***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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Angela Let’s write a status-update-zombie-story today. Cryogenically frozen man wakes up to find the entire state of Tennessee is now zombies. Begin.

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As it turns out, life isn’t necessarily like a box of chocolates – well, at least not for me. It’s becoming more and more like a cup of coffee, which, aside from being ridiculously suitable for me, is a realization that makes me happy in countless ways. Why, you ask?

I once wrote a piece (a random, rant-filled chapter) that was an homage to coffee – more specifically, the power one single cup of coffee could have over one’s day.  At the time the piece was crafted, I was (as many who know me can attest to) highly addicted to the Dunkin Donuts drive through.  Highly.

I never missed a morning at the drive through – never; at times even being sure to alter my wake-up time to accommodate an especially heavy line of would-be coffee-buyers.  Little piles of exact change were segregated in my car, just to be certain that I’d have adequate caffeine fundage.

I was hooked. And more importantly (and far less obvious to me), I was at their mercy.

That one cup of coffee – the first full one of the day, hastily prepared just for me – possessed the power to make or break my day; all within the first ten minutes of my morning commute.  Should Lady Luck decide to place the fate of my day within the hands of a sleep-deprived, underachieving barrista who finds it far too taxing to remember ‘with sugar’, whatever positive-karmic-building I might have amassed overnight is instantly abandoned, replaced with pessimism and a general piss-poor attitude towards life.

I’ve come to realize, though, as my salad days become a distant memory, that my obsession with coffee was more than simple required-stimulant-scapegoating.    It came to represent a shift in my attitude towards life in general – slowly realizing that, rather than allow myself to become powerless to the whims of others (i.e., those that serve my sweet, sweet caffeinated life force), I could simply…take control.

Kind of a no-brainer, I know. But it wasn’t until I moved to an area that successfully cut out any option of stopping for coffee on my morning commute that I became empowered. I took my coffee into my own hands, for once, and as a result, grew far more comfortable with the concept that I could actually control things.  Why was I letting someone else have any impact at all over the course of my day?

So these days, if the overly-bitter taste of not enough sugar sets me off in a foul-mouthed and generally douche-like direction, there is no scapegoating.  There is no blame game.  It’s all up to me, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself if it’s not up to par.

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Time for a change.

I’m kind of digging the new, fresh theme on the ol’ website.  Far less crowded and A.D.D.-inspired, wouldn’t you agree?

Quick Friday thoughts and things to look forward to:

• The new project, “Mother, Mother” is officially underway!  I can’t believe I’ve waited this long to undertake the creation horror story, but I have, finally…and, well…it’s good. Lots of udpates to come on that, I’m sure.
• Two weeks until Dear Leader!!! A new album, a ‘Dise show coming up…ahhh, happiness.
• K’s Choice is busy working on their oh-so-long-awaited new CD. Sigh.
• 2010: The Year of the Great Horror Rewind.  Just to name a few of the classic horror gems that will be revamped for today’s audiences….A Nightmare on Elm Street, Child’s Play, and (drumroll please)….Night of the Demon. I’m almost speechless on that one.

Well, that’s all I got for right now.  I’m anxious to hear what y’all think of the new site design….

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I’ve taken my first sip of a vanilla-caramel-brownie coffee just now, and I might just be in heaven.  My eyes, bloodshot and puffy, still sting from last night’s over-caffeination and late-Tuesday-night escapades downtown, both of which have left me quite sleep-deprived this morning.

I’m still not quite sure how I managed it, but somewhere along the way from Framingham to downtown Boston last night, I ended up in Dorchester, and then in Hyde Park.  Having driven the streets of downtown Boston countless times, I could only surmise that Google Maps was secretly plotting against me and leading me into total and utter chaos.

I made it, eventually, after an hour and a half of furious U-turns and cut-offs (and the occasional horn-beep), and had a blast failing my teammates at trivia.  Sure, it was my first time out for it, but I couldn’t help but want to kick my own ignorant ass.  Frickin’ Miami Vice.  Dammit!!!

In my glorified power-nap of early morning slumber, I had a dream in which I sat with the mother of Jane Goody, former UK reality television star who lost her battle with cervical cancer earlier this year.  I was puzzled over the dream upon waking, and reached over to my phone to find that Sen. Ted Kennedy had passed in the night, succumbing to his brain cancer.

That’s some heavy shit at 6:30 in the morning.

There was the expected media blitz on the morning news relating to Mr. Kennedy’s death, and I stopped for a moment to take in how fortunate I felt to live in this state and feel so close to ‘the people’s senator’.  While the rest of the nation will certainly mourn the younger brother of JFK, to us here in the bay state he will always remain a delicate mixture of the everyday man who happens to be larger than life.

I’m tired.  I’m really tired.  But my mind isn’t, so here’s to hoping I can maximize on that today.  I wonder if CNBR has listened to the mix yet.  I wonder if, when I get home later, my computer won’t still be crashing at every turn like liquored-up pensioner on holiday.

Testicles.  That is all.

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So I found, at my local Market Basket, the most wonderful and inventive creation ever to grace the laundry aisle, and I am never looking back.

Instead of lugging a heavy jug of detergent, as well as a jug of softener (‘cause let’s face it, those dryer sheets are useless), I am now hooked on these little ‘all-in-one’ sheets by Purex.  These little things have a load of detergent, fabric softener, and anti-static stuff all in one little pad.  Holy shit.  I never thought one little advancement in the home laundry front could evoke such happiness from my little, wash-weary soul.

Perhaps this is a sign that I do, in fact, need to shake things up.  I get excited over new household products.  Has it really come to that?

I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of this decision I am faced with making.  Huge con, of course, obviously being my job, since a) not only do I have one, but b) it’s a pretty sweet gig.  Overshadowing (or trying to) the list of pros, the fear of making a really stupid decision on the job-front stands tall, trying to block out the sun.

Sigh. I am truly my father’s daughter.  My mother used to comment that my father always feared change, whether it had the potential for tremendous good or not.  He hesitated to take promotions, given the risk involved and his existing state of making ends meet comfortably for his family.  She would remark on the many missed opportunities in his life due to this mentality.

He, of course, did end up having it turn around and sucker-punch him in the face (not once, but twice in the aftermath, even!).  I know I can’t compare the two situations, but it wouldn’t be like me not to at least try to.

There are quite a lot of pros, and those pros are, as my new favorite tune states, ‘appallingly seductive in this modern age’.  My closest friends are not so, in terms of physical proximity.  My family is scattered geographically, yet inter-connected by technology.  ‘Home’ has come to mean ‘Jessie’, honestly, and she’d be right there with me.

I’ve made stupid, impetuous decisions in my life.  Lots.  I’ve also made, albeit sometimes begrudgingly, remarkably smart decisions (*cough*…Shreveport…..).  Must continue to mull this over, and, in the meantime, take in as much of this area as I possibly can…you know, to help make the case and all….yeah…that’s it…

Heading into town tonight (given I do not fall victim to the inattentive failure of plans) to see a comedy show.  It’s the first real thing I’ve done since being back, and I want to see if I get that same feeling I got going out in SoCal.  I’m not sure I can, but I must try…

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I had the pleasure of enjoying a rather warm phone conversation with a very dear friend last evening, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.  A connection, a touchstone…it’s strange to me who, as I grow older, manages to give me the sensation of home. 

I didn’t have to explain the feeling of losing a tiny piece of myself when a relationship, platonic or otherwise, takes a sour turn or falls through my unwitting hands altogether.  The misconceptions, misunderstandings, mistreatments I amass are not new or foreign to him, as these are expected trials minds like ours face.  We invest too much; we remain hopeful.  We extend an empathetic hand though we know it is more likely to be cut off than embraced.  We feel too much to fully be swayed from our desires. 

The twenty-first century family unit of like minds has grown, to me, to possess an almost greater value than the assumed bonds of lineage and birthright.  They are the mentors, the commiserators, the teachers, the protectors; ready to rise up to the fight not because of obligation or reputation but because the fight is all too familiar, only now, we find our strength in numbers.

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There’s something unsettling in the air these days – nothing tremendously worrisome, but there’s definitely been a distinct underlying tone of slight to moderate vexation.  I have stalled.  The neat, cocoon-like little corner I work myself into each day has grown completely vulnerable to outside forces beyond my control, and, as a natural result, my creative thought processes have fled to the safety of the mountains where they will regroup, unaffected by puerile intrusion and fascination.  Frustration leads to intolerance, lack of motivation to scorn as I’m quick to place blame for this newfound sense of mediocrity.  Very much tempted to put my blinders back on so I can proceed, but know all too well what would ultimately be cut from my peripheral vision.   Tempted to kick things up as much as possible….just to see where the dust would settle.  I’m on my mark. I’m ready, I’m set.  I just want to go.

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There was the one I always wanted but always knew I’d never have (there was a safety in that), and the other with the see-through skin whose guard kept me sheltered.  That one was decent enough, though more so because I couldn’t see beyond him to the horizon line.  Psychoromantic experimentation at the hands of the dark horse who was always running, but never moving forward or away or even paying attention to the things he crashed into.  The first one (remember the first one?) was more of a challenge-turned-brilliant-stroke-of-fortune, perhaps the first lesson of learning what I was capable of.  The distant one stayed distant while the one nearby hovered and somewhere in within there I had gotten myself lost.  The Napoleonic one, all those years ago, who raged and raged…fire, water…burn.  What is left to learn?

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Each step I take brings summer that much closer into the line of vision, as mad ambitious thoughts and fluttering fascination keeps my once-listless mind sufficiently occupied. Jared Marsh through the speakers assures me in Sunday, sun-drenched serenity that only now, we know we have just arrived. Derailment of train of thought, post-paternal pop-in, and I try to focus on the pressing matters of the day, centering around the translation of quixotic daydreams into articulate prose. I hope to muster up something much more concise than these breathless moments of wondrous amazement, which seem to sweep me off my solid ground like tiny, heat-charged lovesick tornadoes (though the exhilarating distantly-familiar burn in my core is far too delicious to ignore). Needs, wants and must-haves have finally matured into definitive, distinguishable entities that sit in small blue containers by the door, next to discarded modern-day security blankets that once could not be lived without. I try to imagine what he is doing, painting cartoon-like happy imagery of simple childhood pleasures, born from a true and karmic appreciation for the purest form of love. Blue moon, red room, not certain what the day will bring. There is the sun, tugging me by the hand, excitedly wanting to show me what it has accomplished recently. I gather my new tokens and follow its lead. Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.

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