My knees scraped against the ridged concrete while my dad helped me
climb across the wall separating our house from the neighboring property. A small, dilapidated house sat in middle of the land. Time had worn out its paint and weather had beaten down upon it mercilessly. Countless plants had begun to grow from the cracks on the walls. Branches were sticking out on all directions and there was almost no grass left on its front yard. Windows could no longer mirror my image; they were rather covered with the heavy dust it had accumulated over the years. We both stood before what was left of the door, and I was still uncertain as to why my dad had brought me there. Millions of questions rushed to my mind. I turned to see whether he was as perplexed as I was, but as I turned to look at him I saw an image I will never forgetan enchanted smile on my dads face as he simply said in an undertone, Masanet. At first, that smile further confused me and made me wonder the reason for it. For a minute I even doubted if I was actually seeing the house my dad had so often spoke about, or if it was all a mirage. That was the day that I discovered something so powerful, which is in part what has made me who I am today. My fathers smile proved to me that human beings are not purely constituted by thought, reason, or logic. That house served as an ideal model of what an ugly house was meant to look like. And yet, on that day I realized how that ugliness doesnt arise naturally to human beings, but that instead we are actually taught to interpret the house in such manner. We are all brought up being taught to classify our surroundings into pre-established categories. It is no coincidence that when my mom and I watched the Lion King, years ago, I recall she saying, look at how ugly the hyenas are! Things dont have innate adjectives by themselves, we, human beings are the ones who give them those adjectives through language and hence, through reason as well. It was all clear. Every single broken window, cracked wall, and dry twig reinforced my conception of what made an ugly house, ugly. This seems to occur in every single detail of our daily existence. We are bombarded by billboards advertising luxury apartments with an ocean views, TV commercials of the latest Mercedes-Benz, and the Good Housekeeping magazine lying on my kitchen table proved thisthey trained me to classify things either as being pretty, ugly or any other adjective in the dictionary. My dads smile however, defied every single one of those concepts through emotion. That was the first time I saw my dad as a friend. In that instance he was neither instructing me nor guiding me, since without even realizing it, he was showing me something about us human beings. It was then when I understood the importance of Masanet. His smile was priceless and made an archetypal and grotesque establishment, paradise. That is the thing about feelings and emotions; no one can actually quantify them or rationalize them into categories. Happiness cannot really be defined, only felt. On this day, my dad was happy and his happiness enveloped me. A simple smile not only transformed Masanet into a beautiful house but also transformed me. It showed me that there is more to the world; emotion and reason are only valuable when combined. We are constantly revolving around a world based on competitiveness, getting a good grade, being the leader, and in the futureIm guessingbeing the first to have the iPhone 72s. But we are forgetting about being good friends, shaking a strangers hand, being innately happy or even contemplating the beauty in an ugly house.
(Cambridge Studies in Opera) Victoria Johnson, Jane F. Fulcher, Thomas Ertman-Opera and Society in Italy and France From Monteverdi To Bourdieu-Cambridge University Press (2007) PDF