Feelings and other serious topics are not exactly my forte.
But in this moment, as my insides bounce around with the all too familiar panicking ache, I realize I NEED to write something.
Perhaps this is how Charlotte felt when she spastically sent out those response-less letters to her Belgian professor.
It’s a great reminder that those we admire most, were just as troubled.
Selfishness and anger are so easy, too. How many times have I nearly convinced myself to make a list? 20 times I bet. Yes, it seems like making a list of someone’s flaws would ease pain, but I know that tearing someone else apart will never make me or my situation better.
I’m so grateful for plants and trees. The oxygen they create so that I can take those deep breaths and calm myself is endlessly appreciated.
Then the silliest thing seems to pound in my head as I think a melancholy “I don’t get it…”
And the most comforting memory reapplies itself….
I remember what my Dad would say to me when I was a little girl. He would always reply, “There’s nothing to get.”
I remembered, today…. how I forgot that I want to be a writer.
The problem is, every time I resolve to write something, I suffer from lack-of-interesting-content syndrome.
It can be fatal.
Let’s talk about my diet, shall we? Diets are always a topic of interest.
Now, anyone who knows me would, at this very moment be interrupting with, “…wtf diet are YOU on, skinny b****.”
Well, it’s a FAKE diet, OKAY? I have commandeered the term diet for my health(ish) decision.
I love food. Always have. Always will. It’s an unbreakable bond…except for that time I had horrendous tonsillitis and could not swallow for a week…but we don’t talk about those dark days.
I also like coffee. In fact I would drink many cups of it a day ( and by that I mean many cups consolidated into one big cup). Luckily, for my poor malformed heart and it’s problems, I drink half-caf or decaf. Unluckily, for…all of me, I put ten tons of sugar in said misleadingly healthier coffee. Yeah. It’s not really a nutritious routine.
SO. I decided I would stop with the coffee flavored sugar and start drinking water and eating a bit-o-breakfast. Breakfast cookies. No, wait, wait, breakfast biscuits (That makes it sound much better). So, yeah, I traded out my sugary coffee for sugary chocolate protein fiber cookies that give me 4 hours of energy….or at least a solid 40 minutes.
It’s going well. In fact, I even enjoy my breakfasts.
And I also enjoy the other rule of my “diet” which grants me permission to drink coffee on my days off.
Hey. You didn’t really think I gave up coffee, did you?
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a film adaptation, too far strayed from the novel, will be heavily scrutinized by the story’s fanatics.
Jane Austen fanatics seem to feel this way about their beloved classics (and I would count myself among them) but it is classic gothic literature that really sends me into a fandom tizzy.
Jane Eyre is my favorite novel. I have read it 3 times and have all of my favorite parts underlined. I have also seen most of the english-speaking film adaptations of the story and enjoy…. many of them -not all.
So, I have some amount of critical authority, right?
Or perhaps evidence of my mangled copy of the novel will help in convincing…
I love Jane because she is an exceptional role model. Though her motives are often founded on religion, I don’t think the reader necessarily derives religious sensibilities only, but instead, those of independence and free will. I also love that this novel was pseudo-feminist before feminism was even a categorical idea.
Of course I love Rochester too. He’s a Byronic Hero, so, indeed, he has many issues and is an incredibly flawed being. These characters are so emotional and passionate, and I cling to the Brontë sisters’ writing because they describe the internal universe like no other collection of words.
Jane is a character with so much conviction and strength and this is why I need to vent about one of my greatest frustrations….
WHY do film versions always make Jane seem suicidal!?
EVERY. VERSION. has a montage of her running away (maybe a bit of a carriage ride) and then just simply pathetically roaming the Moors waiting for death.
NO! (NOOOOOOOO, NOOOOOOO!)
Obviously Jane is indeed tremendously heartbroken. She makes the difficult decision of leaving the person she is passionately in love with in order to live what she believes is a good and virtuous life.
It just seems as though the film-makers are trying to portray her as so forlorn over her lost love that she is starving and wandering the wilderness to her death. They write these versions as if to show that Jane HOPES to die. Those who love the story as I do, must also detest those portions of the films because here, in chapter 28, a completely different set of events occurs. Seriously! Read it again! (or read it for the first time!)
Jane had to leave before dawn, cautiously and quietly in order to lessen the pain of the parting for both herself and Mr. Rochester. She of course stumbles, despairs, and thinks of turning back, but resists. When she meets with a carriage, its journey costs more money than she has in her possession (though her smaller offering is accepted). SO… her money is completely gone AND THEN she remarks about how she has mistakenly left her belongings on the carriage and it is now a mile away.
Review: No money. No possessions.
She then looks for any type of work (with out references) that she can find in the town (ish, type place) she has been dropped. No real shocker…they don’t want to help a stranger who seems like a beggar woman – this scenario wouldn’t be much different for any woman today either, if you think about it.
Later still – now basically starved and drained from walking- Jane seeks help at a house asking to work as a servant.
WHY IS THIS PORTION NEVER INCLUDED IN THE FILM VERSIONS??
I’m using capitals, you know I must be genuinely frustrated and confused.
I feel that this section of the novel is pointedly showing the reader the truth in her proclamations of ‘any honest work’ as well as her strong will in general. She truly wants to make a new life – even while despairing with a broken heart- she just simply did not have time nor the resources to plan her re-routing with the dignity she had hoped.
Poor planning, certainly, but not pathetic suicidal despair as the film-makers would have us believe.
A rather hypocritical statement from someone who has kept her life a secret from the very person she scolds.
Hypocrite or not, Helen Graham (Huntingdon) is now a favorite character of mine.
I’ve just finished reading:
it is a matter-of-fact that I feel deeply connected to the Brontë sisters.
My obsession with Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre has been long and unwavering. On the other hand, Wuthering Heights (written by Emily) did not much resonate with me at all – though I was reading as a high-schooler and that girl is alien to me now. Then there’s Anne. Admittedly, I have overlooked Anne until now (why does that always happen to her? Poor girl).
From my understanding, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is not the Anne Brontë novel with which readers tend to be most familiar.
Apparently, they read Agnes Grey and hate it.
And that is tragic.
Because, Wildfell Hall has easily become one of my favorite novels.
Gilbert Markham narrates the tale through his letters and through the diary entries of “the tenant” herself, Helen Graham (Huntingdon).
Helen arrives with her young son at the formerly uninhabited and run-down Wildfell Hall. She is beyond aloof, hoping to remain unacquainted with all of her new neighbors. Of course, this is completely scandalous, and becomes the main source of fantasy and gossip. Eventually we find that she is hiding from her emotionally abusive, adulterous, self-centered, and reckless husband.
But I am jumping ahead.
Mr. Markham falls in love with Helen almost immediately after their introduction. Her mysterious and stubborn habits draw his affections as inevitably as you might assume. Her polite yet cold interactions, along with rumors of her attachment to her landlord (Mr. Lawrence) only help to spur on Markham’s feelings.
No sooner does he proclaim his passionate fervor for Helen, then he happens upon her strolling the garden with Mr. Lawrence himself, as they talk of the necessity of leaving the town and its annoying residents.
My heart was splitting with hatred
Markham says.
I love Anne’s descriptions. The words are simple, yet they are so perfectly and eloquently written.
When will Helen’s story be demystified?
Worry not.
The center two-fourths of the book are Helen’s detailed diary entries which she has given to Markham in order to explain her subdued affections and other misunderstandings (particularly in her connection to Mr. Lawrence).
Helen fell in love with the wrong man. (Don’t we all?)
Despite warnings and protestations, she marries Arthur Huntingdon. Arthur is a flirt and an alcoholic. Helen is so much in love with him that she foolishly thinks she can help Arthur. Not long into their marriage she finds she has made a colossal mistake. BUT she has made her choice in Arthur and promises to endure and overcome all of the heartache and difficulties.
“Where do you want to go Arthur?” said I.
“To London,” replied he, gravely.
“What for?” I asked.
“Because I cannot be happy here.”
“Why not?”
“Because my wife doesn’t love me.”
“She would love you with all her heart, if you deserved it”
“What must I do to deserve it?”
This seemed humble and earnest enough; and I was so much affected, between sorrow and joy, that I was obligated to pause a few seconds before I could steady my voice to reply.
“If she gives you her heart,” said I, “you must take it thankfully, and use it well, and not pull it in pieces, and laugh in her face, because she cannot snatch it away.”
I don’t want to give too much of the book away, so I am keeping my summarization very minimal.
As much as I love Jane Austen, my heart is bound to the dark romances of the Brontë sisters. The strength and integrity of their amazing female characters influences me in so many ways. I definitely think I have read this particular novel at an opportune time and it has great significance to me personally.
Perhaps it might for you.
Now I am on to Shirley…. along with the other five books I’m reading.
It’s saturday night and I am somewhere near devastated.
My boyfriend and I can no longer be together.
And by boyfriend, I mean…
Truthfully, TCM has been closer to me than some boyfriends, so you might understand the confusion.
Up and down the guide I scrolled tonight, searching for my beloved station. But a replacement channel delivered the bad news… In a small description under the program information, it simply said: “Turner Classic Movies was removed by Turner Networks”
…NOOOOOOOOO!!!!
This is worse than a text message break-up (with which, I have unfortunately also had experience).
Apparently, Dish Network could not resolve contract issues with Turner Broadcasting (as the internet informed me), therefore, it lost several Turner affiliated channels. I’m sure to most Dish customers, this is no big loss. To me, it is the loss of the only fandom outlet for my off-center interests.
I only watch three programs devoutly on television: Project Runway, Downton Abbey, and TCM.
Considering that Project Runway and Downton Abbey both have 12 or fewer shows per series, you may deduce that watching films on TCM is at least 70% of my television watching regime. (please do not depend on any true math skills for these solutions because I certainly didn’t use any)
To say that this news is a blow, is putting it lightly.
Classic movies are not a common fascination for the average twenty-seven-year-old (as you might imagine), so I do not know many people who share my interests. Of course this doesn’t dissuade me in the least, after all, I could make the same assessment about most of my interests. But it’s not like I can get suggestions from friends or swap favorites with anyone.
TCM fulfilled this for me.
Best of all…
THERE WERE NO. FREAKING. COMMERCIALS!
Well, I suppose it’s inevitable.
True love has been torn apart throughout history.
Perhaps we will someday be together again. Like when I have another cable provider.
New York Times – Front Pages 1851 to ___ caught my eye when I was at the book store. I wanted to look at the papers from the 1850s for both the news of the time and the writing style. Of course, like newspaper readers of any time period, I was caught up in the advertising.
Look at the numerous and varied ailments this remedy promised to “cure”:
I often look at newspapers.
I say look because I might read a story or two if they catch my eye but, truthfully, the pertinent use of my newspaper is to look for job opportunities. Every Sunday I am sure to scour through the classifieds to see if there are any potential openings.
Looking for jobs is like my fourth job.
The usual routine was not any different this Sunday as I leafed through the sections looking for Business and Real Estate once again. However, this time I was stopped by a familiar face with a recognizable mole. Was it? My eyes moved across the page to the bolded words printed next to the picture. There it was. Her name! And it was in my…. local… newspaper.
Marjane Satrapi.
An article devoted to one of my most influential authoresses and her work.
I was ecstatic.
My introduction to Ms. Satrapi’s work was in college where I studied children’s literature as a minor. I fell in love with her story-telling and her point-of-view. Her book Persepolis not only assisted to break me into the world of graphic novels, but also, to a small piece of middle-eastern history. Admittedly, with out her fascinating stories, I would have likely remained somewhat ignorant about Iran and its culture.
It was (probably) 2009 when I first read this book. I am not sure how widely known her work was at that time, but I had never heard of it or its author. Today, I find Persepolis in the “Must Read” section of most book stores. This being true, it is odd that I have not found many fellow readers of this enlightening book.
I suppose this is why I was so very glad to find an article publicizing her wonderful graphic novels and films. (Yay!!)
Perhaps it should have been obvious, but this article had a local relevance that served its true purpose in the long run. It wasn’t just that this interesting author was being highlighted, but that she is soon to be in town as a speaker.
Oh, but how one’s hopes can raise up and drop down again in the matter of one solitary paragraph…
“The Parisian will bring her world view to Toledo at 7 p.m. Oct. 22 when she’ll appear at Authors! Authors! in a question-and-answer format with Kurt Franck, executive editor of The Blade. The talk in the McMaster Center of the Main Library is sold out”
……….(NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!)
I am disappointed that it is a bit too late to have found that she will be speaking, BUT I am consoled in finding that the same speaker series will host another important authoress of mine, Sandra Cisneros!
Come on April!
Apparently, Back to The Future III is not a beloved movie.
In fact, the common BTTF trilogy reviews I’ve been given are as follows:
“I love the first movie and I like the second one, even though it’s a little goofy, but I’ve only seen parts of the third one and I didn’t really like it.”
OR
“The second one is my favorite when they go to the future, but the first one is good too. I’ve never seen the third movie but it looked stupid and I don’t like westerns.”
Well.
I love the third movie and you can’t stop me!!
Photo credit to some guy on the internet who probably also took this from somewhere on the internet.
My own (0% scientific) study has led me to a better understanding of this popular opinion. It is not simply a dislike of the third Back to the Future movie but a universal dislike of all westerns!
How can this be?!
I have loved westerns for…..ever, so, no I do not understand this seemingly wide-spread disgust.
I am a writer.
Well….
I have studied creative writing, anyway. So, I am at least a bad writer. Although I do hope to have works eventually published, admittedly I am not very diligent in my goal. I get caught up with other aspects of life (and blah,blah, blah, other excuses). The thing is, when people ask me what I am writing, I am always hesitant to give the answer.
Why is that, you may wonder?
I am writing a western.
Yes.
“Oh… I don’t like westerns. But I’ll read yours!” they say.
Well, thank you, I guess….
but what’s not to like about westerns?
What is it they dislike so much?… Horses?… Standoffs?… Boots?…Dirt, maybe?
I have been doing a lot of research. I have to.
Reading Charles Portis, Laura Ingalls Wilder, a few chapters of McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, and watching ten thousand Sam Elliot starring, Louis L’amour adapted movies do not make one a western writing aficionado. Apparently.
Alright, my knowledge of the American West is a bit wider than I am letting on (and don’t worry, I have seen lots of John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, and Robert Duvall related works) but, to be sure, there will be a lot of studying in order to have a book of some quality.
In truth, there are so many aspects in which I need clarification. Not only do I scour the internet for information, but if I see a book that I think might be remotely related (and helpful), I will pick it up, as long as the price is reasonable.
Here is an example of such as book:
I don’t intend on having a train robbery(s) in my novel, but the book is still a useful tool of information.
How the plans were hashed, the kind of people involved, the justice system etc. There are even interesting little tidbits I picked up as in a case where the useful evidence for law enforcement was the track of a “gambler’s boot”. Had never heard of such a thing.
I want my book to be as accurate as possible and yet in-keeping with my own writing style. I don’t want it to be written as a 19th century author would, but I do want the characters to have 19th century voices and perspectives. Still completely immersed in the 19th century American west, I suppose.
Since I am clearly working with a small window of interested readers, perhaps my goal should also be to make my writing so good that it will turn some of the nay-sayers. After all, it was an exciting, strange, and uncharted new place and time, how can this not interest so many people?
Anyway, back to the third installment of Back to the Future.
It is a silly movie, yes and is even a bit more romantic than the other films. I’m sure however, that these are the qualities that attract me so strongly to this film over the others and while I am passionately in love with all three of these (somewhat ridiculous) movies, number III will always be my favorite.
With this devotion to westerns – silly or serious- I will continue to defend this genre and hope to someday convert those who seek to destroy it. 🙂
I have recently been informed that reading five books at the same time is… irregular…..
Say whaaaaat?
And by this, you don’t have to imagine me as some form of Ganesha with abnormal amounts of appendages for book-holding.
Nope.
I just don’t have a definite need to start and finish one book before going on to the next.
But I have learned that mine is strange behavior.
I was discussing a forthcoming, long work day with a friend last week. He told me he hadn’t brought along a book for the (likely) four hours of boredom he would be facing. For a schedule in which I would normally bring at least three books to pass the time, he hadn’t even brought one! The reasoning he gave was that he had been waiting on a book for over a year and it was going to be released the next day. He explained that because of this, he couldn’t begin a different book as he was going to read this wonderful, magical, anticipated book once he could purchase it on the day following.
What kind of nonsense was this?!? Such an alien concept to me.
After asking other book-reading-humans (trust me, they can’t all be titled this way) about their reading habits, I found that yes…
I am….
a book-reading-alien.
“How can you keep the stories straight?” They asked me.
And, well, I don’t know!
There are so many things to think about in life. How do I keep all those things straight?
….exactly.
THUS, It can not be so very abnormal to read several stories in the same space of time.
It’s not as if I have some crazy story-compacting, super-power brain. Trust me. My A.C.T. scores, I’m sure, would prove that impossible.
If I haven’t already brought my dedication level down by several notches, I am now going to admit to you that I also do not recall ever having stayed up all night reading and/or finishing a book.
This is not to say that I do not have very deep connections to books. My favorite book I have read 3 times. Many of my favorites have exorbitant amounts of underlined, meaningful passages (which is one of the reasons why I do not like to lend out my books… embarrassment). So, this should be evidence enough that my books, and the stories within them, are important to me.
Perhaps I am reaching out.
With billions of humans on this planet, one can make the assumption that others share the same idiosyncrasies. I however, have not found them in my limited circle of friends/acquaintances.
In fact, this has been a common occurrence in most facets of my life. That is to say, it doesn’t much bother me, but I figured why not use the means I have in finding others who might share these interests and idiosyncrasies.
Alien as we may be to some, I’m sure I’d love to find the other habitants of my native land.
And somewhere in these rambling lines of mine is the underlying manifesto for my necessity in creating this blog.
To Whom It May Concern 