Nice Dream? My Dream!

MR NOLAN: One hundred years ago, in 1859, 41 boys sat in this room and were asked the same question that greets you at the start of each semester. Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?

BOYS: Tradition, honor, discipline, excellence.

                  

CHARLIE: Rumor has it, you did summer school.

NEIL: Yep. Chemistry. My father thought I should get ahead. How was your summer Slick?

CHARLIE: Keen.

NEIL: Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?

BOYS: Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement.

 

KEATING: "Oh Captain, My Captain" who knows where that comes from?... Not a clue? It's from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can call me Mr. Keating. Or,if you're slightly more daring, Oh captain, My Captain. Now let me dispel a few rumors so they don't fester into facts. Yes, I too attended Hell-ton and survived. And no, at that time I was not the mental giant you see before you. I was the intellectual equivalent of a ninety-eight pound weakling. I would go to the beach and people would kick copies of Byron in my face. …Because we are food for worms lads. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die. Now I would like you to step forward over here and peruse some of the faces from the past. You've walked past them many times. I don't think you've really looked at them. They're not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you. Their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable?   Because you see gentlmen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in.

 

KEATING: Thank you Mr. Dalton. Armies of academics going forward, measuring poetry. No, we will not have that here. No more of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. Now in my class you will learn to think for yourselves again. You will learn to savor words and language. No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. I see that look in Mr. Pitt's eye, like nineteenth century literature has nothing to do with going to     business school or medical school. Right? Maybe. Mr. Hopkins, you may agree with him, thinking "Yes, we should simply study our Mr. Pritchard and learn our rhyme and meter and go quietly about the business of achieving other ambitions." I have a little secret for ya. Huddle up. Huddle up! We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are all noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman: "O me, o life of the questions of these recurring, of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, o me, o life? Answer: that you are here. That life exists, and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.

 

MCALLISTER: Quite an interesting class you gave today, Mr. Keating.

KEATING: I'm sorry if I shocked you, Mr. McAllister.

MCALLISTER: Oh, there's no need to apologize. It was very fascinating, misguided though it was.

KEATING: You think so?

MCALLISTER: You take a big risk by encouraging them to be artists John. When they realize they're not Rembrandts, Shakespeares or Mozarts, they'll hate you for it.

KEATING: We're not talking artists George, we're talking free thinkers.

MCALLISTER: Free thinkers at seventeen?

KEATING: Funny, I never pegged you as a cynic.

MCALLISTER: Not a cynic, a realist. Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams, and I'll show you a happy man.

KEATING: But only in their dreams can man be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be.

MCALLISTER: Tennyson?

KEATING: No, Keating.

 

NEIL: I hereby reconvene the Dead Poets Society. Welton chapter. The meetings will be conducted by myself and the other new initiates now present. Todd Anderson, because he prefers not to read, will keep minutes of the meetings. I'll now read the traditional opening message by society member Henry David Thoreau. "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life."

CHARLIE: I'll second that.

NEIL: "To put to rout all that was not life, and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.

NEIL: It was a dark and rainy night, and this old lady, who had a passion for jigsaw puzzles, sat by herself in her house at her table to complete a new jigsaw puzzle. But as she pieced the puzzle together, she realized, to her astonishment, that the image that was formed was her very own room. And the figure in the center of the puzzle, as she completed it, was herself. And with trembling hands, she placed the last four pieces and stared in horror at the face of a demented madman at the window. The last thing that this old lady ever heard was the sound of breaking glass.

NEIL: Alfred Lord Tennyson. Come my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset. And though we are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;-- One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 

KEATING: Just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way. Even though it may seem silly or wrong, you must try! Now, when you read, don't just consider what the author thinks. Consider what you think. Boys, you must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation." Don't be resigned to that. Break out!

KEATING: Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. Isn't that right, Todd?        Isn't that your worst fear? Well, I think you're wrong. I think you have something inside of you that is worth a great deal. "I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world." W. W. Uncle Walt again. Now, for those of you who don't know, a yawp is a loud cry or yell. Now, Todd, I would like you to give us a demonstration of a barbaric "yawp." Come on. You can't yawp sitting down. Let's go. Come on. Up. You gotta get in "yawping" stance.

TODD: A yawp?

KEATING: No, not just a yawp. A barbaric yawp.

TODD: Yawp.

KEATING: Come on, louder.

TODD: Yawp.

KEATING: No, that's a mouse. Come on. Louder.

TODD: Yawp.

KEATING: Oh, good God, boy. Yell like a man!

TODD: Yawp!

KEATING: There it is. You see, you have a barbarian in you, after all. Now, you don't get away that easy. The picture of Uncle Walt up there. What does he remind you of? Don't think. Answer. Go on.

TODD: A m-m-madman.

KEATING: What kind of madman? Don't think about it. Just answer again.

TODD: A c-crazy madman.

KEATING: No, you can do better than that. Free up your mind. Use your imagination. Say the first thing that pops into your head, even if it's total gibberish. Go on, go on.

TODD: Uh, uh, a sweaty-toothed madman.

KEATING: Good God, boy, there's a poet in you, after all. There, close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close 'em. Now, describe what you see.

TODD: Uh, I-I close my eyes.

KEATING: Yes?

TODD: Uh, and this image floats beside me.

KEATING: A sweaty-toothed madman?

TODD: A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain.

KEATING: Oh, that's excellent. Now, give him action. Make him do something.

TODD: H-His hands reach out and choke me.

KEATING: That's it. Wonderful. Wonderful.

TODD: And, and all the time he's mumbling.

KEATING: What's he mumbling?

TODD: M-Mumbling, "Truth. Truth is like, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold."

KEATING: Forget them, forget them. Stay with the blanket. Tell me about that blanket.

TODD: Y-Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.

KEATING: (whispering to Todd) Don't you forget this.

 

KEATING: Now, I didn't bring them up here to ridicule them. I brought them up here to illustrate the point of conformity: the difficulty in maintaining your own beliefs in the face of others. Now, those of you -- I see the look in your eyes like, "I would've walked differently." Well, ask yourselves why you were clapping. Now, we all have a great need for acceptance. But you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go, "That's baaaaad." Robert Frost said, "Two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Now, I want you to find your own walk right now. Your own way of striding, pacing. Any direction. Anything you want. Whether it's proud, whether it's silly, anything. Gentlemen, the courtyard is yours.

卡拉是条狗？

刚开始看特无奈，典型的中国制度，养狗还要5000的户口，尤其是那个把狗证挂脖子上的人，搞得就和他是狗似的……

看的过程一度快要睡过去，因为影片讲述的经历太平凡了，生活中处处可见，但正是这些细微的观察往往被人们忽略。生活在最底层的人对生活的困惑，为了儿子的一句“你没资格当我老爸”而无话可说，为了活得比一只狗强一些的追寻，都在找狗的过程中体现出来。从家里仅有的3万里拿走5000办狗证是不值，不只是在物质上的浪费，而且是对老二精神的进一步腐蚀。他的空虚感和自尊心只能在卡拉那里填平，就连生气了想发火也只能跑道楼下的公用厕所里大骂一句“你是猪啊，不会跑啊！”所以，卡拉是他逃避懦弱的一种方式，跟以前的打牌消遣没什么两样。更有意思的是他在找狗过程中遇到的那些人，杨丽、萧干事、黄师傅、捞狗的，人人都乐在其中，以可以掌控丁点儿的权利而沾沾自喜，他们也是空虚的。

最后，卡拉又被从看狗场捞了回来，养狗证照样还是办了，5000还是拿了，一切又回到原点。但若一开始老二就舍得放血办狗证的话也就不会有亮亮蹲局子等曲曲折折的事情，我们也就看不到这样平凡真实的经历。导演最后并没有给出对于老二迷惑的答案，因为他不必给，这个问题太大了，而且取决于个人，而观者只要认识到老二的生活状态，自己的生活状态，加以警醒就足够了。答案，要自己寻找；而这部电影，告诉我们的正是要主动寻找答案，不要重倒老二的覆辙。

《相信未来》

--食指

当蜘蛛网无情地查封了我的炉台

当灰烬的余烟叹息着贫困的悲哀

我依然固执地铺平失望的灰烬

用美丽的雪花写下：相信未来

当我的紫葡萄化为深秋的露水

当我的鲜花依偎在别人的情怀

我依然固执地用凝霜的枯藤

在凄凉的大地上写下：相信未来

我要用手指那涌向天边的排浪

我要用手掌那托住太阳的大海

摇曳着曙光那枝温暖漂亮的笔杆

用孩子的笔体写下：相信未来

我之所以坚定地相信未来

是我相信未来人们的眼睛

她有拨开历史风尘的睫毛

她有看透岁月篇章的瞳孔

不管人们对于我们腐烂的皮肉

那些迷途的惆怅、失败的苦痛

是寄予感动的热泪、深切的同情

还是给以轻蔑的微笑、辛辣的嘲讽

我坚信人们对于我们的脊骨

那无数次的探索、迷途、失败和成功

一定会给予热情、客观、公正的评定

是的，我焦急地等待着他们的评定

朋友，坚定地相信未来吧

相信不屈不挠的努力

相信战胜死亡的年轻

相信未来、热爱生命

 

什么才是公正的评定？很难定义。这世上不公的事情不计其数，又何必一味的去寻求别人的首肯呢？做到自己问心无愧就好，不要庸人自扰。大多数人是通过外界的评价和眼光来体验自身的价值，只有很少一部分人是真正的用自己的标准来衡量自己的，而这正是我们要努力的方向--Be an Existentialist. Be Proud of Yourself.

雪下了一天，还未停，老天像是决心要让Madison改头换面似的，雪粒子噼里啪啦的砸下来，提醒着路人北方冬日的严酷，既不温柔也不浪漫，生生的打碎了“雪一片一片”的幻想。

走在路上，深一脚浅一脚，专拣平坦的雪地，踏了这未被踏过的雪之后很有满足感。这种想法有点儿邪恶，好好的雪就被糟蹋了，可再一想，谁又忍心眼睁睁的看着铲雪机把这一脚深的雪挤到路边，连带着地上原有的灰尘和杂物，变成一摊摊肮脏而又固执的不肯化去的冰渣，让人不忍也不愿触目。那好，还是趁着它洁净的时候好好享受一下吧。

雪粒子散落到帽子毛茸茸的边沿里，让我想初中时蚊子对其同桌的描述，很煞风景，她说：XXX只要一摸头，那头皮屑就和雪花似的往下落。想一想，这可算得上是最不能让人忍受的黑白配了。每个人都有对其同桌的独到的“见解”，正如我总能从小C身上闻到或有或无的阿尔卑斯奶糖味儿。

说到雪，很巧，最近在看西岭雪的《那时烟花》，刚起了个头。今天到图书馆还书，顺便又转了转中文部的架子，居然有个作者名为“黄裳”，是个看戏说戏的，跟《那》里面的那位当编剧的黄裳算得上是同行。翻了翻其戏评，都是小随笔，长短对我口，可惜小女子我对里面提到的戏剧一窍不通，只好作罢。

 开课四天，却仍然不敢相信我已步入大学。真的很不一样，以往在家日常起居有大人们打理，学校讲课有老师指导，现在想想还真是无忧无虑的日子呢，可当时怎么就身在福中不知福呢？果真是失去了才知道有多美好。

现在呢，是觉得自己长大了，每晚将一天的购物收据钉上墙时，饭后一个人捧着锅碗瓢盆走向盥洗室时，走在去打工的路上想着什么时间去图书馆时，就觉得自己长大了。孤独虽在，自由虽让人心悸，心底的成就感却是埋藏不了的。我知道在家长的眼中自己永远不算个大人，可我仍然不自主地骄傲的在心里宣称我长大了，就像《平凡的世界》里的孙少平，尽管苦，尽管累，却可以选择自己的路，而更重要的是可以完完全全的，独立的为自己作出的选择承担责任，心甘情愿的承担责任。正如Fitzgeral在This Side of Paradise中所写，若想让一个人恨自己，最好的办法便是剥夺那人应当承担的责任，为他牺牲，替他承担，使他永远内疚自责，从而怨恨起那个义务牺牲者。所以我说，若想活得踏实，就得承担责任，承担自己的选择，而不是等着别人替你收场，帮你承担，如此的人永远活不完整。