Thus (for class is ending)
"Ask her if she still keeps her kings in the back row." - J. D. Salinger, "The Catcher in the Rye"
The static of ambivalence still lingers, and these fickle frenzies of mine will go on. To what extent I should accept that is perhaps a fault. When I look to my poems, I know that they're justified insofar as the historicity of my "identity" has moulded me to feel unsure of the ways of people and of myself. The dislocation from my parents (the wolves and the snails), the burden of absent connections and the ambivalence of knowing how they may never feel as sorry about the disconnection as I do (thank you, Holden, thanks to my misreading?), and the inevitable gaps of time between innocence and experience and all the flux in between. The question still remains, as I address in a bell tolls a hearing year, what, if you and me can observe these issues of ambivalence and the apparent causes of, why can't we, and certainly myself included, feel the confidence to address it? Ambivalence is inevitable, as Babstock illustrates, but, as Sinclair shows, there can be a beauty in and of itself, for the mysterious nature of existence is a marvel. I take this further by showing that ambivalence can be stunning, but when it stems from the social constructs around us, perhaps the harborer ambivalence is not necessarily the one who should feel inept, but rather the constructs that envelop one are the things that contort, little by little, year after year, until it is too late but to romanticize our that which has gone into making us.