Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“Tis some visitor”, I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.”
These words are what start off Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous work. Published well over a century ago (1845 for those that care to know), I remember reading this poem for the first time when I was a teenager. I found the text disjointed and foreign. Hell, I’ll even go as far as to admit that I only paid minor interest in this poem due to a Simpson’s episode. Am I an uncouth heathen? Perhaps, but that’s another article.
A quirk of literature in general is that it is open to interpretation. And despite what an author may have originally intended, a poem can have a completely different inference and can even draw new meaning. A song can mean something completely different after that first kiss behind the bleachers. And so here we are, 165 years later and
rapping at my chamber door has new context.
In this day and age, everyone is plugged in to some degree or another. We can text, tweet, blog, forum post, instant message, digg, and that’s only mentioning what I did this afternoon. The list is practically endless. Is it a bad thing? Absolutely not, it brings us more options to communicate.
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