O Captain! My Captain!

Before tonight, I had not seen the film The Dead Poet’s Society. I had always been told that it was a marvel of modern cinema, and a story that one needs to experience in one’s life. I had dismissed these claims offhandedly, vowing to one day give it a whirl. By pure happenstance and a bad losing streak in DotA2, that day was today, that night, tonight. I now see why it is such a necessary part of many people’s motion picture journey.

I shan’t ruin the story, because it is something that needs to be experienced for oneself. I will simply detail that it revolves around an English teacher and his students at an upmarket high school in the United States of America. The teacher encourages the students to begin to think for themselves, to drink the marrow out of life. This resonated with me particularly well, as I saw a great deal of myself in the film. I saw myself as I was in the eyes of the boys. I saw big dreams, feelings most crystalline, and the uncertainty of life ahead. I saw myself in the teacher as well – regardless of what I do, I want to inspire others to change their lives and question what they know.

Dead Poet’s Society made me question what I was doing with my life. Was I living it to its fullest? Was I truly doing what I dreamed of? What did I even dream of? These are all questions that are still swirling in my consciousness as I write this. I can’t say that I had always dreamed of teaching small Korean children to speak a language foreign to them. Conversely, I had always dreamed that I would find someone that I could be exactly myself with and would still love me. And I have found that in Kristen.

The film also rekindled the flame of literature in my heart. Simple phrases and stanzas littered throughout the film helped me to see the beauty that has been penned by those long dead. While I can’t say that I have written anything of consequence yet, who is to say that it is not inside me, simply waiting to be expressed? And until it surfaces from the sea of my unconscious mind, I’d best keep my literary weaponry and penmanship at the ready, to help ease it into existence with maximum clarity and beauty,

I sit here, in a chair on the other side of the world from where I went to school. And yet, I find myself looking back on those days where I roamed the halls of St. John’s College. I think back to those teachers that inspired me to start writing, start playing music, start expressing myself in any way, shape, or form possible. I see them as clearly as if we were sharing a table at this moment. I only hope that they would be proud of how I send my thoughts and feelings into the void of the Internet, of how I have walked my life’s path up until this point. Of how I have seized the days I have been gifted on this earth.

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