Attention all students of Roma
Ryan’s High School and Petting Zoo, this is Mother Superioriosa
speaking. Whimsy 301, taught by our own Sister Windy (who has just returned
from drying herself, um, from a holiday) will be commencing shortly. The poem under agonizing examination will be: ONLY IF.
Thank you, and please stop throwing food around the
cafeteria! Yes, OperaKait, this means you!
[“shortly” thereafter]
Good morning, classh. How nice to see you
again: you know, I have a brand new pair of glasses, the Enya-Multi-Focal
™, and I can even see dead people with these cool
babies. Even the eye in the back of my head seems somehow sharper.
Now, our text for today is ONLY IF, that
classic treatise on existentialism composed by our beloved Roma in a frenzy of
learning French. Let us begin our excavation of the poem by ruminating on its
title:
ONLY IF
Just two little words, my fledglings, but such
MEANING therein! A perfect example of how our dear Roma uses significant juxtapositioning of verbal quantities. Now, think about
“ONLY” and “IF” in juxtaposition. Miss Begotten, do you know what
“juxtaposition” is? No, dear, it does NOT relate to having your feet up on the
Lazy-Boy. My, I think this is going to be a challenging day. Allow me to
reproach the question this way:
ONLY IF: what if Roma had written IF ONLY?
Now, wouldn't that have changed the entire philosophical thrust of the poem?
For IF ONLY suggests, nay exudes, a sense of nostalgia, for example, if only I
hadn't taken a vow of celery, if only I hadn't eaten those 20 cupcakes, if only
I could get a job at a normal school, etc. A sense of regret,
a sense of wanting to go back and do it differently, maybe go to Venus
during Mars Break. I do hate it when Mars gets so crowded and little innocent landers get stepped upon.
But ONLY IF is VERY different, isn't it
Master Card? Oh, so sorry to have
awakened you again. With luck, some day I may not awaken you at all.
You see, studnuts, ONLY
IF, as here exposed by Roma, exudes positivism, doesn't it? We can do ANYTHING
we want, but ONLY IF we really really want to! ONLY
IF you want to, you could change the world, though whether that would be a good
thing we shall leave to Sister Martha of the Merciful Napkins. Our Roma erupts
with a volcanic sense of SEIZING the DAY! Carpe Diem! Yes, this is a poem of
gasping, er, grasping at the opportunity! So Roma, by
the title alone, signals the intelligent reader (who is also awake) that she is
issuing a challenge: take a chance, get ready to fly away, like Icarus! Oh dear, perhaps NOT the best example; we don't
want any feathers falling around here - you see, Sister has allergens and would
not wish to sneeze in classh, especially not upon any
swine from the petting zoo -- OperaKait, please send
Porky back to the zoo enclosure. Thank you, dear.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, the title: as we intrude
into the corpse of the poem we shall see how Roma infuses her lyrics with an
optimism worthy of Mary Poppins, one of my most influential
positron role models, after Sigourney Weaver of course.
Now, we must assault the first two lines of ONLY
IF:
When there's a shadow, you reach for the sun
When there is love, then you look for the one
Now, Master Piece, what rhyme pattern is Roma using
here? Is that a drafty Guinness in your hand? Congratulations, you have just
won a slip that forces you to go mano a mano with Mother Superioriosa! Good luck, dear, you’ll need it.
Now, back to beeswax:
When there's a shadow, you reach for the sun
What wonderful words of optimistic existentialism, ignoring
totally the latest weather forecast. What does Roma mean here? Any idea, Miss Rhine? Good point: how does one find
the sun when lost in a shadow - extra points for you!
You see, classh, Roma
wishes her mesmerized listeners to cast away the darkness and seek the light
(Biblical Reference = Book of Roma 22.2010). Yes,
my dears, if darkness overcomes you, you MUST reach out for the light of the
Sun, but only after applying Sun Screen 975 by Enya
™, and wearing asbestos gloves; that nuclear furnace up there gets pretty hot!
Sort of like Sister Sahara, but I digress.
Now, OperaKait and Miss
Led, please stop passing notes in classh. Oh, I see,
they are MUSICAL notes and thus acceptable; yes, Miss Led, that IS indeed a G
string you have in your hand.
Next Roma sayeth unto us:
When there is love, then you look for the one
Notice the significant placement of "one"
at the conclusion of the line; Roma is most definitely advocating monogramism here. We may each have one, and only one,
monogram in our earthly lives.
So, when we feel love ("we" of course
being "you" since Sister took a rather hasty vow), we seek out the
source of that love, just as Pluto, the great Greek philosopher, sought LOVE at
a symposium. Which, by the way, is banned at Roma Ryan’s High.
Sorry, Master Full, but perhaps that will accelerate your desire to graduate
from our school before the next millennium begins. Or the next Enya album issues forth. Witchever
comes first.
And that aforementioned love is "one" -
the one object of your infection. You must seek it, Miss Guided, since,
apparently, you are in love but haven't met the other person yet. This is known
as “erotic projection”: you know that someday your prince will come, someday......oops,
didn't mean to break out in song like that. No, Miss Heard, his name is NOT
“Hairy the Whale.”
To continuate our implosion of the poem:
And for the promises, there is the sky
And for the heavens are those who can fly
Promises! Aha, Roma slips in a familiar conception just for
us: she deludes to a famous track, “The Promise,” NOT found on any railway. No,
for it is instrumental in nature, and is thus at a loss for words. And, when
calling out to angels, Roma had also insinuated promises:
Surely, if this is
promises are mine to give you.
mine to give...
You see, Miss Taken, Roma loves to make PROMISES – it’s
just such fun to make a promise and then watch everyone eagerly anticipate it.
And when she makes these promises, we oft miss out on them as we have no idea
where to look and The Oracle is being very trying again! But NOW, at long last,
she tells us where to go: the SKY!
But what does this all MEAN, you ask, Miss Appropiated? There are two possibilities that we must
entertain – do we have enough chips and dips here for that? Yes, Miss Rhine, a
chocolate cake would indeed be loverly – please go
and do a shake and a bake at once.
Possibility one:
All promises reside in the air high above us. But who has placed
them there? Angels who are really bored? Or are promises, by their very nature,
lighter than air, and they float away, away, away, high into the atmosphere,
where they finally escape global swarming!
And thus never get fulfilled.
Possibility two:
Roma is actually lending our promises a helping hand by
telling us to yell loudly when making them. You see, studnuts,
our promises SHOULD fly high to the sky, for then any Supreme Being (or maybe
Captain Kirk) will finally be able to HEAR them! Then we would all be forced to
KEEP them – now wouldn’t that be fun!
This second
interruption would lead us ever so smoothly into the next line:
And for the
heavens are those who can fly
Well, duh! Everyone knows
that getting to heaven is not like taking a bus in Dublin! No, THAT would be
Hel......llo, Mother Superioriosa,
how nice of you to visit my classh! Yes, do sit down
next to Mister Woof. No, he will not shed on your new cloak of
semi-invisibility. Yes, yes, I PROMISE!
Anyway, to reach the
heavens we must wing our way skyward, taking whatever mode of transportation is
superior, right Mother Superioriosa? Oh, Mister Woof
was telling you that Master Corporal has vodka in his backpack? Well, perhaps
that is his preferred method of levitation to the heavens.
Now, Roma wants
us all to reach heaven, of course, so we MUST learn to fly. Thus we must teach
our spirits (no, not Master Corporal’s spirits) to lift us up unto the heavens
and open wide the doors! If you want to get to heaven, FLY my little fledgling
spirits. But DON'T get too close to the sun in the first line, or, like Icarus, you will become unwaxed
and wane.
Well, classh, we will next tackle the CHORUS. Please practice
your chorus dancing while I take a fast break for some Pepto-Brennan
™ - our favourite pink drink.
[tempus
fugits]
Now, are we ready for the Chorus? Good! All together now, sing:
If you really want to, you can hear me say
That is VERY incisive of our Roma, is it not, Miss
Clued? You CAN hear IF you really want to, and if you have not destroyed your
precious ears by listening to heavy metal on your iPod with the volume turned
up as high as possible, or am I digressing? What, you can’t hear me? Sigh..
Anyway, OPEN you ears if
you want to hear! Of course, the onus is on "me" to speak clearly and
eNUNciate properly! Ho ho,
another good one for Sister there!!
Only if you want to will you find a way
Yes, think of Lord of the Rings, dear studnuts.
Frodo CAN find a way, but ONLY if he wants to. The
DESIRE must be in your heart or the journey will NOT end happily; you will
never find a way. How sad. As the old saying goes, "where there's a milk,
there's a whey.” You know, I once had a cat named Frodo, and it always found
its way back to my place, even when I gave it away to friends 1000 kilometers
from here. What a sense of direction Frodo had! And he loved to play in the tub
with my dog Rings, too.
If you really want to you can seize the day
Brava, Roma: the “carpe diem” motif resurfaces here!
No, Master Key, carpe diem has absolutely nothing to do with fishing. It is
LATIN, a language dear to Sister Multilinguia and myself. Cogito, ergo sum! Now,
who said that? Yes, Miss Spoken? It was not you -- totally correct. It was, of
course, OperaKait.
Seize the day: run with it; fly to the heavens; live your dream -- oh,
how many cliches Sister has today. No, Miss Filed, I
do NOT need any more, but thank you for asking, dear.
Now, classh, let us say
that you do seize the day --well, then you are psyched up for the next
line:
Only if you want to will you fly away
Fly away? Ah, repetitio ad
initium! For in the opening stanza did we not read that "and for the
heavens are those who can fly"? You see, Roma in this poem certainly
displaces no FEAR of FLYING! She wants to fly, she wants US to fly, right to
the nearest CD shop to buy more collections of things we already have.
To become Collectors!
So, then, do we now grasp the philosophical
zeitgeist of this chorus? Yes, indeed, Miss Spelled, only if we really want
something will we achieve it -- how
perspective of you, my dear.
Well, now that we have demoralized the chorus of
this song, we are ready to march over the next stanza in Roman hobnail boots.
Now, let us emote upon the following lines:
When there's a journey, you follow a star
How omniscient of dear Roma! Who must have lived a
previous life when there were no Ground Position Satellites to paint the sky
with directional beacons. So all one had was the stars
(and one’s Michelin Guide Book). There you are, on your long desired journey,
and you lose your ways and means!
What should you do? No, Master Ing, you are not allowed to use your cell phone to call
Mom. No, you gaze up at the STARS: Enya,
Madonna, Cher, Elvis, Bono, Beyonce,
all of whom are present in the constellation of SellaMoraSongas.
They will tell you where to go, believe me!
Next we meet:
When there's an ocean, you sail from afar
Well, Roma, NOT necessarily so! One just could live
near the sea, you know. What if one lived in Halifax: one could just march on
down to the harbour and head out, hopefully on a ship
or canoe of some sort. However, let us give Roma the benefit of a doubt:
perchance she is intimidating here that ALL ocean voyages are afar and away in an existential sense.
And then:
And for the broken heart, there is the sky
Well, well, what an enigmatic verse we have here!
The SKY is meant for broken hearts! Forget about the cardiac centre at your
local hospital: just follow Roma and fly to the sky. Watch out for those gooey
wax wings, however. Ah, Roma, Roma, Roma, what are you telling us here?
Well, Roma MAY, in her mystic manner, be alluding to
metaphysical healing: when your heart breaks not literally, but figuratively
speaking, you gaze up at the sky and you feel so much better. Although,
personally, I find that Pepto-Brennan™ is MUCH more
effective, especially after an anchovy pizza with chocolate sauce, but I
digress.
Finally:
And for tomorrow are those who can fly
Ah, yes! Tomorrow, creeping in its petty pace, BELONGS only to those who can FLY, like Mister Woof,
who is at times higher than a kite. You must wing your way towards the FUTURE!
Boldly go where no graduate of Roma Ryan’s High has gone before! THIS, my
fledglings, is your goal: spread your tiny wings and fly away! No, OperaKait, you may try this only AFTER the class is over.
Insurance problems, you know.
Roma is telling us to set HIGH goals for ourselves:
look up, aim high, shoot your arrow with vigour and with a bow! Then, You WILL Want Tomorrow!
Sublime, isn't it?
Alas, what comes next may, at first glance, seem incomprehensible, so I have
invited a special guest to join us as we explore the linguistic depths of:
Ooh go doe bay mwa
Ooh go doe bay mwa
Well, let me interfuse our special linguistic expert: this is
my nephew RJ, and he is 9 months old. Isn't he just so adorable, classh? Of course he is, he takes
after me.
I asked RJ to interpret these mystical lines as he
speaks “goo goo” so very, very well, after months of intensive study with Mr.
Spock. So, RJ, what do these lines mean?
RJ: “Roma is here, in a most illuminating
manner, echoing the primal sounds of the human species. Having studied both
Persia and Ebony, she understands, at a most Freudian level, the urge to give
voice to one's inner child. So, here, in this short refrain, Roma's inner child
breaks out, and what it says is:
I need a new
diaper,
I need a new diaper.
Fortunately, we have on hand the brand new
Water-Parks Diaper ™, which has been endorsed by Aigle
itself. That is all I have to say, since Aunt Sister Windy only promised me ONE
stuffed doggie for this performance - something about a vow of poverty.”
Thank you, RJ! You see how much RJ emulates me; he
is so perspirational for his young age. And now I
will let him go and play with Charlie the Dog in the Petting Zoo.
We must now, alack and alas, finish off this lovely
poem of flight. So,
here we go:
Ah! je voudrai voler comme
un oiseau d'aile
Ah! je voudrai
voler comme un oiseau d'aile
d'aile
Now, Miss Translated knows very well that Roma is
here employing the French language to express another image of flight. Yes,
Master Key? True, this is French as spoken by an Irish person, I agree.
Roma, en francais d'accord, says that the persona of the poem wishes to FLY
like a winged bird! Like a sparrow, or a chickadee, or a robin, or even a hawk!
These, my fledglings, are ALL birds that have WINGS: you see, Roma makes a VERY
important point here - if you are going to fly like a BIRD it is always best to
fly like a bird with WINGS! Unless your bird is a 747, off
course.
So, classh, when you want
to fly like a bird, select a winged one, and try not to pay the full
fare. Some of those discount birds are really a good buy these days. I even
have storks in some of them - I must look ahead to my retirement, you know, but
I digress.
Now Roma repeats the babbling "I need a new
diaper" chorus. I really do not wish, at this point in time, to go into
diapers again.
So we reach, at long last, the end of our amazing
philosophical journey:
If you really want to you can seize the day
Only if you want to will you fly away
Sound familiar, studnuts?
Yes! It is indeed a repetitio expectatia
of a segment of the earlier chorus. So nice to know that some
of you do manage to stay awake.
In a classic climax, Roma here emphasizes the
existential essence of her poem: if you WANT to, really, really WANT to, you
CAN! Yes, you can! So desire to
fly, my little ones, desire to reach the sky, to go
far beyond, even unto other planets. Let yourself GO!
For we are all creatures who desire to fly, to
escape the mundane, to feel the air beneath our wings (do NOT forget to put
those wings on). Roma here encourages us to aim high, even to graduate from
this very high school. As one or two of you eventually will.
What a perspirational
poem! I feel all aglow with excitement, with the thrill of flight. I AM ready
to seize the day, to fly away, away, awaaaaaaaayyyy.
And here are my orthopedically made wings. I will just strap them on now; my,
they are very comfortable. Now a quick FLAP - ooops,
sorry Miss Spent, I did not mean to flap in your face.
There, I am aloft, I am up and away, far and away. I
am leaving you to drift upon the winds!
I am the Flying Nun, at last – eat your heart out, Sally Fields!
Ta!