Langston Hughes: Harlem

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—

And then run? 

Does it stink like rotten meat? 

Or crust and sugar over— 

like a syrupy sweet? 

Maybe it just sags 

like a heavy load. 

Or does it explode? 

I would count Langston Hughes as one of my favorite poets, and this is a poem that, while I may not be able to quote it verbatim, has stuck with me ever since I read it probably in middle school. From this poem alone and from what I vaguely recall from whatever English class I learned about it in, Langston Hughes seemed like a very interesting person. I'm always kind of thinking of hypothetical situations (let me tell you about parallel universes) so I have the inclination sometimes to say that me and current or dead celebrities would be friends, if we knew each other. I'd probably say this about Langston Hughes also, but maybe we wouldn't- we come from very different circumstances. It's been a weird day in which I lost my keys, lost my phone and got assaulted many times by a racquetbal ball but overall let's face it- I'm a privileged college student. Langston Hughes, if I remember correctly, suffered throughout his life. He had it rough, and his poetry reflected that. He'd probably be cool enough that we could still be friends, but you never know. It'd be an honor to be friends with him if we had lived at the same time. These are weird hypothetical things that I think about sometimes- would Langston Hughes and I be friends?


In this poem I like the idea that in all of his different metaphors, Hughes represents a dream (even deferred) as some sort of form of energy, or a force. It's a loss of water, the source of life with the raisin. It white blood cell pus in the sore. It's dying flesh with the meat. It's a chemical reaction with sun and sugar in the sweet. It's a heavy weight baring down on your back with the sagging load.


Or maybe it's something more violent and dramatic than that. Maybe the energy or force can't be contained and it's bursting and violent and an explosion. It's small and silly, but that last line just has to be italicized. It's representative of the severity of the situation, isn't it? It's a climax that the poem is inevitably reaching.


A dream deferred is a theme I feel like we've seen a lot: the idea of the sad, disillusioned middle aged person who is living a life they're very dissatisfied with. It killed Willy Loman, as Death of a Salesman came up in conversation today. (Occasionally when I'm in an area that's hard to navigate, I'll mutter to myself, "I'm all boxed in, the woods are burning!", a reference people who haven't read the play don't get.) "Once in a Lifetime" by the Talking Heads is a really scary song if you think about it.



Sometimes (like when I'm writing a poetry blog) I wonder if I'm in the right major. I've done a fair amount of creative writing that I really enjoyed doing, and I'm probably more of a right brain thinker than a left brain one, which I think matches up with me being left handed, but not necessarily a technical degree.


But I haven't felt like I wanted to switch majors at any point in this year either, and I feel like that's got to be a good sign for things. I came to RIT with no programming experience, and have been thrown into Python (oh, such a derpy language) and Java (public static void main (String[] args), unless you decide to name args something like Spaghetti). It's been rough but I haven't felt like I wanted to switch majors.


I think intellectually I believe people can have more than two dreams. I'm pragmatic (along with sarcastic, according to Sam), and I believe that when you're in a hard situation you kind of just have to get yourself through it, except I have quit things I had to, I think. Tech Crew (at the end of a season, didn't return Junior Year), Driving School (can't put that off altogether though). So maybe Computer Science can be my dream, too.


It may be one in the morning and I have a 5K to run at 9:30am and homework and work to do this weekend, but I'm surrounded by people I enjoy being with and doing things I enjoy, and I'm living the dream in that regard, at least.


"Val, Val. You're only 18 Val. You have your whole life ahead of you. It'll get better, I promise."
My mom said that to me in a much different, much harder context, but I think it'll probably hold true here, too. I may be 19 now, but I have my whole life ahead of me. I think I can figure things out, and not end up as "Once in a Lifetime", or maybe even "Call Me Al" by Paul Simon, regardless of Computer Science and my ability to cohabit.


I need to go to bed right now though.

Update as of 4/6: I ran a 23 minute, 36 second 5K (3.1 miles), which reduces down to 7 minutes, 36 seconds per mile, which is a new personal record and really exciting for me.

In more mundane news my laundry still isn't folded. Maybe I'll do that after I shower/eat.