Quite the Opposite

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow is white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires do grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is their more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go-
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

This is Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare. In it he implies that falsely comparing one's love is absurd, but by telling the truth against cliche comparisons one affirms their love is real. This idea is completely contradictory to my original reading of the poem. At first read, it appeared that he was belittling his mistress, but I dove deeper into it I read it in a new light. With a little help from websites and a dictionary I determined that he wasn't belittling his mistress but was belittling the cliches people use to describe the person they are in love with. It sounds confusing, but once you dive into the sonnet, I am sure it will make more sense to you.

As I was doing my homework with this sonnet last night, I came to a realization. This idea of presenting information contradictory to common beliefs has been almost a recurring theme in my life. Take my homework for example. My mother has stood over me since practically kindgergarten making sure I got my homework done to her standards. The older I get the more I ask for freedom from her strict ways. It has now become my responsibility to do my homework, but I find no motivation to do it. I look for outside factors to motivate me to get it done rather than motivate myself. The common belief would be that with a mother standing over you for years, it would just be natural to get it done, but with me that isn't the case.

Another place where the opposite of expectations idea has been found is in my writing. It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I like to write. I have several stories in my head just waiting to find their way onto the page. Each and every time I attempt to get one down, I stick with it for nearly a week, but then find a reason to stop. The words don't make sense, they are going in the wrong direction, I have changed my mind about the characters, or even outside factors such as movies or other books can make me doubt what I have done. One this doubtful stage hits, I can't continue. I question every move, every line drawn on the page, until writing becomes a chore rather than a favored hobby. This time when I started I could've sworn that this was the draft. This was the attempt that would actually get me to the end. Unfortunately exactly the opposite happened. I wrote each night for a week straight but then watching a movie forced me to question my characters and my story in general.

With the analysis of this poem, and my past experiences I think that Shakespeare was trying to prepare us for an undeniable fact of life; just when you expect something to go one way, it indeed will go in the opposite direction.