Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I started this semester with the poem Into My Own by Robert Frost. Into My Own was the first poem in A Boy's Will collection. The final poem in the collection was Reluctance which is recited in the video above. At the beginning of the collection, Frost was trying to figure out who he was. By the end, he had finished that particular phase in his life. He saw the seasons change and learned all he could during the time. Reluctance is about letting go of that phase of his life and beginning a new one. This is one of my absolute favorite poems by Frost. I wish I would have found these videos earlier in the semester! I prefer to hear a poem read aloud.
I found quite a few stories I liked during this semester. I had a rough go trying to keep up with everything the 2nd half, and I'm looking forward to a summer break! I was going to take a couple classes, but I'm feeling run down with all my responsibilities. Hopefully, by next fall, I'll be refreshed and ready to finish my associates degree. Just two classes to go and the capstone course. Good luck to everyone next semester! :)
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
An Old Western Movie
My grandpa Wardie has been in the Hickory Creek nursing home in Winamac for about 8 years now. I didn't know him growing up, but when he moved back to Indiana to stay at the nursing home, I began visiting him. When I'd walk into his room, he'd pop up real fast and say, "I'll be damned!" Then he would turn the volume down on his TV which always played an old black and white western movie. He'd say (to anyone who would listen or he could flag down in the hallway), "This here is my oldest boy's daughter. She isn't quite as mean as him though. She takes after her mother!" Then he would ask me questions about my parents, brothers, grandparents...He wanted to know about everyone. He would always ask me the same question last, "How's Lois?" I'd tell him she was doing fine, and he would say, "That woman is meaner than a rattlesnake! Do you know she once beat me while I was sleeping with a cast iron skillet?" To this, I would always say, "You pry deserved it, grandpa!" and he would say, "Yeah, I probably did..."
Then, my grandpa would say, "I reckon we better go out and have a smoke." I would tell him I don't smoke, and he would say, "Well, I reckon I better smoke two then for the both of us!" So, I'd wheel him outside for a cigarette and he would complain about every nurse in the place. "Those witches bring me cold coffee!" or "The wardens have been stealing my cigarettes!" I'd agree with him about the place being completely unfit to live in. "Well, I got me a couple girlfriends at least. Can't get them to leave me alone. Old horny rascals in here, let me tell you!" Then I'd tease him about being a ladies man. After going back inside, a nurse would come to bring him coffee. "Oh boy, that's hot!" he'd say. I'd tell him that nurse must have the hots for him. "I reckon she pry does." And then, he would begin asking me about everyone all over again.
My grandpa had a stroke a few nights ago and was sent to the hospital. Exams showed his body was gradually beginning to shut down. We decided to move him back to the nursing home where he would be more comfortable. This morning, we all took turns going in to see him. I'm not good with words, so I kept stalling. Then, my cousin came out and told me to go in. I said I would later, but everyone looked at me weird. The peer pressure got to me, so I went in. I stood there for a few moments unsure of what to say. Finally, I bent down and said, "Hey grandpa, it's me, Elizabeth, Tinker's daughter." He opened his eyes and cried, I patted him to calm him down, and then left the room. I've never been any good with emotional stuff either. About 1 minute after I left the room, my grandpa Wardie passed away. Then I cried, too.
So, I would like to dedicate this song to my grandpa Wardie and to my grandma Mary (whose birthday is on the 29th of this month).
Then, my grandpa would say, "I reckon we better go out and have a smoke." I would tell him I don't smoke, and he would say, "Well, I reckon I better smoke two then for the both of us!" So, I'd wheel him outside for a cigarette and he would complain about every nurse in the place. "Those witches bring me cold coffee!" or "The wardens have been stealing my cigarettes!" I'd agree with him about the place being completely unfit to live in. "Well, I got me a couple girlfriends at least. Can't get them to leave me alone. Old horny rascals in here, let me tell you!" Then I'd tease him about being a ladies man. After going back inside, a nurse would come to bring him coffee. "Oh boy, that's hot!" he'd say. I'd tell him that nurse must have the hots for him. "I reckon she pry does." And then, he would begin asking me about everyone all over again.
My grandpa had a stroke a few nights ago and was sent to the hospital. Exams showed his body was gradually beginning to shut down. We decided to move him back to the nursing home where he would be more comfortable. This morning, we all took turns going in to see him. I'm not good with words, so I kept stalling. Then, my cousin came out and told me to go in. I said I would later, but everyone looked at me weird. The peer pressure got to me, so I went in. I stood there for a few moments unsure of what to say. Finally, I bent down and said, "Hey grandpa, it's me, Elizabeth, Tinker's daughter." He opened his eyes and cried, I patted him to calm him down, and then left the room. I've never been any good with emotional stuff either. About 1 minute after I left the room, my grandpa Wardie passed away. Then I cried, too.
So, I would like to dedicate this song to my grandpa Wardie and to my grandma Mary (whose birthday is on the 29th of this month).
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Fitzgerald and Faulkner
I am surprised at how much enjoyment I found while reading the stories by Fitzgerald. It wasn't really because of the stories themselves because I thought they were rather dull. The sophistication of the words are what drew me in.
"She wore a blue gingham dress, rimmed at throat and shoulders with a white edging that accentuated her tan. The quality of exaggeration, of thinness that had made her passionate eyes and down turning mouth absurd at eleven was gone now. She was arrestingly beautiful. The color in her cheeks was centered like the color in a picture - it was not a "high" color, but a sort of fluctuating and feverish warmth, so shaded that it seemed at any moment it would recede and disappear. This color and the mobility of her mouth gave a continual impression of flux, of intense life, of passionate vitality - balanced only partially by the sad luxury of her eyes."
He uses words I would never think of when writing a story. Even though I thought this story was boring, I couldn't help but sympathize with Derek and Judy. Their lives were vividly painted in my mind, and I was hoping for a happy outcome for them both. This is another thing I like about Fitzgerald's writing. The stories have real endings. They aren't always happy, but they teach you about life in the real world. Usually, books I read have good endings which were fully expected through the entire thing.
I enjoyed Fitzgerald's style of writing, but I loved William Faulkner's stories. A Rose for Emily was my favorite. I've always been intrigued by the human mind. One of my favorite shows is Criminal Minds. It is about a Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) in the FBI whose job is to think like a killer in order to find them.
Even before we knew Emily had killed a man, it was apparent there was something wrong with her psychologically. This is what kept me reading. I wanted to know what they would find in Miss Emily's house because it would unveil the secrets of her mind.
This semester has been insightful. I have discovered many different writing techniques which have intrigued me. I'm looking forward to the 1st half of American Literature in the fall.
"She wore a blue gingham dress, rimmed at throat and shoulders with a white edging that accentuated her tan. The quality of exaggeration, of thinness that had made her passionate eyes and down turning mouth absurd at eleven was gone now. She was arrestingly beautiful. The color in her cheeks was centered like the color in a picture - it was not a "high" color, but a sort of fluctuating and feverish warmth, so shaded that it seemed at any moment it would recede and disappear. This color and the mobility of her mouth gave a continual impression of flux, of intense life, of passionate vitality - balanced only partially by the sad luxury of her eyes."
He uses words I would never think of when writing a story. Even though I thought this story was boring, I couldn't help but sympathize with Derek and Judy. Their lives were vividly painted in my mind, and I was hoping for a happy outcome for them both. This is another thing I like about Fitzgerald's writing. The stories have real endings. They aren't always happy, but they teach you about life in the real world. Usually, books I read have good endings which were fully expected through the entire thing.
I enjoyed Fitzgerald's style of writing, but I loved William Faulkner's stories. A Rose for Emily was my favorite. I've always been intrigued by the human mind. One of my favorite shows is Criminal Minds. It is about a Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) in the FBI whose job is to think like a killer in order to find them.
Even before we knew Emily had killed a man, it was apparent there was something wrong with her psychologically. This is what kept me reading. I wanted to know what they would find in Miss Emily's house because it would unveil the secrets of her mind.
This semester has been insightful. I have discovered many different writing techniques which have intrigued me. I'm looking forward to the 1st half of American Literature in the fall.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Birds and Apples
We are finally settled into our new place, and I just installed the router for wifi. It is so much easier to take my computer around the house with me during the day. We also added four additional members to our family. Oliver and Opal are love birds, and Gideon and Gwen are parakeets. I have been wanting birds for a long time. My grandmother and my great aunt had birds when I was young. When I would spend the night with them, their birds would wake me up early in the morning. At the time, I hated them! How dare they chirp and tweet all chipper like while I'm trying to sleep. The sun was devastatingly wicked to an 8 year-old. Now, I am awake before the sun comes up anyhow, and the birds make me smile because they remind me of memories with my grandmother. They are a joy to watch as well. The lovebirds are flirty and constantly "making out." I feel like I should throw a blanket over their cage and give them some privacy half of the time! The parakeets are rather boring. Gideon stands in front of the mirror checking himself out all day, and Gwen watches him from her side of the perch. The constant admiration she shows him only reaffirms his love for himself. Sometimes she tries to flirt with him, but Gideon flies away until she gives up.
A Minor Bird
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him by the door
When it seemed as if I could bare no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
"Apples always taste better with a pocket-knife." ~Uncle Cob
I wish I would have kept track of all the things my grandparents and great aunts and uncles said growing up. However, I do remember the most important ones like this! My son just brought me an apple and my purse. I have a pocket-knife in my purse which is perfect for apple eating.
After Apple-Picking
My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough. 5
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass 10
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell, 15
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear. 20
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound 25
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch, 30
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap 35
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his 40
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
A Minor Bird
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him by the door
When it seemed as if I could bare no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
"Apples always taste better with a pocket-knife." ~Uncle Cob
I wish I would have kept track of all the things my grandparents and great aunts and uncles said growing up. However, I do remember the most important ones like this! My son just brought me an apple and my purse. I have a pocket-knife in my purse which is perfect for apple eating.
After Apple-Picking
My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough. 5
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass 10
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell, 15
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear. 20
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound 25
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch, 30
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap 35
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his 40
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Motto for the Day
"Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love." ~Francis of Assisi
Sunday, March 13, 2011
A Forgotten Journal
It's after 3 AM and once again I cannot sleep. Two of my kids crawled into bed with me, and the baby is coughing in his crib. I decided to get a bit of packing done. While rummaging through the closet, I found a tote full of pictures and an old journal. I started the journal, I believe, my sophomore year in high school. I remember writing in it when I was 19 also. I wrote down a few poems I liked, and a couple I wrote. I would also jot down quotes when I came across them and bible verses. I found a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald in it, and I'm pretty sure it is from The Great Gatsby. I bought it for my nook yesterday, but I haven't downloaded it yet. I know I owned the book at one time because I remember the cover.
"What little I've accomplished has been by the most laborious and uphill work, and I wish now I'd never relaxed or looked back, but said at the end: 'I've found my line- from now on this comes first- this is my immediate duty- without this I am nothing.'"
I think it is kind of funny I found this the eve of reading The Great Gatsby again. It has been at least 3 years since I have even seen it! Anyhow, here are a few quotes I acquired:
"Even if you persuade me, you won't persuade me." ~Aristophanes
"I can endure my own despair, but not another's hope." ~William Walsh
"So, one more day I defied, who knows but the world may end tonight?" ~Robert Browning
"It is sweet to dance to violins when life and love are fair: To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes is delicate and rare: But it is not sweet with nimble feet to dance upon the air!" ~Oscar Wilde
"I cannot love thee as I ought, for love reflects the thing beloved; my words are only words and moved upon the topmost froth of thought." ~Alfred, Lord Tennyson
And then there are lines I copied down from books and movies I didn't want to forget:
"Lost people take the path of least resistance the narrator said. They go downhill. He thought he had been lost for a long time then." (From a book by Stephen King, I think. The one about a girl lost in the woods. I think...)
"What better way to practice charity then to keep a promise made to an enemy." (Not sure where I got this.)
"He stared adversity in the eye and beat it back with a broom." (The Legend of Bagger Vance)
"I found the stream, and the wild columbine- like little drops of sun in the green shade. Sitting on the soft floor of the forest, listening to the stream gurgle and the birds chirp, I found my peace again. This was my place. I was as sure of that as I'd been of any single thing in all my life. I belonged here as I belonged no where else." (No clue!)
"Confidence could be learned. It could be won. And wasn't there amazing satisfaction from winning those small battles? Every time you did, you went back to war better armed. Enough dawdling, enough introspection, I am going to blow the last of my advance at the garden center." (Again, no clue!)
And finally, here is an old poem I wrote at some point in high school:
It was a beautiful day
There were leaves on the ground
My head was throbbing
There was no laughter around
So I laid down
Covered up with the leaves
Slowly closed my eyes
Then began to sleep.
As sudden as I slept
I awoke on the ground
My head was no long throbbing
There was laughter all around
I heard a laugh to my right
I look around and see
A happily playing child
Standing next to me
He seems so unreal, yet he's so alive
He looks so different
But as he looks into my eyes
I know exactly who he is
He smiles and waves
Then turns away
To jump and play
On this beautiful fall day.
Then the first smile of the season
Creeps on my face
As I watch this child play with such reason
In the leaves.
There is a bang from behind
And I spin around
Suddenly I'm awakening
To a day with no sound
I look around
There is no one to be seen
With a sigh, I sit up
And head home to clean
To clean away the memories
That keep clinging to me.
I think that is enough of a walk down memory lane! Almost 4 AM and I should try to get back to sleep. Not to mention, I just tore open the cut on my fingertip from typing. I cut myself doing dishes yesterday. Good night!
No, wait! Charlie Sheen...I cannot get enough of him! I am not the type of person who follows celebrities, but I made an exception in his case. I know he needs some serious help, but until then, I am going to enjoy the crazy things which come out of his mouth. I even followed him on twitter just to gain the occasional smile throughout the day.
"Torpedo away... You corporate Trolls were warned. And now you've been served!" ~Charlie Sheen
What does that even mean????? ha ha O, Charlie...
Officially done typing because blood is getting on my keyboard. I think I should get some extra credit for this post since I worked on it until my fingers bled! :)
"What little I've accomplished has been by the most laborious and uphill work, and I wish now I'd never relaxed or looked back, but said at the end: 'I've found my line- from now on this comes first- this is my immediate duty- without this I am nothing.'"
I think it is kind of funny I found this the eve of reading The Great Gatsby again. It has been at least 3 years since I have even seen it! Anyhow, here are a few quotes I acquired:
"Even if you persuade me, you won't persuade me." ~Aristophanes
"I can endure my own despair, but not another's hope." ~William Walsh
"So, one more day I defied, who knows but the world may end tonight?" ~Robert Browning
"It is sweet to dance to violins when life and love are fair: To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes is delicate and rare: But it is not sweet with nimble feet to dance upon the air!" ~Oscar Wilde
"I cannot love thee as I ought, for love reflects the thing beloved; my words are only words and moved upon the topmost froth of thought." ~Alfred, Lord Tennyson
And then there are lines I copied down from books and movies I didn't want to forget:
"Lost people take the path of least resistance the narrator said. They go downhill. He thought he had been lost for a long time then." (From a book by Stephen King, I think. The one about a girl lost in the woods. I think...)
"What better way to practice charity then to keep a promise made to an enemy." (Not sure where I got this.)
"He stared adversity in the eye and beat it back with a broom." (The Legend of Bagger Vance)
"I found the stream, and the wild columbine- like little drops of sun in the green shade. Sitting on the soft floor of the forest, listening to the stream gurgle and the birds chirp, I found my peace again. This was my place. I was as sure of that as I'd been of any single thing in all my life. I belonged here as I belonged no where else." (No clue!)
"Confidence could be learned. It could be won. And wasn't there amazing satisfaction from winning those small battles? Every time you did, you went back to war better armed. Enough dawdling, enough introspection, I am going to blow the last of my advance at the garden center." (Again, no clue!)
And finally, here is an old poem I wrote at some point in high school:
It was a beautiful day
There were leaves on the ground
My head was throbbing
There was no laughter around
So I laid down
Covered up with the leaves
Slowly closed my eyes
Then began to sleep.
As sudden as I slept
I awoke on the ground
My head was no long throbbing
There was laughter all around
I heard a laugh to my right
I look around and see
A happily playing child
Standing next to me
He seems so unreal, yet he's so alive
He looks so different
But as he looks into my eyes
I know exactly who he is
He smiles and waves
Then turns away
To jump and play
On this beautiful fall day.
Then the first smile of the season
Creeps on my face
As I watch this child play with such reason
In the leaves.
There is a bang from behind
And I spin around
Suddenly I'm awakening
To a day with no sound
I look around
There is no one to be seen
With a sigh, I sit up
And head home to clean
To clean away the memories
That keep clinging to me.
I think that is enough of a walk down memory lane! Almost 4 AM and I should try to get back to sleep. Not to mention, I just tore open the cut on my fingertip from typing. I cut myself doing dishes yesterday. Good night!
No, wait! Charlie Sheen...I cannot get enough of him! I am not the type of person who follows celebrities, but I made an exception in his case. I know he needs some serious help, but until then, I am going to enjoy the crazy things which come out of his mouth. I even followed him on twitter just to gain the occasional smile throughout the day.
"Torpedo away... You corporate Trolls were warned. And now you've been served!" ~Charlie Sheen
What does that even mean????? ha ha O, Charlie...
Officially done typing because blood is getting on my keyboard. I think I should get some extra credit for this post since I worked on it until my fingers bled! :)
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Spring Break!
I couldn't be happier it's spring break week. I have been so behind on things around here. The van which I practically live in was cleaned yesterday and is getting oil changed today. I went to the dentist, had my hair done, bought a new chair (more on the chair to come), and even began packing stuff around the house. We have moving in a couple of weeks to Peru. I am excited about the move, but I know NOTHING about the area. I have a lot of researching to do for doctors and day cares. I also need to get my daughter into kindergarten, and I have no clue where the elementary school is. I wanted to wait to move until summer began, but my husband's vacation time seems like a good idea. He is only home every other weekend since he is an OTR truck driver. So, I plan to take full advantage of having him home for 9 days!
Now, back to the chair. As my daughter would say, "LOVE IT!" It's a lounge chair, but the back of it can recline back. Overstuffed and comfy. The perfect reading chair. I'm looking forward to curling up on it real soon. I'm not picking it up though until we move. I guess I'll be reading The Great Gatsby on our black leather recliner which has a hole in it from the dog that my 3 year old likes to hide fruit snacks in for later. The chair also causes rear end discomfort after sitting in it for 10 minutes. Oh, wow, I'm so glad I got a new chair!
I really don't have a Frost poem to tie into my day. We did talk about the poem he recited during our pronto discussion, so I decided to post it.
The Gift Outright
The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England's, still colonials,
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,
Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
Something we were withholding made us weak
Until we found out that it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.
Now, back to the chair. As my daughter would say, "LOVE IT!" It's a lounge chair, but the back of it can recline back. Overstuffed and comfy. The perfect reading chair. I'm looking forward to curling up on it real soon. I'm not picking it up though until we move. I guess I'll be reading The Great Gatsby on our black leather recliner which has a hole in it from the dog that my 3 year old likes to hide fruit snacks in for later. The chair also causes rear end discomfort after sitting in it for 10 minutes. Oh, wow, I'm so glad I got a new chair!
I really don't have a Frost poem to tie into my day. We did talk about the poem he recited during our pronto discussion, so I decided to post it.
The Gift Outright
The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England's, still colonials,
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,
Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
Something we were withholding made us weak
Until we found out that it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.
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