Image

There are times when I think a bit about my appearance and whether there are ways that I can improve on it (without too much inconvenience) but I must admit that I don't think that I have ever thought seriously about creating my image. The fact that I am not speaking from experience relegates my comments on the subject to the realm of speculation (tinged a bit with general observations I have made over time). That being said I will now continue with my discussion as though I were the most prominent researcher on the subject.

On reflection I think that there are several factors behind why I have never thought seriously about taking on a specific image: most of the more desperate and rapid changes of image often occur while the subject is high school age. I didn't go to highs cool, had no groups to associate with or join, was too busy working to worry about what I looked like. My friends also worked when not doing school or having sleepovers and were similarly unambitious in the style arena. Not to say that we did not display a generally uniform style but it came more from utility than a conscious choice. Much as a painter wears white because it's part of the job, we wore jeans, old t-shirts and hoodies because they're most practical for jobs in barns. When we did 'dress up' to go to town or the like, we definitely wore clothes with a country flair but it was not overly studied. My co-workers were over twice my age and not concerned with high school interests. Also I think that a part of my comfort in who I was was helped along by the fact that I had a very stable and static home and circles of relatives and friends. I knew who I was and where I stood. Perhaps one shouldn't define one's self with one's relationships but it's a good start and, for me at least, took away the necessity of breaking out on my own until I was a bit more mature.

I perhaps sound smug from all that. I will say that I was blessed much more than I was aware of at that time (more than I am aware of even now, I'm sure) and by telling more of my story I wished rather to negate any claim to merit on my part, chalking it up instead to unmerited blessing.

My purpose for setting this up is to contrast it with the information I saw on a link my brother sent me as a joke yesterday (but I began to wonder if it is serious). I wonder if people really are as desperate to fit in as not to understand what they are doing and how they are living a contradiction. The link was to wikihow . At this page there is a list of different 'images' that one might wish to take on with hand tips on each particular page about the best/easiest ways to take on this identity. It almost reads as what I would imagine an amateur-disguise-for-budding-detectives book would. I believe it is a branch of Wikipedia and has been edited by various readers.

Some of the more memorable quotes from the few passages I have read are as follows:

The Emos
just be sure to dress like all the other emos, so everyone can see that you too are non conformist.
be careful because too many pins can look poserish so arrange your pins in a random fashion.
Try hard enough to look emo, but not too hard or you might look like a poser.
A lot of times, Emo is associated with being bitter, depressed, insecure and resentful. But at its core, you can be Emo because you're sensitive, introspective, thoughtful, and quiet.
If someone calls you Emo, don't cry about it - tell them something mean to get back at them and walk away. It shows them that you have a backbone and they have no impact on you.

It is hard not to laugh at the poor emos. This next category, however, is close to how I dress on occasion so I was interested in hearing the pearls of wisdom in this post.

The Smart Girl
If you try to use big words - make sure you actually understand what you are saying. Otherwise you'll seem like a fake and everyone will laugh at you.
Dress in an intelligent looking way. T-shirts with the names of museums on them, shirts with stuff like "Use Your Brain" on them...
Whatever you do, be yourself. There is nothing smart about pretending to be someone you're just not. Stick with your look - it's just sad seeing someone try to be smart and the next day completely going back to being "one of the pretty girls". You will totally lose respect.

I just don't get it.

room makeover

Keeping my room clean is not always on the top of my priority list and I often put up with the chaos that stems from a lifestyle of only stopping at home or in my room enough time to sleep and then grab whatever I may need for the oncoming day on my way out (resulting in the dump-and-crash method at the close of the day). This general pattern is punctuated with the occasional whirlwind cleaning (usually when I need clean laundry) on the odd Friday. These cleanings merely scratch the surface not dealing with the problems of finding place for miscellaneous items or of sorting papers instead merely stacking the mess into smaller piles (only to be scattered again the first time I need to find one of the papers quickly).

Last term was typical in this respect. Perhaps even worse than ever before since I was particularly busy and had but few Fridays free to spend even surface cleaning. Piled onto that, I have now been living out of this room for approximately five years and the number of miscellaneous items without designated place (so that I might follow the mantra "a place for everything and everything in its place") along with the piles of unsorted papers had reached unprecedented levels. Added to that (perhaps stemming in part from that) I was increasingly dissatisfied with the setup and dingy paint in my room.

Having set up a slight picture of the chaos in which I was living let me make a brief note on my sentiments on the issue. I love cleanliness and orderliness. I thrive in bright, clean, organized spaces. It is useless for me to note, then, that I was not pleased with the state of my room. I just did not have the time to do anything about it. I resolved that immediately following the end of the term I would paint the room and make sure, once that was finished, that everything I put back into it would be something that I had a good reason for keeping. I would then organize all these things (finding good places for them and ensuring they would be easy to put away--thus helping in those times when I have but brief moments to spare on such activity) and perhaps rearrange the plan of the room. I had a few ideas of what would be better and was eager to execute them. It was difficult slogging through the rest of the term with this liberating scheme percolating in my mind but being unable to follow it. I managed to write my papers only because Gma was away and I was able to move my activities and laptop to the kitchen and livingroom (places I easily kept clean).
The time finally came when I was able to start at the painting. I really enjoy painting but the prep work is not my favourite. Mom was able to assist me a little (on her birthday no less) by helping to move all the junk out and then start on washing the walls with TSP.

The paint was old and I had my suspicions that the last paint job was rushed since the coat underneath was a lovely bright orange that showed through the tiniest scratch. The result was not pretty. As mentioned before, I was alone in the house (Gma being away at the time) and eager to start but I knew that rushing the prep steps (as much as I disliked them) would merely result in a similar shoddy job.


I got into the groove and was finally able to begin my favourite part. I painted clockwise around the room starting the trim once the first coat was finished and the second coat once the trim was finished. I took a break to sleep upstairs partway through and grabbed one or two snacks but other than that I was on such a roll that I didn't want to stop until everything was done. During this period I helped the time pass by listening through all the Chronicles of Narnia radio theatre on CD. It gave a very unique feeling to this time. Looking back, I don't recall any normal sense of time. I suppose it is because I did not mark the time with any of the usual methods (meals, varying activities through the day, sleep...) but I have never had the opportunity of diving into Narnia so thoroughly before. I definitely enjoyed myself.

And now I have a whole new room to study in! It is much brighter, better set up, cleaner, much better organized. I even have tried in a small way to have a bit of a colour scheme and have framed and hung some of my pictures to tie it together. Things are looking up!

Interesting history

I have often thought on and discussed the way that history is much more memorable for me when I hear it in conjunction with some of the details of the everyday life of the time as opposed to the bare facts of battles and lines of kings. That is the basis of my viewpoint that it is more important for certain aspects of history to learn it from the living literature of the time rather than from a hollow history book. The following (rather lengthy) quote is an interesting discussion along the same lines (which I obviously appreciate since it supports my viewpoint):

The historian points back to the men of other ages, and from the gradually clearing mist in which they are first discovered, like the mountains of a far distant land, the generations of the world are displayed to our mind's eye on grand and regular procession. But the transactions of men become interesting to us only as we are made acquainted with men themselves. Great and bloody battles are to us battles fought on the moon, if it is not impressed upon our minds, by some circumstances attending them, that men subject to like weaknesses and passions with ourselves, were the combatants. The establishments of policy make little impression upon us, if we are left ignorant of the beings whom they affected. Even a very masterly drawn character will but slightly imprint upon our memory the great man it belongs to, if, in the account we receive of his life, those lesser circumstances are entirely neglected, which do best of all point out to us the dispositions and tempers of men. Some slight circumstance characteristick of the particular turn of a man's mind, which at first sight seems but little connected with the great events of his life, will often explain some of those events more clearly in our understanding, that the minute details of ostensible policy. A judicious selection of those circumstances which characterize the spirit of an associated mob, paltry and ludicrous as some of them may appear, will oftentimes convey to our minds a clearer idea why certain laws and privileges were demanded and agreed to, than a methodical explanation of their causes. A historian who has examined human nature himself, and likewise attends to the pleasure which developing and tracing, does ever convey to others, will employ our understanding as well as our memory with his pages; and if this is not done, he will impose upon the latter a very difficult task, in retaining what she is concerned with alone.

from Joanna Baillie's Introductory Discourse to her Plays on the Passions (Broadview edition pp 78-80).

I do wonder, however, if this view to the approach of history is particularly feminine. The relational aspect seems to dominate over the logical aspect. It does seem from my general (and rather simplistic) idea of the way it has worked over time that the factual and logical approach ruled while institutions were the domain of men and that this second view of the study of history has only sprung up since women have had their foot in the door of the education system (becoming inreasingly popular as they gain dominance in many ways). Interesting. Perhaps I should take a vote amongst my acquaintances.

whistling bishop

From The Warden by Trollope:

The bishop did not whistle: we believe that they lose the power of doing so on being consecrated; and that in these days one might as easily meet a corrupt judge as a whistling bishop; but he looked as though he would have done so, but for his apron.

The Canadian eh

A book designed to help integrate new Canadians and teach them English recommends an easy shortcut to sounding casual and Canadian: use eh. But it's a little more complex than that. According to Richard W. Bailey in an article on Canadian English (one of only a few; this broad area of study has been sadly neglected) there are six uses for 'eh' and according to another scholar, Walter Avis, there are eight different uses of this simple sound. Are the poor followers of that book to venture into the labyrinth of 'eh' usage without any further indication as to when such an interjection is appropriate? It is unfortunate that they are not pointed to one or other of these two erudite explanations because, although they may not get much out of them besides confusion, at least they will realize that there is more than one use for what at first has been presented as a catch-all. For our own edification, however, I shall briefly outline some of the various uses these two letters--and indeed but one vowel sound--are put. For this list I shall quote Bailey's article mentioned above.

...eh is abundant in British, American, and Canadian English and also occurs in Australia and South Africa. In all these places the functions of eh are diverse:
as a question tag ("hey, Barry, you have a cold one for me tonight, eh?"),
as a reinforcer ("call me Alex, eh?"),
and in elliptical statements of various kinds ("see you eh?" and "you won't eh?"). Assuming that the historical attestations are reliable, eh does not have its origin in Canada, and in only one function is it more common in Canada than elsewhere--in [the] "narrative eh." In this use, which may occur "with disconcerting frequency," eh serves in place of a hesitation vowel or, implicitly, as a request for confirmation of the speaker's assumptions: "He's holding onto a firehose, eh? The thing is jumping all over the place, eh, and he can hardly hold onto it, eh? Well, he finally loses control of it, eh, and the water knocks down half a dozen bystanders."...eh is clearly widespread across the country across social classes. Both by its use in narrative contexts and by its relatively high frequency, it qualifies as a "Canadianism" and serves as one of the "distinctive" features of Canadian English.

I love the tone of the illustrations. Those are quite profound statements and that story about the routing of innocent bystanders with firehose almost moved me to tears... I don't know if this is a coincidence but most of those uses (perhaps from the informality implicit in the use of 'eh') I associate with a lower class or education level (as illustrated in the subject matter of the examples). I do use 'eh' on occasion. Generally the question tag or elliptical statement varieties when in an informal situation. There is much more tied to the idea of when, where and how to use 'eh' than the straightforward idea of using it more to sound more Canadian. Perhaps it would contribute to helping with integration with one group in society but not so much with another. This topic is much more complex than it may seem on first inspection. I have only explored some small side issues connected with it and I imagine further studies would be quite interesting. But I have not time or scope on this blog to continue much more than what I have already.
So I'll leave it with that, eh?

part of why we have a large lexicon

We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.
-Brooker T. Washington

Holiday

I've had a relaxing boxing-week. Not the least part of which perhaps lies in the fact that while away from the big city lights and excitement for a down-home Christmas I was thrust into the slew of despond (ie the land of dial-up). But rather than acting the way one would suspect (symptoms of withdrawal etc) this seemingly frustrating situation has contributed much, I believe, to my general feeling of satisfaction in accomplishing the ever-fleeting R&R that so many strive to attain.

A little strange that as soon as I leave that haven, rather than follow up my lesson about priorities I dive right back into the virtual world in order that I might communicate to all my readers the wonders of it all.

Perhaps it is merely that I am using technology's own weapons to subvert its message.
Or perhaps I'm just a sucker.

how do you spend your time?

The mark of a true writer:

At painful times, when composition is impossible and reading is not enough, grammars and dictionaries are excellent for distraction.
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Dundee!

We picked her up this morning and already she's an important member of our family :)

resting

By
Still
Waters
I like finding pictures that express my mood and here is one that fits with the fact that I am done with everything having to do with my courses from this past semester. Nothing on my mind. I can relax (if I can remember how).

I'm done like fried bacon!

I just don't smell as nice.

Nnow that I have a wealth of time to reflect on what I just passed through, here are a couple reflections on essay-writing:

I didn't think that I would ever admit to this but here it is: by the time I got into the groove of writing (and once my beloved internet was taken away from me) I actually found myself enjoying writing my essays. This is slightly comforting in light of possible theses concerning Masters programs and other such daunting stuff.

That brings up another thought: it is nice to be able to use words like 'thing' and 'stuff' now that I don't have to define and lay out logical arguments. Ah the bliss of ambiguosity (I don't care if that's a word or not).

My one regret is that I would have wished to have had the time to look over my papers before handing them in but I have lived without that luxury for quite some time now and suppose it'll be okay. It's one of those things that I have to think about the balance: will spending a bit of extra time on one aspect help the fiinished project to the same extent as spending that same time on another aspect? It's a different kind of thrift.

do I actually like lit?

I adore reading. Therefore I am an English major. That was my initial idea for chosing such a major for my studies. However, there are certain question and states of my being that cause me to question the straightforwardness of this equation. I have reached nothing conclusivly (in keeping with the uncertain nature of lit studies, of course) but will outline several lines of thought that have led me along this road.
I have come to enjoy class discussions and studying novels in a different way from the pure enjoyment I used to derive from reading. The enjoyment is often deepend with the various exercises we lit people put these books through. But this is not always the case, especially when the novel in question is one to which I hold a particular fondness. I occasionally find my favourites ruined and no longer recognizable after I have cut and snipped away and used them to support some one or other argument.
I often have the feeling that I would enjoy essays more were I to be the one to come up with the thought process to be set down on the paper and had I the time to give it serious thought. However, I use the subjunctive mood because this is one of those hypothetical cases where reality will never ever in my whole life meet together with these ideals. With this aspect, as with so many others in life, I have to take these ideals and make the best of the situation at hand.
As much as I enjoy studying books, as much as I have really enjoyed the focus on discussing the ideas behind the books and periods this year (as opposed to the information-supplying formation years) I still find that there is almost nothing like dissecting a book to ruin my enjoyment of it. Perhaps there is too much focus on the constituent parts above the whole [I know this is a re-hashing of the previous thought but it leads more fully into my following discussion of the dissection of poetry below].
Perhaps that is why I favour the dissection of poetry over novels; perhaps I don't expect to make friends with the poetry before cutting it up. Once it is cut up I usually understand it a little better but that is not so much the case with novels.

There is no real point to this post besides the search for meaning for some of the thoughts I've been having concerning my lit studies and why I am here... please ignore if you don't want to be bored. Except if you've read down to here, this warning is too late. Oh well.

Some Gaskell

Here are a couple quotes that come from a section of Mary Barton (one of the novels I am currently writing about). They have nothing to do with what I am writing (on class structure and the power of the written word) but I liked the truth in them:

Opportunities are not often wanting where inclination goes before.

I do not know what points of resemblance (or dissimilitude, for the one joins people as often as the other) attracted the two girls to each other. Margaret had the great charm of possessing good strong common sense, and do you not percieve how involuntarily this is valued? It is so pleasant to have a friend who possesses the power of setting a difficult question in a clear light; whose judgment can tell what is best to be done; and who is so convinced of what is "wisest, best," that in consideration of the end, all difficulties in the way diminish. People admire talent, and talk about their admiration. But they value common sense without talking about it, and often without knowing it.

a pretty pickle indeed

But there certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world, as there are pretty women to deserve them.
-from Mansfield Park by Jane Austen

O Bellicosity of mine, why hast thou no tangible object?

I was having a great day, many things were going my way or at least were not going against me. I had breakfast with Ness, I finished my Beowulf paper (quite pleased with how it turned out too, I might add), watched Mansfield Park while eating chocolate cake and other assorted treats in our last day of class party, ran into a few friends I haven't seen in a while and actually had some time to spare to catch up. I was on a roll for sure, depositing my cheque and looking around the mall in one of my pre-Christmas shopping browse times.

It all came to a sudden halt as I was wiping off the car for the drive back. Another parking ticket. Yes, my second this week from the same bloody french woman piss-midget. I hate her with a passion. I wonder how people like that sleep at night. And this occurs after I found a 1863 penny lying on the floor and handed it in to the bank security in the chance that someone comes back to look for it. Yes, I did an act of kindness. Who knows, perhaps it isn't really worth that much but really, it would have been awesome to have had a coin minted before our country existed. The security guard didn't seem too much on the bright side but did say he'd have the bank hold onto it in case someone asks about it. If I had known that the stupid institution that decided to penalize its customers would descend on me once again I would probably have kept that coin just to show them. I know, childish but hey, I'm mad and really have no method of retaliation at this point (Oh, and I don't mean 'show them' as in 'hey guys, look at this' but in the belligerent manner).

blessings

I was part of a discussion this evening concerning dealing with the blessing of wealth in relation to living out the Christian life. It touched on many aspects of the issue but the one I have been thinking of in the aftermath is the false sense of security attached to seeming financial stability. It was agreed that we tend to trust and rely on wealth rather than the Lord for our security. But however much this may apply to my life I have concluded that I view my family (close and extended) as a greater blessing and source of security than money. I would be much more destitute losing or being alienated from them than losing all my money. However much this may seem a better prop than money, I belive relying on it in this way rather than on God brings out similar pitfalls. I find a the idea in the movie the Net where Sandra Bullock has her identity stolen and has no relatives who are able to confirm who she is much more terrifying than that of going broke. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I know as long as I have relative I will never be homeless. So perhaps it still is indirectly linked to the money issue (only in a more communal way).

The issue of making enough money to afford a good old-age home was surprising for me and thinking of it now, I don't directly know of any relatives who have gone to a home. I think in part it is because my family tends to be healty and then die rather suddenly (another blessing, I guess) and those who need care are usually taken care of at the home of a relative. It sounds like our family is a little anomalous in this way. There are so many facets to the issue that it is hard to come to any definitive answer but I suppose at least one thought I can take from it is that my family is a huge blessing.

life's impressionistic moments

The Very Model of a modern Major-General

The classic aria from Gilbert & Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance

I am the very model of a modern Major-General;
I've information vegetable, animal and mineral:
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical,
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical,
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lit o' news,
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse...
I'm very good at integral and differential calculus;
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous:
In short in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

I know our mystic history, King Arthur's and Sir Caradoc's;
I answer hard acrostics; I've a pretty taste for paradox;
I quote, in elegiacs, all the crimes of Heliogabalus,
In conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous;
I can tell undoubted Raphaels from Gerard Dows and Zoffanies
I know the croaking chorus from the Frogs of Aristophanes!
Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's dinafore,
And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense, Pinafore!...
Then I can write a washing bill in Babylonic cuneiform,
And tell you ev'ry detail of Caractacus's uniform:
In short in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

In fact when I know what is meant my "mamelon" and "ravelin",
When I can tell at sight a Mauser rifle from a javelin,
When such affairs of sorties and surprises I'm more wary at,
And when I know precisely what is meant by "commissariat",
When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery,
When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery--
In short when I've a smattering of elemental strategy--
You'll say a better major-General has never sat a gee.
For my military knowledge, tho' I'm plucky and adventury,
Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century;
But still in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

leafen caves

I often like to imagine the world in miniature. When I was little I loved sandboxes and making GIJoes places to play out of Mom's houseplants and various other objects. I guess I haven't grown up much since then. Unfortunately I just don't have as much time now to indulge myself. That's one good thing about hanging out with little people, they make good excuses to dabble in the delights of imagination without feeling foolish. A couple days ago I was waiting for the bus and saw these leaf-caves under the hedge and had to capture a few of my favourites. The owners seemed to be out so I didn't get to have them pose by their houses (they seem to be quite the early risers) but I've labelled the pictures with whose home is who's for those who are not blessed with their acquaintance.
This is the home of Pip and Elvira. It's their first home so a mite on the small side but they're quite glad to have found a proper leaf before the snow fell and now they're happy and snug in the fitting up of this small paradise.
This more imposing entrance leads to Mr Fizzlewort's impressive home. He is quite proud of it and was out for quite some time finding the perfect leaf for the entrance to his abode. It is perhaps on the dark side but that helps him when he takes his afternoon nap.
This one is not actually a proper home but is the new summerhouse in the Pomfotters' backyard. I thought the line of the eaves was quite pretty against the snow. They are quite looking forward to getting quite a bit of use out of it next summer since it was only finished about a month before the snow flew.
This golden leaf is the entrance to the home of the mayor, Mr Goldstem. I do fear that he has put too much thought into the outer appearance of his house and it might be a tad uncomfortable inside. But perhaps he wishes to warm it with his wit.
Finally here is an aerial picture of one section of Leafton. The caves are placed close both for shared warmth and for the greater ease of visiting through the long winter months. Eventually the residents will have to dig tunnels through the snow from entrance to entrance. But thankfully when they have accomplished this they generally do not have to do much more the rest of the season (excluding the cleanup of cave-ins).

slideshow

one more thing about flickr for now: it appears as though the slideshow function only uses about the first page of my pictures on flickr and then loops. Although it is unlikely that one would remain looking at my blog for a longer amount of time than it takes to get through those twenty (or so) pictures, if you would happen to like to see more I believe you can click on the slideshow and arrive at my whole archive. There are about 6,400 pics up now and I've finally reached the point where I'm not uploading any older pictures, just those that I have taken within a day or two! It's very exciting. Well, to me at least :)
Now I just have to sort them out a bit...

bulletin

I couldn't resist the opportunity to add the flickr slideshow element here.
I hope my vast readership will enjoy it just as much as I do.
I love slideshows (distracting as they are).
That is all I wanted to say.
Oh, and enjoy.
-jp

snow

Yesterday we had rain.But I woke up this morning to the reflected light of snow!

Although it usually melts away within the day there is nothing quite like the first snowfall of the year.

Peevish

Let me preface this with the assertion that I am not in a generally pessimistic mood. It just happens that two rather curmudgeonly thoughts have occurred to me within the space of a week and I have decided to record them for all the world to have the potential to see if they were so inclined to google appropriate terms and inexplicably stumble upon this backwater blog.

That being shorter than most prefaces I have to read I will lengthen this post with an introduction and perhaps a note on the text. Well perhaps not the latter. That would be a little pretentious, I believe. However, I shall introduce this topic by stating that people are inept. Well perhaps I should have left that for the body of the entry but it serves well as an introduction too. Now on to the body of this entry.

It should come as no surprise to the thinking mind that with the burgeoning numbers of electronic means of communication involving the written word (or perhaps I should say the typed word), shortcuts, slang and means of expressing one's true emotions would pop up. And so they have. Emoticons and new 'words' like lol are now entrenched in the vocabulary of the modern delinquent. MSNisms are seeping into the rest of the language. Despite the push for the descriptive rather than prescriptive approach to linguistics I cannot help feeling that this degrades the language.

Be that as it may I have little to complain about concerning what I have mentioned above when compared with the inanity shown by those people who, in order to express the lengthening of a word for emphasis, multiply the wrong letters in the word. For example, if one were to take the word 'sweet' and attempt to express how the word is lengthened (as when used as a sign of approbation), the logical result would be something like: 'sweeeeet' (with more or fewer 'e's depending on the length desired). Even to the non-linguist it is quickly evident that vowels are the sounds formed by our vocal chords and are thus easier to maintain. Likewise it is phonetically impossible to lengthen the amount of time in which the 't' is pronounced since most consonants are a one-shot deal. So were I to write my lengthened 'sweet' out thus: 'sweetttttt' even the simplest child would quickly see that the sound represented is the word 'sweet' with a bunch of stuttered 't's following. Yet why to do I see similar consonantal lengthening in numerous wall postings and other texts of this, our venerable computer age? Do the writers actually take the time to sound out what word they have just spelled?

Almost worst are those who lengthen silent letters as in 'pokeeeeee'. Are they really trying to express something along the lines of 'pokie'? Utterly ridiculous. The only way in which I can account for this phenomenon while maintaining the sense of this new generation is to posit that their keyboards are sticking and the letters appear like that out of no conscious thought from the typist.
Let us hope (for the sake of this perverse generation) that this latter is the case.

Spiceless girls

The more I see of the world the more I am dissatisfied with it

These words of Elizabeth Bennet to me represent the way that I associate a certain type of cynicism with levels of sophistication and maturity.

I do have friends who are certainly mature in other ways but who lack this characteristic. I feel they should be called Janeites to continue with the P&P theme. Even though they may (and often are) my elders, I feel quite superior in many ways as Elizabeth clearly is to Jane. To use a trite analogy, it is as though they are lacking in the spice department.

Don't get me wrong, I do like these people (I did call them friends) and they often inspire me to be a better person but I have a sneaky feeling that they would be tedious as long-term companions. It is lovely indeed that they always have something positive to say of everyone and it follows that they would never say a thing bad about you, either, but I do believe that I am actually quite comfortable to let my friends gossip about me behind my back if, in return, I get to hear all the juicy bits from them.

And so the spirit of The Council of Introverts lives on.

I couldn't stop laughing!

Crab Apples

This tree is in the park near Gma's. It seems like any other tree until its fruit is revealed and then it stands out like a flaming beacon against the barren landscape around it.

flickr

I've been uploading most of my photos onto flikr and have noticed a big improvement in the quality of my pictures from the time when I first got my camera to now. I think it is in part due to becoming familiar with my camera--with what I can and cannot do with it. Also I think that over time with trial and error I am developing a definite style concerning both what I take pictures of and how I take those pictures. It's really neat to look back to see the development and new techniques I have been able to pick up along the way. It is also interesting to see how my love for photography has only grown with the more practice I get.

To illustrate much of what I hvae been saying, here are two pictures: one taken in February (not long after I got my camera) and one taken two days ago. Both are of a similar subject but I think it will be easy to see which one was taken first.

glowing

different uses of language

From David Crystal's The Stories of English

...slang primarily exists to foster rapport among individuals who wish to express their sense of belonging to a social group.

[when comparing the informality/formality of our language to our choice of clothes] ...language is the cheapest way of expressing identity...

sunset over parkinglot

While waiting for my ride...

Why?

Now that I have had the luxury of one better night's sleep, I am getting sick.

Molesworth

A good friend loaned me The Compleet Molesworth and I am hooked. This is not exactly a good position to be in since I have quite a stack of reading assigned from my classes that are being neglected slightly as a result. But I chalk it up to the need for some recreational reading. It also gives me a wider cultural base from which to derive my context of the culture about which I am reading. Or so I tell myself. Whatever excuse I may give I am being highly entertained with this 'journal' of a schoolboy. I wish I could include the pictures that go with the quotes here but you'll have to take my word that they are hilarious and add another dimention to the text. But even without that added advantage I think I shall quote a section or two here to give a delightful taste of what I am feasting on.

Literary Corner
A Book for the hols. 'Rob Roy' by Charles Dickens.
(Grabber & Grabber 6s.)
To judge from the first page which i happened to see by mistake this is something about a small boy who had to climb chimneys. Acktually i would hav thort this was quite super as you get black but this one seemed to be rather sorry for himself. On page 5 there is a pressed leaf and on page 77 some orange juice i spilt while the book was acting as part of a fort. There seemed to be something about some water babies or something soppy but i don't really kno. i suppose he must hav climbed the chimney to rob roy but this is only a guess.

the black tree

"A Dirge"

Rough wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;

Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches strain,
Deep caves and dreary main--
Wail, for the world's wrong!
-P.B. Shelley




Perhaps I should have waited for November before posting this poem since the weather isn't as bad as all that and I am in a fairly good mood but it is raining outside my window so it is still slightly appropriate.

stalling

It is easy to tell when I have work to do on the computer by the way posts appear in quick succession. This time I am limiting myself to a quick upload of a few pictures before I get down to translating the Old English for next class. I think I'm starting to get into the swing of knowing what homework I need to work on and doing it. Half-way through the term isn't too bad. That is, if I really am doing as well as I say I am...

a diverting assembly of Grubs

More from Smollett:

'A man may be very entertaining and instructive upon paper, (said he) and exceedingly dull in common discourse. I have observed, that those who shine most in private company, are but secondary stars in the constellation of genius--A small stock of ideas is more easily managed, and sooner displayed, than a great quantity crowded together. There is very seldom any thing extraordinary in the appearance and address of a good writer; whereas a dull author generally distinguishes himself by some oddity or extravagance. For this reason, I fancy, that an assembly of Grubs must be very diverting'

In that case, I guess I must be excessivly diverting in private company.
Or perhaps it is not an either or thing in that the possibility remains that I a dull in both spheres.

slackering

I have, once again, wasted a large percentage of my day in little things that didn't need doing. Or at least should not have been a priority above homework. School is, after all, my supposed main activity at this time. It is certainly the one that I have invested the most money in and the one from which I am to expect the most benefit (although I hear it may be an asset to be good at facebook for certain jobs...). So why am I here on my blog? After all, it is another activity that falls in the category of lesser-activity or time-waster when I am faced in comparison with several things that I really should do before I enter my Latin class tomorrow (such as prepare the passage we'll be translating and maybe at least read the article that I am supposed to be presenting to the class).

I would wish that I could either get my priorities straight and buckle down to my work (in which case it would probably be done fairly quickly and easily) or I would be able to take the time I waste in stalling tactics and apply it to some fun activity during which I would have no qualms as to what I should be doing at that time instead of exactly what I am doing.

The problem is that I have accustomed myself to living with that nagging voice. In all reality, I don't have to read the textbooks in several of my classes in order to do well in the course. The readings are a waste of time when I am a stickler for going to class and taking good notes. I am not advocating not reading the readings for all classes, I find that one has to test the waters and see how much the Prof relies on the text (and if one's read such stuff before). So a certain amount of incompletion of the assigned work is quite acceptable. I don't mean to sound arrogant but I think that since different people learn differently the Prof has to put as part of the course a variety of broad helps to learning not all of which are essential. Or perhaps I just happened to have taken bird courses so far. Who knows.

I'm too tired to figure out where I was going (or if I was going) with the preceeding paragraphs except something along the lines of I really shouldn't be on the computer at this time of night, let alone not having completed my assignments for tomorrow, let along not even working on said assignments yet...

Okay, I'm going.

Yellow and Blue

in black and white

Quotes from Clinker

The book I was able to read part of over the weekend (while prevented from spending more time outdoors) is The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker by Tobias Smollett. I have been delighted by this book and start to realize that the reason I took on this English degree was so that I could read just such books as this. While reading it for other purposes, I was still able to glean a few quotes that I might as well share now (as I'll probably forget to if I wait).

In short, we live in a vile world of fraud and sophistication; so that I know nothing of equal value with the genuine friendship of a sensible man; a rare jewel! which I cannot help thinking myself in possession of, while I reapeat the old declaration, that I am, as usual, Dear Lewis, Your affectionate, M.B.

Not only is this a great quote but also illustrates something that, from the moment of my first encounter with it, I have always wished to emulate: the way that he ends his letter by tying it into his closing addresses. Capital in the extreme!

The truth is, his disposition and mine, which, like oil and vinegar, repelled one another at first, have now begun to mix by dint of being beat up together.

He has read a great deal; but without method or judgement, and digested nothing.

(This I merely inserted because I had been carrying on just such a conversation about the state of the school systems and how they ill-prepare their students with what they read and study when I had read this passage.)

He was scarce warm in the lodgings when he called for his nightcap, his wide shoes, and flannel; and declared himself invested with the gout in his right foot; though, I believe, it had as yet reached no farther than his imagination.

I am finding this book a delightful read. Ah, English Literature. I guess I wasn't crazy after all.

cosy

I went home this weekend. I do this most weekends but this was the first that the weather made it a cosy time. I woke to the smell of wood smoke (something I detested when I was younger when it would invade my room and give me a dry throat in the morning) and to drizzly weather one morning and one evening I partook of one of Mom's typical winter meals. I can't even remember what it was but I do remember it was warm and comforting and brought me right back to grade-school.

Each season has its own set of special sensations but one that I particularly associate with Autumn is cosiness. So while the weather outside is miserable (but not quite yet the 'frightful' of the song) I relish the thought of being able to stay indoors and read or bake or do all manner of things.

I also took the opportunity to go outside and get a little wet in search of some beautiful photos. It's been scotch misting around here and the fine water droplets really look beautiful when they cling to the leaves.

tiny home

I happened upon a fairy's home last week. Rather than disturb I took this picture.

"Chaos contracted to intricate form"

The Crab Tree
Here is the crab tree,
Firm and erect,
In spite of the thin soil,
In spite of the neglect.
The twisted root grapples
For sap with the rock,
And draws the hard juice
To the succulent top:
Here are wild apples,
Here's a tart crop!

No outlandish grafting
That ever grew soft
In a sweet air of Persia,
Or safe Roman croft;
Unsheltered by steading,
Rock-rooted and grown,
A great tree of Erin,
It stands up alone,
A forest tree spreading
Where forests are gone.

Of all who pass by it
How few in it see
A Westering remnant
Of days when Lough Neagh
Flowed up the long dingles
Its blossoms had lit,
Old days of glory
Time cannot repeat;
And therefore it mingles
The bitter and sweet.

It takes from the West Wind
The thrust of the main;
It makes from the tension
Of sky and of plain
Of what clay enacted,
Of living alarm,
A vitalized symbol
Of earth and of storm,
Of Chaos contracted
To intricate form.

Unbreakable wrestler
What sapling or herb
Has core of such sweetness
And fruit so ascerb:
So grim a transmitter
Of life through mishap,
That one wonders whether
If that in the sap,
Is sweet or is bitter
Which makes it stand up.
-Oliver St. John Gogarty