Introduction #1

What should a portfolio represent? Well, a good start would be to look in the standards. Which thus states that the theme for the class and hence a starting point for the portfolio is “The monsters we create.” Pleasant, really. Immediately, literary and scholarly tradition states that one must create a portfolio of angst and depth, following in the traditions of Melville’s “thought-divers” to bring up dark pearls of strange luster. There are plenty of tried and celebrated answers to that statement in literature, but many of them follow dark roads and darker endings, and of course, yours should too. One must follow in the footsteps of greater writers, repeating in different cadences, that man cannot escape from inner darkness. Then mouth in centuries-old tradition, thank the deities that there is an end to this life of suffering. The she-wolf, the horror, and the white whale awaits, don’t they? Thus, pessimism and dourness eventually sweeps over and swallows the portfolio, anarchy rules, and life ends with depressing metaphor, then soliloquy and the much awaited, period. That would be an established way to answer the theme of the class, and as good as any way to earn a grade. But would that really say anything about the writer, other than the fact that he or she is well-versed in literary traditions, from Thebes to America? “The Monsters we create.” The reaction to that statement is generally downcast and thoughtful agreement that humanity makes most of its demons. But the words of someone shouldn’t be of the general reaction or opinion, but of their own truth. Everyone has their own unique slant, their own story to tell regarding a universal statement. If the literary audience wanted a general consensus, they’d read surveys. The individual experiences make up the community, and hence society’s collective response to the theme. There are some darker answers from authors regarding the theme of man-made monsters, and some of them are more celebrated than others. And they certainly are not the worse for their pessimism. But in no way should they replace one’s own personal view, even if it should conflict with the opinions of established literature. If they do. I don’t know what to say. The monsters we create. I know they come from dark places, as fairytales state, from under the bridge, over the mountains, the secret fears in the huddling corner. They come from good intentions and evil wishes alike. They come from apathy and zealousness. They haunt the noble and the poor alike. But what are monsters anyways? Are they our fears and desires never mentioned, or too well known? Is the self-driven businessman who worked his way up from poverty driven by monsters? Is it just initiative then? Or are monsters giant affairs, like a repressive society? Is it really a monster then, or just a tradeoff between freedom and security, a tool of humanity? Are monsters controllable? Can one have a good relationship with monsters, dancing with them ‘til the wee of night, then getting up at dawn to step once more? I know what I see monsters as. Monsters to me can be voices in your head, furrowing fear and compulsion wherever they go. I'm not very well accquainted kind of monster that physically binds you, like alcohol or penury. But I know fear. Fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of a meaningless future with no passion, no dreams--just existence. Fear that weighs down your wrists until the hands lay passively in the lap, too afraid to do anything for fear of mediocrity, the kind accompanied by the incredulous voices and unpleasantly suprised faces of an invisible, watching crowd. And thus a compulsion, to stay up late until morning, to revise once over again, crafting minor things painstakingly until just right, all to stave off the invisible crowd. Monsters can also be the fear and pain that drive other people, sometimes so maddened that they tear and inflict hurt on others to ignore their own selves. Monsters have evil in them, but sometimes hold a little good. They can be the ugly truth behind the facade or the trial that makes heroes and saints. We need them in a way, perhaps as much as they need us to exist. I don’t know much. But I hope to find out for myself, rather than trusting the bywords of others on what the truth of things are, what they look like, why they matter. A journey then. My portfolio should then represent my very own quest over faraway hills under foreign stars, using literature as my compass, and my own head for the direction taken.