Write or Die!

What a Novel Idea

Books are important. For many reasons. And because they are so valuable, we should continue teaching novels in our English curricula.
Certain schools are dropping Novels from their curricula because of lack-of-funding. I'd argue that they can hold book drives, fundraisers, and book exchanges, etc. in order to keep the novel. Novels are too important to give up on them. They teach ethics, principles, different world views, different cultures, writing, vocabulary, inference skills, etc. They hold vast worlds and people--very in-depth, vivid, and detailed ones at that! They are fun, they hold our culture and history (even fiction) and you have a great sense of accomplishment once you finish

So there you have it. Novels are important. We should keep them. What a novel idea!

Qualities

Ruth Gendler has poetically written about Beauty, Inspiration, Fear, Pain, Anger, Courage, etc. They are beautiful and touching. Here are my favorites

“The Wind is a gossip. Not in a malicious way. She just likes to move and stir things up. She runs through the fire barefoot and has no fear of heights. She carries big blue bowls of rain with her. She plays the flute and loves all kinds of sounds. Her laughter fills the sky. The wind is a wonderful storyteller. I still remember how she introduced me to the Qualities when I was a child.”

“Stillness will meet you for tea or a walk by the ocean. You must be gentle when you approach her. She is more sensitive than we can even imagine and she does not explain herself much. Sometimes I bring her flowers—not because she needs them (she tends several gardens)—but because I am better able to meet her when I am carrying flowers. Her favorite time is dawn.”

“Trust is the daughter of Truth. She has an objective memory, neither embellishing nor denying the past. She is an ideal confidante—gracious, candid, and discreet. Trust talks to people who need to hear her; she listens to those who need to be heard; she sits quietly with those who are skeptical of words. Her presence is subtle, simple, and undeniable.

Trust rarely buys round-trip tickets because she is never sure how long she will be gone and when she will return. Trust is at home in the desert and the city, with dolphins and tigers, with outlaws, lovers, and saints. When Trust bought her house, she tore out all the internal walls, strengthened the foundation, and rebuilt the door. Trust is not fragile, but she has no need to advertise her strength. She has a gambler’s respect for the interplay between luck and skill; she is the mother of Love.”

“Confidence ignores ‘No Trespassing’ signs. It is as if he doesn’t see them. He is an explorer, committed to following his own direction. He studied mathematics in France and still views his life a s a series of experiments. The only limits he respects are his own. He is honest and humble and very funny. After all these years, his sister doesn’t understand why he still ice skates with Doubt.”

“Contentment has learned how to find out what she needs to know. Last year whe shent on a major housecleaning spree. First she stood on her head until all the extra facts fell out. Then she discarded about half her house. Now she knows where every thing comes from—who dyed the yarn dark green and who wove the rug and who built the loom, who made the willow chair, who planted the apricot trees. She made the turquoise mugs herself with clay she found in the hills beyond her house.

When Contentment is sad, she takes a mud bath or goes to the mountains until her lungs are clear. When she walks through an unfamiliar neighborhood, she always makes friends with the local cats.”

“I invited Intuition to stay in my house when my roommates went North. I warned her that I am territorial and I keep the herb jars in alphabetical order. Intuition confessed that she has a ‘spotty employment record.’ She was fired from her last job for daydreaming.

When Intuition moved in, she washed all the windows, cleaned out the fireplace, planted fruit trees, and lit purple candles. She doesn’t cook much. She eats beautiful foods, artichokes, avocadoes, persimmons and pomegranates, wild rice with wild mushrooms, chrysanthemum tea. She doesn’t have many possessions. Each thing is special. I wish you could see the way she arranged her treasures on the fireplace mantle. She has a splendid collection of cups, bowls, and baskets.

Well, the herbs are still in alphabetical order, and I can’t complain about how the house looks. Since Intuition moved in, my life has been turned inside out.”

“Ecstasy builds slow fires, but they burn for a long time. His eyes are the color of the clear summer night. He loves the drum and the flute and the dark winter moon. He knows many things, but he does not talk much. If you try to pin him down, he will answer you with music. You have to decide for yourself what he really means.

Ecstasy runs an inn for travelers high in the Turquoise Mountains. It is an interesting job because he is never quite sure who will turn up. There are no reservations here, and the meals are free. The mountain air brings clear dreams, and some of the guests start to settle in. Ecstasy insists that no one stay too long. He is running an inn, not a boarding house. He also leaves the inn from time to time.

The inn is not always easy to find. It is not on the main road, and sometimes the signs disappear. Don’t attempt the journey if you are in a rush or are scared to be by yourself. Even Ecstasy loses his way if he has been gone for awhile.

Ecstasy was a jeweler before he came to these mountains. His jewelry has always been simple. The designs are completely right. His lines are true. He especially likes to work with amber and jade and diamonds. It was his search for crystals that first brought him to the Turquoise Mountains.”

“Honesty is the most vulnerable man I have ever met. He is simple and loving. He lives in a small town on a cliff near the beach. I have forgotten how many stars there are in the midnight sign until I spent a week with him at his house by the sea.

In my time I have been afraid of so many things, most especially of the heights and of the darkness. I know if I had been driving anywhere else, the road would have terrified me. Knowing I was on my way to see him softened the fear. And in his presence the darkness becomes big and deep and comforting. He says if you are totally vulnerable, you cannot be hurt.”

“Sensuality does not wear a watch but she always gets to the essential places on time. She is adventurous and not particularly quiet. She was reprimanded in grade school because she couldn’t sit still all day long. She needs to move. She thinks with her body. Even when she goes to the library to read Emily Dickinson or Emily Bronte, she starts reading out loud and swaying with the words, and before she can figure out what is happening, she is asked to leave. As you might expect, she is a disaster at office jobs.

Sensuality has exquisite skin and she appreciates it in others as well. There are other people whose skin is soft and clear and healthy but something about Sensuality’s skin announces that she is alive. When the sun bursts forth in May, Sensuality likes to take off her shirt and feel the sweet warmth of the sun’s rays brush across her shoulder. This is not intended as a provocative gesture but other people are, as usual, upset. Sensuality does not understand why everyone else is so disturbed by her. As a young girl, she was often scolded for going barefoot.

Sensuality likes to make love at the border where time and space change places. When she is considering a potential lover, she takes him to the ocean and watches. Does he dance with the waves? Does he tell her about the time he slept on the beach when he was seventeen and woke up in the middle of the night to look at the moon? Does he laugh and cry and notice how big the sky is?

It is spring now, and Sensuality is very much in love these days. Her new friend is very sweet. Climbing into bed the first time, he confessed he was a little intimidated about making love with her. Sensuality just laughed and said, ‘But we’ve been making love for days.’”

“Beauty is startling. She wears a gold shawl in the summer and sells seven kinds of honey at the flea market. She is young and old at once, my daughter and my grandmother. In school she excelled in mathematics and poetry. . . Beauty will dance with anyone who is brave enough to ask her.”

"Pleasure is wild and sweet. She likes purple flowers. She loves the sun and the wind and the night sky. She carries a silver bowl full of liquid moonlight. She has a cat named Midnight with stars on his paws. Many people mistrust Pleasure, and even more misunderstand her. For a long time I could barely stand to be in the same room with her. I went to sleep early to avoid her. I thought she was a gossip and a flirt and she drank too much. In school we learned that she was dangerous and I was sure that she would distract me from my work. I didn’t realize she could nurture me. As I have changed, pleasure has changed. I have learned to value her friendship."

National Geographic

National Geographic likes Ruth's photo!!!!! :D
She told you she was famous! (Such a Leo; they always think they're the center of everything. We Aries don't disabuse them of the notion because it suits our purposes. :D )
CONGRATS RUTH!

reading

Why is it that school books are never as interesting, enrapturing, captivating, compelling, exciting, etc., as books I read on my own? And why must they go past so sllooooowly? I'm currently reading My Antonia by Willa Cather, but I've read...three? four? other books in between the 56 pages of My Antonia. Bad BAD English major!!! It makes me feel so guilty! And yet, I persist....

B.A.

B.A.
Ask any high-schooler and he or she will tell you that it means Bad Ass. This means that I have a Bad Ass in French.
B.S.
As anyone and they'll tell you that this means Bullshit. I wonder why I don't have one in French. And I won't be getting one when I get my next degree in English.

Yup, that's right. I've graduated with a B.A. in French from NIU. I will spend two more years getting a second B.A. (in English this time) and a teaching certificate.
This means I can create minions. :D
OK, kidding. But still.

Now all I need is a summer job to PAY for the next two years! (And the loans afterward!)

FML, MLIA, GMH

So, lately there have been a rash of sights where people post funny (in a schadenfreude way) and unfortunate events that have happened to them that explain why their life sucks/why they hate their life or why their life is simply average/typical and not interesting or worth doing more than existing in. Well, Then there's Gives Me Hope (GMH). This particular site is sweet and touching and does indeed give me hope. Reading all the little blurbs of how people help one another and express love (even for strangers) and acceptance of stigmatized peoples makes my heart swell. Whenever you've lost faith with the world or humanity, go to Gives Me Hope and read about popular boys who stand up for girls with Downs Syndrome, about girls who shave their heads for their best friend who has lost hair due to cancer, for little children who do thoughtful things for friends. It is really a wonderful site for that reason. The site itself gives me hope to see all the things that give other people hope.

How to Train your Dragon

I just got back from How to Train Your Dragon. It is an excellent film, funny, and interesting. It isn't how I expected it, but it is good. Also, it proves that I am right. :D How, do you ask. Well, when I was ten, I went to TCC. One of the classes I took that summer was with computers. I remember making a web page about dragons (I remember that I made one, but not how I did it. Also, it never got to the interntet. It's on an orange floppy disk somewhere.). I remember saying that dragons were related to cats, not reptiles. Everyone made fun of me, told me I was wrong, etc. (I'm scarred for life.) In any case, I insisted that if dinosaurs were related to birds, then dragons could be related to cats. Well, How to train Your Dragon proves me right because Toothless, the Night fury dragon, is very catlike in behavior, attitude, and even expression/appearance.

I should read the books (by Cassida Cowell).

e e cummings

e e cummings is made of awesome.
He's quirky, creative, original, and one hell of a good poet. I approve.

"listen: there's one Hell of a good universe next door; let's go"
"no one, not even the rain, has such small hands"
"as freedom is a breakfastfood"
"-long enough and just so long / tomorrow will not be too late"
"time is a tree(this life one leaf) / but love is the sky and i am for you / just so long and long enough"
"i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)"
"when the world is puddle-wonderful"
"far and wee"
All of the following poems (couldn't pick lines because the entire things were so beautiful):
"in time of daffodils(who know"
"moan"
"love is a place"
"may my heart always be open to little"
"little tree"
"l(a"
"O sweet spontaneous"
"who knows if the moon's"
"because I love you)last night"

Motto to live by:

"At least it's not a gunshot."
Apparently, this is what I told my room mate when she was complaining about a wedgie. I don't remember ever having said this, but there you have it. She says she found it so funny that whenever she's complaining about something, she tells herself 'at least it's not a gunshot."
She recently hurt herself by slipping while climbing a rope (for ROTC). She has discovered that it is a second degree burn. When the nurse accidenlty pulled the scab off today, Non~a (my roomie) says that she told herself "at least it's not a gunshot."
My reply: "Babe, I would've cried. Screw the 'it's not a gunshot' Gunshots aren't the only things that hurt."
I don't think this is going to stop her from saying this, however. Whatever floats your boat.