Nobody expects the Spanish girly army! Or the Empire!
The purpose of this post has become threefold, because I've failed to update for so long. First, I'd like to congratulate myself on becoming quite good at literary conspiracy theories. Well... not conspiracy theories, exactly. But definitely theories. The first was my Carrot Theory, which is published here. Then came my "Phantom and Giry! *Snap! Cell phone raise!*" Theory, which went over very well. Generally the revelation of this theory went like this:
ME: I have a theory. I think the Phantom (of the Opera) is totally Madame Giry's babydaddy.
PERSON: (confused pause) So... that would make him...
ME: Meg's father, yes.
PERSON: (thoughtful pause) Wow. That is so likely.
I don't think I need to explain that in more detail, since everybody who reads this journal has been through a variation of above conversation. Thomas demanded DNA evidence, which I unfortunately cannot provide as the parties involved are fictional. My newest theory is that Vetinari's dog, Wuffles, is a vampire. Because he was fourteen in Sourcery and sixteen in The Truth. About twenty years or more passed in between those two books. Originally I decided there must have been two Wuffleses. But we know that Vetinari has some friends in the vampire community *coughladymargolottaamayakatarinaassumptacrassinavonuberwaldcough*. So wouldn't it be cool if Wuffles was a vampire dog? I'm just sayin'.
Now, I would like to talk a bit about Royal Hunt of the Sun. This is the play I'm going to be in in two weeks. If you're unfamiliar with the concept, it's the Spanish conquest of Peru, but all the Spaniards are being played by women and all of the Incas are being played by men. Our Spanish army, therefore, is a Monstrous Regiment of Women. Our motto is "We may be in the army, but we're still ladies!" Apparently we're pretty sadly girly still. We can't help it. The first time we tried our battle cry, we sounded like cheerleaders. "Whoo!! San Jago!! Go Spain!!" I think it's probably said best in Disney's Mulan: "Let's get down to business/ To defeat the (Incas)/ Did they send me daughters/ When I asked for sons?/ You're the saddest bunch I ever met/ But you can bet, before we're through/ Mister, I'll make a man out of you..." We're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot, and we haven't got a clue. But Jim says "Somehow I'll make a man out of you." We must be swift as the coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon, with all the strength of a raging fire, mysterious as the dark side of the moon. Hahaha! Yeah. Right. I think Pratchett's more accurate-- we just need some strategically placed socks. Somehow that didn't get into the song. Anyway, we've started fight training! And I'm good at it! Jim (the director) complimented me twice! He said that my body movement was very natural! And inside, I said to myself, ha, and they said swinging a plastic lightsaber around your bedroom had no purpose. I ought to be the poster girl for Skills Everyone Said Were Useless. So I get to cut the throat of a boy named Luke with sword! I'm so excited! I really like stage fighting. This is my inner shieldmaiden manifesting itself. I'm also excited about getting costumes. We have armor made of carpet turned upside-down. Or maybe it's just padded with carpet. I don't know. And funny hats. I'm going to look like a Watchman. That might actually help, because Watchmen have no sex on duty. (Haha! Dirty!) At least I have justification for being a bit feminine. I'm the one accused of being "like a pissing girl."
On to the third and final portion of this post, which relates to my last entry. Last year in AP Lit, we read George Orwell's 1984. There was a passage in it that reminded me in a very specific way of Palpatine talking to someone-- perhaps Anakin, perhaps someone else. But yeah, probably Anakin. I adjusted some of the wording ("Party" to "Sith," "Empire," and "dark side," mostly; also removing "human," which is hard) and wrote it down in my notebook. Here is that version.
"Now tell me why we cling to power. What is our motive? Why should we want power? The Sith seek power entirely for its own sake. We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power. Not wealth or luxury or long life or happiness; only power, pure power. ... We are different from all the Orders of the past in that we know what we are doing. All the others, even those who resembled ourselves, were cowards and hypocrites. ... They pretended, perhaps they even believed, that they had seized power unwillingly and for a limited time, and that just round the corner there lay a paradise where beings would be free and equal. We are not like that. We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. Power is not a means; it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship. The object of persecution is persecution. The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power.
The first thing you must realize is that power is collective. The individual only has power in so far as he ceases to be an individual. ... Alone-- free-- the individual being is always defeated. It must be so, because every being is doomed to die, which is the greatest of all failures. But if he can make complete, utter submission, if he can escape from his identity, if he can merge himself in the dark side so that he is the dark side, then he is all-powerful and immortal. The second thing for you to realize is that power is power over living beings. Over the body-- but, above all, over the mind. ... We control matter because we control the mind. ... The real power, the power we have to fight for night and day, is not power over things, but over people. ...
How does one person assert his power over another? By making him suffer. Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be certain that he is obeying your will and not his own? Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation. Power is in tearing minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing. Do you begin to see, then, what kind of galaxy we are creating? It is the exact opposite of the stupid hedonistic Utopias that the old reformers imagined. An Empire of fear and treachery and torment, an Empire of trampling and being trampled upon, an Empire which will grow not less but more merciless as it refines itself. Progress in our galaxy will be progress toward more pain. The old civlizations claimed that they were founded on love and justice. Our is founded upon hatred. In our galaxy there will be no emotions except fear, rage, triumph and self-abasement. Everything else we shall destroy-- everything. ... There will be no loyalty, except loyalty toward the Empire. There will be no love, except the love of the dark side. There will be no laughter, except the laugh of triumph over a defeated enemy. ... There will be no distinction between beauty and ugliness. But always... always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a face-- forever. ... And remember that it is forever."
Grrr. I hate that Sith-spawned bastard Palpatine.