Heroic Death in Tale of Two Cities

One of the themes that we discussed during our analysis of Tale of Two Cities was the heroic death of one time drunk Sydney Carton, who selflessly sacrifices his own life so that Lucie and Charles Darnay can escape to freedom. As I have mentioned before in class, I am not a big fan of heroic deaths, because at the end of the day, no matter how cool or valiant they are, you’re dead, and that is a little too permanent for my liking. Do not misunderstand me, I love to read books and watch movies about awe inspiring heroes who had every chance to turn back and save themselves. Those movies and books (Braveheart, Troy, Lord of the Rings, The Count of Monte Cristo and many more) resonate with all of us because the heroes don’t turn back, they keep going because it was the right thing to do, and they recognized that they stood for something more than just themselves. Yet as these stories unfold, I always find myself associating more closely with the various cowards in them, and I can easily see myself acting in the same manner as they do, and their actions seem perfectly rational and reasonable to me. As much as I admire Sydney Carton, William Wallace, and Hector, I know in my heart that I would never have the courage to act as they did, and worse yet, I can’t even understand the motives behind their actions. How does one sacrifice his own life so that others may live, I still do not have the mindset in order to personally answer that question. Over time I tried to say think that comparing myself to these larger than life characters was a bit unfair, and that nowadays no one would expect a person to sacrifice themselves in such a manner. Yet my mind immediately jumped to the firemen, policemen, and armed services men and women that so courageously protect their fellow citizens from harm, and on occasion must lay down their lives in the line of duty. As I thought of them, it didn’t really surprise me that none of those fields hold any interest to me at all. I often used to think that I always spoke out against the heroic deaths in books and movies because I scorned their mindset and considered myself smarter and more self aware than those who gave away their lives. Yet as I dig deeper, I am starting to feel that it is because I am jealous of the courage and strength of character they possess, attributes that I am struggling in vain to find in my own life. Julius Caesar once said, “Cowards die a thousand deaths. The valiant taste of death but once.” I am still cannot come up with a contradictory response to his words that I fully believe.

Hamlet Facebook

Facebook Profile for Hamlet Prince of Denmark

Sex: Male

Birthday: May 5th, 1579

Current City: Elsinore, Denmark

Family Members: Father- Hamlet Sr. former King of Denmark (now deceased), Mother- Gertrude Queen of Denmark, Step Father- Claudius Current King of Denmark (jerk)

Relationship Status: Formerly dated Ophelia, daughter of Polonius, but now alone, so alone…

Interested In: Ophelia, avenging my father, pretending to be crazy

Looking For: vile miscreant who murdered my father, love

Work Experience: worked as a prince my entire life, very demanding job, hard to maintain

Political Views: my father was the best king to ever rule Denmark, I find Claudius himself and his political agenda (killing me) to be insufferable

High School: received all formal education at the hands of private tutors

Activities: Every once in a while I will practice at swordplay and try to hone my technique, but lately that hasn’t seemed to be nearly as fulfilling as it used to be. I mostly spend my time nowadays simply taking long rides alone out in the country side of Denmark. Sometimes I will flirt with Ophelia, but I mostly just string her along. Right now I am pretending to be mad in an effort to uncover exactly who killed my father.

Interests: For a while I was interested in Ophelia, but lately she has become so annoying that I try to avoid her at all possible costs. Now my main focus is unraveling the mystery surrounding the death of my father, as he was in perfect health when he supposedly “passed away”. This passion is starting to consume me, yet the more I uncover the stronger my desire is to reveal the truth.

Favorite Music: Normally I would say that I prefer the classical music and jazz that is worthy of being the music of nobility. However, I lately have begun to listen to some heavy metal and grunge music, because for some reason it just seems right at the moment. Two of my favorites are “Monster” by Skillet and “Snuff” by Slipknot.

Favorite Quotes: “O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, / Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew” (Act I.ii.)
“Frailty, thy name is woman!” (Act I.ii.)
“To be, or not to be, — that is the question: / Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer / The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, / Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, / And by opposing end them?” (Act III.i.)

About Me: I believe that I have clued you in on who I am already, and therefore will make this final category one of brevity. As you yourself can clearly see in the information above, I am a prince who feels as though the world has robbed me of my youth and innocence. Even in death my father asks too much of me by instructing that I restore order to the entire kingdom of Denmark. I am so frustrated by the events surrounding my life that at times I just wish it was over. How was that for a happy ending thought? Didn’t like it, guess what, I DON’T CARE!!

The Room

How can it be?
How is it possible?
That such a small space
Can become our own.

It seems to defy logic,
That such little items and trifles,
Worthless to the world,
Take a meaning of their own
Once placed in that atmosphere.

It is escape,
Like a fortress we crawl into
To shield ourselves from our problems.

At it’s heart,
As you spend time in it,
You realize that deep down,
It’s You.

culture of earth

It has been just over a year since my ship crash landed on this foul and lonesome planet known as earth. In my time on here on this planet I have been able to observe these homo sapiens in their natural habitats, and in this report I will give a detailed account of their customs and habits. One of the most interesting practices I see them carrying out is watching black, boxlike objects that have pictures inside them for most of the day. These “television sets” are omnipresent in human society and seem to be just as essential to human beings as water and air. As a side note, the air on this planet tastes foul and rank, it is like breathing in poison, no wonder these creatures live to be only about eighty years old. Going back to these “televisions”, it is hard to imagine what can hold the humans in such a daze. I have actually witnessed several specimens who have been recorded watching television for twenty hours, which surmounts to an entire earth day. Strictly for the purpose of gathering more data, I subjected myself to the watching of television for a short time. I discovered that there are different “channels” of television that show different pictures. One channel showed only pictures of food, but you could not eat it, which was infuriating to me, as earth food looks much better than what I am used to eating back home. All of the different channels have other humans in them. If the humans wanted to watch each other, they could have just walked around the streets, as there is no shortage of them on this planet. So great is their dependency on television that I cut the power of a street to see the reaction that it would create. It was as though a bomb had just dropped out of the sky: mass pandemonium ensued as they scrambled for light making devices and yelled at one another in the dark. I am convinced that should we ever invade this planet, all that would be required to conquer the natives would be to destroy all of their television sets. Instead of talking with their families or doing positive manual labor, humans simply sit back and watch the television, as if all their problems will be solved if they just peer into the magical screen. I continue to wait for the day when I can leave this miserable planet and return home.

A Walk

I will freely admit that I pushed my walk into the corner of my mind, and only recently unfurled it when I visited the blog on Saturday night. Therefore, at approximately one o’clock pm on Sunday, I donned some old jeans and my grey sweatshirt, and headed out for a walk. I debated on whether or not to take my phone, and finally decided to leave it at home. It had become a distraction, like so many other “necessary” aspects of my life.
Upon setting out, I did not have a specific place in mind where I wished to journey. I passed by the houses that I see every day, trying to think of something deep or profound, yet my mind kept turning back to sports, a subject with which I always seem to be preoccupied. I decided to try and stop thinking, hoping that something would pop into my head of its own accord, and instead just focused on the passing surroundings. Yet that didn’t work either. Everything I saw was to familiar, so ordinary and every day, that I once again was right back where I started when I had begun my walk…nowhere. It was at this point that I veered off course and made my way down to the Des Moines Marina. I walked all the way to the edge of the pier, and stared dumbly into the depths of the water, hoping that it might reveal some hidden mystery from under its black surface. After a little while I came to notice a small jellyfish drifting through the waters. Normally I would have ignored such an insignificant sighting, yet something about its movement caught my attention. It didn’t seem to be moving in any obvious direction; instead it just drifted to and fro with the ocean waters. That was when I realized that my life was just like that of the jellyfish. Though I try to make my own way in the world, I am subject to the whims and demands of both humans and other forces, and I cannot escape them just as the jellyfish can’t hop out of the ocean. Though the ocean looks wide and free, the jellyfish is bound by its various tides and currents. In the same way, even though modern society preaches that there is equal opportunity and choice for everyone, I feel trapped in a cage, and I’m unsure whether this feeling comes from a lack of freedom or too much of it. Every aspect of my life; sports, school work, family, college, feels like another bar that encloses me, and prevents me from escaping. Yet why should I want to escape? My life is better than those of most people in the world, so why should I be so selfish and spurn all the blessings that I have received? I still don’t have an answer to that question. At the bottom of our assignment sheet it said Go finding, yet what I found out about myself was not joyful or inspiring. I discovered that I am woefully unable to answer simple questions about myself, questions that I must answer in order to grow mentally and emotionally.

In “The White City”, Claude McKay describes his feelings for the city in which he resides. It is important to remember that this sonnet was written during the Harlem Renaissance, when there was an outpouring of African American literature as well as demand for fair and equal social stature in the country. As a black Jamaican, Claude undoubtedly witnessed end experienced firsthand the yoke of oppression placed on blacks in the United States. In the first quatrain of the sonnet, McKay talks about his hatred against the city and those who enforce it within its boundaries. However, he also states that he is powerless to express his feelings and take action against the injustice he witnesses, saying that he must keep his hate, “Deep in the secret chambers of my heart.” In the second quatrain, he continues to expand the feelings of his hate, saying that he, “would be a skeleton” without it, and that it provides him with energy that he needs to survive in the white man’s world. Both the first and second quatrains help to establish the poet’s emotions and gauge the depths of his rage against the white city and its rulers. However, the third quatrain stands in sharp contrast with the previous two, as McKay goes on to describe the aesthetic qualities of the city. His use of imagery such as the “towers vapor-kissed”, create in the reader a false sense of contentment, as they are put momentarily at ease due to the change of tone in the poem. Yet in the couplet at the end, McKay brings his point full circle, saying in the last line, “Are sweet like wanton loves because I hate.” Though he sees the beauty of the city, he hates it because he can also see the oppression and racism smoldering beneath the seemingly serene surface. Due to this fact the city is not beautiful to him at all, and instead just serves as a symbol of oppression.

What's the Real Drama Response

Though high school kids cannot hope to fully answer these questions, it is important that we consider them in order to prepare for life beyond school. A fulfilling life can be defined in so many ways depending on the person whom you are questioning. I myself, like many other young people, have set up the way of a fulfilling life through fairly stereotypical means. I have studied hard in school, participated on numerous athletic teams, applied to several well known and esteemed colleges, and volunteered at local programs around my community. All of these are aspects of our life that society demands of us, and accordingly should lead to a fulfilling life. Yet that is not the case. Many extraordinary people have successfully completed the above steps, and have lamented that their life has been meaningless, without purpose or fulfillment. Instead of following the normal standard that society has given us, we must make our own decisions on how to live a fulfilling life.



Despite the best of our intentions, we have to accept that problems and failures will occur in our lives as surely as the sun sets and rises each day. When such setbacks appear on our horizon, we have several choices on how to handle them. One option is to let them compound and overwhelm us, and so many of us can at times fall into this state of mind. I know the feeling that one gets when it seems as though everything is going wrong, and the whole world is against you. There have been times where I wanted to just curl up in a ball and shut myself away from the rest of the world and society. All people will fall into this trap occasionally, but it is the person who does not have the mental focus and strength to pull themselves out of it that will be lost for the rest of their lives. The other option to this dilemma is to push through the hard times, and view them as opportunities to strengthen yourself and learn from the failures of the past and to apply that experience to our future problems. In the Bible, James tells us to rejoice when we go through great trials and hardships. He does not mean that we should be happy when bad events happen, but that we need to view them as tests that will strengthen our faith and bring us closer to God.



The Real Dream that we ought to pursuing cannot simply be the American Dream or your parennt's dream. Instead, we must follow our own dream, whatever it may be. God will provide us the tools and the means to fulfill our dream, but it is up to us whether or not we will have the courage to take what He has given us and use it to fulfill our calling.