Nothing Matters Molly Maldonado

I went home the other night, my mind full of ideas, words, and lines from a play.

Excitedly, I began to explain my outlook to those who would hear me. "It doesn't matter," I said with a smile on my face, "none of this matters." My audience was much less amused. Father had a frown and angry eyes to offer. My step mother wore a look of confusion. "I don't want to hear any more of this negative talk!" yelled Father. He had missed the point. Yes, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Vladimir and Estragon may still be waiting for Godot, but none of this matters. And while many are whining about how hopeless things sound, I am smiling, because I see the faint light on the horizon.

It is impossible to deny the negative views in both Waiting for Godot and Rosencrants and Guildenstern are Dead. "Let's hang ourselves immediately!" offers Estragon only 12 pages into the story. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern seem similarly frustrated with life. Grim messeges are laced amidst the recounting of Bible stories and flipping coins. There is no happiness in giving "birth astride a grave," no hope in words of "intensity which squeezes out life." There is certainly a hopelessness...