Today I spent my birthday with Dr. Schwebel. It was the most meaningful 21st birthday I could ask for. True, it wasn't all wild parties and fun, but the memorial we had for Dr. Schwebel tonight was so incredibly therapeutic for me. It was the best birthday present I could have received from her (if teachers gave birthday presents to their students, that is, although I'm pretty sure that, had Dr. Schwebel still been my teacher, she'd at least have brought in cookies and M&Ms). I have already written so much about Dr. Schwebel on my blog, I don't know what more I can say. She was really part of an era in my life - the Dr. Schwebel era, I can call it - and I am definitely a different person now than I was a little over a year ago when I didn't even know her. My time as her student is like a story, and if it really was one, I think it would end tonight. Or perhaps tomorrow, with the sun rising. Dr. Schwebel was all about adventure. She was about rising suns and eating chocolate. She was about exploring, discovering, and just plain having fun. Dr. Schwebel was an exciting person. You never knew what she had up her sleeve. I hate how I'm filling this entry with cliches, but the thing is, with Dr. Schwebel, it never felt like a cliche. It was all so real. I am still having trouble accepting that I will never see Dr. Schwebel again. Like I recently wrote on the Blue Blog, I still dream about her. In my dreams, I can never catch up with her and talk. She is constantly pushing me away or I wake up right before I get to say anything. I don't know why my dreams are like this, but I really, really, really wish that even in my dreams I could get the chance to speak with her. I have so much to tell her. I feel so cheated that just when my relationship with Dr. Schwebel was growing, I lost her. I don't know if she could hear what we all said about her tonight, but I want desperately to believe that she could and that she did. I know I was speaking about her, but inside, I was crying to her. I wanted her to hear everything I said. I wanted her to know just how much I appreciate everything she taught me, whether in the classroom or just from being herself.
Also, if anyone knows how I can get a Latin II book that I can somehow teach myself from, at least a little bit, please, please let me know. It hurts me to think that I might lose what I spent so much time with Dr. Schwebel learning and I don't want to forget my Latin. Then again, I feel weird about having another Latin teacher, aside from a book. It's too soon. I don't know. Latin has become something almost sacred, symbolic of my bond with Dr. Schwebel. It is something that still connects me to her. When I read that passage tonight - it was the first time I was reading Latin out loud since I was in her class. Latin has become so personal. I wish Dr. Schwebel was still with me, still teaching me how to properly pronounce the words and how to put the correct accent on the right syllables. I wish she was still teaching me her tricks for remembering things. No, I don't think I could learn Latin from anyone else right now. It wouldn't be right, somehow.
Oh God, I just miss Dr. Schwebel so much. Dr. Schwebel, I hope you were with us tonight. I hope you were with me on my birthday. I hope you heard what we had to say about you and I hope you understand just how much you still mean to all of us. To me. I cannot wish you a shana tova or a gmar chatima tova, but I can hope and pray that you are somewhere safe now, somewhere where you are happy and exuberant and somewhere good. I don't understand much of what happens after a person dies - you know more than I do (but then, you always knew more than I did and I so looked up to you because of it) but whatever sort of existence it is, I hope you are in the best state you could possibly be in and that no more harm can come to you. May you succeed in whatever adventure you are in now. Please, please, please don't forget about us who miss you so horribly.
Showing posts with label latin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label latin. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
And Now For Something Completely Different
A Monty-Python title for a serious post, but a fitting quote nonetheless.
Today was the first day of Stern. Tomorrow I'll write a post about my first two days as a whole, but I just want to take a moment and think about the fact that I had two English classes today (well, two and a writing class where the teacher didn't show up) and Dr. Schwebel wasn't there. And I don't mean to sound so depressing but it was just, well, weird. I couldn't stop thinking about how she should be there and how it all felt so wrong, somehow.
This whole thing is weird. I feel almost as though I'm inventing part of my relationship with her. I'm a pretty cautious person when it comes to developing relationships with people and it sometimes sounds, from my writing, that we were a lot closer than we actually were. I think. But, like a wise friend reminded me today, it isn't like I should have done something I didn't. There was no way I could have been closer to Dr. Schwebel last year. Though I didn't visit her office outside of class time, though we didn't have lengthy conversations in the hallway, though, that one time I met her in Barnes and Noble by accident, I didn't know what to do or say and she ended up talking to me more than I spoke to her, I was slowly opening up. I needed more time. This year, I know I would have gone to visit her in her office. But now, of course, I can't. And I hear there's a new Latin professor. Someone asked me if I was taking Latin and I said I wasn't. I don't even know if there's a Latin II. It wasn't in the course catalog when we were all registering for classes last spring. But I can't imagine taking Latin with another teacher. There was just this bond Dr. Schwebel and I had, I guess being a one-on-one sort of class will do that to you, and it was almost like having a chavruta, honestly, only we were reading Latin, not Hebrew or Aramaic. But the way she would tell people who saw us together that I was her Latin student, and in this proud sort of tone, just...wow. I miss being her Latin student more than anything else.
And the reason the title of this post is so fitting is because Dr. Schwebel and I shared a Monty Python appreciation moment during class one day, not long after I posted this.
And now I really need to go to bed because I'm rambling and making myself cry from my ramblings and it's two friggin thirty in the morning.
Today was the first day of Stern. Tomorrow I'll write a post about my first two days as a whole, but I just want to take a moment and think about the fact that I had two English classes today (well, two and a writing class where the teacher didn't show up) and Dr. Schwebel wasn't there. And I don't mean to sound so depressing but it was just, well, weird. I couldn't stop thinking about how she should be there and how it all felt so wrong, somehow.
This whole thing is weird. I feel almost as though I'm inventing part of my relationship with her. I'm a pretty cautious person when it comes to developing relationships with people and it sometimes sounds, from my writing, that we were a lot closer than we actually were. I think. But, like a wise friend reminded me today, it isn't like I should have done something I didn't. There was no way I could have been closer to Dr. Schwebel last year. Though I didn't visit her office outside of class time, though we didn't have lengthy conversations in the hallway, though, that one time I met her in Barnes and Noble by accident, I didn't know what to do or say and she ended up talking to me more than I spoke to her, I was slowly opening up. I needed more time. This year, I know I would have gone to visit her in her office. But now, of course, I can't. And I hear there's a new Latin professor. Someone asked me if I was taking Latin and I said I wasn't. I don't even know if there's a Latin II. It wasn't in the course catalog when we were all registering for classes last spring. But I can't imagine taking Latin with another teacher. There was just this bond Dr. Schwebel and I had, I guess being a one-on-one sort of class will do that to you, and it was almost like having a chavruta, honestly, only we were reading Latin, not Hebrew or Aramaic. But the way she would tell people who saw us together that I was her Latin student, and in this proud sort of tone, just...wow. I miss being her Latin student more than anything else.
And the reason the title of this post is so fitting is because Dr. Schwebel and I shared a Monty Python appreciation moment during class one day, not long after I posted this.
And now I really need to go to bed because I'm rambling and making myself cry from my ramblings and it's two friggin thirty in the morning.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
She Wears a Giant Tiara
She wears a giant tiara
Though it is not made of gold.
It is not made of silver, or copper, or glass.
No.
Her tiara shimmers, shines, basks
In an unearthly glow, an aura, a nimbus
Which surrounds not just her tiara, but her very being.
For you see, her giant tiara
It is not quite a tiara at all
But a light - a golden light
Like sunlight, only sunnier
Like a laugh, only happier
And it envelopes her like a flame
Hugging her close, its diamond tendrils reaching out
And everyone they touch grows warm.
Everyone they touch becomes part of her,
The one with the tiara.
She wears a giant tiara
Because she is a giant-hearted queen.
She does not crown herself in her tiara
But rather her subjects, her students, her princesses do
For they love her - she is their teacher.
And they, the princesses, are her students.
And now the queen, she goes to rest, but she wants--
She wants to see her princesses grow
She wants to see her princesses transform
And have their own giant tiaras.
For when that day comes, her princesses will be queens, too
And they will have to touch others
Like her tiara touched them.
And she left them with a single spark -
One spark, one baby flame, that can flicker
That can become its own tiara.
One diamond, one emerald, one ruby, one gem.
They will all grow into their crowns.
And one day, one day, they will know what is it like
To be a queen. Maybe. Perhaps. She hopes.
And I hope - one day--
I hope to have my very own giant tiara.
[*"She wears a giant tiara" was a sentence Dr. Schwebel taught me in order to remember a certain aspect of Latin grammar. I thought of it suddenly today and crafted it into this poem. I'm not quite sure if the poem makes any sense, but I just needed to write it. One day, I will write a short story called "She wears a giant tiara" and it will probably (er, hopefully) make a lot more sense than this poem does. I apologize for the corniness of this poem, in any case.]
Though it is not made of gold.
It is not made of silver, or copper, or glass.
No.
Her tiara shimmers, shines, basks
In an unearthly glow, an aura, a nimbus
Which surrounds not just her tiara, but her very being.
For you see, her giant tiara
It is not quite a tiara at all
But a light - a golden light
Like sunlight, only sunnier
Like a laugh, only happier
And it envelopes her like a flame
Hugging her close, its diamond tendrils reaching out
And everyone they touch grows warm.
Everyone they touch becomes part of her,
The one with the tiara.
She wears a giant tiara
Because she is a giant-hearted queen.
She does not crown herself in her tiara
But rather her subjects, her students, her princesses do
For they love her - she is their teacher.
And they, the princesses, are her students.
And now the queen, she goes to rest, but she wants--
She wants to see her princesses grow
She wants to see her princesses transform
And have their own giant tiaras.
For when that day comes, her princesses will be queens, too
And they will have to touch others
Like her tiara touched them.
And she left them with a single spark -
One spark, one baby flame, that can flicker
That can become its own tiara.
One diamond, one emerald, one ruby, one gem.
They will all grow into their crowns.
And one day, one day, they will know what is it like
To be a queen. Maybe. Perhaps. She hopes.
And I hope - one day--
I hope to have my very own giant tiara.
[*"She wears a giant tiara" was a sentence Dr. Schwebel taught me in order to remember a certain aspect of Latin grammar. I thought of it suddenly today and crafted it into this poem. I'm not quite sure if the poem makes any sense, but I just needed to write it. One day, I will write a short story called "She wears a giant tiara" and it will probably (er, hopefully) make a lot more sense than this poem does. I apologize for the corniness of this poem, in any case.]
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Arma Virumque Cano
"Arma virumque cano" - "I sing of arms and the man," the first line of Virgil's The Aeneid.
This post is dedicated to my Latin teacher, Dr. Lana Schwebel, A"H.
Dear Dr. Schwebel,
How's tricks?
Two days ago, I met one of my friends in Penn Station - we had been on the same train but hadn't actually seen each other until we got to the city. You know how it is. Well, I of course said hello and we walked part way to where we had to go (we had to split up at sixth ave., so a short walk, but hey, a walk is a walk). Sometime during that walk, my friend said to me, "Oh, you're an English major, aren't you?"
"Yes," I replied, thinking she had perhaps heard about some literary contest or something - or maybe even that a literary journal was finally being started at Stern! Wouldn't that be just great?
"I got an email yesterday that a professor died...Sch...Schwebel?"
"...Who?"
"Schwebel?"
"Dr. Schwebel?"
"Yes. Did...did you have her?"
I was in a daze by that point.
"Yes," I said, feeling very distant from the conversation. Almost like I had a head cold. My brain was all fuzzy. "Yes, she...she's my Latin teacher. But I...you're sure? I never got anything."
"Yes, I got it in an SSTUD. It said it was a tragic death. How old was she?"
Faintly, "she was really young."
"Oh, yeah, tragic death, she must have had some kind of accident."
"Yeah..."
I think we joked about SSTUDs after that to lighten the mood. But I was shaking all over. I literally ran to my internship and, once there, hurriedly checked my email. Nothing. No SSTUD. I quickly emailed Chana and she said she never got an email either. I checked the YU website. Nothing.
That whole day, I checked my email about every five minutes. And I'm hardly exaggerating. I think, somewhere, in the way back recesses of my mind, I knew it was true. My friend wouldn't make it up. But yet there was no email. No proof. No one had told me for real. I even looked you up on google and found nothing to suggest anything horrible had happened. So I convinced myself it was a mistake. Some kind of horrible, terrible, sick mistake. But a mistake nonetheless.
The next day, I checked my email pretty frequently but not as frequently as the day before. I tried to imagine what I'd be feeling had I not met my friend in Penn Station. I'd never had heard about any of this. I'd have gone on thinking you were still...still there. We were going to continue reading Latin together in the fall. And I wanted to tell you all about working at a newspaper and about the giant printing press they have. I wanted to thank you again for your letter of recommendation - actually, an email is waiting for you saying just that. Only you'll never read it now. Or will you? Can you know what your emails say from in Shamayim? I wonder how much you can be aware of what's going on down here. Do you know what happens at the end of Harry Potter already? It's weird, out of all the things I could be thinking, my mind keeps going back to--"and she'll never know what happens at the end of Harry Potter. She was so close. So close."
Back to yesterday, I had pretty much convinced myself everything was one, big, huge mistake and that was the end of it.
But I knew it wasn't. I did. Like I said, somewhere in me, I knew it was true what my friend had said. How do I know I knew that? Because I kept checking my email, waiting to hear something. I knew I would.
This morning, I got an email with the subject, "Dr. Schwebel." I just stared at it in my inbox for a few moments, knowing what it would say and dreading it greatly. I felt a terrible, sinking feeling in my stomach. I was going dizzy. I moved the mouse, clicked, and opened the email.
And there it was.
You were gone.
Another one of your students was collecting anything any of us wanted to write about you to put together in a book and present to your parents.
I was in shock. In terrible, terrible shock. I just stared at the email before leaving my room, standing on the stairs, and crying. I burst into tears - just like that. I didn't think I would. I hate crying. I hold myself back from it all the time. I think I'm embarrassed by it. I don't like to come off as overly emotional. But no one was home. I was free to be upset, to cry, to repeat, "No, no, no" over and over.
It just didn't make any sense to me. And suddenly, I was overcome with this intense desire to know exactly what happened. I had to know. I emailed the girl who sent me her email and she forwarded to me the SSTUD that basically no one got. She also told me it had been a car crash. An article in The Yeshiva World filled in the rest.
Touring in Russia? In Siberia? All I could think about, reading that article, was how scared you must have been. I know I'd have been terrified. Not only is being in a terrible car crash frightening, but in Siberia? God. It gives me the shivers. I don't like to think about it. Let's move on to pleasanter things.
I want to continue studying Latin, even if we can't read together anymore. I don't know how, but I'm going to try to review everything we did and then maybe I'll buy a book that can teach me more. And a better book, because I know you really didn't like the one we used. And then, one day, I'll be able to get my own copy of Harry Potter in Latin. And read it, too. :D Of course, of course, along with Cicero, Ovid, Virgil, and all them other "dead dudes."
It will be very weird going back to school and having someone else in your office - that office you waited so long for. I remember that. =D
I'm still in a bit of denial, still in a huge daze about the whole thing. I don't really know how to handle it.
Thank you again for writing a letter of recommendation for me.
I'll try my best to keep up the dead language.
Your one and only Latin student,
Erachet
This post is dedicated to my Latin teacher, Dr. Lana Schwebel, A"H.
Dear Dr. Schwebel,
How's tricks?
Two days ago, I met one of my friends in Penn Station - we had been on the same train but hadn't actually seen each other until we got to the city. You know how it is. Well, I of course said hello and we walked part way to where we had to go (we had to split up at sixth ave., so a short walk, but hey, a walk is a walk). Sometime during that walk, my friend said to me, "Oh, you're an English major, aren't you?"
"Yes," I replied, thinking she had perhaps heard about some literary contest or something - or maybe even that a literary journal was finally being started at Stern! Wouldn't that be just great?
"I got an email yesterday that a professor died...Sch...Schwebel?"
"...Who?"
"Schwebel?"
"Dr. Schwebel?"
"Yes. Did...did you have her?"
I was in a daze by that point.
"Yes," I said, feeling very distant from the conversation. Almost like I had a head cold. My brain was all fuzzy. "Yes, she...she's my Latin teacher. But I...you're sure? I never got anything."
"Yes, I got it in an SSTUD. It said it was a tragic death. How old was she?"
Faintly, "she was really young."
"Oh, yeah, tragic death, she must have had some kind of accident."
"Yeah..."
I think we joked about SSTUDs after that to lighten the mood. But I was shaking all over. I literally ran to my internship and, once there, hurriedly checked my email. Nothing. No SSTUD. I quickly emailed Chana and she said she never got an email either. I checked the YU website. Nothing.
That whole day, I checked my email about every five minutes. And I'm hardly exaggerating. I think, somewhere, in the way back recesses of my mind, I knew it was true. My friend wouldn't make it up. But yet there was no email. No proof. No one had told me for real. I even looked you up on google and found nothing to suggest anything horrible had happened. So I convinced myself it was a mistake. Some kind of horrible, terrible, sick mistake. But a mistake nonetheless.
The next day, I checked my email pretty frequently but not as frequently as the day before. I tried to imagine what I'd be feeling had I not met my friend in Penn Station. I'd never had heard about any of this. I'd have gone on thinking you were still...still there. We were going to continue reading Latin together in the fall. And I wanted to tell you all about working at a newspaper and about the giant printing press they have. I wanted to thank you again for your letter of recommendation - actually, an email is waiting for you saying just that. Only you'll never read it now. Or will you? Can you know what your emails say from in Shamayim? I wonder how much you can be aware of what's going on down here. Do you know what happens at the end of Harry Potter already? It's weird, out of all the things I could be thinking, my mind keeps going back to--"and she'll never know what happens at the end of Harry Potter. She was so close. So close."
Back to yesterday, I had pretty much convinced myself everything was one, big, huge mistake and that was the end of it.
But I knew it wasn't. I did. Like I said, somewhere in me, I knew it was true what my friend had said. How do I know I knew that? Because I kept checking my email, waiting to hear something. I knew I would.
This morning, I got an email with the subject, "Dr. Schwebel." I just stared at it in my inbox for a few moments, knowing what it would say and dreading it greatly. I felt a terrible, sinking feeling in my stomach. I was going dizzy. I moved the mouse, clicked, and opened the email.
And there it was.
You were gone.
Another one of your students was collecting anything any of us wanted to write about you to put together in a book and present to your parents.
I was in shock. In terrible, terrible shock. I just stared at the email before leaving my room, standing on the stairs, and crying. I burst into tears - just like that. I didn't think I would. I hate crying. I hold myself back from it all the time. I think I'm embarrassed by it. I don't like to come off as overly emotional. But no one was home. I was free to be upset, to cry, to repeat, "No, no, no" over and over.
It just didn't make any sense to me. And suddenly, I was overcome with this intense desire to know exactly what happened. I had to know. I emailed the girl who sent me her email and she forwarded to me the SSTUD that basically no one got. She also told me it had been a car crash. An article in The Yeshiva World filled in the rest.
Touring in Russia? In Siberia? All I could think about, reading that article, was how scared you must have been. I know I'd have been terrified. Not only is being in a terrible car crash frightening, but in Siberia? God. It gives me the shivers. I don't like to think about it. Let's move on to pleasanter things.
I want to continue studying Latin, even if we can't read together anymore. I don't know how, but I'm going to try to review everything we did and then maybe I'll buy a book that can teach me more. And a better book, because I know you really didn't like the one we used. And then, one day, I'll be able to get my own copy of Harry Potter in Latin. And read it, too. :D Of course, of course, along with Cicero, Ovid, Virgil, and all them other "dead dudes."
It will be very weird going back to school and having someone else in your office - that office you waited so long for. I remember that. =D
I'm still in a bit of denial, still in a huge daze about the whole thing. I don't really know how to handle it.
Thank you again for writing a letter of recommendation for me.
I'll try my best to keep up the dead language.
Your one and only Latin student,
Erachet
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Poemization
To Neologize: To make up a new word or a new definition for an already existing word. It is one of my goals in life to neologize at least one word and have it be in the dictionary. That would be awesome. Anyway, that totally has nothing to do with anything, except that I'm fairly sure that 'poemization' is not a real word. In any case, I have a huge French Revolution final tomorrow morning but I ALSO have to hand in my Latin final tomorrow morning and I just spent THREE HOURS translating part of Cicero's In Catilinam, which is basically a speech about how Catiline is a traitor to Rome and is therefore a very bad person and should get out of Cicero's sight. Basically. There's still a poem I have to translate but, see, since I wasted all day today doing...I'm not even sure what, I ALSO have to study for my French Revolution final tomorrow. So I decided to do that now. See, blogging is part of studying. Uh-huh. Yep. It...erm...it is.
And now, a poem, made up on the spot by, well, me.
Studying is so much fun
It should be done by everyone
Although it takes some energy
At night up keeps it all long me
That word order was out of place
But that's something you'll have to face
I feel like I'm running a race
Writing this at such a fast pace
I cannot come in at last place
For if I do I'll go to space
How many other words have 'ace?'
How long can I keep this thing up?
I think I'm wasting plates and cup
I'm not sure why, but it just rhymed
Why do I feel like this is timed?
This work has gotten very silly
But I'll still do it willy-nilly
Since once I stop I'll have to study
And I don't have a study-buddy
I guess I'll stop this nonsense now
And revolution, pow pow pow
Will have to enter my brain. Ow.
And now, a poem, made up on the spot by, well, me.
Studying is so much fun
It should be done by everyone
Although it takes some energy
At night up keeps it all long me
That word order was out of place
But that's something you'll have to face
I feel like I'm running a race
Writing this at such a fast pace
I cannot come in at last place
For if I do I'll go to space
How many other words have 'ace?'
How long can I keep this thing up?
I think I'm wasting plates and cup
I'm not sure why, but it just rhymed
Why do I feel like this is timed?
This work has gotten very silly
But I'll still do it willy-nilly
Since once I stop I'll have to study
And I don't have a study-buddy
I guess I'll stop this nonsense now
And revolution, pow pow pow
Will have to enter my brain. Ow.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Huffabo et puffabo et tuum donum inflabo!
That's Latin for "I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down!" I'm not sure where I found it. But anyway, I take Latin and so does my cousin so over the first days of yom tov, my uncle asked me if I now get the Latin joke in Life of Brian. I haven't seen Life of Brian in ages so I didn't really remember the Latin joke, so after yom tov I went on google and searched for it and this was what I found:
While I was already on the Life of Brian quotes page, I skimmed it for the other funny quotes and found a few which reminded me just why I thought the Stern play was a combination of Cinderella and Life of Brian. And they are:
Brian: I am NOT the Messiah!
Arthur: I say you are Lord, and I should know. I've followed a few.
Brian: I'm not the Messiah! Will you please listen? I am not the Messiah, do you understand?! Honestly!
Girl: Only the true Messiah denies His divinity.
Brian: What?! Well, what sort of chance does that give me? All right! I am the Messiah!
Followers: He is! He is the Messiah!
Brian: Please, please, please listen! I've got one or two things to say.
The Crowd: Tell us! Tell us both of them!
Brian: Look, you've got it all wrong! You don't NEED to follow ME, You don't NEED to follow ANYBODY! You've got to think for yourselves! You're ALL individuals!
The Crowd: Yes! We're all individuals!
Brian: You're all different!
The Crowd: Yes, we ARE all different!
Man in crowd: I'm not!
The Crowd: Sch!
It's a very funny movie, but not so kosher. Then again, Monty Python is hardly ever kosher.
In other news, Pesach has been really great so far. I made matzah balls for the first time and they came out awesome. Of course, while I was making them, it took me a while to figure out that if I stand directly over the pot and gently drop the matzah balls in, I won't get splashed with boiling water. Until I figured that out, I was tossing them in like basketballs from across the kitchen so I'd be out of range of the burning splash. It was quite fun. Matzah basketballs!
And now it's back to making note cards for my Latin midterm that I have to take before vacation is over. The good news is, I've finally been able to catch myself up to basically where I'm supposed to be in that class. I think no matter what, there should be a catch up week in the middle of every semester. Sure, plenty of people will waste it, but for those who seriously need it, it will alleviate so much stress and tension. And even for those who waste it, they need a break anyway. It will just be healthy for everyone overall. Sort of like a recharge period.
- [A Centurion catches Brian writing graffiti on the palace wall.]
- Centurion: What's this, then? "Romanes eunt domus"? People called Romanes, they go the house?
- Brian: It says, "Romans go home."
- Centurion: No, it doesn't! What's the latin for "Roman"? Come on, come on !
- Brian: Er, "Romanus"!
- Centurion: Goes like?
- Brian: Annus.
- Centurion: Vocative plural of "Annus" is?
- Brian: Er, "Anni"!
- Centurion: "Romani"... [writes "Romani" over Brian's graffiti] "Eunt"? What is "eunt"?
- Brian: "Go".
- Centurion: Conjugate the verb, "to go"!
- Brian: Er, "Ire." Er, "eo," "is," "it," "imus," "itis," "eunt."
- Centurion: So, "eunt" is... ?
- Brian Third person plural present indicative, "they go".
- Centurion: But, "Romans go home" is an order. So you must use... ? [twists Brian's ear]
- Brian: Aaagh! Imperative!
- Centurion: Which is...?
- Brian: Aaaaagh! Er, er... "i", "i"!
- Centurion: How many Romans?
- Brian: Aaaaagh! Plural, plural... er, "ite"!
- Centurion: "Ite"... [writes "ite" on wall] "Domus"? Nominative? "Go home" is motion toward, isn't it?
- Brian: Dative! [Centurion pulls out gladius and holds it against Brian's throat] Aaagh! Not the dative, not the dative! Er, er... accusative, accusative, "ad domum", sir, "ad domum"!
- Centurion: Except "Domus" takes the...?
- Brian: The locative, sir!
- Centurion: Which is...?
- Brian: "Domum"!
- Centurion: "Domum"... [writes "Domum" on wall] Um. Understand? Now, write it out a hundred times.
- Brian: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Hail Caesar, sir.
- Centurion: Hail Caesar!
While I was already on the Life of Brian quotes page, I skimmed it for the other funny quotes and found a few which reminded me just why I thought the Stern play was a combination of Cinderella and Life of Brian. And they are:
Brian: I am NOT the Messiah!
Arthur: I say you are Lord, and I should know. I've followed a few.
Brian: I'm not the Messiah! Will you please listen? I am not the Messiah, do you understand?! Honestly!
Girl: Only the true Messiah denies His divinity.
Brian: What?! Well, what sort of chance does that give me? All right! I am the Messiah!
Followers: He is! He is the Messiah!
Brian: Please, please, please listen! I've got one or two things to say.
The Crowd: Tell us! Tell us both of them!
Brian: Look, you've got it all wrong! You don't NEED to follow ME, You don't NEED to follow ANYBODY! You've got to think for yourselves! You're ALL individuals!
The Crowd: Yes! We're all individuals!
Brian: You're all different!
The Crowd: Yes, we ARE all different!
Man in crowd: I'm not!
The Crowd: Sch!
It's a very funny movie, but not so kosher. Then again, Monty Python is hardly ever kosher.
In other news, Pesach has been really great so far. I made matzah balls for the first time and they came out awesome. Of course, while I was making them, it took me a while to figure out that if I stand directly over the pot and gently drop the matzah balls in, I won't get splashed with boiling water. Until I figured that out, I was tossing them in like basketballs from across the kitchen so I'd be out of range of the burning splash. It was quite fun. Matzah basketballs!
And now it's back to making note cards for my Latin midterm that I have to take before vacation is over. The good news is, I've finally been able to catch myself up to basically where I'm supposed to be in that class. I think no matter what, there should be a catch up week in the middle of every semester. Sure, plenty of people will waste it, but for those who seriously need it, it will alleviate so much stress and tension. And even for those who waste it, they need a break anyway. It will just be healthy for everyone overall. Sort of like a recharge period.
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