There’s No Crying in Baseball

Recently I was looking through my unpublished drafts and found this. While late, it’s still relevant. I like it and so I decided it was worth publishing…

Life, unlike baseball, includes crying. I don’t really know why I decided to title this blog post how I did; it just fit. A lot has changed since I’ve properly written a blog post–I feel as though the one on Stevens wasn’t quite like the ones that preceded it, so it doesn’t even count. I must now take down the “4 English AP” subtitle on my blog, because sadly that time in my life has past. I can sincerely say that nothing, nothing has caused me to change as much as a person, challenged me to think critically, question everything. While in doing so it may have thrown a wrench in my future plans, I have hope that its all for the best. That’s all you really can do: have hope.

I’ve read some Flannery recently. I love her. Today, I started a play gifted to me that’s one by Tennessee Williams, who is probably my favorite play-write (of course aside from the Bard himself). The play is called Orpheus Descending. As far of I’ve read, I like it, but I doubt there’s any play by Williams that I could dislike.

I have had the urge to write on a few occasions–now being one of them. I’m currently sitting in the reading room in the Cudahy Library. I have to say the library itself is absolute trash, but the reading room is pretty. It reminds me of a church with its geometric, stained-glass windows and soft lighting. Since the end of my senior year, I’ve written three pieces: two of which are about nights out and the other is about a boy. All are classic Honore. I can only write what I know.

Sitting in this place always seems to make me thing of religion. At the end of last year, I opened up a little more to the idea of faith–especially in reading and loving people like Rabindrinoth Tagore. If you know me, you know I was raised in a Catholic environment–that is I went to Catholic school for all of my “formative” years”. I hated it. It’s such a bubble. There’s just so much I could say about it but all the only relevant information you need to know is that my experience left me spiteful of all religion and with a sour taste in my mouth. Now just how I ended up at a Jesuit university perplexes me. However, I think it’s good for me. This past week at a social function I met one of our lovely Seminarians–that is someone who is studying to become a Priest–and since then I’ve been thinking about God more than I have since escaping Catholic School. I think my current thoughts on the situation are summed up pretty well by the sentiment expressed by Chance the Rapper in his song Acid Rain, “I’m still asking God to show his face”.

Now you’re probably wondering at this point ‘when is she going to start talking about books’. The answer is now. I touched on in an earlier blog post how poetry has started to grow on me. At this point, however, I can verily call it a passion of mine. My tastes have begun to shift a little lately though. In my Honors course, we have had to read a lot of ancient classics–from the Iliad to the Aeneid as well as Plato’s CritoApology, and Symposium and to top it off both Genesis and the Gospel of Mark. While I didn’t name all of the books we’ve read, those are the main ones. As ancient literature goes, I never could really dig it. Think about it. What are you even really reading–my professor loves to quip, “You can’t say you’ve read the Iliad until you’ve read it in ancient Greek”. I have to say he’s right.

All that said, I still think there’s value in ancient literature (my claim here is substantiated by the fact that next semester I’m taking a class by the same professor called “Romance Novel in the Ancient World”) if only for the fact that it adds value to the types of literature that I love, like poetry.  For instance one day in class we were talking about Helen of Troy and immediately I was reminded of Yeat’s Leda and the Swan, the last poem we did in my Senior year Engl-ish class. I knew that there was mythology at the base of the poem, thanks to the Norton Critical edition footnote, but I didn’t appreciate it. When I looked at the poem at the poem again it was as if it were through new eyes.

So while this post isn’t about one book or another; it’s not a review. I think it captures well how my eyes are being opened, gradually, by the arts to seem more of what’s out there.


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