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.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!
“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.”
Who doesn't love Dr. Seuss? I don't think I ever got sick of my mother reading me Green Eggs and Ham. In fact, one of my favorite memories as a child was making them in 1st grade. My children's favorites are Hop on Pop and If I Ran the Circus. I think it's only fitting to pay tribute to him today in the midst of the poetry pod! His stories written in poetic meter have been a great joy in my life. When I see the glee in my children's eyes while reading his books, I wish I could thank him myself. Since this is not possible, we will be watching The Cat in the Hat tonight as a family.
Fish: This cat should not be here, he should not be about! He should not be here when your mother is out!
Cat: C'mon kids, you gonna listen to him? He drinks where he pees!
And now a poem by Frost...
In A Poem
The sentencing goes blithely on its way,
And takes the playfully objected rhyme
As surely as it keeps the stroke and time
In having its undeviable say.
Who doesn't love Dr. Seuss? I don't think I ever got sick of my mother reading me Green Eggs and Ham. In fact, one of my favorite memories as a child was making them in 1st grade. My children's favorites are Hop on Pop and If I Ran the Circus. I think it's only fitting to pay tribute to him today in the midst of the poetry pod! His stories written in poetic meter have been a great joy in my life. When I see the glee in my children's eyes while reading his books, I wish I could thank him myself. Since this is not possible, we will be watching The Cat in the Hat tonight as a family.
Fish: This cat should not be here, he should not be about! He should not be here when your mother is out!
Cat: C'mon kids, you gonna listen to him? He drinks where he pees!
And now a poem by Frost...
In A Poem
The sentencing goes blithely on its way,
And takes the playfully objected rhyme
As surely as it keeps the stroke and time
In having its undeviable say.
Friday, February 25, 2011
"the mother" read by a mother
What a week. It has been hard to squeeze in school between a teething baby, a destructive dog, and other family crises I'd rather not get into here. Today, I went to my mother's house and hid in my brother's room to read poetry. I left my three kids in the living room with their Nana. I must say it was the most enjoyable three hours I've had all week. It was so quiet! Well, except for the sound of my own voice. For some reason, I find it necessary to read poems aloud. They don't sound right in my head. I was reading "in Just-" by e.e. cummings to myself when I heard snickering. I glanced over my shoulder, and I saw my two oldest children on their hands and knees looking in at me through the crack in the door. The stood up and ran back down the hall, and I heard my three-year-old son say, "Mommy is talking to herself!" My almost five-year-old daughter responded, "She has finally gone crazy!" Finally? Here I thought I had reached some sort of sanity. Children know best.
I can honestly say a poem has never touched me as much as "the mother" by Gwendolyn Brooks. I don't want to get into the political aspect of the poem, but as a mother, I don't think I would ever be able to have an abortion. I don't condemn those women who decide to have an abortion because I don't feel it is my place to judge anyone. I just think about the small moments with my children, like the one above, and I couldn't imagine never having them. I could post every single day about something one of my children does which touches my heart. Imagine having to make up those moments in your head about the child who never was...
Before we went to my mother's house this afternoon, my children and I played hide-and-seek. Usually, the just hide behind a door or a chair, but this time I actually could not find them anywhere! After ten minutes of looking, I started to panic a bit. I thought maybe they went outside. When I looked out the door, I didn't see any footprints in the snow. I finally called out for them to come out. I think they heard the panic in my voice. I heard a cabinet door swing open, and my son yelled, "Here we are, mommy!" They somehow both managed to squeeze in under the bathroom sink! How they did this is beyond me. It is the tiniest cabinet in existence!
Revelation
We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone really find us out.
'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.
But so with all, from babes that play
At hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.
I can honestly say a poem has never touched me as much as "the mother" by Gwendolyn Brooks. I don't want to get into the political aspect of the poem, but as a mother, I don't think I would ever be able to have an abortion. I don't condemn those women who decide to have an abortion because I don't feel it is my place to judge anyone. I just think about the small moments with my children, like the one above, and I couldn't imagine never having them. I could post every single day about something one of my children does which touches my heart. Imagine having to make up those moments in your head about the child who never was...
Before we went to my mother's house this afternoon, my children and I played hide-and-seek. Usually, the just hide behind a door or a chair, but this time I actually could not find them anywhere! After ten minutes of looking, I started to panic a bit. I thought maybe they went outside. When I looked out the door, I didn't see any footprints in the snow. I finally called out for them to come out. I think they heard the panic in my voice. I heard a cabinet door swing open, and my son yelled, "Here we are, mommy!" They somehow both managed to squeeze in under the bathroom sink! How they did this is beyond me. It is the tiniest cabinet in existence!
Revelation
We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone really find us out.
'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.
But so with all, from babes that play
At hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Symbolism
I just finished reading "The Red Badge of Courage" by Stephen Crane. I was surprised at how much he reminded me of Robert Frost. They both use nature, color, and religious symbolism in their writing.
Birches (Excerpt)
Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
I'm looking forward to the poetry pod coming up. There are quite a few Frost poems in it, but I intend to read the others. Broadening my poetry collection one poet at a time.
Birches (Excerpt)
Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
I'm looking forward to the poetry pod coming up. There are quite a few Frost poems in it, but I intend to read the others. Broadening my poetry collection one poet at a time.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Whew!
Just finished reading Shadowfever by Karen Marie Moning. I know I should have been reading our book for this next week, but I couldn't resist finding out what happened in the final book of the series! I read 510 pages in less than 24 hours. This is quite a feat considering I did this while balancing three kids and a dog on little to no sleep. I will be missing Desperate Housewives and Brothers & Sisters tonight because I'm going to bed early! I haven't read this much in years. I used to read two or three books a week. After the 2nd kid came along, my alone time was almost nonexistent. I can rarely even make it to the bathroom by myself! (TMI????)
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Yellow Wallpaper
Every now and then, when I'm bored, I lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling. It is quite an interesting ceiling to say the least. There is a guinea pig, a goat, a cowboy, and an airplane up there. Well, sometimes the cowboy looks like a dragon. It really just depends on the day. I made my husband dissect the ceiling with me one evening. He didn't see the same things as I did. I would say, "Look! Right there! It's a goat. Can't you see it?" He replied, "No, it's an ostrich." I still don't know how he could have confused a goat with an ostrich. Now he can't lay on his back in bed or he is automatically drawn into the wonder which is our ceiling. I thought about buying those stick up stars that glow in the dark to keep from investigating the ceiling further. After thinking about it though, I realized I would just stare at the stars and wonder what was underneath them on the ceiling. It would drive me crazy for sure.
I can relate to Charlotte Perkins Gilman and her story "The Yellow Wallpaper." I require a lot of imaginative stimulation throughout the day. If I do not get it, I search for it on ceilings. A couple months ago, my dog ate (not chewed...actually ate!) almost every power cord in the house. My computer cord, my phone charger, and my nook charger were gone. Imagine having no way to entertain oneself for almost a week. I did laundry, rearranged my children's bedrooms, reorganized things in my closet, and I even color coded the papers in our filing cabinet. Finally, I just stared at the ceiling.
(Can you see the guinea pig???)
Happiness Makes Up In Height For What It Lacks In Length
Oh, stormy stormy world,
The days you were not swirled
Around with mist and cloud,
Or wrapped as in a shroud,
And the sun's brilliant ball
Was not in part or all
Obscured from mortal view-
Were days so very few
I can but wonder whence
I get the lasting sense
Of so much warmth and light.
If my mistrust is right
It may be altogether
From one day's perfect weather,
When starting clear at dawn,
The day swept clearly on
To finish clear at eve.
I verily believe
My fair impression may
Be all from that one day
No shadow crossed but ours
As through its blazing flowers
We went from house to wood
For change of solitude.
This poem reminds me of The Storm by Kate Chopin.
I can relate to Charlotte Perkins Gilman and her story "The Yellow Wallpaper." I require a lot of imaginative stimulation throughout the day. If I do not get it, I search for it on ceilings. A couple months ago, my dog ate (not chewed...actually ate!) almost every power cord in the house. My computer cord, my phone charger, and my nook charger were gone. Imagine having no way to entertain oneself for almost a week. I did laundry, rearranged my children's bedrooms, reorganized things in my closet, and I even color coded the papers in our filing cabinet. Finally, I just stared at the ceiling.
(Can you see the guinea pig???)Oh, stormy stormy world,
The days you were not swirled
Around with mist and cloud,
Or wrapped as in a shroud,
And the sun's brilliant ball
Was not in part or all
Obscured from mortal view-
Were days so very few
I can but wonder whence
I get the lasting sense
Of so much warmth and light.
If my mistrust is right
It may be altogether
From one day's perfect weather,
When starting clear at dawn,
The day swept clearly on
To finish clear at eve.
I verily believe
My fair impression may
Be all from that one day
No shadow crossed but ours
As through its blazing flowers
We went from house to wood
For change of solitude.
This poem reminds me of The Storm by Kate Chopin.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Oh, where is spring?
Today was American History II study time. While reading the chapter on industrialization, The Awakening by Kate Chopin was referenced. I want to read it now! I almost logged into my Barnes & Nobles account to find it for my nook, Henry. Then I remembered I still have 6 other books waiting to be read. Also, The Red Badge of Courage is coming up. There are two books I am dying to start reading soon. The first one is The Scribe by Francine Rivers. It is based on Silas from the bible. I have read all of her other books as well, but I have a special interest in this one because my baby's name is Silas! The other one is #5 in a series called Shadowfever by Karen Marie Moning. It is basically a book about monsters, vampires, etc. Two completely different books, but I am sure neither will disappoint me!
I heard the dog toy squeaking, and was getting a bit annoyed. It's a bit tough to hear myself think with all the racket the dog makes. Then I realized the dog is outside. Turns out my baby likes dead foxes, too! It was kind of gross though seeing as to how the fox is covered in dog saliva. I hear dog's mouths are cleaner than humans though...
I am just glad History day is over. Now I can move on to more women writers from Pod 2 tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I love history, but I found 3 more reasons not to like Theodore Roosevelt. He is my husband's favorite president. Sometimes I wonder about that guy...
Now I am starting to wonder where my other two kids are. It is quiet in here now...and that scares me!
The Last Word of a Bluebird
As I went out a Crow
In a low voice said, "Oh,
I was looking for you.
How do you do?
I just came to tell you
To tell Lesley (will you?)
That her little Bluebird
Wanted me to bring word
That the north wind last night
That made the stars bright
And made the ice on the trough
Almost made him cough
His tail feathers off.
He just had to fly!
But he sent her Good-by,
And said to be good,
And wear her red hood,
And look for skunk tracks
In the snow with an ax -
And do everything!
And perhaps in the spring
He would come back and sing.
I heard the dog toy squeaking, and was getting a bit annoyed. It's a bit tough to hear myself think with all the racket the dog makes. Then I realized the dog is outside. Turns out my baby likes dead foxes, too! It was kind of gross though seeing as to how the fox is covered in dog saliva. I hear dog's mouths are cleaner than humans though...
I am just glad History day is over. Now I can move on to more women writers from Pod 2 tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I love history, but I found 3 more reasons not to like Theodore Roosevelt. He is my husband's favorite president. Sometimes I wonder about that guy...
Now I am starting to wonder where my other two kids are. It is quiet in here now...and that scares me!
The Last Word of a Bluebird
As I went out a Crow
In a low voice said, "Oh,
I was looking for you.
How do you do?
I just came to tell you
To tell Lesley (will you?)
That her little Bluebird
Wanted me to bring word
That the north wind last night
That made the stars bright
And made the ice on the trough
Almost made him cough
His tail feathers off.
He just had to fly!
But he sent her Good-by,
And said to be good,
And wear her red hood,
And look for skunk tracks
In the snow with an ax -
And do everything!
And perhaps in the spring
He would come back and sing.
Monday, February 7, 2011
What a wonderful weekend!
I have not had time this weekend to do much reading. My mother and father-in-law came for a visit along with my sister-in-law and her roommate. Thursday was spent preparing for their arrival. This means the extra pile of laundry sitting in the hallway finally got washed, little fingerprints were actually removed from the mirrors in the living room, and the dog was bathed. Along with a few other things I have been avoiding! (Dusting...oy!) Friday, I realized I needed to shovel the snow and get to the store for some things. What a disaster that turned out to be! After making a path to my van, I started to dig around it in order for my kids to have a clear path. For some odd reason, the snow shovel broke! The shovel part just fell plum off. I stood there thinking for a few moments. At first, I was flabbergasted with the situation; however, I thought to myself, "Perhaps a rake will work!" I actually thought this. I don't think the outcome needs explained. At this point, I simply get into my van, start it, and turn on the heat. I go back inside, bundle up the kids, and sit back in my chair and think. My two oldest kids are standing there looking at me confused. I ask them if they are ready to go, and they look at each other weird. They are standing there in their snow boots and coats with their hats and gloves on. So, we get into the van, and I get them all buckled up. I then climb into the driver's seat and shut the door. And we sit there....and I think...and we sit there...and I think...
Well, for a little background information, I am not feeling well at this time. I have an ulcer, so the stomach pain sometimes keeps my mind on it instead of other things such as snow. I also had a head cold!
Anyhow, I am sitting there thinking because I wasn't for sure how I was going to get out of my driveway! Even if I somehow managed to clear my driveway with a rake, I would never be able to shovel the entire alley! I was defeated. I look in the rear view mirror, and my three kids are staring back at me. I unbuckle my seat belt, and I am about to open my door when my cell phone rings. Incoming call from Dad.
"Hello."
"What are you doing?"
"Sitting in my car thinking."
"Where are the kids?"
"In their car seats waiting for me to think of something."
"Are you trying to get out?"
"No, we just enjoying thinking in the van."
"......"
"Yes, Dad, we are trying to get out."
"I have someone coming today before noon to plow for you."
"Oh, really?"
"I will meet him there."
That was the gist of the conversation. My dad showed up within 5 minutes, followed by another guy with a plow! How lucky was this? Well, the rest of the weekend went smoothly. I was still not feeling well, but I enjoy my husband's family's company. After they left, we went shopping in Kokomo. My husband surprised me with a new wedding ring! We got married almost two years ago, but we had limited funds. So, my weekend ended with a high note. Now, it is 5a.m. Monday morning, I have been up since 3a.m. Darn stomach ulcer!
Dust of Snow
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Well, for a little background information, I am not feeling well at this time. I have an ulcer, so the stomach pain sometimes keeps my mind on it instead of other things such as snow. I also had a head cold!
Anyhow, I am sitting there thinking because I wasn't for sure how I was going to get out of my driveway! Even if I somehow managed to clear my driveway with a rake, I would never be able to shovel the entire alley! I was defeated. I look in the rear view mirror, and my three kids are staring back at me. I unbuckle my seat belt, and I am about to open my door when my cell phone rings. Incoming call from Dad.
"Hello."
"What are you doing?"
"Sitting in my car thinking."
"Where are the kids?"
"In their car seats waiting for me to think of something."
"Are you trying to get out?"
"No, we just enjoying thinking in the van."
"......"
"Yes, Dad, we are trying to get out."
"I have someone coming today before noon to plow for you."
"Oh, really?"
"I will meet him there."
That was the gist of the conversation. My dad showed up within 5 minutes, followed by another guy with a plow! How lucky was this? Well, the rest of the weekend went smoothly. I was still not feeling well, but I enjoy my husband's family's company. After they left, we went shopping in Kokomo. My husband surprised me with a new wedding ring! We got married almost two years ago, but we had limited funds. So, my weekend ended with a high note. Now, it is 5a.m. Monday morning, I have been up since 3a.m. Darn stomach ulcer!
Dust of Snow
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Into My Own/Fire and Ice
I first discovered my love of Robert Frost poetry in high school. Since then, I have found a couple of biographies about his life and the complete collection of his poems. I flip through the pages and reread the poems on days when the weather keeps me indoors. As Frost himself wrote, "Read it a hundred times: it will forever keep its freshness as a metal keeps its fragrance. It can never lose its sense of a meaning that once unfolded by surprise as it went." This is so true! When I find a book I enjoy, I like to go back and read it again years later. There is always something I either missed the first time, or something which impacts me in a new way because of the differences in my own life.
So far, while reading selections from the pods, the stories always trigger a thought in my mind of the poetry by Robert Frost. While reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, I thought of the poem Into My Own.
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I hold them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew...
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
So, I have decided to come Into My Own while reading the literature of this time period. I want to make my own assumptions of the meaning behind each individual story and use the messages to help make decisions in my life because I believe every book read impacts a person's view on the world around them.
Moments ago, I finished reading At The 'Cadian Ball and The Storm by Kate Chopin. I was intrigued by the characters. The chief emotion I felt while reading these stories was desire. Everyone in the first story desired someone else. Not all of the characters walked away with the person they wanted. In the storm, Alcee and Calixta gave into their desire while alone in Calixta's barricaded home. Whenever I think of desire, I remember the poem Fire and Ice. Both Alcee's and Calixta's marriages could have been ruined by the fire of their desire.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
So far, while reading selections from the pods, the stories always trigger a thought in my mind of the poetry by Robert Frost. While reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, I thought of the poem Into My Own.
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I hold them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew...
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
So, I have decided to come Into My Own while reading the literature of this time period. I want to make my own assumptions of the meaning behind each individual story and use the messages to help make decisions in my life because I believe every book read impacts a person's view on the world around them.
Moments ago, I finished reading At The 'Cadian Ball and The Storm by Kate Chopin. I was intrigued by the characters. The chief emotion I felt while reading these stories was desire. Everyone in the first story desired someone else. Not all of the characters walked away with the person they wanted. In the storm, Alcee and Calixta gave into their desire while alone in Calixta's barricaded home. Whenever I think of desire, I remember the poem Fire and Ice. Both Alcee's and Calixta's marriages could have been ruined by the fire of their desire.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)