Boston – A Moment of Silence

Boston skyline looking west with Boston Harbor in the foreground

Boston skyline looking west with Boston Harbor in the foreground

It’s Monday, at 2:49pm in Boston, Massachusetts.  One week ago our country changed again.  It was the first terrorist attack on our soil since 9/11.  Still in shock, we wait to hear what will happen to the surviving terrorist. We wait for answers. We wait for loved ones to heal.

I ask all of my readers, near and far to take a moment in silence and prayer for the survivors and families of the bombings.  I can’t convey in words or thoughts my views on this, nor do I feel it necessary.  But I do think it important to remember those we lost, those we still have, and those who will need us to lean on.

If you can, find something to help with the healing. Whatever it is you can do, do it.  This week I am going to be donating blood with the Red Cross.  While my little donation is nothing in the scope of things, every little bit we do, helps.

Again, a moment of silence to remember those we lost.  Krystle Campbell, Lü Lingzi, Martin Richard, and Sean Collier.  I also ask you to remember the other 183 civilians who were injured.

Thank you.

Signing off

~Kate

Really, Was Darcy and Rochester Any Better Than Today’s Romantic Life?

Reality is so depressing.

Why is love so awkward and unstreamlined in real life? Can’t we all just be as brave as Mr. Darcy, or Mr. Rochester, or Jane Eyre or Lizzie Bennett?

I read this recently on Tumblr when I was hunting pictures of Mr. Rochester, aka Michael Fassbender.  I sat there for a while, thinking, oh this is a great line.  Why isn’t love like those books.

Then I got thinking.

It wasn’t really so clean cut.  In both Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre, everyone is so vague.  No one just comes out and says, “Hey, I like you, wanna go get a cup of coffee?”  They talk in riddles and vagaries.

It takes Darcy forever before he actually tells Elizabeth that he wants her and he prefaces it with an insult .   Granted, it’s not the world’s worst statement, but a woman would take it as an insult, and I kind of think she should.  I would take it as an insult.  Yes, I would want to be told: “His sense of her inferiority–of its being a degradation–of the family obstacles which had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit..”

Okay, sure, what he’s saying is that despite all of those obstacles he still wants to marry her, but really, do you want a man that is going to insult you?

And after watching Jane Eyre, and enjoying the film, though I thought there was much that they could have from the book, I found Mr. Rochester  a bit of a jerk.  Now, I have yet to finish the book, though I find I am enjoying it, and I have a feeling there will be more ‘meat’  than the film which seemed to leave much of the conversations out.

While I don’t doubt that Rochester loves Jane, he’s cruel at times, insulting, abrupt, and well, deceitful.  You want him and Jane together, because you can see the purity in Jane’s love, but you know she really needs to leave.  It’s heartbreaking for Jane because she has to leave the man she loves.

When she finally returns to Rochester, a woman grown instead of a somewhat starry-eyed young governess ; a woman who doesn’t need a man to take care of her, the love has changed.  Matured in some ways.   Of course  it took some extreme circumstances, but it’s better.  But the fact that it (the story)  had to go through so much ‘drama’.  And they say people have drama now.  What about Jane and Rochester?  Now that is drama.

Don’t get me started on Emma.  Why, if Mr. Knightly loved Emma, did he wait forever to tell her?  You almost think he’s never going to tell her.  You get so anxious that it’s not going to turn out okay.  I’ve yet to read Emma, it’s on my list, and I’ve not finished Pride and Prejudice, but I have finished Persuasion. Thank goodness for the films, otherwise I might not have gotten through them. The films are the only reason I actually read Persuasion.  Had I gone by just the book, I might not have finished it. Same with Jane Eyre. I had to see the movie to see what I was struggling to get through in the book.

I can relate though to that feeling Meg Ryan says in You’ve Got Mail.  “Confession, I have read Pride and Prejudice two hundred times. I get lost in the language, words like ‘Thither. Mischance. Felicity.’ I’m always in agony over whether Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are really going to get together.”   I feel that way with all of the Jane Austen stories. I felt it with Jane Eyre as well. You really are in agony over whether or not it’s actually going to work out okay, even though you know!

Well, I’m sorry, life is confusing enough. I don’t want a love where I’m in agony over whether or not it’s going to turn out okay.  I was in a relationship like that.  It wasn’t fun. I want to know when a guy likes me. I don’t want to have to sit and guess.  And it wouldn’t hurt if he’s kind, loyal, trustworthy.

So, do I want a Mr. Darcy.?  Only sort of. I would much prefer a Mr. Darcy that won’t insult me. That being said, I still get a delightful thrill thinking about both Darcy and Rochester.

Signing off

~Kate

Savoring Letters

Garnet Hill LettersI love letters. I love writing them. I love receiving them.  Letters harken back to the days when that was the only means of communication between people who lived further than a couple miles.  Why, even if you lived close you could send a note or letter because, hey, there were no phones.  Just think about any Jane Austen film, or book, and at some point someone is getting a folded, wax-sealed letter or note.  Ah yes, letters are definitely something that has still hung around despite the technological age of computers and phones.  You still write letters (type) one a computer.  They have not died.

That being said, while I love letters, I’m quite terrible at replying to them.  It’s not that I don’t want to reply, but well, I savor letters.  If someone sends me one, I read it over and over, or mull over it, or think.  The minute I start replying to a letter, I start to forget what was in the letter.  It’s like this mind emptying thing.  So I hold off on replying to letters. I’m sure people wonder if I am ever going to get back to them.  Mrs. Austen would be one that comes to mind recently. I have received several nice emails from her and a letter and I’ve yet to actually reply!  I have things started.  It’s terrible.

Letters are incredibly exciting to receive in the mail.  Actually, anything addressed to one that is not junk or a bill is fun to get in the mail.  My favorite things are letters or books. You really can’t go wrong. I think the only thing that might top it off is if someone could figure out how to send a cup of hot coffee in the mail.  That would be something.  You open your package and there is this perfect steaming cup of joe.  Ah yes.

I go all out for letters a lot of the time.  Pretty stamps, nice paper, written with a fountain pen.  Or I try to do something unique. I  just sent a friend of mine a short letter that I wrote on one half sheet of card stock, folded in thirds, and printed with the tiniest print I could manage.  He was teasing me about my small script, which I thought was relatively normal.  Apparently not.  I like doodling on margins. I like trying new different methods of writing.  I like scribbling notes in margins, though I try to avoid that.  I get my notes better than other people.

I’ve even made my own envelopes by pricking them with a pin to achieve a punched out design.  Wax seals, stickers, letters written on one sheet of paper then folded into an envelope.  I’ve tried it all.  I love having that bit of creativity on hand.  And while I do like email thing, I still savor and take forever to reply.

So, if you have written me a letter and haven’t gotten a reply recently, even if I have promised a speedy reply, don’t take it personally.  I’m still enjoying your letter.  Savoring and digesting it slowly like a really good book.   Oh, and I keep almost every letter I receive.  I have boxes and email folders, and such.

Happy Friday.  Good Friday.

Signing off

~Kate

 

The Shiny Down or The Ethereal Up

Similar to what I was seeing.  c. K. Branson

Similar to what I was seeing. c. K. Branson

Tonight the sky is amazing.  There is an almost full moon and a mountain sky filled with the most beautiful cotton puff clouds.  There is no breeze and the crickets have started their chirping.  I can even here a bird that I have yet to identify but he sounds sort of like he’s laughing.

I am always accused of looking at the sky nowadays.  I’m always looking up, or remarking to someone how beautiful the sky is.  My mother is forever asking me if all I ever do is look up.  I have to blame her though.  For years all I did was look down at the ground.  I was always on the hunt for something shiny.  And the common comment was, “don’t you ever look up?”

So, now I look up.  I still look down.  You never know when you might find that stray dime or quarter.  The common penny.  Heck, you might even find a washer or bit of shiny glass.

I like to think that I can relate to Shelley (Percy Bysshe) and his poetry being ethereal.  While I’ve yet to read much of his, I did find it to be more focused on the air and light things.

I’m not as grounded as I probably should be. I spend way more time daydreaming plotting about things that are far from reality.  Yet, can you name a poet, writer, novelist, etc. that is actually grounded?  They all have their moments of what could be termed insanity, though I would rather say it’s just creativity taking hold.  Take Emily Dickinson, one of my favorite poets.  She was more melancholy than others, yet there were moments of pure freedom.

That’s what I tend to do. I shy away from the gloom and dreary things in life.  I think sometimes it will hinder my writing.  I don’t have enough conflict.

Well, I’ll go back to my earlier statement.  I blame my mother on why I always look  up.

Pin Curls – Flash Fiction

Old postcard of Mount Shasta

Hello my lovlies.  (I have seen other girl bloggers use that term and it’s so cute)

As you read this, I am off to the wilds of Mount Shasta.  Okay, not actually the mountain as it is covered in snow, but the city below.  I hope it will be a sunny clear day so I might be able to snap a shot or two of the mountain.

I was puttering around with an idea so here is a smidge of flash fiction to start you off on a Monday.  A bit of back story; I love pin curls, and I love putting my hair up in pin curls.  I’ve yet to master it, in fact I usually come out looking like a cross between a poodle and a fight with an electrical socket.  Not a pretty picture.  But I do try and I hope someday I might have them tamed when I do them.  So, there I was, picturing one of my heroines, Rena Bliss, putting up her hair in pin curls.

Enjoy.

IMG_0531-1024x682_largeShe sat at her vanity putting up her hair in pin curls.  She wore a filmy white and pale blue concoction of a summer nightgown; more slip than anything else, though everything essential was modestly covered.  Her glasses were perched o the end of her nose and she frowned intently as she carefully rolled her blond hair up, securing the curl with two bobby pins.

Milo watching in fascination as Rena sectioned and rolled.  She had this perfect set up, her brushes and combs laid out in front of her, spritz bottles of setting lotions and grooming sprays, her bobby pins and other clips in miss matched teacup saucers.  There was a little click and rattle of metal against porcelain every time Rena pulled one out of the dish, then a flash of white teeth as she pried open the pin and jammed it into the curl.  Sometimes she would stop mid curl to take a sip of tea from her pale teal polka-dot teacup.  One hand held the curl in place while the other lifted the cup to lips that were full and very pink.

5236422772_6873713086_largeRena was pure femininity.  The movements she made, the clothes she wore, down to her pale pink fingernails, she was ultra girl.  Which was funny since country life was hardly conducive to all the girly things about her.  But that’s what made her such a fascination to Milo.  And watching her put up her hair; well that just sealed the deal. 

Pretty, flirty, and sexy as hell.  Yeah, she was a dream girl.

Signing off

~Kate