I've decided it's time this blog got a makeover. I was beginning to be annoyed that the column for blog posts was too narrow for most widescreen computer monitors, so I tinkered with the template a bit this evening. The photos on previous posts now look out of proportion (too small). I think I'll start posting bigger pics from now on.
No special trip for me this weekend, so I will post more Jasper photos from some weeks ago to test this out:
This meme is making the rounds. It's a list of 100 things, and the point is to bold the ones you've done. Here goes....
1. Started your own blog -- yep, this is my third and longest-lasting blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower -- had the chance, but didn't go!
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea -- I've seen a lightning storm from on board a plane; it was frightening
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch -- if carpet-hooking using a kit bought at Wal-mart is an art
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning -- probably, but not entirely sure
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty -- I was there, but didn't walk all the way up :(
18. Grown your own vegetables -- I've tended to other people's vegetable gardens, but never had my own
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you're not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse -- again, I had the chance, but was too lazy to get up
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied -- yeah, I think I was six, and had five bucks....
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone's life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day
This list includes a few things I really want to do, such as kissing in the rain, visiting Africa, and adopting a child. But I think the first thing I could feasibly do and should definitely go accomplish is donating blood. I've always been squeamish whenever there needed to be bloodwork done for routine medical exams, but honestly, I'm old enough to get over this phobia, am I not?
First, let me say that this is my 200th post on this blog. It's been almost three years since I started this. (I'm doing the math -- it means about 70 posts per year, which isn't too bad -- for me....) I had a previous blog before this, but that has been defunct long ago. But this one, I kept up, despite times when I thought I was too self-indulgent here. My readership is small, and I want to keep it that way. It's enough that the handful of you out there take the time to read my little rants and leave the occasional comment.
My classes at SFU are officially over. Yesterday was my last day. Now comes time to finish up (oh, who am I kidding -- to start) two major papers and to study for my four final exams. I did make the trek up Burnaby Mountain to campus this afternoon though, to pop by Dr. S's office with a box of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. I had a huge favour to ask of him: to have him provide a reference to get me into grad school. He gladly obliged, and promised to send the reference letters off before going away for four months to Brazil for his research and vacation. We ended up chit-chatting a little bit, and he said that academia had a way of swallowing people up. Those weren't his exact words, but that was what he meant. He alluded to colleagues who slaved away at their research, but who were just so utterly alone in the world, who did not have families to touch them or hug them. I almost asked him which professors he was talking about, so I could just go by their offices and sit and talk to them for a while. But, of course, I didn't. Instead, I was glad to know that my life would never be like that. As alone as I had felt up North or in Vancouver, I always had friends who would stay on the phone with me for hours on end, who would be there even if I was inarticulate and said nothing. I'm a little scared to move to Edmonton for grad school, to a place where I know virtually no one. I've never been one to make friends easily, although the friends that I do make are usually ones that I will have forever.
The fog was thick up at the top of the mountain. It was as though I was walking in a dream. Gone are the crisp autumn days. Next week, when I go up to hand in my Linguistics paper, I'll be asking Dr. D to be a referee as well. I remember three months ago, when all this began, how I was so afraid that I wouldn't be able to get the academic references required for my applications. But time propels us forward, forces us to do what we need to do, to hope, to dream, to live.
I know, I know -- In my previous post, I had said that I was going to take a break from the blog in order to get my stuff together... and here I am again, posting more frequently than ever before. But, this blog has been able to let me hash out my thoughts and feelings. I used to write in my journal every day, often filling ten pages daily. Since earlier this year, perhaps in February or March, I had stopped cold turkey because I felt as though it was doing nothing to help get me out of the funk I was in. Although I censor myself a bit on this blog, and don't provide names, I like having this outlet. It might even be a bit healthier than the nonsensical scrawls that used to fill up my journals. When I wrote in my journal, I could feel myself imploding, perhaps falling apart even more, getting caught up in my circular negativity. When I write here, even when I don't have many readers, I feel as though I'm sending my thoughts off somewhere out into the world, where they might disperse or be resolved. I guess I'm tricking my mind into thinking this way, but it does help.
It's the day before Halloween, and my friend and I went downtown to shop for some things for our costumes. Here's the conversation between my friend C and the cashier (let's call him K) at the store. I was laughing too hard to join in:
K: I can't find the barcode on these overalls.
C: It's the last one. I'm getting this cheap kind because it's just for Halloween.
K: Oh yeah?
C: (pointing at me) Yeah. See, we were gonna be Smurfs, and we got our blue body paint and everything, but we just can't seem to pull it all together. So now V is gonna be this Minerva kind of character with a 'fro and weird tattoo-like markings all over her face. You know the Dresden Dolls? The band? V's going to be like that, with the markings on a white painted face.
K: No, I don't know the Dresden Dolls.
C: (starts singing) I'm a coin-operated boy, coin-operated boy.....
By now, the people standing in line behind us were laughing....
K: I don't know the Dresden Dolls. But hey, (talking to me), you should do the markings with liquid eyeliner. That would look good on you.
C: Yeah! Liquid eyeliner! And I'm gonna be "Punky Bluester" with rainbow dreads.
K: I'm going to be Ken-Barbie.
C: Ken-Barbie? Like half-Ken and half-Barbie?
K: Well, no, just Ken.
C: Then you should say, "I'm gonna be a Ken doll...."
K: I just wanted to mention that it's the Ken like Ken and Barbie.
C: We'd all know that! There's only one Ken!
K: But hey, Barbie has Drake now too!
C: Drake?
K: Yeah, Drake's this brown guy. Barbie and Ken are separated....
C: Good on them for the diversity. Oh, what you learn nowadays....
K: Oh! Let's see about this barcode....
Yes, I'm going to a Halloween party tomorrow, dressed up as something I'm not sure how to describe.... I'll tell you about it afterward, and maybe I'll e-mail you some pics since posting them on the internet is not going to happen!
Monica has tagged me for this meme, where I have to describe seven weird things about myself. I've done a similar meme before, but have hardly exhausted the list. So here goes -- seven weird things that I'll admit to about myself:
1) I hate clowns. Hate them with a vengeance, and yes, "hate" is a very strong word. I do not like their red noses, their rainbow-coloured costumes, their antics, and, last but definitely not least, their balloon animals. I also hate balloons (with the exception of foil ones filled with helium -- those are cute). Don't even tell me that Cirque du Soleil is cool. I find the troupe freaky. And I realize that the problem lies in me, not them.
2) My favourite thing to photograph is the sky. I love clouds and their crazy patterns. I love the way treetops scrape against the infinite blue.
3) The dresser in my room is full of books, not clothes.
4) Sometimes, I would write myself notes in secret code. The problem is, I sometimes forget how to decode the messages when I stumble upon them later.
5) Occasionally, I would get the childish obsessive-compulsive desire to avoid all cracks on the sidewalk. Alternately, I would desire to step on every crack instead. I also sometimes race strangers up and down flights of stairs in public places. (Of course, they have no idea that I'm racing them at all!)
6) I tend to laugh at the most inappropriate moments, and I can't help it. Once, I started laughing when a friend told me his dog had to be put down. Good thing he knew me well enough not to take offence. I know, how awful....
7) I like to ride backwards on trains and see the world receding.
I'm supposed to tag seven people now, but I don't have enough readers with blogs. So, I'll leave it to whoever happens to stumble upon this post and wants to participate to do it. Also, my friends who read the blog (yes, all four of you!) can participate by leaving something in the comment section if they so choose.
I'll leave you with a cloud pic:
It’s early Saturday morning (12:30 am, actually), my last Saturday in this house. I had gone to the Great Northern Arts Festival opening ceremony on Friday evening, my last arts festival in Inuvik. I took in the traditional drum-dancing and the throat-singing. Instead of mulling over how conflicted I still feel about leaving the North, I’m going to fall back on a meme:
What were you doing five years ago?
I was finishing my teaching degree at UBC, in the midst of my last summer courses, after surviving my semester-long practicum, the most stressful time of my life to-date. I was faxing my resume everywhere in Canada except for the Vancouver area, getting ready to take the leap.
What are five things on your to-do list today?
1. Go and see my good friend R off on his vacation.
2. Go to the café to meet other friends for our weekly venting session.
3. Try to finish cleaning the house. (I know I won’t accomplish this, but time is running out before my out-inspection on Tuesday!)
4. Take my dinky piano keyboard over to my friend P’s house, and maybe bum a dinner off as part of the deal.
5. Lounge around and try to be content about the state of things.
What are five snacks you enjoy?
1. Ice-cream
2. Chocolate, the darker the better
3. Fruit, particularly cut up in bite-sized pieces
4. Crackers, the blander the better (I LOVE unsalted stoned wheat thins)
5. Guacamole with tortilla chips (as opposed to tortilla chips with guacamole)
What are five things you would do if you were a billionaire?
1. Buy a house on the west coast of Vancouver Island, one that faces the ocean and has arbutus trees leaning over the water.
2. Go to Africa and work in various villages as a volunteer for years.
3. Give my friends and family all new cars, houses, and charter a cruise for a fabulous vacation for all of us.
4. Write.
5. Earn multiple PhD’s.
* I’ve decided to go with all “selfish” wishes for my five instead of setting up charities, scholarships, funds, etc. to help others, but really, if I were a billionaire, there’s plenty of room for additional wishes.... I’m just in a selfish, self-pitying mood right now.
What are five jobs you’ve had?
1. Babysitter
2. Café Staff (I'd dare not call me a “cook.”)
3. Music Theory Instructor
4. Piano Instructor
5. High School Teacher
* I was trying my best to stretch my limited work experience into five job titles, as you can see.
To ease myself back into the habit of blogging regularly, I’m resorting to the Proust questionnaire, questions posed to a young thirteen-year-old Marcel Proust. Of course, I've filled out my own responses. If you want to check out what Proust said, click here.
Your most marked characteristic? People often comment on my gentleness, which leads them to trust me with their confidences.
The quality you most like in a man? The ability to console by just being there and listening, without judgment.
The quality you most like in a woman? Strength and poise enough to look people unflinchingly in the eye and dare the world to accept her for who she is.
What do you most value in your friends? The small gestures that mean so much: a much-needed hug, a kind word, a timely yummy treat.
What is your principle defect? Being too harsh to myself, and too fearful to try my best.
What is your favourite occupation? Dissecting literature and fleshing out my own meaning from words on the page.
What is your dream of happiness? A house by the ocean, someone to love and be loved by, work that is challenging and fulfilling.
What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes? To regret, or not to love whole-heartedly.
What would you like to be? Content in my choices and confident in my abilities.
In what country would you like to live? Of all the countries I have visited, I adore Germany. I would love to live in Berlin, to walk the wide avenues under the linden trees. I would love to feel a sense of belonging there.
What is your favourite colour? The blue of the sky, the brown of the earth, the peach of soft kitten fur, the orange of a brilliant sunset.
What is your favourite flower? The lily of the valley, which reminds me of fairy bells.
What is your favourite bird? The magical, mystical raven of the North.
Who are your favourite prose writers? Michael Cunningham, Charles Dickens, Charlotte Bronte, Margaret Laurence, Jeanette Winterson.
Who are your favourite poets? Rainer Maria Rilke, E. E. Cummings, T. S. Eliot, Sylvia Plath.
Who is your favourite hero of fiction? Pip of Great Expectations.
Who are your favourite heroines of fiction? All the women in The Hours, Jane Eyre, Tess of the D’Urbervilles.
Who are your favourite composers? Chopin, Beethoven, and Debussy.
Who are your favourite painters? I’ve always been partial to the impressionists. I love the soft radiance in Renoir’s portraits, and the dreamy reflective quality in Monet’s landscapes.
Who are your heroes in real life? Teachers who taught me what it meant to be passionate about life. And, people who face the greatest adversities and use them as opportunities to educate others.
What is it you most dislike? Insincerity.
What natural gift would you most like to possess? To be able to paint the images in my mind, to write the voices I hear, to compose the music that’s in my soul.
How would you like to die? Quietly, in the early hours of morning, with my loved ones in my presence.
What is your present state of mind? At peace and relaxed.
To what faults do you feel most indulgent? To wallow in my own self-pity.
What is your motto? I don’t have a motto, but if I must choose one, it would be “The world owes us nothing if we don’t try.” Or, alternately, “Laugh if all else fails.”
I’ve never considered myself particularly gifted at figuring out technology; instead, I’ve always had a few people I could rely on whenever I’m in trouble, such as the time I had brazenly deleted something critically important in my computer’s registry, and had to reformat the entire hard drive. Thank goodness for my friend and co-worker, who sat with me while I started everything from scratch.
Today, in a technological first for me, I made a little home movie, and figured out how to embed it into a blog post. But, it’s really not something “blog-worthy,” so I promptly removed it. I’m already envisioning multiple video projects, ones that I will eventually put onto this blog. In other words, I’ve found a new way to waste endless hours in front of my computer. (No need to be tempted by Facebook any longer.)
The pendulum has stopped swinging altogether. Sometimes, I go through phases of blogging-frenzy; then, at the other end of the pendulum, I go through months when I ignore blogging and just focus on my personal journal. These couple of months, however, I have done very little writing. I feel utterly uncreative, mentally tired, and hungry for something new.
I've considered deleting this blog, burning my journals, and just enjoying life without excessive contemplation. Yet, every time I open up my internet browser, and my blog stares me in the face, I get a little voice in my head telling me it's not time yet. I've known so many bloggers to have had the same struggles as I do. There's the exhilaration of connecting with friends and strangers alike, the therapy of venting and raving, yet sometimes, the blog feels as though it has morphed into something alien, or that it feels as though no matter how genuine I try to be, there are shadows cast that no amount of introspection could erase, that the words I use could never express what I want to say.
I have only four more work days left. Then, I'll have two weeks here to enjoy a northern summer before heading down to Vancouver to visit family. I have my friend's wedding to attend in August: It'll be an extravagant affair, and will be a reunion of sorts for the high school gang. Sometimes, I still cannot believe that one of us is getting married. She and her fiance have a new house. It's all very grown-up. It's a world that I cannot yet comprehend, although I'm arguably living it myself too.
No major summer plans other than that monumental celebration with my friend. I'd like to relive those lazy days of youth. To recapture the sense that I have alternately big and silly dreams still, I'm going to create a list of ten things I'd like to do before (or when) I “grow up.”
1.Go sky-diving, or at least have a hot-air balloon ride
2.Foster a child
3.Travel to or work in Africa
4.Make a movie, and compose the accompanying soundtrack
5.Perform in a musical
6.Kiss the person I love in the pouring rain
7.Live in a log cabin
8.Bicycle around Vancouver Island
9.Get a wild haircut
10.Two-step like a pro
I’ve been tagged to describe six strange things about myself. I think everybody considers him/herself to be strange on some level; at least we’d like to think that we’re unique. I had thought that this would be an easy task, but as I’m sitting here thinking about it, I’m finding it quite difficult. And I’m prolonging having to start typing about my “weirdness” by going on and on with this introduction. One of my fears is that I would be discovering that my unique mix of strangeness might not be so unique after all. Then, there is that parallel fear that maybe yes, I am indeed crazy. (Okay, enough rambling, and onto the task at hand.)
1. I name a lot of things in my life, as in inanimate things that have no way of responding or communicating. I’m not going to reel off most of the things I have named, but will give you the more “romantic” examples. I have names for the trees outside my parents’ house. The cherry tree outside my bedroom window is “Blossom,” while a tree around the corner is “Boo” (after To Kill a Mockingbird). I used to talk to the trees at night, before going to bed. I mean literally – talk out loud to them. I also have a name for the moon, but, strangely enough, not for the sun. (And, I know, trees are not “inanimate” -- far from it.)
2. There must be an electromagnetic field that surrounds me. I’ve been known to turn on electrical devices by simply entering a room. I had freaked out a roommate by turning on my computer thus, without even touching the computer itself, or the desk that it was sitting on. I also beep whenever I go through airport security. I always try to guess which body part it would be, because it’s different almost every time. I expect one of these days, I’m going to be strip-searched before being allowed to board a plane. Clocks within my house always go out of whack, not because of the batteries dying or anything. For the longest time, I was convinced that I had a “clock ghost” that followed me around and tinkered with all of my watches and clocks, but now, I’m attributing it to my strange electromagnetic aura. At least, that’s what I tell myself. Until someone comes up with a better explanation, this is all I have to go by.
3. On that slightly paranormal note, I admit that I have heard music in my head before. Not as in having a song stuck in my head all day, but actually physically hearing music that is not there. I have, on more than one occasion, gone into my room to turn off my stereo, thinking to myself, “Now who had gone and turned on my music?” Then, I would realize that it was all in my head, that the stereo wasn’t even on. I could even have said which CD and track had been playing. And no, I don’t have fillings in my teeth that could have picked up radio signals. (I’ve never had any cavities, which in itself is strange, especially considering that I don’t take very good care of my teeth, and I definitely do not watch my sugar intake.)
4. Have I freaked everyone out yet? How about a weird food one now, before you all run from me in horror…. When I was little, I used to eat Kraft singles slathered with peanut butter, not on bread, but just like that – peanut butter on processed cheese. I also went through a phase where I made everyone give me the skin off of his/her chicken, and ate only the skin, sans the meat. Nowadays, when I’m down, I eat nothing but chocolate ice-cream and stoned wheat crackers, preferably unsalted ones. And, people who know me well would know I’m in a mood based on the way I nibble at my crackers. I guess the only way to describe it would be that I “pare” away at the corners with my teeth, working my way in. I take forever to eat a single cracker when I have the blues.
5. I’m painfully shy, and do not do well in social situations, but I love giving presentations, even in front of large crowds. In high school, I adored having to do oral presentations, and would always go over the time limit and overwhelm the class with my barrage of diagrams, audio-visual aids, and many a time, my watercolours. (I liked to use my school projects as an excuse to paint, and would find some way to incorporate watercolours into my English, Social Studies, and Science presentations.)
6. Phew, last one already. Whenever I need to de-stress or calm myself down, I would write out poems that I had memorized through the years. I have a mini library of poetry in the back of my brain, always ready to be channeled from mind to hand to page. I’m not sure why this activity always makes me feel better, as though the chaotic world is not that chaotic after all.
* Yes, I’m back after my doldrums. I can never resist a meme.
Over the past week, I’ve been contemplating discontinuing this blog. I’m afraid it’s no longer serving its purpose. Instead of documenting my adventures up north, it has been a log of my descent of sorts into a mental and emotional nadir. And I’m sure that venting about my neuroses has caused those same neuroses to metastasize out of control. My resolution had been to think less, do more, and this blog has not been conducive to that at all.
I’ve reflected too much about my weird dreams, my emotional discontent, and uncertainty over my future (and my present, for that matter). I’ve blown trivial things completely out of proportion.
So, I’m taking a hiatus for now – it may be long or short. I think that I’ll be back though, probably sooner rather than later. Knowing me, I would be missing the clicks of the keys as I type away, the cogs and wheels turning within my head. But, I know that I must take this blog into a new direction. If my blog were a living creature, it would be a disgruntled bear that just needs to hibernate until the spring. Once my mental spring arrives, I’ll be able to write about the flowers, the lush greenery, the joy derived from just being alive – you know, all the things that truly matter.
Thank you for reading, and stay tuned…. I’ll be back! Hopefully really, really soon!
* I just noticed that this is the ninety-ninth post of my blog. I'll make the hundredth post my fresh start.
I've written fourteen pages in my journal today. And it felt so liberating. I was having one of those perfect moments: I was curled up on the sofa, doing what I loved best, scribbling away and listening to Joni Mitchell. My upstairs neighbour/landlord/friend has been traipsing up and down the stairs all evening, probably loading up her truck to prepare for her trip out tomorrow. She'll be driving to Whitehorse for the holidays. I love listening to the footsteps upstairs – they comfort me somehow.
Since starting this blog, I've been writing less in my journal, although I must admit that blogging could never replace journalling. In my journal, I am ten times more neurotic, more nonsensical. I never censor myself. I used to think that I wrote more during particularly distressful times, but I want journalling to be about more than cheap therapy. I want it to be a creative outlet once more, as was the original intent.
Sometimes, I wonder if my blogger identity is becoming something false. Am I building a cyber-community around me to compensate for the lacks in my real life? I've come to realize that I'm actually not lacking in real life at all. Do I really need the internet and technology in order to feel connected to people? That would be too sad to contemplate....
Way back, before human life centred around clocks, people were rooted in a natural rhythm. I wonder how people up here, in the land of the midnight sun and the midday darkness, kept track of their hours. Maybe wondering is completely futile – maybe their somatic “clocks” were enough. After all, would it matter if lunch is at noon or at four in the morning, just as long as the body is nourished when it needs to be? I've not been sleeping well these past few weeks. Perhaps my somatic clock is refusing to be in sync with the clock that I must follow.
I have a love-hate relationship with technology. Many a time, I wish that I could live in a simpler time. (Yes, a time without modern technology does indeed seem simpler. People focused on the near-at-hand, on their immediate world. I know that I have a romanticized view of the past, but I do yearn for it sometimes.) Then again, there are times when I just love what the internet has done for me. Today, I found the blog of a friend with whom I had lost touch. Four years ago, she was a teacher in Vancouver. She has since changed careers, married, and now has a beautiful little boy. Her life has undergone such monumental changes, yet she still looks the same to me. A while ago, I found another blog of an acquaintance, someone I had gone to school with. She's still busy balancing being an artist and earning a living. But at least she's still doing art.
Which brings me back to my “art,” my writing.... Today, my biggest accomplishment is letting those words pour forth and fill up fourteen pages of my journal. This is above finishing reading Macbeth with my class, having my students declare that they liked the play, or getting some of my Christmas shopping done after work (yikes!).
As this might be the last post before I go off for my holidays, I want to wish everyone who reads this blog the joys of the season. Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, and although I think every day is reason enough to connect with people, do take this opportunity to get together, laugh, reminisce, and build goodwill. Much love to you all.
Blogging is a strange and wonderful thing. I started this blog almost a year ago when I made a pact with my then-friend (now boyfriend) to keep in touch this way. He had moved out of town last Christmas, and I started experimenting with blogging, and had, in one of our conversations, alluded to my new blog. I had originally decided that it was a time-consuming and unrewarding experience, but he talked me into keeping at it. It was my second attempt at blogging; the first had been a log linked to a now defunct website that another computer-savvy friend had set up for me. Through the months, this blog has developed a life of its own, and has morphed into something that, at times, seems simultaneously intimate and alien to me.
It always surprises me to find that people other than my friends visit the blog and sometimes even leave comments. Here is a partial list of people linked to my blog somehow, people I've met only through the blogosphere:
Another meme from the blogosphere:
What's the first poem you remember reading/hearing/reacting to?
I remember reading Sylvia Plath's “Poppies in October.” I was at a bookstore, and was flipping through a poetry anthology, when my eyes happened to scan that particular page. Plath's words forced me to read that short poem from start to finish right then and there. Although I was terrified by the images, those words held me captive. I was also in awe. I had often felt such terrible beauty, such fragility in the world. The closing lines seemed to emanate from my very soul, reflect my own questioning:
O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
I was forced to memorize (name of poem) in school and....
The first poem I remember having to memorize in school was E.E. Cummings's “Hist Whist.” I loved the way my tongue formed those ghostly sounds, like the snapping of branches on a dark, misty night. ( I just looked it up on the internet, and I have no idea how I could have had that memorized at age seven.) I loved memorizing poems, and had memorized quite a few on my own accord through the years. Parts of T.S. Eliot's “Little Gidding,” multiple poems by Theodore Roethke, and others by Cummings are among my favourites.
I read / don't read poetry because....
I adore poetry. I am reminded of E.M. Forster's epigraph for Howards End: “Only connect....” My beliefs and feelings seem to gain conviction when I find them reflected in others, and nowhere can I find such connection than in poetry. It links me with humanity across time and geography. I could safely say that not a day goes by when I don't read, recite, or think about poetry.
A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favourite poem is....
I have so many favourite poems, that it's hard to choose. Plath's poems fill me with awe and dread in equal proportions. Roethke's comfort and calm me. Cummings's make my heart skip a beat. However, I must “cheat” and say that Rainer Maria Rilke's Duino Elegies contains every emotion possible. (I say that I'm “cheating” because the elegies are really a collection of ten poems.) I do wish though that I didn't have to read Rilke in translation. As much as I try to find the most authoritative translation, the one closest to meaning and feeling to Rilke's original, I'm afraid that my reading would never be complete. One more reason for me to take up German. (My first reason for wanting to learn German was so that I could read a beautiful art book I had picked up at Musee d'Orsay in Paris. In my frenzied raid of the gift shop, I had grabbed the German version instead of the English. I know, it's a silly reason for wanting to learn a whole new language, but you have not seen me pore over the book for hours at a time.)
I write / don't write poetry, but....
I used to write a lot more poetry, but now I hardly ever do. My journals used to be full of poetry, but somehow, the poet in me is lost. She's wandering the world, trying to find her way home. In the meantime, she's busy observing the world, taking both literal and mental snapshots and saving them.
My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature....
There are certain poems that I return to time and time again because I feel as though I need them. I feel as though reading them somehow makes my blood flow through my veins, makes me complete. While fiction often makes me see my world differently, or confirms my values and beliefs, poetry validates my voice, my being.
I find poetry...
...everywhere. In different forms, it is in the laughter of a friend, in music, in painting, in the land and in the sky.
The last time I heard poetry....
I have the best job in the world. I discover new poems all the time, and try them on my students. Admittedly, the last poetry unit I designed for my class met with more complaints than anything. However, I just started Macbeth today with my students, and the response was unanimous: They loved it. To hear the bard's poetry issue from these northern adolescents so far removed in time and space from Elizabethan England had me on cloud nine. My students themselves are also poets in their own right, even as they complain about having to read and analyze poems. They love reading me their work, and I love hearing it all.
I think poetry is like....
Poetry is like the mysterious force that makes our hearts beat, that makes us dance, sing, live. It's as inexplicable as life and love. It just is....
Litlove created a meme, and I couldn't resist:
What part of the past would you bring back if you possibly could?
The past that was actually lived is invariably different from the one remembered; however, I would definitely bring back my high school days in a heartbeat. I would love to relive those five years of self-discovery, when I felt secure in my own dreams and abilities, when being a writer was a visceral knowledge and not merely a far-off fantasy. Those were the days when I wrote maniacally, when I shared my stories. I now love the naivete, the innocence in those words. Those were the days when I believed.
What character trait would you alter if you could?
I would alter my insecurities. Although I know that I'm a good person, with nary a malicious bone in my body, I would like to value myself more, be more generous to myself.
Which skill would you like to have the time and money to really work on?
I would absolutely love to dust off my vagabond shoes and travel the world; however, my deepest desire would be to live by the sea and wake up every morning and write, write, and write. I want to breathe in the salt in the air and feel it flow through my veins and get my creative juices going.
Are you money poor, love poor, time poor, or freedom poor?
I'm blessed. I'm not money poor: I shock myself constantly with my online purchasing rampages. I feel over-privileged, and hope one day soon to feel completely deserving of all that I have. I'm not love poor: I love the people around me who have become the family I've chosen for myself in this home. I have people who are so protective of me, who would jump over hurdles to put a smile on my face. I'm not time poor: I just need the mindset to pursue the things I love to do. I just need to believe that I can do them – that I can play music and compose, that I can write, even if it's only for myself. I'm not freedom poor: I'm young and could literally move anywhere, try anything. The only thing holding me back is my insecurities.
What element of your partner's character would you alter if you could?
I honestly don't believe in altering people. I love those close to my heart despite their flaws. I guess the only thing I would alter is the same as what I would wish for myself: I wish he could value himself more, and love himself completely.
What three things are you going to do the next year that you've been meaning to do for ages but never got around to?
Without sounding like a broken record, I would love to write, write, and write. Since that doesn't really count as three things, the other two would be to finish the French course I started a year and a half ago, and to start composing music again.
If your fairy godmother gave you three wishes, what would you wish for?
I would wish for all my students to feel loved. I would wish for a place that feels like home. I would wish to know that I'll always have the people who are important to me now.
What one thing would you change about your living conditions?
I would make my house warmer. I would also have houseplants, surround myself with lush greenery. If only my cat could keep away. If I could change the town, I would make the winters shorter, the days clearer, the summers bug-free. I know, that's more than one thing, but hey, I never ask much of the world usually, so I'm entitled at least to my fantasies.
How could the quality of your free time be improved?
I would think less, do more. Enough said.
What change have you made in your life recently that you're most proud of?
I'm proud that I have found the ability to say “no.” I know my own limits, and try to take care of my own feelings, although I still have not stopped feeling bad about it sometimes.
I'm taking a brief break from writing about my road-trip. I'll be back with new posts to wrap things up soon; I think giving the trip time to digest might provide me with some much-needed perspective. I need to chew the emotions over before fully swallowing the trip's impact on me.
I'm vivacemusica, and I'm a blog-addict. I define that not as someone who obsessively posts entries, but someone who is addicted to a strange psychic voyeurism by tracking certain strangers' blogs. There is a blog of an aspiring writer in New York that I'm drawn to because the blogger is so much like I am. She is how I imagine myself to be if I were living in New York and pursuing my dream of being a writer. Then, there is a literature professor in England, whose blog provides much intellectual stimulation about – what else – literature, my premiere passion.
I stumbled upon a meme on books on one of the blogs, and it provided much food for thought that I thought I would take a stab at it:
Memes are one of my favourite parts of blogging. They link others' consciousness with mine, and although we're all distinct, we kind of meld together into one cyber-being through thought-sharing.
In recent months, it feels as though I've lived half my life in a world of pseudo-reality online. I don't frequent chat-rooms or strike up relationships with strangers, but nevertheless, I have a sort of double identity – that of my everyday interactions in the “real” world, and the self that I assume when I'm in front of this computer screen. Somehow, when I'm typing, my physicality fades away, as do my experiences. I realize that the entries I write are about my experiences, but they have become detached from this body and this mind, and become events and situations that have happened to vivacemusica, whoever that is.... All of my thoughts and descriptions of the happenings in my life have taken on a more “pure” form, floating freely and completely disembodied.
