Passage of Time

Special relativity asserts that time changes with respect to changes in perspective.  Although realistic physical movement generally operates at non-relativistic velocities, this discovery incites insightful discourse upon time.  As such, the theory elucidates a discernible truth regarding the psychological effects of time.  Being a mischievous jester playing professional pranks on my life, time and duration perception becomes a source of hopelessness.  Hopelessness causes lowered confidence.  Lowered confidence causes intimidation.  Intimidation causes fear.  Thus, I fear time.

Time is nature.  Nature is ironic.  Therefore, time is ironic.  When I am flooded with a desire for furtherance of knowledge, emulation of professionals, development of expertise, time will pass too quickly and I will naturally be imposed with time constraints.  These mark the times where I attempt to work to the utmost of my abilities.  Time prevents this.  When I am disinterested for furtherance of knowledge, emulation of professionals, development of expertise, time will pass too slowly and I will naturally be free from time restrictions.  These mark the times where I resort to idleness.  Yet, time provides the freedom to explore.

Thus, time infiltrates into every element of life, mocking me from all possible angles, withdrawing when sought, collecting when futile.  Time belittles my work habits, seeking to destruct, destroy and demoralize me.  I loathe time, but yet, I fear time, for time acts as an omnipotent dictator that so often interweaves and intervenes through my life, and the lives of many others.  Life is the totalitarian state over which time maintains absolute control with an iron hand.  However, in this case, time will never become democratic.

A fear of and slavery to the wrath of time is indeed an inhibitor to success.  However, in addition to analysis, this reflection has provided a novel solution to be rid of that terrible tyranny of time: Let not time control I, but rather, let I control time.

A Tale of Opposites

In A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens immediately establishes at the onset of the novel the recurring element of contrast through the imposition of a sharp contrast as the first section of text:

 It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only (Dickens 13).

Dicken’s use of this prolonged antithesis to the extent where a paradox begins to take shape highlights the notion of binary opposites so stylistically significant to this work.  The juxtaposition of opposing ideals uncovers the idea of opposition and the clash between ideologies that will resonate throughout the narrative, whether between specific characters or social attitudes.  The utilization of this contrast as the description of setting also introduces a chaotic structure into the arena within which the elements of the novel will unfold.  In his description, Dickens utilizes diametrically different means of referring to the exact same situation such that his proximate placement of opposing ideas demonstrates that characters can view the same events with complete differences in attitude and perspective.  Perspective shifts or multiplication result in dilemma and undesired choice, conflicts that will eventually pepper the narrative.  Lastly, the description resides in the “superlative degree of comparison only” and the realm of the extreme (Dickens 13).  This extremism thus acts as foreshadowing for the French Revolution and its radicalism, a central basis of the story.  Lastly, through the employment of anaphora and parallelism, Dickens draws heightened attention to this important excerpt of text.

When Mr. Lorry receives a message in the darkness of night, he responds with the message “recalled to life” (Dickens 19).  After this first appearance, this expression is later continually echoed throughout the narrative.  This very concise message again reinforces the element of contrast so elaborately developed at the onset of the novel.  The conciseness of the expression itself is a contrast against the highly ornamented character of the introduction.  “Recalled to life” symbolizes a movement about the boundary between the darkness of death and the vibrancy of life (Dickens 19).  The line, by being a beckon to motion, conveys an origin and a destination in a set of two images, one of lively vigour and the other of lifeless dilapidation, establishing a vivid light and dark imagery.  The use of the word “recall” also emphasizes the importance of memory, and its association to the sense of richness.  Memory enriches the psychological groundwork from which the emotions of love and hate grow.  This may foreshadow that the narrative will feature many interpersonal emotions that are activated purely by the motivation of memory.

As Mr. Lorry waits in Dover, he observes the sea changing to a very thunderous state of existance:

The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itself away from the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like a marine ostrich.  The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was destruction.  It thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and brought the coast down, madly (Dickens 27).

The sea imagery featured again establishes the element of contrast.  However, in this case, the contrast is ordered into a sequential progression of events.  Although not explicitly described, the image of the sea theoretically develops from a calm state to a very destructive state.  A jumbled orchestral disunity gradually overtakes the silence and tranquility of the initial state, in a rising crescendo that grows with strength and might.  This development is emblematic of the shift from innocence to violence and from a pacifist atmosphere to a warlike atmosphere.  In this sense, the imagery of the sea represents a volta based upon imagery, foreshadowing sinister developments to the plot.  This foreshadowing is twofold, having both a short term and long term effect.  At its point of presentation, the narrative of the story remains very simple and undeveloped.  As such, the presence of this imagery signals the immediate development of an ominous event, which translated as Lucie Manette’s sudden realization that her father remains alive.  However, a longer term variant of foreshadowing based upon the implied movement from innocence to violence and from quiet to loud suggests the broader themes of and the forebodingness of the approaching French Revolution.  The initially peaceful state is influenced by increasing stresses and tensions, leading to the eventual eruption of revolutionary violence.  This increase in tension is further reinforced by the order of titles to the different books, “Recalled to Life”, “The Golden Thread”, and “The Track of a Storm”.

Textisms

The introduction of texting language into formal environments, although not despicable, has a general negative impact upon the nature of language.  Acceptability of these forms of speech is dependent upon domain and area of deployment.  Limited usages intended for complimenting or abbreviation of regular language for functions of speed, as in note-taking or retention techniques is indeed beneficial.  However, infiltration of this means of expression into every aspect of communication is laughable.

Formal environments themselves subdivide into more specialized categories – those based on comprehension and those not based solely on comprehension, requiring additional interpretation.  Fields in the sciences use words purely for their denotative power of distributing and explaining information, in which a general understanding of concepts is the primary matter of importance.  Replacement of text with textisms in this case could be a distinct possibility.  However, in linguistic fields, where the keys are in the words themselves, comprehension alone is not sufficient.  Meanings and interpretations are in an interdependent relationship, meanings often being functions of the words themselves.  A close attention to the textual elements, and thus, an intrinsic sense of authenticity of the work is necessary for a successful interpretation process.  Since translations and variations themselves already offer reduced meaning or sense-impression in comparison to originals, textisms would render obsolete the entire purpose of literature.

Unless textisms are forcefully assimilated into formal language, I am of the opinion that this debate will ultimately be deprived of purpose, as textisms will simply be unable to penetrate the impermeable barrier of formal language.  Textisms, at its heart, is a form of slang, being extremely personalized, non-standardized and thus, hard to comprehend.  In addition, usage of this slang seems to be entirely derivative of a basis language, again challenging its ability to take on an alternative role.  What was at first the reason driving the creation of textisms will also be the source of its demise.  Even though textisms may speed up writing, they dramatically lower the rate of comprehension in interpersonal communication.  Since textisms are too personalized to the author, recognition becomes tedious to the point of sacrificing read efficiency.  Nevertheless, computer language can be a useful educational aid, provided usage in a complimentary and not replacement role.

Lucie Manette

In A Tale of Two Cities, Lucie Manette is a young, formerly orphaned girl of seventeen years who has realized that her father may continue to be alive.  She is considerably well-off, able to support herself as well as maintain a chaperone.  Lucie is first introduced in a conspicuous yet not assertive manner that primarily emphasizes appearance and speech.  This reflects the seemingly simple external character set she possesses – evidently noticeable yet quietly introverted.  In all respects, Lucie flashes the prototypical features of the conservative Victorian girl.  Lucie demonstrates graceful elegance, respectfulness in speech and a general air of moral strictness.  Already being “a short, slight, pretty figure” (Dickens 29), she “curtseys to [others]”, “remains standing”, and chooses her actions and speech carefully, always trying “to convey to [others] how much wiser [they] [were] than she” (Dickens 30).  Although these highly formal traits appear completely out of context in modern times, they were easily understandable in the Victorian period when this book was written.  As such, Lucie took on a “perfect girl” status to the contemporary readers of the novel, a figure that the audience could not only relate to, but would gush over.  However, behind this contemporary perfectionism, Lucie conveys a sense of hidden mystery.  She employs a “singular expression” that is “pretty and characteristic”, but which “deepens itself” at the presence of thought (Dickens 30).  Additionally, she appears very collected emotionally, rarely providing reactionary responses even in emotional turmoil, exemplified when she starts instead of responding to the notion of her father’s death.  Often distant and inert, an unattainability naturally winds itself through her character.  As a result, penetration into and clearly understanding her hidden character becomes an exercise of deciphering complex codes.  In addition, her association to memories and histories, as evident in Mr. Lorry’s description that “a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, of a child whom he had held in his arms on the passage across that very Channel, one cold time” on sight of her enriches the complexity within her character (Dickens 29).  Detailed analysis does not yield revealing insights, but instead, new intriguing questions.  Lucie, whose name is derived from the Roman term lucius, meaning light, has an elusiveness that is comparable to that of light.  While for the time being, Lucie’s external character appears simple and naive, her darker internal side boasts of the potential for her development into an extremely complex character both internally and externally.  There is a foreboding atmosphere that she will become the epicenter of a major development through the narrative that will permanently change her through time.