Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Cover Letter


I didn’t understand “myth.”  I knew it, of course, but, then again, my grasp faltered and all that myth is dissolved away.  Like a specter, I could sense it’s presence but not its intentions.  Therefore my Myth Journal began a little fuzzy, a little abstract.  My first couple entries reflect on introversion, marinating on my story, my “mythic figure,” and myself.
The Jeweled.  She followed me through my dreams and I gave her a story to live in.  As subtle as a river in the Sahara, she wandered through replays of other tales.  She broke Harry's glasses, rode Sapphira (much to Eragon's displeasure), backhanded several irritating characters in the face, and slaughtered any idiot who dared to hurt the good ones. With each story she visited, she acquired a new ability until, finally, she was complete.  (See MJ#1).
After the first few weeks of class, I gained a better understanding of myth and how to analyze it.  In this blog alone, I have analyzed Legend of the Seeker, Oedipus, Mwindo, and The Little Mermaid through the eyes of influential people such as Carl Jung, Otto Rank, Vladimir Propp, and Joseph Campbell.  I think the most enlightening of these musings was that of The Little Mermaid.  My favourite movie as a child, The Little Mermaid explores many aspects of what it means to be human.  Jung’s analysis reveals the complex interaction of the characters, most especially with Scuttles acting as the dreamer.  I never realized what an important role he plays in the film. (See MJ#7).   Two months later I looked at the same tale through a Proppian lens.  The Little Mermaid, shares many traits with Propp’s categorization of a classic folk or fairytale.  The story fits almost flawlessly into the Proppian structure. (See MJ#16).
After I mastered forms of analyzing myths, I delved into the actual mythmaking process itself.  I tried my hand at a Halloween myth: one of ghosts and hope and the unknown.
The wind brushed its soft fingers through her dress, teasing her ankles to move. With an inward smile she obliged, turning her toes toward the next house. The pale fire in her eyes glanced upward, flirting with the moon. The countdown had begun. (See MJ#11).
In the “myth” I played with frequent concepts surrounding Halloween.  The moon, calling at a strangers door, ghosts, and a quiet mystery.  From here I journeyed farther into the dark with an apocalypse myth.
Adrian stared up at the sky in amazement.  It was as if the eyes of heaven were turning away in shame, closing forever on the sin of humanity.  His wife, close and familiar, huddled under the jacket they shared.
“Is that…?”
“The stars.  The stars are going out.”

As the spirits of the great universe abandoned their children in the pursuit of darkness, the Sun wondered at its path.  The Earth cried out and decreed Importance and tossed little trinkets of invention as offering into its depths, but the Sun couldn’t resist heavy eyelids.  When the Sun closed its eyes, so did the Earth.  And tears fell like rain.  (See MJ#12).
I surprised myself with this very existentialist view, but I was rather pleased with the result.  Now that I had my fun and played with the construction of my own myths, I could properly examine myths in the world around me.  I see implications of myth everywhere that I go.  Captain Jack Sparrow is a liminal figure (as is Captain Jack Harkness), something I would never have considered had I not taken Mythology.  Liminality, actually, has become quite a point of interest to me, the Doctor not being the least of which.  Explored in this blog is the liminality of Lelouch vi Britania of the fantastic anime series Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion.
Lelouch vi Britania is neither good nor bad and it took our discussion in class today to comprehend that he plays the trickster.  He hides behind a mask of Zero and orders his followers to do his bidding.  Although he calls them his pawns and only leads them to gain the throne, his instruction guides the oppressed 'elevens' (the lost Japan) out of the hands of the oppressors (the Britanians).  Classic trickster: he helps others by achieving only his personal agenda.
Starting with Loki, the liminal trickster figure in Norse mythology, many other liminal figures came to my attention.  Not as many as the amount of other Norse “myth sightings” I encountered while reading the Prose Edda.  For a full list of Norse myth sightings see the entry entitled “Norse Myth Sightings.”
Finally, after a full semester of studying mythology, the cycle is complete.  I began by relating myth to myself except now I have the background to truly understand the impact mythology has on the world.  The Liminal vs. the Liminoidal (See MJ#13), the Apollonian vs. the Dionysian (See MJ#14), and Racism as an old myth with a new chapter (See MJ#15) all explore the ways myth and its concepts have affected my life.
As a whole, I thoroughly enjoyed this class and keeping up on this blog.  I’d definitely consider my interest in this blog to be of “A” efforts.  (According to my roommate, my enthusiasm was paramount).  I have a feeling that this won’t be my last entry.  Even if the class ends, myth will live on!

Sunday, December 4, 2011

MJ#16: Proppian Analysis of The Little Mermaid

A little while back I performed a Jungian analysis on The Little Mermaid.  As a follow up I have now analyzed the story of Ariel as dictated by Vladimir Propp.  I'm surprised at how well the story melds with his structure.


α - alpha - We see Ariel as an adventurous girl who has trouble with keeping up with her responsibilities.
β - beta - Ariel goes off exploring with Flounder in a the remnants of a ship.
γ - gamma - Ariel is forbidden to associate with humans or go to the surface.
δ - delta - Ariel goes to the surface and sees Eric for the first time.  She ends up saving his life.
ε - epsilon - Flotsam and Jetsam discover Ariel's attraction to a human.
ζ - zeta - Flotsam and Jetsam report back to Ursula.
η - eta - Ursula lures Ariel into her lair so that she can initiate her plan to steal her brother's throne.
θ - theta - Ariel falls for Ursula's ploy.  Ursula steals her voice.

A 11 - Ursula casts a spell on Ariel...
B - ...forcing her to leave.  (Humans cannot breathe underwater). - Victimized hero.
↑ - Ariel swims to the surface with the help of Flounder and Sebastian.
D - Eric asks Ariel if she is "the girl."  He recognizes her from when she sang and saved his life.
E - Ariel cannot speak.
F - Eric is disappointed but offers her a place to stay in the palace as well as clothing and food.
G - Ariel travels to the castle of the man she's been searching for.
H - Ariel struggles against Ursula's curse and the time limit restricting her.
J - Eric names Ariel on a romantic evening out.
I - Eric falls in love with Ariel.
K - Ariel is happy to be with Eric and everything seems right in the world.
o - Eric still does not recognize Ariel as the girl that saved him.
L - Ursula comes ashore and claims to be Eric's saviour with Ariel's stolen voice.
M - Ariel must win back her love by revealing Ursula and swimming to the ship where Eric and Ursula's wedding is to take place.
N - With the help of Scuttles, Flounder, and Sebastian, Ariel manages to reveal the witch.
Q - Eric recognizes Ariel as his true saviour.
Ex - Ursula is seen in her true form (Evil Octopus Woman!)
T - Ursula transforms Ariel back into a mermaid.
Pr - Ursula pursues Ariel, using the furies of the ocean against her.
Rs - Eric saves Ariel by spearing Ursula through with a wrecked ship.
U - Ursula is turned into a ghoul or a "poor unfortunate soul."
W - Ariel marries Eric and ascends the throne.  They live "happily ever after."

MJ#15: Racism: An Old Myth with a New Chapter


Trudy Clarke arrived at the airport at 2:00.  She plucked her “Viva Glam” lip gloss from her bag, flicking the familiar substance across her plump lips without thinking.  Suitcase trailing behind, Trudy entered the chaos of depositing her baggage, collecting her tickets, and (god forbid!) security.  She managed to make it through the bustling line in record time without having her bare feet on the airport floor for more than she needed to.  Trudy couldn’t stand the grit of the place.
Checking her Christion Dior, she realized she still had an hour before her plane departed.  Trudy flitted through some of the stores close to her Gate before settling down in a little café.  Ten minutes later, she was tucking into half a turkey and swiss sandwich and a small iced latte. Feeling refreshed she strolled back over to the seating under a large “D-12.”  Only a few minutes passed before a strong female announced that the plane was ready for boarding.
Trudy gathered her oversized purse and miniaturized suitcase and passed off her ticket to a short blonde woman.  She hurried through the recently airborne hallway connecting the plane to the terminal.  She was looking forward to getting a little sleep before reaching New York.  So absorbed was she in these musings, Trudy was not prepared for the sight around the final corner.
“Good afternoon, Madame.”
Oh God. Trudy thought.
Terrified, it was all she could do to ease past the smiling pilot and enter the death trap.  She wanted to leave, to flee, but then he would be on to her and… She couldn’t even consider it.
“Are you alright, Miss?”
“Fine. I’m fine,” she tried to hide her trembling fingers and dodged the concerned stewardess.
She sat down in her designated seat and held her breath.

Three hours later, Trudy Clarke burst out of the plane at a sprint walk.  The Arab pilot stared after her in bafflement.


Ever since September 11th, 2001, events like this are not uncommon.  I’ve witnessed it myself.  What began as an unlikely event now constitutes a thriving epidemic that some constitute as indisputable fact.  What better way to define myth and what better way to define tragedy?

Monday, November 14, 2011

MJ#14: Apollo vs Dionysus


When I was five years old I had a “thing” for orcas.  I had stuffed animals, figurines, and even a couple books.  When people would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would promptly announce, “A marine biologist.”  At age 5. Yeah, I was a weird kid.

Well, I stubbornly clung on to that idea until sophomore year when I got into my first biology class and realized I didn’t speak that language.  I wandered about for a while in a confused daze.  What would I do with my life?  What would I become?  It was every adult’s first question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”  I could no longer answer the fundamental conversation starter and it bothered me deeply.

Of course, that’s when I started a creative writing club with my friend Robyn. I had always been good at English and I’d been working on a ‘novel’ since fourth grade. Naturally, I had to keep updating it due to my rapid change in writing style so it hadn’t gotten very far yet, but I still I had a passion.  I would be a novelist.  

Writing is the ultimate Dionysian practice, full of feeling, wild unabated passion, in the hope of intoxicating another with words if only for a moment.  More than anything I loved being word drunk and I wanted to give that to someone else.

As a senior I found another passion, enough to match the ecstasy of pouring one’s soul onto the page.  Its name was Calculus. I was blown away by the simple complexity of numbers and variables sprawled out in such a movable order.  It was so much like writing in the way you could describe a way of life through a few, well thought out sentences.  How clever! I thought, How incredibly clever.

Calculus, as well as my CAD and AutoTech classes, convinced me to change my mind once again.  I would be an engineer, a mechanical engineer.  Apollo smiled on me that day.  Mechanical engineering was the logical, rational decision.  I was almost assured financial stability, and the market for engineers was good.  How very sensible.

So why does my heart yearn for Dionysus?

MJ#13: Liminal vs Liminoidal


There have been three major turning points in my rather brief time on this planet.  All three have shaped me as a person and changed how I observe myself and those around me.  The first would be the death of my father.  As his man-made death trap of a plane scattered in flames across the runway, the glasses of innocence shattered and I could see the cracks.  But I could also see the clear.  I knew the world then and I knew the world knew me as it always had.  That was my first liminal experience.

Several years later, my mother decided she was tired of living in the echoes of my father so we packed up and moved from California to Washington.  I was not doing so well in school then.  Most of my friends had abandoned me to my depression as they could not comprehend the sorrow of losing someone so dear.  They were too young, still wearing those glasses unbroken. I flourished in the new environment and changed my entire personality to better equip myself to the stupor of junior high.  This was my second liminal experience.

Then I was struck by the liminoidal.  I was introduced to my downfall.  A darkness and agonizing obsession of unprecedented proportions, Doctor Who shattered my imagination for at least a year.  I was astounded by the intricacy of the show, the unbelievable acting, and the evils of humanity. Honestly, it’s some scary shit.  My view of the world, the universe, was completely knocked over and replaced by a TV show.  Dear lord.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

MJ #12: Apocalypse Myth: The Day the Universe Blinked


Holly pulled her jacket tighter around her. It was strangely chilly for a summer evening.  The air sank its fangs into her cheeks and sucked the heat from her breath, teasing her with the fog of exhaling.
I shouldn’t be able to see my breath.  It’s mid-July!
Holly quickened her pace and flung herself into the heated dome of The Observatory.
“It’s freezing out there!”  Holly untangled the scarf from her neck and shed her layers.
“The thermostat’s reading twenty-one degrees Fahrenheit but that’s the least of our worries. Come take a look at this.”
Billy Rosemary was not having a good day and Holly could tell.  He led her through the lobby and into the Beast room.
“How’s the Beast-ie this evening?” she gestured to the massive telescope perched in the center of the dome.
“Out of a job.”
“What?”
Billy sighed and turned towards her, eyes wild and puffy as if he’d been crying.
“Billy?”
“Take a look for yourself.”
They strode up to the platform in silence except for the clicking of Holly’s heels on the tiles. Billy hit the controls with trembling fingers.  He nodded.
“Okay.”
“Holly glanced one last time at her partner before plunging her eye into the telescope’s.  Every time Holly gazed into the beast it felt like the Beast gazed back. But not this time.  Or maybe now more than ever.  She pulled back in confusion.
Running her eyes over the computer simulation and diving back in, she understood why Billy was panicking.
“Billy, please tell me this piece of shit is broken.”
“It’s one-hundred percent operational. I’ve quadruple checked.”
“No.”
Holly’s knees bowed to the earth as she crumpled.
“No.”
“I know it’s hard to take but…. We need to tell someone about this.”

Adrian stared up at the sky in amazement.  It was as if the eyes of heaven were turning away in shame, closing forever on the sin of humanity.  His wife, close and familiar, huddled under the jacket they shared.
“Is that…?”
“The stars.  The stars are going out.”

As the spirits of the great universe abandoned their children in the pursuit of darkness, the Sun wondered at its path.  The Earth cried out and decreed Importance and tossed little trinkets of invention as offering into its depths, but the Sun couldn’t resist heavy eyelids.  When the Sun closed its eyes, so did the Earth.  And tears fell like rain.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

MJ #11: Broken Glass: A Halloween Myth


The wind brushed its soft fingers through her dress, teasing her ankles to move. With an inward smile she obliged, turning her toes toward the next house. The pale fire in her eyes glanced upward, flirting with the moon. The countdown had begun.
Mercy rippled down the pavement, wondering at the glints that didn’t used to be there. Dew, she thought.  A closer inspection proved otherwise. Glass. Broken glass. She frowned at it for a moment before turning into the driveway.  More shimmers here, unnecessary and distracting.
She extended her glove in front of her with a slight gasp of excitement. Extending… extending… her finger connected with the doorbell and she froze. Mercy let out a squeal of glee and pushed the little white button. The resounding cacophony of static-like noise pounded into Mercy’s fragile frame.
“Trick-o-treat!”
An older woman garbed in robes a foot-and-a-half too short and a flopped over witch cap appeared in the silhouette of sunshine.
Mercy blinked at the inconsistency.
“Hello?”
“Ah. Yes. Could you perhaps do something about that repulsive glass in your front yard?”
“Hello?”
Mercy frowned.
“Yes! Right here! Could you please move the shimmer? It’s quite distracting.”
“Huh. Must of run off…”
The shabby witch woman began the door’s journey to its initial position.  Mercy swung her foot in the doorway.  The door slammed.  She thrust her face accusingly at the moon as she slid her foot out of the wood. Time’s up. Until next year.
And that’s when the rift between the world’s sucked her soul back in.
Until next year…