Friday, April 27, 2012

Mad...


    I must admit that I do not believe Hamlet's madness to be true. His manic disposition seems to be nothing more than a reaction to his father's undoubted murder. Hamlet is hurt and upset, and he processes these emotions in a way that comes across as madness to other characters. Thus far, he never seems to slip beneath the blue of the sea of manic depressive madness (which I feel he would undoubtedly experience in light of the circumstances of his father's death). He doesn't fall off the deep end and over the edge into a spiraling, all-consuming madness. Hamlet more or less, with great sorrow (I do not doubt the truth nor depth of his melancholy) mourns over the loss of his father. He does not rave like a the lunatic he is supposed to be.
     Hamlet is, to me, just a teenager filled with passion and rage with no outlet for it besides words. It's almost as though, as long as he keeps telling himself he'll avenge his father, it will be so and order will return to his world. He needs to continue to feed on that promise to himself and his father's ghost in order to not plunge into madness. He's quite sane actually in my opinion. Yes, revenge has consumed his thoughts but he still remains logical in how he goes about trying to extract this revenge. He does think before he acts. I believe that Polonius's murder was a mere accident as he thought Polonius to be Claudius. His apathy over it was more cold calculation. He never liked Polonius as he stole something precious from Hamlet: Ophelia. In Hamlet's mind, he rid the chess board in his head of one more loathsome piece.
     If that is the case, than Hamlet is still following close to his plot to out Claudius and extract vengeance for his father. That kind of cold calculation is more sociopathic as opposed to psychotic. He seems well aware of what he's doing, playing people like instruments and causing dissension through-out the palace. It's like it's a game to him. That's how I truly feel Hamlet is acting. He is quite the intelligent young man and I feel that he is going about his revenge like one would go about playing a game of chess or, more aptly, cat and mouse. He's getting a thrill out of playing at madness and causing Claudius grief while biding his time before he sends him to hell. Which, Hamlet's decision to make sure Claudius goes to purgatory I feel also supports the notion that Hamlet is only feigning madness and is quite in control of himself and his actions.
     Furthermore, when one compares Hamlet's "madness" to the massive break from reality that Ophelia has, I feel that there is no contest that Hamlet's madness is not quite true. Ophelia completely loses touch with reality after the forced purging of Hamlet from her life and the death of her father. She is bawling, melancholy mess. She falls apart. Hamlet never loses his wits about him and certainly does not fall to tiny, irreparable pieces as Ophelia does. He still shows poise and self-restraint where as Ophelia cannot seem to control her outbursts. She's broken. The loss of all the men in her life she loves and the soul-wrenching woe it breathes to life slashes her heart in two along with her mind and ends up literally drowning her in sorrow. She drowns in her own sorrow, a victim of her madness where as Hamlet appears to always be the master of his madness.
     Therefore, it is my conclusion that Hamlet's madness is merely feigned. He is not a victim of it. He has not succumbed to it as Ophelia has. He is in full reign of it, turning it on and off as he pleases in order to play the people around him as the pawns he sees them as in his head. He may be sociopathic, the way he disposes and treats people in his life, but I do feel he is quite aware of all he's doing. The death of Hamlet's father has not broken his mind, only his heart. He's acting out of passion. Well, I guess one would have to say he's speaking  out of passion as it seems he's never going to actually do anything about his grief.

***Just got back from seeing The Raven movie and it was quite worth the watch.***

Monday, April 2, 2012

Love?...


     "Doubt thou the stars are fire
Doubt that the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt I love..."

To my dearest Ophelia,

     I have never given credence to that old notion that "absence makes the heart grow fonder," but since your speedy departure from my life, I have reconsidered. I never thought I'd miss your bright blue eyes, nor your fiery hair, nor, in fact, that rosy blush that would set your ever-fair cheeks alight. I've never known it's absence it seems. It has become apparent as of late that I took your presence for granted.
     Oh my dear, I cannot even accurately articulate in words just how hollow my heart is and how opaque my life has become without you in it. Ophelia, you were, no, you are the light in my life. And, I need your phosphorescence in my life right now to guide me through these ever-darkening twists and turns my existence has taken over these past few months since my father's untimely demise and my aunt-mother's never-timely marriage to my uncle-father.
     Dearheart, that you have so seemingly so easily cut me out of your life brings a sickness to my heart that I must aptly call a poison for which there is no cure, for it is slowly sucking the life from me. This severing of contact between you and me is slicing into my soul, slowly severing it in half. Ophelia, my heart aches for you and is calling out for you. I cannot recall to you how many times I have woken from dreams filled with nothing but your creamy skin, dream-blue eyes, and pouty lips beyond extacy only to succumb to utter despair with your absence. It leaves my heart feeling shattered, smashed into innumerable tiny shards for which I've tried to pick up only to cut my hands on their sharp edges, leaving me a bloody mess and a heart still in shambles. I cannot repair this heart of mine...without your gentle touch.
     My dear, why have you forsaken me? My thoughts wander back to every cherished (at least they are in my mind) moment we've stolen, rolling over them time and time again, and I cannot for the life of me discover what might have wrested you so far away from me, from my arms which have only ever held you so tenderly. In fact, every moment we've stolen away from the chaotic precepts that our lives have been stitched from, floats around my mind constantly replaying, leaving me sometimes in a daze for days. I feel as though I've woken from a fog sometimes only to become alerted to the knowledge that I have been sitting at that window for hours, or staring at that same page of book for almost a day's time.
     Ophelia, my dear sweet dove, without you, my existence is lesser. I feel disconnected from the earth as though I am slowly floating off it toward the stars that remind me of your eyes. I have come to understand that I need your gentle touch to keep me tethered to the ground. I am slowly flying away without you in my life to hold me down and my heart is slowly bleeding away without you here to put just the right amount of pressure on it to hault the bleeding, so it may heal. That you deny me Ophelia has, for all intensive purposes, driven me closer to the edge of what? I do not know but I feel as though I am standing on the precipice of something, possibly a blade's edge, and I will fall over to one side very soon.
     I miss you Ophelia. Please, please, do not spur my advances. Please come and see me before it is too late and I forget entirely what your presence feels like. Please come to me before I float away from this realm entirely, before I float away from you entirely.


     Yours Truly,
Hamlet 

   Inspiration Song:
(This song actually has the quote from the very beginning in it!)
*Opheliac - By: Emilie Autumn*
(She is one of my favourite artists of all time and in fact writes many beautifully macabre pieces inspired my Ophelia and other tragedies.)