, I’ll feel a whole lot better about it.  I can’t help but feel like a little kid again – back in the “Look what Angie did” role instead of the “Look what Angie’s doing” role.  Eventually, I’ll come out of this stronger, better, healthier; in the meantime, however, it’s just another quiet little solo-undertaking of mine that the rest of the world will find out about once I’ve managed to do it. If I manage to do it (oh, how I hope I do it).

I’ve started to look back on my life as a source of strength.  I think of all of the things I’ve gotten through alone – all of the things – and know, with a high degree of confidence, that I can tackle this.  But the nature of having to do it by myself can’t be ignored, and it keeps pulling me into this ancient mindset of fending for myself.

During my junior year of high school, I decided to take a photography class.  The class was normally reserved for seniors, and this particular class was over-filled with students.  Desperate to reduce the class size to a manageable one, the teacher looked at me and asked if I’d opt to take the class the following year. I refused to budge.

That class morphed later into an independent study and enrollment in ‘Art IV’ (an elite and highly-respected class which was near impossible to get into, but our principle was at a loss as to where to put me and my ‘independent study’), and my teacher quickly lost the ability to spend a great deal of one-on-one time with me.  After absconding to the darkroom with most of his photography textbooks, I ended up teaching myself a slew of darkroom techniques that evoked intense shock and surprise from my teacher, who hadn’t a minute to spare for me.

“Hey Angela,” he said one day, holding one of my solarized prints in his hand, “how’d you learn to do this?”

That question would come to almost define my lifestyle.  Placid little achievements, most when no one else was looking – surprises along the way at what I’m actually capable of.  This is one of the benefits of being an underdog – there are no expectations for your success in life.  No matter what I do or do not achieve, there will be no looking back with, “we always knew she’d make it” or “she had so much promise”.  That being said, there’s no self-pity in that statement. There may have been a time when I longed for encouragement (especially from family), but being the shining example of Darwinism that I am, I’ve learned to count on my own encouragement.

So while I may seem rife with defeatism or highly self-absorbed and whining, it’s actually quite a remarkable feeling to realize that, despite your best efforts, upbringing, and penchant for giving up, there really is this sort of emotional ‘survival of the fittest’ that takes place while you’re busy looking at what others have.

And even if there’s no one around me (literally speaking, of course), cheering me on, I can never forget that I have it within me to look around, if only at myself, and say with confidence, “I got this.”

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I can’t keep myself from wondering just how normally his life is proceeding without me in it; from wondering why it is that he gets to keep what’s important to him, like nothing ever even happened.  He gets to keep love, while mine (or rather, what I foolishly believed to be love) was callously tossed aside and flat-out denied.

I can’t keep myself from wondering why I am the one who cannot move forward, or why I am the one whose world has suddenly collapsed in around her. I didn’t ask for this. I bought into it, yes, but I did not openly invite this in.  The details change – faces, names – but never intentions, or the storyline.   Love is pain, love is useless – a mind game of power and control, and nothing more.

I no longer wish to play.

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It’s Christmas time again, and what better way to celebrate than with David Steiman’s spirited tale of the real story of good ol’ Santa Claus?  This week, good little boys and girls, in honor of the overflow of holiday spirit which is running amok within me, I bring you a special, mid-week Holiday version of Sunday Morning Sketch Cinema, featuring the 2005 instant holiday classic, Santa’s Slay.

A charming spin on the classic tale of old Saint Nick, David Steiman’s holiday horror fest spins a yarn of how Santa Claus came to be.  Far from the cheery, rosy-cheeked, happy old man we’ve all been raised to know, this film instead tells us of a thousand-year old bet between one of God’s angels and Satan’s son (played impeccably by Bill Goldberg), Santa.  Having lost the bet, Santa has spent the last 1,000 years being kind and generous to children everywhere, bringing yuletide gifts year after year.

Oh, did I mention Satan’s loss was endured during a curling match? Yep. Curling. Enjoy the ‘Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer’-esque clay-mation telling of such match.

Unfortunately for the township of Hell, the clock has run out on Santa’s thousand-year punishment, and he has certainly been keeping track of time.  He’s returned with a vengeance, ready to reap massive amounts of holiday horrors upon the masses.

Even more unfortunate for Nicholas Yuleson, he not only has to battle tasteless gifts from his family and girlfriend, but he also happens to discover (in the nick of time) that his own grandfather (portrayed perfectly by Robert Culp) is none other than the wager-making angel himself, responsible for dooming Santa to his millennium of magnanimity.

If you watch this movie for nothing else, the opening scene is more than enough of a holiday gift to keep you sufficiently enthralled with the rest of the film.  With cameos by James Caan,Fran Drescher, Chris Kattan, and Rebecca Gayheart (none of whom are spared – not even the family dog), Santa’s Slay is sure to quickly become a Christmas tradition.

Dubbed a ‘black comedy’, this movie is rife with holiday-themed slayings, tasteless word play, and the type of cinematic cheese you’ve come to expect from Sunday Morning Sketch Cinema.  Rather than tease you with plot details, I will simply leave you with Santa’s ‘naughty’ list – the official Santa’s Slay body count:

1-6: The Mason Family and their Dog, subjected to numerous fatal injuries.
7: Mrs. Talbot – Elderly Woman, run off the road by Santa.
8: Street Punk, beaten and stabbed with a candy-cane after attempting to rob Santa.
9: Strip Club Valet, eaten by Santa’s “hell-deer”.
10: Strip Club Bouncer #1, beaten, strangled, and gift-wrapped by Santa.
11: Strip Club Bouncer #2, thrown by Santa onto the bartender’s knife.
12-13: Bartender and attendee, crushed under a table by Santa.
14: Truck Driver, electrocuted by a stripper pole Santa kicks into a lamp.
15-20: The Strippers, trapped in a blaze from burning coal.
21-22: Two Children, blown up by explosive presents.
23: Mr. Green, beaten and impaled upon his menorah.
24-28: Chief Caulk and the Officers, tazered, stabbed, impaled, and generally killed by Santa.
29-33: Christmas Carolers, dispatched by a number of various wrestling moves.
34: Grandpa Yuleson, run down by Santa’s “hell-deer”.
35: Pastor Timmons, impaled after being blown out of Santa’s sleigh.

And now, my well-behaved kiddies, for this week’s SMSC quote of the week:

“Don’t use any of that political language shit with me; it’s Christmas! Wish me a merry Christmas!”

“I’m sorry, Merry Christmas Mrs. Talbot!”

“Thank you, and go fuck yourself.”

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I had this dream last night.  Multi-faceted, complicated, painfully realistic – and ultimately quite depressing.  Taking the three main images in my dream – being hit by a man I’m enamored with, being forced to work through my vacation, and having my personal possessions stolen by a 21-year-old douchebag – I can clearly see the theme of heartbreaking disappointment which ran through each dream sequence.

In relaying the story of dream image numero uno to a co-worker, she offered this insight:

“He is hitting you psychologically, and you can’t escape it.  If he literally hit you, you’d be done with him.”

And I can’t escape it. I can’t escape him – even though it means sacrificing everything I have ever stood for in love and romance and making an utter fool out of myself for all to witness.  I never wait for a man, yet, here I am pining away for over two months with no progress, despite how he claims to be ‘trying’.  Here I am allowing my nights to end at 7 pm or earlier when he has to rush home to his real love.  Here I am, with my heart in shackles, not allowing myself to look elsewhere for something that could actually be mine.

Is it easier this way? Is there a part of me that feels that this is enough for now?  Or could it be that small child inside me who has been brought up to never hope or dream of being worthy of the things which are granted to others?  I am easily slipping into that ‘not-good-enough’ mentality that had been ingrained in my being from my earliest days, when I was taught to accept that those around me would be entitled to the praise, support and love that I, myself, would not be privy to.

Working through vacation.  Once again, the details of that particular dream image were pretty cut and dry – I was asked to work through my two week vacation so that my coworker could take vacation, though she had no vacation time left to use. Again, going back to not feeling good enough.

I can’t help but recall a third-grade experience which has always stood out in my mind as a perfect example of my role in the world:

In my elementary school, we had bus patrols and hall monitors.  Students would be selected on a monthly basis and would get to sport a sweet, orange, official-looking crossing guard belt – and should they happen to be picked for bus patrol, the belt even came with a nifty little badge.  Every kid dreamed of getting his or her chance to do this.

Then came the day I had waited for all year long.  My teacher read my name off of a list, and instructed me to head down to where they were distributing new belts and collecting old ones.  When I returned, triumphantly, with my bus patrol badge and belt, my teacher ensured my joy was short-lived.

“Oh no, dear – I sent you down there because I thought you had already been a bus patrol.  You weren’t supposed to be getting a badge or belt!”

She then made me go back and return my items.  I never got the chance to be a bus patrol or a hall monitor (although every child in class was to get their turn).

As for the third dream symbol, I simply believe that the frustration and anger which had built up  within me throughout the dream needed to be unleashed.  So, upon the discovery of said 21-year-old douchebag stealing my possessions, I made it perfectly clear that beating her ass would be the perfect way to end my day on a much better note.  I’m fairly certain I even quoted George Costanza.

“…and if you think I’m kidding, just try me. Try me. Because I would love it!”

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I’m on my last full day sans-internet at my brand new apartment, and Comcast can’t come soon enough.  No cable, no internet, hell – not even the ability to watch regular old television due to inactive jacks and that stupid DTV transition.

The good news from this is an over-abundance of material with which to pen my next Sunday Morning Sketch Cinema, as I’ve been forced to take in movie after movie to pass my quiet nights in the new place.  So, there’s that.  The Dead Pit, Pot Zombies, Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead – you don’t want to miss any of these gems.  So stay tuned, as this week I promise to deliver SMSC on Sunday morning. What a concept!!

My new role as Boston Comedy Scene Examiner is keeping me sufficiently distracted, though somewhat at the expense of this site.  Impending vacation means finding that delicate balance.

So that’s it for now.  I’m counting down the hours until I’m let out of my work-cage and welcomed into my first-ever TWO WEEK vacation.  I might start to appear mildly retarded as I gravitate towards not using my brain at all.  But, I leave you with a jealousy-worthy picture of my new, massive living room, and my tiny-looking dog.

Oh, and happy holidays and all that jazz too. Smooches!

Oh, and since the title of this post might pop something into your head, I figure I’d help damn you today by just putting it in there myself.

The Muppet Movie Movin Right Along

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Another weekend has rolled past in a haze of to-do listing.  My impending move dictated much of the weekend’s activities as I tried to neatly pack tiny bits of my life into poorly-assembled corrugated boxes.

I’m excited to be relocating, even if it’s only ten minutes away from my current residence.  The rose-colored glasses with which I viewed the Hills have long since been smashed in, probably by the same drunkards who felt the need to kick in the drywall in the building lobby. Onward and upward, my friends.

Saturday was something special, though I won’t go into details.  Following a bubble-gum flavored vodka spree Friday evening which ended far too early, it was just the day I needed to set heart and home upon a better, less frustrating path.

Dolphins and Marlins are not land animals.

Things, they are a’happening.  Made amends today, made new friends yesterday, and can barely sit still with all that’s going to be coming my way this month.  We’re about 85% done with a preliminary plan for the Greater Boston Comedy Relay, and my pal and yours James Yantis is hard at work planning the same magic for Los Angeles.  But, as Yantis pointed out, Boston’s going to have to top “firetrucks, booze and hookers” if we want to beat LA.  How will we beat firetrucks??

And a little shameless self-promotion before I go.

You can now follow me – aka the Boston Comedy Scene Examiner – on Twitter (@BosComExaminer) and on Facebook! Huzzah!

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Check out Jimmy Dunn this Saturday at Mottley’s Comedy Club!

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Comedian Kevin Knox

On Sunday, November 29, Boston will celebrate the life of local comedy legend Kevin Knox in a special memorial at the Collins Center for the Performing Arts in Andover. Knox passed away earlier this month at…

Click to read full article…

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