My Driving Experiences

It’s one of those days.  You know, the morning that you spill your coffee all over your crisp white shirt, the afternoon you nap through your big test, or the night out with friends that goes all wrong.  When I’m having one of those miserable, rage-provoking days, I find that I deal with them pretty well if I have time to drive around with my friends.  Talking alone, while it is an opportunity to vent, is not an escape from your surroundings.  Getting away, even just a few miles away, can change your perspective entirely.  Driving, with your favorite song on, receiving and giving advice, is extremely healing for me.    

           

Sometimes these conversations I have in the car end up being superficial or self-interested, but on certain occasions, we find ourselves talking about more important issues.  I’ve found out so many things about my close friends just by listening to them in the car, and often times, I find out that their opinions are quite different than what I would have expected. 

Most of the drives we take are short and to usual places like the mall, Target, or out to eat.  But, sometimes, we decide to take longer trips.  Junior year of high school, against our parent’s advice, my friend Farrah and I decided we would take a few days off and drive around Texas, visiting potential colleges.  We first went to Texas State, close to our home of Austin.  We then traveled to Rice, A&M, Baylor, TCU, and SMU.  The time we spent together driving back and forth, talking about what we wanted in the future, brought me way closer to her.  We talked each other through all of our fears about college, moving away, and who we would become.  When we came back from that trip, I felt like I knew so much more about what I wanted out of life.

               

Drives, even when taken alone, continue to have a calming effect on me.  I buy more gas than the average person, but I believe it’s worth it for me.  It’s exciting going places I’ve never been and driving just to see where I’ll end up.  I don’t typically think of myself as even the least bit adventurous.  I’m usually more on the safe side, worrying about what’s around the corner.  But when I’m in my car, driving down the highway, or a quiet street, I have absolutely no fear of the unknown.  This simple experience, that most people take for granted, or even consider tedious and aggravating, is one of my biggest pleasures. 

EASTER

Easter has been my favorite holiday ever since I can remember.  Of course, Christmas is a close runner-up, but the feelings surrounding Easter are like no other.  Yes, on Christmas Eve my family and I go to a wonderful church service, and on Christmas morning there are many presents every year. 

But with Easter, I will always remember how much I loved to get dressed up in my fancy dress to go Easter egg hunting at the church and how much I looked forward to dying eggs with my family.  Dying eggs at my house is a tradition that everyone loves.  We fill coffee cups with different colored dye and let the little ones pick the colors they want to dye their eggs.  Of course, it can get messy, with kids dunking their eggs into dye and reaching their hands in when they shouldn’t, but I guess that’s what is so fun about it. 

Spring is my favorite season, with its bright flowers, birds chirping, and sudden rainstorms.  The weather is warm and dewy, and it is perfect for spending some quality time outside.  Easter comes at a perfect time, and this year in particular, it has given me a brief weekend to forget about my final exams that lie ahead.  I get to spend time with my family and friends, eat good food, and embrace the idea of summer being around the corner. 

Easter is the one holiday where I can embrace my love for candy, bunnies, and pastel all in one day.  The big chocolate bunnies, marshmallow Peeps, and Reese’s eggs are always staples in my house around this time, and I have a feeling my parent’s will never stop giving me an Easter basket, even when I’m an adult living on my own.  They love the tradition as much as I do.  Even my black lab Bonnie has fun chasing the bunnies that live in our yard.  I wish I could tell the innocent bunnies that Bonnie may not have the best intentions, but I guess they will figure that out soon enough.  Poor bunnies.

Megan and I

My cousin Megan and I have grown up together, and I feel like she is my twin.  We have experienced a lot of the same things, including vacations together, family reunions, and even the same schools.  Our moms are twins named Rhonda Fay and Wanda Kay.  Cheesy, I know.  We are always told we are their clones, even though we see ourselves as very different from them, as most teenagers do.  Our moms wanted us to be like sisters from the start, and I am thankful for the way we have grown up together.

Megan was born in April of 1991 and I was born in August of 1991.  We are so similar in age that we always had the same interests.  We fought like sisters, but we would get infuriated if anyone else said anything bad about the other.  For the first few years of our lives, our moms worked together, and we would spend the days with our Mimi and Papa.  They would take us to the park daily and we frequented the zoo and local restaraunts.  Some of my happiest memories are times that I’ve spent with them on these simple trips.

I’m happy that instead of being in daycare I got to spend so much time with my family.  I am best friends with Megan to this day, and we talk multiple times a day.  It is nice knowing that no matter what happens we will always have each other to talk to.  I have had moments where I was so angry at Megan that we would not talk for days, but since we are family, there is really no escaping each other. 

Our bond is closer than with any of our own siblings or other cousins.  Sometimes at family reunions we find ourselves talking together and excluding others, without even realizing we do it.  We are attached at the hip, and I wouldn’t want to be without her.  When we have families of our own, I already assume that our children will be best friends.  It’s just how we have always wanted it.  I always joke with her that if we both have twins, since they run in our family; we are going to have our hands full.  But the point is, no matter how our lives turn out or what the future holds, we will always have each other.  It’s reassuring to know that there is someone out there, besides your parents, that would do anything for you, without you even having to ask.

Francis Macomber

               I really enjoyed “The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber.”  Even though the characters were all annoying in their own way, I was definitely rooting for poor Francis the whole time.  I thought it was interesting how Hemingway gave us insight into each of the characters and their distinct personalities, while also keeping things subtle.  Margaret would ask Francis questions that seemed innocent, but as the reader, we knew that she was trying to rouse up his emotions and make him feel like less of a man.  By keeping him this way, she had full control of the relationship.  If Francis feels small and powerless, he will not dare take the risk of leaving his beautiful wife to find another.  But, if she loses that control over him, Francis can steer himself away from her, which is hard for her to accept.

                The way that Hemingway described the buffalo and the lion in such great detail allowed me to see the magnitude of the situation.  If I encountered a wild animal like that, I too would be frightened.  Francis was completely out of his pretty boy element when he went on this hunt.  I believe that he knew what he was getting into but felt like he had something to prove.

                Once Margaret cheated on Francis with Wilson, I was completely turned off by her, even more than I had been before.  She came off as sneaky and just plain cruel.  It was as if she would do anything to belittle Francis, and I have never seen a woman with that much disregard for a relationship.  Women are usually the ones who treasure monogamous relationships, and she was acting out and ruining her credibility in my eyes.

                When Francis was shot in the head, I first thought that the buffalo had died and that Hemingway was describing how the buffalo felt.  But when I realized that Margaret was crying and holding the gun, I immediately assumed that she had killed Francis.  Even though the story claims that it was an accident, I do not think for a second that she was aiming for the buffalo.  She was not the type of woman to be courageous for Francis, and she was looking out for herself only.  She was upset that Francis had changed into a confident man, ready to take on anything.  She could not stand to see him leave her.  Francis will never get the justice he deserves for losing his life so suddenly, but Margaret will see that Wilson is now in control of her and can turn on her any minute and say she murdered him.

Moving to Texas

Before moving to Texas, I lived in a rural area of South Carolina called Little Mountain, right outside of Chapin and about 30 minutes from Columbia, the capitol.  My family is Catawba Indian and German.  We are an odd mix, but we have a deep-rooted connection to each other and the South.  Much of my extended family still lives in the country, and I have close relatives throughout the Carolinas, Georgia, and Tennessee.  Since we were so far from everything, my life in South Carolina was pretty basic.  I had a much simpler life than I do now, and I appreciated the little things and never thought about much else.  I would play outside with my brother every day, since we did not have cable television.     Riding my bike outside, sitting by our pond, and playing in the tree house my dad built me, all felt right, and I did not desire anything more.  I learned to be independent and since we were so far out of town, I became very close to my brother and cousins, giving us a wonderful relationship today.

Upon moving to Texas, everything changed.  We went from being a low maintenance Southern family, to upgrading to a large neighborhood.  I was excited for the change, but at the same time, resentful towards my parents for taking me away from everyone and everything I knew.  When they say everything is bigger in Texas, it is true.  Austin, Texas was such a shock.  I was the only one at my new school with a deep South Carolina accent, and I immediately trained myself to lose it because of how everyone mocked me.  I felt like I didn’t fit in, and I tried extremely hard to do so.  Before moving to Texas, I had no idea what the popular name brands were and what activities were “cool”.  Once I realized that no one rode their bike in my neighborhood, I stopped riding my bike.  I rarely played outside after the move, and I turned to watching TV and wanting a cell phone.   I changed into a kid that was focused on getting my nails done and going to the mall to get the latest clothes, instead of the down to earth girl I was before. 

To this day, I believe that I would be a completely different person if I had never moved to Texas.  I would much more relaxed and a lot less of a “diva” about things.  I realize that I can still go back to being the adventurous, fun-loving girl that I used to be, and I strive every day to stay grounded.  Life should not be about status or material items.  Life should be about family, nature, and enjoying the things you love.  No one should ever tell you what the right thing to like is or how you should dress.  I want to raise my children in the country, with their family, so that they will learn the core values that I did as a kid.  I agree that neighborhoods and fancy architecture are great, but I also think that we are losing the ability to see the beauty of nature and family that is right in front of us.

Billy Collins - "On Turning Ten"

Billy Collins is one of my favorite poets of those we have read.  I enjoyed the poem “On Turning Ten” because it reminded me a lot of the coming-of-age theme we have discussed so often in class.  Collins uses language everyone can relate with to describe the difficulties that come with maturity and loss of innocence.  Leaving childhood behind is something we have all experienced, and it can be a difficult process to come to terms with.

                I loved the line, “at seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.”  Some of the most vivid memories of my own childhood relate to this imaginary world that my friends and I once lived in.  We would play house together, and when it was nice out, I would play cops and robbers with my brother and his friends outside.  This playfulness is a child’s creative outlet, and as we age, we often lose the ability to play.  As children, it’s simple to take a step back from your own life and realize that everything doesn’t have to be so serious.  I guarantee that when I’m stressing out about some test, paper, or deadline, that the younger version of me would disapprove of how tense I can be.  It makes me realize that life is much too short to spend it worried or stressed.

                The poem ends by describing the harsh transformation from a naïve child to a more informed 10-year old.  Collins writes, “It seems only yesterday I used to believe, there was nothing under my skin but light.  If you cut me I could shine.  But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life, I skin my knees. I bleed.”  To me, the light under his skin represents happiness, youth, and freedom.  When he falls on his knees and bleeds, he shows that we become vulnerable to the harsh reality of the world as we age.  We gain knowledge, but we lose the subconscious ability to push the worries and troubles aside.

                Even though this may seem somewhat depressing, I think there is hope.  I’ve met many adults who are as carefree and happy as children.  I’ve been told that smiling and laughing will lengthen your life, and after witnessing the wonderful life of my great-grandmother and countless older role models, I believe it is true.  We turn ten, twenty, forty, and if we make it there, we go on to be eighty and older.  This poem reminds me that we have to consciously make an effort to keep our spirit youthful, even after our mind and body have aged.

The Three-Day Blow

I really enjoyed “The Three-Day Blow.”  I think Hemingway was writing about a stage that every teenager goes through.  Nick is at an age in the story where he is going through changes in his life and his personality.  He is trying to find out what he wants out of life, when he wants it, and what direction he should take to get there. 

                I believe that Nick decides to drink in an attempt to flood his emotions away.  He responds to Bill with simple answers and multiple times he says nothing at all.  I think Hemingway does this to show how deep in contemplation Nick is about everything.  He is sitting, thinking, and drinking, hoping to find an answer to his question of whether he did the right thing by pushing Marjorie away. 

                When Nick starts to believe that he has a chance to change things and that nothing is permanent, a weight lifts off of his shoulders and he has hope for the future.  This is an experience I can relate to in my own life.  I know that sometimes I wonder whether I made the right decision for my life but knowing that everything is never over just because of one decision, is always reassuring.  We all have the ability to change our lives and steer ourselves in a new direction from the one we are heading in now.

                This short story showed me a new side of Nick.  I now see Nick as a teenager in transition, who cannot decide between being a free man like Bill and becoming a family man with Marjorie.  In my view, he likes the freedom but he needs a woman.  He wants what his father doesn’t have, and by the end of the story, he realizes that it is all still attainable.

                The story is set in a time in history where there is a massive change going on in America that is even larger than Nick’s own changes.  The world around Nick is evolving into a modern age, and this transformation contributes to Nick’s confusion.  He has to find his place in this new world, and he has options that are conflicting. 

This story is relevant to teenagers growing up in the world today, also.  There are many changes occurring, that in my opinion, can either be good or bad.  We rely so much on technology that our personal relationships may suffer in the future.  Our communication is through the internet and smart phones, and the world feels smaller than ever before.  This is good for business and economic growth, but it can be debilitating when it comes to our human need to feel connected to other people on an intimate level.  “The Three-Day Blow” got me thinking about the changes in my own life, and I think it’s a story that still holds true today and will forever.

2nd Meeting with Hana Jang

Today, I met with Hana again after her class, but this time she brought a friend from class with her.  Her friend’s name is Oliver, and she is also from South Korea.  Oliver lives in Keller, Texas at the time, and she has 2 daughters, one 14 and one 12.  It was interesting to me that she was willing to come all the way to Texas to learn English, especially having two children.  I guess that shows how dedicated she is to learning a new language that will help her achieve her goal of becoming a teacher. 

We all ate together at Union Grounds.  They got sushi, and I got a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  They were surprised at my sandwich and said they had never had one before.  That was shocking to me, since most American kids live on them at one point or another.  They were also shocked that I didn’t like sushi or fish.  They looked at each other and laughed when I told them I didn’t like it.  They were in disbelief and kept trying to get me to try some of it.

I asked Oliver about how school is in Korea, and she told me that in college the normal weekly hours are 18-21.  I thought that was interesting because we only see 12 hours as being full time, with most people taking 15 hours on average.  It made me think that our cultural differences might not be just language or food.  I think that as Americans we take education seriously but not as seriously as many other countries around the world.

Another cultural difference I realized is that we address people differently in American culture than they do in Korea.  Hana told me that since Oliver is an older woman, she greets her with a bowing of the head instead of a simple “hey.”  I never noticed that we don’t really have different ways of addressing one another according to age, unless we are writing a letter with either Miss or Mrs.  It never would have occurred to me that they would have specific ways to greet each other according to their age. 

I feel like I’m learning a lot of things from Hana, and it was good to meet with her friend Oliver and get another perspective.  Overall, they are just like any other college student.  Both of them told me that they hate to wake up early, and they like to hang out with friends and go out on the weekends just like everyone else.  I’m realizing that we have some strong similarities, but we also have some really cool differences that are fun to find out about.

VOGUE

I found an issue of Vogue from August 1, 1936.  It was in a collection of other issues of Vogue from around the same period.  I wasn’t expecting it to be so different from our modern magazines, but I found that it was unique in a lot of ways.  First of all, almost all of the depictions of clothing and shoes were drawn out by an artist, which makes the magazine feel more personal.  I would like to see more hand-drawn pictures in our modern magazines.  I feel like if you create something with a computer application, you can make a more colorful and detailed picture, but you miss out on the hand-drawn and creative feel.

The article that drew my attention was one on page 72 titled “Adventures in Education.”  In the article, College of Bennington was profiled.  Bennington is a women’s college located in rural Vermont.  The way the author of the article described the college was different from how we see writing in women’s magazines today.  There was a great deal of figurative language and the college is described as having “shed a lot that we thought belonged to colleges, as the modern maiden has shed grandmother’s stays and petticoats.”  The author was showing through this statement that what we think belongs is always evolving, and we have the ability to change what is perceived as normal.

Within the article, there were photographs of women who attended the college, participating in activities like sculpting and painting.  It reminded me of a summer camp that I went to when I was younger.  If I had seen these pictures without the article, I would not immediately think of an academic college.  Instead, I would think about an art school or club.  Bennington College got many of its plans and ideas from Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, New York.  Sarah Lawrence did not have a set curriculum and “in an economics course, students find themselves reading proletarian novels along with statistics.”  The courses changed from year to year, and the classes were never quite what you would expect.

After reading through the article and other sections of the magazine, I got a strong sense that women at the time were searching for a change.  Most of the articles made use of the word “modern” many times throughout, signifying that women did not want to be associated with the old-fashioned views of the mothers and grandmothers.  Women were seeking education, expression through fashion, and a sense of individuality.

 In my view, the 1930’s was an incredibly important time to the transformation of our society.  Women wanted a voice and they passed on that attitude down to their children.  The fact that I am now in college studying the same curriculum as men my age would have been looked upon favorably to many of the women at that time.  Without modernist views from women in the past, women’s rights and other progressions in our society may not have been possible.

My Museum Experience

Today, I went to the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth with my friend Preston.  He lives in Fort Worth and has been to the museum many times, so he decided to come along with me and show me around.  When we first got out of the car, we stopped by this large vortex outside.  When we said anything to each other while inside of it, it would echo loudly.  It was architecturally astounding to look at, and it was overpoweringly large.  

We then walked into the museum, starting on the first floor and then moving on to the second floor.  Upon entering, I was immediately surprised by a small room with a layer of wrapped green candies on the floor.  They were arranged in a shape that appeared to me like a river of candy.  We joked together that we wished the rest of the museum was like this so we could feel like we were at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.  I stood there and wondered how long it would have taken them to make something like that or to even think of the idea.  Most of the paintings I saw gave me a similar feeling.  There were all types of paintings, but I particularly liked Jackson Pollock’s work.  His paintings were raised, textured, and very unique.

There was a book with wings that was made out of lead.  Lead cannot fly, so it was ironic that wings were made out of it.  In that same area, we saw a large canvas with earth, clay, ash, and mud dried onto it.  A dried sunflower lay above the soil, and it made me depressed to look it.  After I read the plaque, the purpose of the art made more sense.  The sunflower represented growth after the Holocaust.  I enjoyed this piece in particular because it had a special meaning to the artist and was about a subject I have learned a lot about.

There were a couple pieces by Andy Warhol that were intriguing to me right away.  I walked over to them because they were so vibrant and colorful.  There was a self-portrait of him and a painting with many different portrayals of Marilyn Monroe.  In some, she would have red lips and in others, they would be primarily black.  Each picture was unique, even though it was the same exact photograph.

We walked outside to look at a sculpture we spotted when we looked out the window.  The only way to describe it is two large, metallic trees that are connected by their branches.  It was amazing to see up close, and it made me want to see how these sculptures are made.

The main exhibit that was showcased was one by Robert Lazzarini, who seemed to have specialized in art with illusionistic art.  All of his sculptures were distorted from their usual appearances and shapes.  He made guns out of walnut and steel, brass knuckles, and a safe.  Each sculpture was uniquely shaped and molded into something that was amazing to look at.

I’m glad that I went because it was fun to look at all the different types of art and sculpture.  Most of the art confused me and made me rethink my entire definition of what art is.  Similar to our discussion on the first day of class about what literature is, I had a discussion with my friend about the question, “what is art?”  If a florescent light mounted diagonally on the wall is considered art, then what are the boundaries and guidelines of art?  I can see how many of the artists pushed the boundaries of what I once considered art, which consisted of realist paintings.  I now have a new idea of what modernism means, and I was able to learn through my visual experiences.

My First Meeting with Hana Jang

When I first called Hana to schedule a day to meet with her, I knew that the language barrier was going to be difficult.  She is from Masan, South Korea and has just begun learning English.  We had trouble talking on the phone, but after much stress, we finally set a time for a meeting.  When I called her to find out where she would like to meet, I found that she had trouble understanding the word “where” in context.  I called one of my friends, who knows some Korean, and she told me that the Korean word for where is pronounced “uh-dee”.  I used this in place of where and she knew exactly what I meant.   She told me to meet her outside of the gym when her class ended.  We then walked over to my dorm to sit down in one of the study pods and talk.  Even though we had such a problem communicating from the start, we both got along well and were able to laugh off the mistakes we made in communicating with each other. 

We soon found out that both of us have an interest in dance.  She graduated from Kyungsung University in South Korea with a degree in dance.  She also taught kindergarteners ballet.  This is similar to my experience with dance, since I have been dancing ballet and modern for most of my life.  We talked about our experiences with dance for a while.  She said she hopes to take dance classes in Texas one day after she finishes the English program.

Hana moved from South Korea to Texas just in the past year, and she currently commutes from Denton every day for her classes at TCU.  She lives in Denton with two of her cousins, who are also in intensive English programs in the area.  Both of her parents still live in Korea, along with her younger brother.  She said that she hopes her brother will be able to join her here in a few years.  Listening to her talk about her family made me sad because she is so far away from them and on her own in a new country, with all new customs.  That would be so scary and yet so exciting, so I hope that I can show her some really awesome things that Texas has to offer so she can get the most out of it.

She let me look through her book for her class so that I could see what she does every day, and it was interesting to see exactly what they do.  She will have to look at a picture in her book and write about it, with the help of a dictionary.  She told me that she was so thankful for the dictionary because she is not too great at spelling.  This reminded me of my experience in French classes in high school.  We would have to write short paragraphs in French, and like Hana, we also got to use a dictionary.

            In addition to written tests, Hana’s class also incorporates oral tests.  During these tests, they have to talk about certain topics in purely English.  When she described doing this, her expression changed and I could tell that this task frustrated her.  She said that the main things she likes to talk about to the class are her family and a famous actor from Korea named Rain.  They are both familiar topics to her, so she finds them easier to talk about to others.

I’m glad that we were finally able to meet and that it turned out to be such a good experience.  I think talking with Hana will help me work on my patience with other people and listening skills during conversation.  When talking to her, you have to pay attention to every word or you might miss everything.  I found that my mind was working so fast to try and keep up with what she was trying to say.  She said that she was happy to have a conversation partner to improve her English skills, and I let her know that I would help her in any way I can.  I’m shocked that she has been here for such a short amount of time and already has the ability to speak English in a way that I can at least partly interpret.  I can only imagine how big of a change it has been and how difficult it is for her.

Sailing to Byzantium

“Sailing to Byzantium” was written by William Butler Yeats, who was a native of Dublin, Ireland.  This particular poem spoke to me because I could feel the emotions of the character that was sailing away.  Some of the other modernist poems we have read, particularly those of Wallace Stevens, were hard for me to interpret and therefore I didn’t connect with them as closely. 

                The poem starts off with “That is no country for old men.  The young in one another’s arms…”  These lines immediately made me think that whoever is narrating this poem is an older person who feels that they don’t belong.  The speaker desires to be wanted and embraced, what he sees younger people experiencing.  The poem goes on to refer to dying fish to show that nature is a cycle and everything eventually dies.  The descriptions given of nature all associate it with youth.  Only the youth can thrive in nature because the older generations are just waiting to die off.

                The speaker wanted more from their life than waiting on death to approach.  This is his motivation or sailing to Byzantium.  The lines that spoke to me the most were when the man describes his deepest thoughts and reasoning for leaving.  “Consume my heart away; sick with desire and fastened to a dying animal. It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity.”  I interpreted these lines as the old man saying he wants to turn his spirit into something eternal, such as art.  He wants to channel his heart into something other than keeping it “fastened to a dying animal.”  He doesn’t want his soul to die with him.  Paintings, sculptures, and mosaics are all eternal and prized in Byzantium.  He wants to join in on this everlasting culture.

                When my great-grandmother died she left behind all of the quilts she had made me and my brother, along with her Singer sewing machines.  Every time I see these items, I am reminded of her personality and how much she loved us.  Her spirit and all of her memories are sewn into her quilts.  She will never be here to talk to us again, but I am thankful that she left a piece of her with us.  I think this is similar to photographs, also.  Without pictures, I would be lost.  It’s how I look back on my fondest memories and the people in my life that I miss.  Without art and photography, it would be very difficult to leave behind a piece of ourselves, unless we do something that changes the world forever.  Since most of us aren't going to be well-known by everyone on Earth, the least we can do is try to preserve ourselves within our family and among our friends. 

The Second Coming

"The Second Coming", written by William Butler Yeats, grabbed my interest as I read it.  I thought it was unusual that the poem's form was so irregular.  There were no end-rhymes included in the poem and it read like a moment in time that was captured.  These literary choices by Yeats led me to believe that he must have had a motive in writing this poem the way he did.  In my opinion, he wrote "The Second Coming" so strangely to make it more mysterious.  "The Second Coming" is intentionally ambiguous to allow the reader to make their own assumptions about the meaning.

When I hear the phrase "Second Coming", I immediately think of Christ's Second Coming.  Even though it is clear that Yeats is not referring to Christ specifically, the phrase "second coming" means that a transition of some kind is occurring.  We live in times of unknown circumstances.  The world is changing rapidly, and at the time Yeats wrote this poem, he was witnessing the Irish Civil War unraveling and the damage World War I had caused.  We cannot control the future, but we can attempt to make a change if we see things starting to go awry.  The "rocking cradle" towards the end of the poem is a symbol of hope and rebirth.  If we change our ways, we have the ability to change the world and the direction it is heading. 

My favorite line of the poem is, "The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity."  To me, this line is a call to action.  If we have an idea to change the world for the better, we need to share it with others.  So many wonderful ideas have probably been buried with their creators.  People with thoughts of evil are the ones who live to get their point across and change others for the worst.  We need to reverse this and circulate positive thoughts to others.

The beast that is depicted in the poem is "a shape with lion body and the head of a man."  I see this hybrid beast as a representation of man's transformation.  Yeats is showing that slowly but surely, humans are changing into harsh animals without a conscience.  With war and devastation, we lose our humanity a little each time.  Soon, things will fall apart.  "The centre cannot hold" forever, and if we continue down the path we are headed, "mere anarchy" will control the world.  I may be a bit far out in my interpretations, but I took Yeats' ambiguous theme as an invitation to attach my own ideas to the poem.  After reading through the poem a few times,  I still feel the same way about it as I did at the beginning.  I think that Yeats' point was to show that the future is a mystery, as is the true meaning of his poem.